#//And Furi's alt form

[dutybcrne]

Taking Furi out for a stroll with her new bodyguards!

[beansprean]

Close call?

My Familiar’s Ghost part 17

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

1. Close up in profile of ghost Guillermo on a background streaked with bolts of ghostly light. Guillermo is literally incandescent in fury, eyes fully black and burning with light, bright blue flames streaming from his clenched fists. Behind him, a throw pillow and a book fly by as if thrown, the pages of the book ripped and tearing out from the force. Blinded with rage, Guillermo thunders, “Everything I’ve done for the past 13 years has been for you!” At his back, the black shadow looms.

2a. Nandor ducks close to the viewer with a panicked expression as a book and a framed painting fly at his head, background dark and streaked in the direction of his motion. Guillermo shouts from offscreen: “Then the one time I do something for myself…” 2b. Guillermo continues: “It gets fucked up!” Another book and a sword fly through in the foreground, Nandor lunging back in the other direction to dodge, one arm held up protectively.

3. On a background that is at times a physical wall and other times a ghostly blue threaded with black, the room continues to tear itself apart. A wooden chair smashes hard against the wall, legs and arms splintering into pieces and causing a painting to topple to the floor. A metal sword twists itself up in midair. A lightbulb explodes in a standing lamp, spraying shards of glass. The painting of Nandor and his horse slips down the wall and lands on a corner, the bottom of the wooden frame breaking off. Guillermo continues ranting: “And once again…you make it all…about…”

4a. Close up of Guillermo, eyes black, face creased and clenched with fury, flames licking at the flyaways of his hair and the edges of his form. The black shadow has grown, tearing itself to pieces and burning into his aura as it gathers around his shoulders. Guillermo finishes with a thunderous “YOU!” He throws his arm forward, a blurred object streaking past at his direction. 4b. Extreme close up as the object, a broken stake of wood from the chair, meets its offscreen target with a decisive “shunk!” Blood spurts out from the contact.

5a. Close up on Guillermo, expression gone slack with shock as the black fades out of his eyes. His ghostly light fades in intensity, the black shadow dissipating and creeping away like mist. His hand hovers in the air, shaking, gaze fixated in naked horror at the scene before him. 5b. Shot of Nandor from the front, pinned to the wall by the stake buried through his shirt just under his left armpit, having sliced through his ribs just a few inches from his heart. Blood spreads across the fabric and drips from the end of the stake. The wall behind him is peppered with tears, dents, scrapes, and shards of wood from the other items thrown at him. A strip of wallpaper is rolling itself down and an ornate sconce is snapped in half and twisted to the side, unlit. Nandor is frozen with his right hand held up protectively, eyes wide and jaw slack in shock. He stutters, “G-“ 5c. Reverse shot of Guillermo. Nandor tries again, whimpering shakily from offscreen, “Guillermo…” Guillermo flinches at his name, ghostly aura now small and contained. He holds up both hands protectively to his chest, entire body shaking now as his wide eyes fill with tears. 5d. Reverse shot as Guillermo, in the foreground, disappears from the room with a “voop”. Nandor is left alone, pinned and bleeding, right arm outstretched as if trying to grab after his friend. We can now see the pile of mangled books at his feet, a cupboard to the left with a broken and battered door hanging open, and the intact sword buried in the wall nearby; the results of Guillermo’s carnage. /end ID

[snowleopardcrk]

Art and Info Dumps!

Grown up Moonflower has a MASSIVE mountain goat form! here are some images I drew of that

+ Her reference sheet for her grown up form!

For Moonflower Cookie's Skill Remake below!

Main Skill - Abyssal Rift:

A rift in reality itself bursts open, pulling down all enemies into its corrosive black waters. When the rift closes, all enemies are still chained together and prevents resurrection during its active phase. Upon Moonflower Cookies first defeat, she is flung into a state of despair and fury, quickly transforming into a creature of the Abyss whilst charging to the front. She draws all attention to herself with her wails and devastating bites.

---- 25 Seconds Skill Cooldown

Abyssal Rift: 15.0% DMG based on Total Power for Entire Team ATK + Inflicts Linked DMG to all Enemies Debuffs applied by Abyssal Rift: Anti-Healing, Dispel, Weakness Poison DMG up, Injury + Fatal Wound (When the rift closes) & Stun (when Rift Closes)

Anti Resurrection during the Active Phase of Abyssal Rift Applies Periodic 10.0% Decay DMG (Undispellable)

Alt Skill - A Monsters Despair:

Moonflower is furious! She charges at the enemy in her Abyssal Form, stunning all enemies. She forces them to target her exclusively or may they face her devastating bite! But if there are Cookies on the battle she cares about, she will gain an increase in her determination to protect them!

----

Moonflower is Revived (20% of max HP)

Applies Taunted & Stun to enemies, if all enemies are linked together they will also be Shackled Buffs applied: DMG Focus, Stun DMG up, Taunt, Max HP + DEF up Single-Hit DMG: 180.0%

If these Cookies are present on the battlefield: Hollyberry Cookie, Dark Cacao Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie, Golden Cheese Cookie, Sea Bunny Cookie, Blueberry Milk Cookie, Vanilla Creme, Meringue Cookie & Ice Cream Sandwich Cookie.

Moonflower Cookie gains an additional buff: ATK up, ATK SPD up + DEF up

Buffs for the forementioned Cookies: Heal Up, Cooldown Down & Regular DMG up If Pure Vanilla Cookie is present, all allies will gain Periodic Healing, 10% of PVs max Healing Capability

Above is all at Level 1 (Not Max Level!)

Other art:

Sisterly shenanigans!

Two costume doodles of Moonflower Cookie

[staarri]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — guitarist ! childe x fan ! reader

sfw smau gn ! reader

 –   ♫ ⁺ @childe_11 is streaming!

“newbies guide to 2ydro”

Stream 1 : INTRODUCTION

⁺  ▸ ABOUT : You will play as Y/N. Your accounts are @ kiwo.yn (Public), and your private account is @ lockedawayn (Private).

 –  You will be using photos of Nayeon from TWICE, but this will still not affect the way others will call you. I will do my best to use gender neutral terms as much as I can.

⁺  ▸ SYNOPSIS : sunny days give you warmth, energy and a guitarist named childe (that you are coincidentally a big fan of.)

 –  being one of his supporters since he had just first started, childe slowly started growing fond of seeing you on his post notifications. be it on twitter, youtube or tiktok; he's seen you praise his work every single time. call it fate if you want to, but you two accidentally meet each other in a bookshop you're always visiting, in the same aisle that you love, and he's holding the same book you want.

⁺  ▸ TAGLIST : @arraxthatsonjah @inlovewithlondonn @trinketbeans @neuvilutz @esthelily @a1-ic3 send a message to my inbox without anon to be tagged!

@2ydro_official

A pop/alt-rock band that was formed in 2019. The band consists of 5 members, Yelan as a bassist, Barbara and Furina as vocalists, Ayato as their drummer, and Tartaglia as their guitarist. All 5 of them independently write and produce their own songs.

They will be touring their hit album, Caught in the Sea, in January 21, 2024.

⁺  ▸ 2ydro’s members

@ tart_aglia — Childe

Guitarist of 2ydro. YT : @childe_11

@ yato.hydro — Ayato

@2ydro_official ‘s handsome drummer

@ furiinas_ — Furi

Did you get the tickets yet? Furifurina everywhere!

@ raryan_283 — Yelan

Touring soon.

@ barbara_hydro — 🦋

@2ydro_official

⁺  ▸ Private / Personal accounts

@ kiwo.yn — k.wo

Private account : @lockedawayn

@ 11_dumpz — 11

Also known as “Childe” or “Tartaglia”

everything is made & written by @staarri . i do not allow reposts, modification, translating and copying any of my work without permission

masterpost / masterlist of this series is linked here.

[blackjackkent]

Heyyy, have you ever written your Hec and Karlach with the "blows up at the pier" ending? I am just not sure where to look for it lol but I always love imagining the "alt routes" but I understand if others are too sad to dip toes in

Oh man, anon coming in with the Big Feels out of nowhere. :D I love it. As per usual this got way longer than intended and very out of hand. XD

I have not written that before and it is indeed VERY sad to think about. But I am up for giving it a try! [rolls up sleeves, braces self]

(If you're interested, I also answered a similar version of this question a while back regarding Hector's life in a worldstate where Karlach got mind-flayered, which was ALSO sad. 😭 )

So anyway. Scenario, then: the brain fight didn't go super smoothly and Wyll is unconscious, so Hector is left with no other voice to save Karlach from her self-sacrifice.

-----

No one moves. The pier is suddenly deathly silent as the roaring of Karlach's engine falls to stillness. Hector sways unsteadily on his feet, clinging to the afterimages of the flame still burned into his eyes.

Don't breathe. Don't think. When you think, it will become real...

But there is no stopping it. Thinking is what he does best, after all. She taught him to live, for a while, to see the glory and goodness of the wide world outside the monastery, the bright intensity of its colors.

But she is gone, and he can see the grayscale already fading in again at the corners of his vision.

"No..." he whispers. His voice sounds choked in his throat. "No." Somehow he always believed, deep down, that something would come to save her, that they would find some way to make everything all right. "NO!" He falls to his knees, burying his fingers in the ashes; his palms blister in the lingering heat.

"NO. NO. NO, NO, NO, NO, NO NO NO NONONONONONO!"

He's screaming, he realizes distantly. Sobbing too. Everything has snapped; every ounce of the control that he wears like armor has vanished. He feels detached from his body, unreal, numb with grief. The tears pour down his face, blinding him.

It isn't fair. After everything they have been through, everything Karlach suffered, it isn't fair that this is how she ended, without even a body to bury in the city she loved. It isn't fair that he will never hold her again, never feel her arms around him, never protect her and be protected by her, never see the world at her side, never... never... never...

The world is so cold without her warmth.

"Gods, please... please come back to me!" he howls into the uncaring ocean view. "I can't... I can't..."

The first paroxysm of anguish starts to fade. He collapses forward on his elbows and knees, his face pressed into his fists, and sobs.

In the monastery, they taught him there was no pain that discipline and prayer could not soothe. They were wrong. He knows now just how wrong they were.

"The Moonmaiden sees me… no grief nor pain nor fury shall wrest me from her path…" He whispers the mantra brokenly, instinctively, desperate for the comfort it has brought him in other moments. But there is no comfort to be found even in Selune's light, not for this.

He is alone.

But no... not completely alone. A hand touches his shoulder softly; a form crouches gently at his side. Shadowheart. He can see the sympathy in her eyes, the compassion and shared pain.

"Come here," she says softly, and opens her arms to him, as he did to her after the House of Grief. And as she did then, he falls sideways into her embrace, presses his face into her shoulder and cries bitterly. Her armor feels cold after the furnace heat of Karlach's destruction, but the hug is tight and fierce and she rocks gently side to side, holding him.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

His voice is hoarse, almost inaudible. "It hurts..."

"I know... I know..." She looks up. The others are watching at a distance - those who remain, anyway. Astarion is gone into the shadows, Lae'zel to the Astral. Gale is crouched by Wyll's unconscious body, but his eyes are fixed on the back of Hector's head, unblinking. Minsc, his face drawn tight with regret, is standing a little closer, Boo balanced on one fist.

And Jaheira closes with them, moving to sit on Hector's other side. The druid rests a hand on Hector's back just above where Shadowheart's arms hold him. "Silvanus guide the light to the source," she murmurs. "Take her to what she justly deserves. By nature's will, what was given is returned. What was turmoil is now peace..."

Hector draws a long, slow, shuddering breath.

"May the Moonmaiden's light follow her into the dark," Shadowheart says softly. Her voice is still a little unsteady on the Selunite prayer, but she knows Hector needs to hear it. "The silver light always at her back..."

He swallows, sits up slightly, not pulling away from either woman's touch. They are grounding him, drawing him back to himself, and his heart rate begins to calm, the sobs slowing to unsteady, hiccuping breaths. "Perhaps," he whispers hoarsely, "perhaps had I served Shar, it would be easier... I would be prepared for such loss..."

He can feel Shadowheart give a single, sharp shake of the head.

"Do not think it," Jaheira says, her voice low. "You would be empty. It is no better. The grief carries all the meaning of what was; it is the love with nowhere left to go. In time it will be bearable, cub."

He does not want it to be bearable. He wants it gone. He wants her back. He wants the hole in his heart filled back in.

"My Lady..." he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. "See her soul as it travels outward. Take it where mine would go, I beg you."

Karlach once said that she liked the thought of her soul spreading out through the world, becoming part of it. He liked the thought too, for she was always full of life and loved the world so deeply, with such fierce devotion...

But he knows the truth, as it was taught to him. She will go to the Fugue Plane to be judged. And if no god fights for her soul, she will exist in limbo forever, trapped in another unending wasteland.

"Take her to you, My Lady... please. In my place, if you must, but do not leave her forgotten..."

----

Some months later, he and Jaheira travel at Withers' behest to a gathering outside the city.

It has been a good half-year, all things considered. The city is starting to rebuild, to regain some semblance of its former life. Hector has been hard at work among the Harpers, lending his strong back to building projects and his counsel to those in need of it.

He's filled out with new muscle and a sense of pride in the Gate. Jaheira has noted it more than once - with surprise, given that he once lived in such isolation from the city's life. But they both know, truly, where that pride stems from. Karlach could not live to see her city flourish again - so Hector must see it for her.

In his pocket always he carries the three copper coins Jaheira delivered to him a few days after the brain fell. Sometimes he listens to the message recorded on them. More often, he simply places a hand against them when the loneliness threatens to overwhelm him, feeling the soft warm buzz of the enchantment on them and imagining he can almost feel Karlach's touch.

Withers finds him wandering away from the party, late in the evening, and addresses him without preamble, grave as ever.

"Thou feelst it still," the skeleton says, with something oddly like kindness. "She is not here. She who means the most. Hast thy thoughts been with brave Karlach often?"

Yes. Of course they have. He doesn't speak of it much to Jaheira and the others, and he has tried to move on - and some days he can almost manage it. But her loss always sits in the back of his mind, inescapable. Every moment of victory bears its quiet reminder that she is not here to share it with him. Every failure brings the ache for her comfort and her warmth.

"I loved her so much," he says quietly. "It isn't fair."

"No," Withers says placidly. "It is not."

He feels a sudden tightness in the back of his throat. He has not spoken of her aloud for so many weeks, but Withers of all people coming to him with kindness brings the feelings rushing back, stinging into his eyes. "I don't know how I can go on without her," he mutters.

Withers's dessicated lips curl in a slight smile. "She battled in Avernus, fueled on naught but hope," he says. "And that hope came to become truth. In but a dozen tendays, an entire life was lived. More than mortal years-- mortal centuries were hers." He gives a slow nod in acknowledgment of Hector's grief. "Thou might endure a great eon of mourning. But thou must hope, as once she did. Her life... her happiness... was you."

Great, now he really is going to cry. That strain in his throat is rapidly forming into a lump that makes it difficult to speak. "And she was mine..." he whispers.

"Thy life was hers for a while," Withers says gently. "It is now thine again. Live it well." He reaches out a hand and rests it on Hector's shoulder. It is light and skeletal and bears no warmth, but it goes with the intensity Withers suddenly has in his expression.

"In the Fugue Plane," he says, "her soul burns so bright, it pains the gods to look upon. Recall that in time, all changeth and all is rejoined. Thou shalt be with her again."

Hector feels something tight come loose in his chest, and he nods unsteadily. These are not empty words; this is Jergal speaking, not Withers. This is, perhaps, the only voice available to him that could tell him truly what he needs to know - that Karlach is not lost to him, nor beaten into dim submission by the wasteland of the Fugue.

She is still bright. And she is waiting for him. And one day, when he has brought her city back to life, he will go to find her.

[legoangstissogay]

Enemies to Lovers They Say

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6

This is a fanfic made by me, of a sort of future jump alt reality kinda thing? Basically MK is now the monkey king and Red Son is on the run so Mk does what MK do and helps! 

It'd been three months. Three full quiet months of pure peace and quiet. MK didn't like it. He had been dubbed the Monkey King a few years ago, making a peace treaty with the Demon Bull family. Ever since then the city has been eerily quiet. The monkey, the king was out on his routine patrols gathering info on demons. He was talking to a shop owner about demon sightings; when a commotion sounded from outside. MK ran out and much to his surprise he saw Red Son fighting off a group of rag-tag teens. A ring was forming around them and MK saw that Red wasn't using his fire.

"HEY! What's going on here?!" MK hollered, taking out his staff and getting ready for a fight. The humans that had ganged up on Red turned and ran to MK.

"This demon monster went into my pops store!" The head of the group exclaimed pointing at Red who was beaten and bruised. The humans on the other hand looked practically unscathed.

"Okay, and?" MK asked crossing his arms.

"What do you mean okay and? He's a demon! He was probably going to rob us!" One of the team retorted. The large mass of standbys shouted in agreement. MK sighed and glanced over at Red who avoided his gaze.

"Red, come here," MK called over. Red Son walked over his head high, still not looking entirely at MK. The gang of teens backed away from Red Son.

"Mind explaining?" he asked staring at Red up and down. Red Son didn't speak merely nodded.

"I was going to get fabric and flowers from those two stores. My Mother started a garden and I wanted to make her an apron," Red Son explained, nodding to the stores.

"Lair!" A boy screamed from the crowd. MK rolled his eyes and sighed. He turned around and glared at the crowd. It soon started to disperse. After a few minutes, it was just MK, Red Son, and the teen group.

"Look, you can't just jump someone just cause they're a demon. That's rude and stereotypical." MK explained to the teens. They looked appalled.

"His family recked our city! You're a hero, do something already!" The leader retorted with fury.

"I already did! We made a treaty, they promised they wouldn't attack again and if they did they would have died already." MK replied sternly, anger boiling under his skin. Red Son stood a stoic expression on his face. Red was slightly shocked, sure he hadn't seen the noodle boy in a year, but he had never seen him this angry over something as simple as a small fight. After a bit of bickering the gang left as sour as they came. MK turned to look at Red Son. The redhead was beaten and bruised. His hands had band-aids scattered all over and up his wrist. He wore a black sleeveless turtle neck with a plaid long-sleeve shirt underneath. His hair was as fair as the last time, kept in a neat ponytail. To MK he was as stunning as the brightest star.

"I haven't seen you in a while Red," MK greeted smiling as if nothing had happened. His hair was up in its usual do. His bandanna was faded from red at the base to a faint light pink. A mask-like mark was on his face similar to Sun Wukongs or Macaques. Although MK’s mask was a brighter, more orange version of his skin. Dots scattered the edge of the mask, like freckles.

"Same to you," Red son replied as formal and stiff as ever.

"You okay? You look a bit beaten up." Mk asked raising a hand to touch them.

"I'm fine," Red stated through gritted teeth swatting away MK's hand. MK blinked slightly taken aback.

"I don't need help from some peasant!" Red Son hissed embarrassment seeping under his skin.

"Technically not a peasant but whatever, If you need me you know where to find me!" MK says chuckling and walking off waving. Red Son stood there a moment in utter humiliation until his hair turned to flames and he left in a swirl of flame.

this is just a sample chapter but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

[cosmicswritings]

Predastar content predastar content predastar co

It's been some time since I've written predastar content tbh. I've been having some feelings overall about them and this was soo fun to write. Thanks for sending it over.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Accidental Self Harm

__

“You and those little heels aren’t going to be able to get that far.” Skylynx sneered. “You’re as thin as a twig, why not give it to one of us?”

That was a challenge, especially to someone like Starscream, and as Predaking slept peacefully down in the lower crypts of the fortress he could hear Starscream respond with the same fire.

“Hand it over.” Starscream snapped angrily. “The box with the relics.”

“Starscream, you’re going to fall—” Darksteel was promptly cut off.

There was clearly a scuffle that ensued, but eventually, Starscream’s heeled steps were heard tippinng down the staircase leading into the lower level where in the corner, Predaking remained in his primary form, optics slightly ajar when he heard Starscream coming. 

He purred softly seeing the Seeker pass his direction, and growled in a bit of a chuckle. Starscream held a large box in his servos, one clearly too big for him, yet he was managing quite well. Predaking looked on, his tail thumping lightly against the ground as he did so. Starscream hadn’t noticed him yet, for the lower area was dark at that moment. 

Muttering to himself, Starsceam continued to walk down toward the opposite end of the basement where the other relics were housed.  

In the darkness, he hadn’t even realized that Predaking’s large tail was laying in front of him, effectively obscuring his path. Predictably, Starscream tripped. The box with the ancient relics went flying and Starscream crashed to the ground right in front of Predaking, face first. 

Predaking growled as he heard the relics shattering. Millions of years of knowledge were destroyed because he did not have the foresight to move his tail out of the way. And then, there was Starscream who was still on the ground.

Retaining his main form, he stood, stretching slightly. 

He saw Starscream laying upon the ground, and the seeker suddenly jumped to his feet and scrambled toward the box. He gasped in horror at the shattered relics, holding them in his hands as if he was attempting to put them back together.

“No…no…” He said to himself, repeatedly. He was clearly frantic, ex-venting quickly. 

Predaking simply sat behind him, wings drooped and tilting his head in confusion. The loss of the relics was unfortunate, but there were so many more they’d discovered. More so it wasn’t Starscream’s fault, at least not solely his fault. Skylynx and Darksteel should not have tainted him, Predaking himself could have moved or at least offered to help.

Regardless Starscream's actions were strange. It was as if he was genuinely disappointed in what he'd done or more so, scared of Predaking's reaction.

"I'm sorry I…I…" He looked over his shoulder and saw the dragon looming over him. "It seems I can't do anything right." He did not say this in a pitiful way. He was angry, furious at himself almost. He grabbed at the shards, still attempting to piece the relics back together. It was then, Predaking realized that Starscream's servos were leaking energon; he had cut himself. 

That is when Predaking transformed into his alt mode - it was the only way he could properly communicate with Starscream. He shifted to get used to the setting gears; Primus did he hate his robotic form, but he’d manage it to speak to Starscream.

“Your servos - you are hurting yourself.” He knelt down behind Starscream and attempted to grab him to calm him. Starscream managed to squirm from his grasp, shaking in his own fury and still making a failed grasp at the shards. Predaking simply grabbed him again, steadying him.

“I know–just let me do something—”

“Starscream.” Predaking gently took him, turning him around so they could face one another. “They are broken. What is this about? What is wrong?”

“It was a relic–”

“There are thousands more we have just discovered; this is about something deeper, that much I can tell.” Predaking kept his voice low, but it was stern. He had Starscream restrained now, grasping his bleeding wrists so he could not hurt himself anymore. 

Starscream kept up a cold expression until he could no longer. He faltered, looking away shamefully. 

“What is it?” Predaking pushed again, softly. He pulled Starscream closer to him.

“I…” Starscream ex-vented. It was evident that he did not want to divulge so much, but there was something about Predaking that made it impossible for him to lie.

“I just want to make sure that everything is perfect. I don’t want to ruin this because this is the one place I want to belong. I don’t want you or anyone to question my place here because if you push me away, I don’t know where I’ll go. I don’t…I don’t feel like I really belong anywhere if I’m being truthful. I’m an outlander. Making foolish mistakes like this--”

“You think that because you broke a relic I’d turn you away. Starscream I…” He shook his head. It seemed foolish, and for any other bot, Predaking would have been beyond shocked by such a reaction. But for Starscream, it made sense. Before the Predacons had accepted him, he really was an outlander. 

He had been abandoned by Megatron - who had since been welcomed back to Cybertron, and was not treated well by him during the war. He had many times attempted to flee to the Autobots during and after the war. Not only had they practically abandoned him as well, but treated him with violence.

After the war, he had no one after he was thrown into prison. He had only managed to escape with the help of some other prisoners and they too left him alone. The Predacons themselves were not kind to him at first either. Predaking had tried to kill him numerous times when Starscream was on the run after the war (Starscream would always say that he himself deserved it. He had taken accountability for a lot of things he’d done during the war. The way he treated Predaking was one of them, though Predaking argued that it was not only Starscream that mistreated him and Starscream himself was also a victim of the Decepticon’s cruel plan. Starscream didn’t care to listen.), only a couple of years ago had they accepted him with open arms.

Starscream feeling like an outlier made sense, because everyone had treated him that way. 

Predaking ex-vented and pulled him into a hug. Starscream returned the embrace. 

“You’re worth more than any relic and you will always have a place with us.” Predaking whispered softly. “This is your home.”

Starscream didn’t respond, and that was either a good or bad sign. He had not been treated well during his life, and the relationships he’d formed or at least, attempted to were subpar. Regardless, Predaking knew he’d have to show Starscream as words these days had little effect on his trust, let alone hope.

Luckily for Starscream, Predaking had no problem showing Starscream just how much he cared for him. Even if it took a million years.

-

Hope you enjoyed! And if you have a request you wanna send it, go ahead and send it over!

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Fourteen "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation."

Bucky finds out what it is to be a part of Zola’s experiment, and is marked as Hydra’s property. Prompts fulfilled; - ‘Apocalypse Cult’ – @multifandom-flash (Beehive); - ‘Tattooing Over a Scar’ – Winter Wonderland Bingo @seasonaldelightsbingo ; BLACKOUT! (with alts XD) - “Say Please.” – @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition); - ‘Disturbing a Grave’ – @halloweenhorrorbingo; - ‘Exposure’ – @badthingshappenbingo; - ‘Eternal Agony’ – @fnafbingo; “You Broke the Rules. And Now You Gotta Pay.” – @anyfandomdarkbingo. CW: Death of an unknown character, corpses, non-con body modification, sexual assault.

Boards at the bottom. Check it out below, or on AO3 here!

Dividers by @atlasscrumpit

By the time Zola came to see me the following day, I was already sat upright on the edge of my bed, fist curled loosely in my lap.

“Ah, up already, I see!” His tone was upbeat and jovial, but I simply raised my head to stare at him blankly, devoid of any emotion. ��I expect you’re excited to get underway with your training.” A simple nod, and I stood, not bothering to point out that it was, in fact, the never-ending ache radiating from tailbone to navel that had kept me awake. “It’s going to take me a short while to make your arm. In the meantime, we have a job for you.” He handed me a chunk of bread, and I bit into it without enthusiasm, the dry wheat clinging to my tongue as I followed him through the halls.

The machine set up before me was distantly familiar, and a spike of fear shot through me at the memory of a pattern of bruises across cheekbone and forehead where the restraints had dug into my skin, holding me fast as convulsions wracked my body.

But this time the seat was occupied by another – one who looked significantly worse than I did after my time in the chair.

“What is this?” I breathed, inching closer uncertainly, taking in the slack jaw and soured complexion, heightened hearing straining for any sign of a heartbeat.

“Another failed experiment,” Zola replied dismissively, waving a hand. “Get him out. The soldiers will show you where to dispose of him.”

I fumbled with the contraption until one of the two soldiers standing guard sighed in frustration, leaning closer to press a button, the deceased man’s head falling forward with macabre reminiscence of a marionette with severed strings. Biting back fury and nausea at touching the cooling skin, I freed his limbs form their loosened shackles and draped him carefully over my shoulder.

Inanimate fingertips sent a shiver through me as they brushed my lower back, swaying with the motion of my steps as I followed my guard down the endless, twisting corridors.

He paused beside a heavy door, and we trembled in unison at the bitterly cold wind that swirled around us when he cracked it open.

“I’m not going out there,” he muttered, eyeing the flakes flowing readily through the gap and picking up a shovel to press it into my hand. “Find a spot. Dig a hole. Drop him in. Make sure you cover it over, else there’ll be wolves and bears and all sorts hanging around. I’d hate to have to find something else to feed them to draw them away,” he added pointedly. I simply nodded, skin erupting in goosebumps as he opened the door wider and pushed me out.

The snow piled into my boots with the first step, freezing my toes and soaking the thin socks I’d been provided with. I struggled on through the knee-high drifts, almost floundering under the uneven weight of my load and the lack of hands available to hold both shovel and corpse.

Perhaps a hundred yards from the facility, I came to a stop beside a rocky outcrop offering a relatively sheltered spot at which to dig. Pausing, I looked up, peering through the swirling snow. Even with my enhanced eyes, I could barely make out any details of the building – it was unlikely I could be seen by anyone attempting to watch me.

Glancing in the other direction, I gazed out over the blank emptiness, a barely-perceptible, soft haze in the distance the only indication of any break in the endless tundra – a copse of trees, perhaps, or the beginning of an attempt at civilization in this frozen wasteland?

I could run.

I might get shot before I get fifty yards, but at least I’d die out here, as a free man. Not in the endless, eternal agony of being their lab rat, their attack dog on a chain.

I took one step away from the outcrop, then another, shivering violently as the snow soaked quickly through my already damp clothes.

I could run.

I could escape this apocalyptic cult. The torture. The abuse.

I could…

My muscles faltered on the third step, then froze entirely on the fourth.

What the Hell is wrong with you? This is your chance! It doesn’t matter if you die out here! It’s better than staying here! Run!

Despite the voice screaming in my head, I couldn’t take another step, my body rigid with fear the further I strayed from my orders.

My eyes strayed to the body still resting on the ground, coated by now with a layer of thick, fluffy flakes.

I… I should bury him, at least. Nobody deserves to be left to the elements and the wildlife like that.

With a soft sigh of relief at having a clear path before me, I picked up the shovel once more, turning to assess the frozen ground obediently.

The hole was just about deep enough when I came across a sight that sent me sprawling from the grave as my stomach churned.

I was experienced enough in life – and in death – to have recognised what lay beneath the frozen ground immediately, and the off-white bone dotted with residual scraps of partially decomposed flesh was tattooed to the inside of my eyelids as I knelt in the snow, retching. My body, so accustomed by now to emptying on command, acquiesced willingly to the rhythmic gagging, the sparse contents of my stomach steaming as it met the sub-zero ground. My fingers curled desperately as I heaved, breaking through powder and frost easily.

There were others.

How many people like these two – people like me?

When my futile retching finally ceased, I dropped quickly back into the freshly dug grave with hardened nerves and a sense of purpose, kneeling carefully to ease a little more dirt away, revealing thin remnants of dark, shoulder-length hair. My eyes closed in pain, and I diverted my face as I tenderly covered the man over once more, shaking my head the distinct similarities, muttering a hushed apology to my fallen comrade for disturbing his hard-won rest.

Shaking violently from cold and horror, my hand was careful as I lifted the body I’d been sent to bury against my chest, letting his temple fall briefly to my shoulder as I knelt once more to settle him on the ground. His head rested not five inches from our predecessor, and I brushed a thumb gently over the bruising on his cheek.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” I whispered softly. I wished I could remember a poem, a profound quote about death to send him on his way peacefully – but the only thing that came to mind was pieces of the Lord’s Prayer, courtesy of Steve’s soft utterances unconsciously invading my mind. It didn’t feel like enough, but it was all I could offer in a stammering, faltering voice, tears staining my cheeks when I eventually stood once more.

I didn’t dare look to the horizon again until my task was complete, fresh snow quickly falling to obscure the disturbed earth.

Only then did I finally glance up once more, finding myself immediately struck once again by an intense, disabling terror as I found that hazy spot on the skyline. But this time I glanced back down, eyes skimming the last remaining signs that I’d ever been here at all.

This is what will happen if I stay here. Will anybody bother to bury me, or will I just lay under the open sky, finding flesh and bone at the mercy of the animals?

My muscles were more willing this time.

Five steps.

Ten.

Fifteen, and my pace increased – first to a lope, then a jog, and then I was sprinting, flying across the ground, malnourished body screaming in protest as I tore over the open tundra, but there was no way in hell I was slowing, not before I was sheltered by the cluster of trees at last identifiable. My feet churned up the powder as I ran, and-

I felt it before the sound registered in my mind.

My legs immediately crumbled beneath me as I yelped, thigh on fire where the bullet had torn through muscle and flesh. The aim was true, bypassing the femoral artery, but that didn’t stop blood from pumping freely onto the snow, staining the pure white with violent red in a macabre echo of the past.

Glancing back, I could see the figures swarming from the facility, moving quickly as they descended upon me as if a storm cloud. My heart pounded in terror, and I attempted to scrabble to my feet – then cried out in shocked pain, raising my hand to touch tentatively at the stinging wound at the top of my ear. Another bullet had grazed the soft skin there, barely breaking the surface – but the intent here was not harm.

No… This is a warning.

I stared at the trees standing stark against the white, finally close enough to distinguish branch from trunk, fingers curling with my grief. I knew I should stand – should force myself forward once more, choosing freedom over captivity in whatever form it came. But the survival instinct within me was a muscle well-honed over recent months, and no matter how hard I fought against myself, I couldn’t force my legs to move in much more than a tremor as I knelt in the snow. My own body simply disobeyed me, choosing longevity by any means.

I didn’t look up as I was dragged back through the snow, staggering and stumbling with a hand under my armpit to keep me going. I’d have simply laid down, but a cattle prod to the ribs made sure I moved forward, body jerking at the voltage shot through me each time I slowed.

The Lieutenant was whistling tunelessly between his teeth when I was released unceremoniously in the middle of his office, legs crumbling beneath me from cold, blood loss and exhaustion. I hardly dared raise my eyes, but he said nothing as I looked to him fearfully, his eyes still on the rifle in his hands as he wiped it down.

“You were a sniper too, once upon a time,” he noted softly, and I trembled ever more at the sound of his voice, stomach clenching in anticipation of punishment as I nodded silently. “Before Hydra, I was a sniper. And then I came here. Now I only shoot wolves, for fun. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to keep my skills sharp, you understand.” He glanced at me at last, his smile almost apologetic as he jerked his head by way of indication. “I’ll clean that up for you. Lie down.”

Moving where he directed me, I shivered with cold and fear, wincing in pain as my back pressed to frigid metal and he moved closer. My feet, wrist and throat were secured beneath heavy steel, earning me another sorry grin. “Can’t have you wriggling around too much. I might end up hitting something important! I’d so hate for you to lose your leg, too…”

I winced, eyes closing automatically as he bent over me, gulping in air at the feeling of scissors slicing through the thin, drenched fabric of my pants. He hummed under his breath as he exposed my wound, blood still flowing freely from the hole in my thigh, the gory stickiness pooling beneath me and filling the air with the scent of dirty pennies as he stepped back. The sound of his small stack of drawers containing his tools rattling as he searched through them made my skin crawl, and I jerked in surprise at a hand on my knee, lids snapping open despite myself to find him peering at the bullet wound. “A clean shot,” he murmured, gently poking at the skin around the macabre sight. “In and out. You’ll be fine – I’ll just stitch you up, and you’ll be on your way.” I nodded stiffly, mistrustful, and he shot me a broad grin. “Didn’t anybody teach you any manners? Say please.”

“Please,” I whispered immediately, flicking my gaze to the ceiling, desperately wishing I could leave my body. “Please, Sir.”

With a quiet chuckle of delight, he began, and I clenched my teeth minutely at the feel of needle passing through skin, knitting together the ragged edges of my wound in a silence punctuated only by the stomach-churning sounds of squelching and sticking produced by parts of me not normally exposed to the outside world.

It took only a matter of minutes for him to secure the site – albeit only at a surface level and in the most basic way possible, leaving my body to do most of the hard work. I blinked in surprise when he released my bindings, sitting up with a soft utterance of gratitude, uncertainty and distrust heavy as I glanced at him.

It was when I went to move to my feet that his hand found my chest, his smile turning just a little cold around the edges. “That was only the exit would, Asset. I need to stitch up the back, too. Lie down on your chest, if you would.”

I could feel my heart hammering as I obeyed weakly, the trials of the day leaving me in no position to fight. Corpses flickered before my eyes, haunting me as my body met the table once more and my already-cut pants were shredded once more, the material pooling uselessly either side of my leg. His hand was high on my thigh, skirting the underpants I’d be given. The touch was almost delicate, fingertips skimming gently under the very edge of the material. His grip tightened minutely to pull the skin taut, earning a hiss of pain that he quietly shushed away. He hummed under his breath as he slowly stitched me up, fingers brushing between my thighs to swipe away the blood.

The hand below my ass relaxed as the tugging stopped, thumb brushing tenderly over my skin. “Good. All done…”

I nodded once more, eyes focused on the long window opposite, the winter sun already beginning to set after a few short hours of daylight. My muscles twitched, ready to move, to be out of this position of vulnerability – but neither his hands nor the restraints lifted. “… Sir?” I breathed, hardly daring to speak as he continued to caress my leg.

“You broke the rules,” he purred, a smile in his voice, “and now you gotta pay.”

My eyes closed in a flinch, jaw clenched with resigned terror. I wished more than anything that I could leave my body – just come back when this was over. This punishment, this life…

But my mind stayed firmly where it was, focused on his hand on my thigh, and the touch of metal to skin. The sound of scissors closing slowly, cold air breathing over my exposed ass, set my stomach churning – a feeling that only intensified as the pointed edge pricked the skin at the base of my spine as he began to methodically remove my shirt.

His free hand trailed almost tenderly over waist, keeping pace with the first until my entire back exposed, the sleeve still wrapped around my arm offering very little comfort in my nudity.

Then he was gone, stepping away from the table seeking unknown instructions of torture. The restraint around my neck held my head fast, no matter how I wriggled and strained, offering no insight into the punishment I was about to receive.

A violent buzzing, intermittent, almost tentative, gave me pause, the pitch wavering minutely as the Lieutenant whistled tunelessly through his teeth. I distantly recognized the sound – there was a sense of faint familiarity, of something passed by on occasion, but never personally pertinent.

It wasn’t until his hand rested lightly on my back and the sharp, dragging pain began that the image of a tattoo parlour Steve and I had walked past frequently flickered behind my eyelids, sending them snapping open in shock.

A tattoo?

… Why?

I dared not ask the question aloud, settling instead into the mild discomfort of the needles between my shoulder blades; the pain was minimal compared to what I was used to, and I’d take his defacing my skin over torture any day.

After all, I was already a monster – there was nothing he could stain me with that could make it any worse.

He’d finished the work with a line that brushed against one of the puckered, tactile scars trailing away from my shoulder. The action caused searing pain to extend along fingers that no longer existed, and I clamped my jaw tighter, refusing to utter a sound at the unexpected intensity.

It was a relief when he stopped, a clammy sweat gathering beneath me at the discomfort. He ran a fingertip over the stinging skin of my back, eliciting a minute wince as he hummed contentedly. “Beautiful… Would you like to see?”

I struggled briefly, desperately trying to figure out which answer was the correct one – which would prevent further punishment. Eventually, stiffly, I nodded, and he stepped into my eyeline as his face broke into a grin. With the edge of something predatory tugging at his lips, he squatted close to my face, mint-infused breath washing over my skin, mingling with the scent of his bodywash and the odour of blood and ink.

He shouldn’t smell good, I noted abruptly, the bizarre thought taking me by surprise. He shouldn’t smell… Pleasant. Not this monster. It’s not right.

He angled a hand mirror over us, showing a quick flash of a delighted gaze and sick pleasure, before revealing the words imprinted across my shoulders.

Hail HYDRA.

Indelible, forever tarnishing my skin, marking me as one of them. As their attack dog. As their Asset.

I swallowed dryly, my stomach churning, as he chuckled softly, lips skimming over my cheek with something close to affection.

“Maybe now you won’t forget who you belong to.”

I could only nod weakly, terrified to look away before I was told to, but eventually he lowered the mirror and my eyes squeezed closed briefly.

I was wrong.

He unshackled me, but I didn’t move.

This was it.

This was the last thing.

I can’t fight anymore.

He hummed in surprise and delight, fingertips trailing over my spine. “So it seems you can learn… Good boy. Roll.”

I obeyed immediately, the metal too warm to soothe the gentle burn of my skin and slick with my sweat. He didn’t bother to resecure me, trusting in my blind obedience. Distantly, I realised that we were alone in the room; I’d never have a better opportunity than this. But I couldn’t even pretend to consider moving. I couldn’t contemplate putting myself into a position of yet another punishment for a slim chance of freedom. It isn’t worth it. He beamed at me, resting a hand gently on my chest. “Look at that! So good. Perhaps you may deserve a reward… Would you like that?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied immediately, my voice soft and robotic. I had no idea what this ‘reward’ would be, but I didn’t have any capacity left to give anything other than the answer I thought he’d prefer. The smile softened, and his hand travelled down slowly, resting briefly on my abdomen as he leant closer.

My mind was entirely blank when he kissed me, tongue trailing gently over my lower lip, prompting my mouth to open to grant him access. It wasn’t until his teeth tugged tenderly that his fingers his fingers wrapped around my length, caressing slowly. Confusion enveloped me at his gentle touch, the way his free hand cupped my jaw to hold me closer. The combination of the firm pressure of his lips on mine and the expert ministrations on my cock sent spikes of shameful arousal through my body, colouring my cheeks as I began to react to him. “You like that, hm?” he breathed, fingers moving a little more firmly, and I offered an obedient nod.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmured, repulsed and humiliated that the statement wasn’t entirely untrue. He purred with delight at my words and my stiffening member, his hand wrapping more thoroughly around me. To my horror, I let out a soft, breathless whine, earning a soft chuckle, his hips pressing lightly against my side to demonstrate his own arousal.

“That’s it. Just relax. Do you see, Asset? When you’re bad, you will be punished. When you’re good, and obey orders… I can be merciful.”

Nausea cramped my stomach as he kissed me again, tongue brushing mine and making me tremble.

At least when he raped me it was simple.

There was no confusion in violent violation, in fighting and wishing it to be over.

But this… The way my body stirred and reacted to a touch that felt almost loving.

In another time, another situation with another man, I could very easily love this feeling of someone else’s fingers wrapped around my length, lips trailing rapturously over my throat – if not for this specific time, this specific situation with this specific man.

But I couldn’t help the way my hips twitched and my back arched, breath coming in desperate, sharp pants as I inched towards the inevitable conclusion I could feel building under my skin. He seemed to notice my increasing desperation, groaning quietly and working me harder, mouth shifting against my skin. “You’re doing so well, Asset. Almost there – let me here you.”

I whimpered through my teeth – too afraid to disobey, reluctant to follow his orders easily. But a sharp nip of his teeth on my pulse and the steadily increasing speed of his hand on me made me cry out breathlessly, hips jerking with frantic need as I came without warning.

By the time I’d finished twitching, my chest coated with my own seed, my face was burning with shame and horror, humiliation cloying in my throat.

“Such a good boy,” he crooned, kissing my cheek softly. “Hail Hydra.”

His eyes shifted to me expectantly as I hesitated, and I swallowed around the lump in my throat, lowering my gaze. “Hail Hydra,” I breathed, the ink across my shoulders burning.

[melishade]

Dang, I was hoping I wouldn't do a repeat. How about 30?

This ask game

It's fine. It happens. How about the Dark Timeline, where Optimus' condition after being rescued is up in the air? For more context: Part 11: The Rescue and Part 12: Recovery

“Patch?” Megatron questioned in confusion before his optics widened. “What does he know?! Optimus, what does Shockwave know?!”

“Every…” The Survey Corps continued screamed for Optimus to wake up as the Prime passed out in Eren's arms. Eren roared and tried to shake him awake, but it was no use.

"Wheeljack! Arcee!" Megatron called out for them as the Autobots ran forward. Wheeljack and Arcee grabbed Optimus by his shoulders while Megatron grabbed Optimus by his pedes. Eren could only watch with fear and hopelessness as Optimus was ripped from his grasp and carried to the Jackhammer. The Prime was laid out of the floor, and when Arcee let go, she was trembling at the sight of energon on her servos.

"I'll prepare what's on the neutral ship!" Megatron quickly transformed into his alt mode and flew towards the neutral ship.

"Let us come with you!" Armin begged as Eren pulled himself out of his titan form.

"Just meet us there!" Wheeljack shouted as he shut the Jackhammer door.

"No! NO!" Gabi wailed as the Jackhammer took off towards the other end of the island.

"Horses! Now! Let's move!" Hanji shouted with such passion and fury that hadn't been seen in months. Everyone quickly mounted their horses, and Eren quickly jumped on Armin's horse and sat right behind his friend.

"Wait! Please let me come with you!" Gabi begged, "Please! I don't want him to die because of me!"

"That asshole's on the brink of death because he's a self-sacrificing idiot!" Levi declared as he whipped the reigns on his horse and rode forward.

"Let's go!" Hanji ordered as the rest of them rode towards the neutral ship.

"Please!" Gabi tried to pull herself out of Reiner's grip, but because of her weakened body, she couldn't budge. She cried and begged as she collapsed to her knees.

"Gabi, we need to get you medical aid," Pieck told her.

"No! I can't! No!" Gabi cried as Reiner pulled her close and let her cry in his chest.

"Armin go faster!" Eren yelled.

"I'm trying!" Armin shot back as he whipped the reigns once again.

Eren's titan marks began to fade, but the tears wouldn't stop streaming down his face. Optimus can't die. Optimus can't leave them! Not after everything they went through to get him back! He found himself praying once again to deities he didn't even believe in. He's okay. He's got to be okay. He has to be. He's okay. Please! Please be okay! He can't lose him too!

It took too long for them to arrive, but they managed to make it to the the neutral ship. They all practically jumped off their horses and ran inside. They could hear the sounds of machines welding stuff together. They could hear monitors. They could hear Wheeljack, Arcee, and Megatron yelling at each other in their native language.

"Megatron!" Hanji screamed.

Megatron peered out of the makeshift medbay, and the Survey Corps paused in their step when they saw the energon on Megatron's claws.

"Stay out here! We need to focus!" And without another word, Megatron ran back inside.

Eren tried to run in there himself, but Armin quickly grabbed his friend from behind and shook his head. Eren knew what Armin meant by that. He knew he should stay out of it. But that was his father. Please! Please let Optimus be okay! He doesn't want to lose him!

Eren fell to his knees and cried, dragging a sorrowful Armin with him. Was it all for nothing? Was everything he worked for...was it all for nothing?!

(I just got over 35,000 hits on Ao3. Hooray! Anyway, ask list is up there if you want to ask for more.)

[innuendostudios]

hey, i don't know if you're the person to ask, but i was recently rewatching your CO-VIDS series and was wondering: how do you come up with ideas to write about? I've wanted to do more writing in a non-educational/academic context(re: not something a professor assigned me) for a while but I have a really hard time coming up with ideas for what to write about, topic wise. any advice? (ps: your content is, without exaggeration, probably my favorite thing on youtube, thank you so much for making the super cool shit you do)

Things I think about. Sometimes a video is just a place to put thoughts. I played Life is Strange and couldn't stop thinking about how the second half was in a completely different genre from the first half and how that seemed intentional. I played The Walking Dead: Season 2 and was really bothered that hardly anyone was talking about the abuse dynamics in Clem's relationship to Kenny. I noticed that Dr. Horrible mapped the superhero/supervillain archetypes onto the bully/nerd archetypes as a means of inverting your sympathies, and I was bothered that Penny's role as The Love Interest is kinda flat and disposable in both those stories. Basically, I just go through my Box of Opinions and share anything I think might make a good video. Things I love, things I'm conflicted about, things I find myself thinking about a lot - that's all juice for an essay.

Things I want to think more about. Sometimes a video is an excuse to research something. I knew I wanted to make a video about Fury Road, but I also wanted an excuse to watch like 40 action movies and read a bunch of essays about action movies and read a bunch of feminist film theory. Sometimes you can't justify obsessing over something you like unless you can convince yourself it's a form of productivity. So long as there's a video at the end of it, you're technically "working."

Things that matter. A lot the more political work is just trying to understand things that feel important, and/or things I feel morally obliged to comment on. I made Why Are You So Angry? because #GamerGate and the harassment of Anita Sarkeesian disgusted me, and I wanted to say something of value about them. I started The Alt-Right Playbook because Trump got elected, and I didn't understand how that had happened. In both cases, there were things pressing on my mind that I needed to wrap my head around, to write my way out of, and to say something of value about. I wanted to figure them out, and share what I figured out with other.

Those are the main driving forces for me. Odds are you don't have to "come up" with anything, you already have lots of thoughts and opinions. Just write some down and go from there.

[articskele]

Yall I just gotta spill my incoherent rambles about Its Name Was Cesar Torres because GRAAAAHHHHH

Spoilers under the cut!

I saw one post that was like “Ok but which would be more fucked up: the alternate killing Cesar while wearing the face of his mom, or vice versa?” And this fic gave us a third and even more devastating option holy shit-

“Picking up the receiver, it paused before pressing at the shapes in the pattern it knew would make Cesar Torres’ friend speak.”

DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS LINE.

Understanding the how but not the why, having the knowledge but not the experience, the inhuman detachment of it all. One small detail that betrays its whole state of being right now: An imitation.

And don't even get me started on the headcanons for how alternates work bc they're so FASCINATING

The way alternates just. Absorb? Things? To take on their form? One of the comments mentioned the alt wearing Cesar's corpse like a parasite and AOUGH

The way emotions have taste- Altsar's initial plan to understand pain just so it could make Mark's suffering that much better to savor- It's just the sheer embodiment of their nature as entities of consumption, born into a state of empty eternity

The way alternates have no personal stake in the war and are just doing what they do best because they can- The way alternates can't die and are just cast back into the void from whence they came, only delaying the inevitable-

Pfffft Mark walks in and just sees Altsar like 🧍 aksjdalkfh- Not a single thought between those eyes dude

Mark with the chewed up fingernails he just like me fr

THE BIBLE REFERENCES THE BIBLE REFERENCES OUGHHGHGHH HOLY SH IT

I don't even know why I love em so much they just make me FERAL- OK BUT THAT SCENE IN CHAPTER 2 WITH MARK RECITING THE FUCKIGNF PSALM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

BRO IS CLINGING. HOLDING ON FOR DEAR LIFE SOMEONE HELP HIM. GO CHRISTIAN BOY GO!!!! Voted God's little lamb most likely to be slaughtered-

THE PANCAKESSSSS. WHAT IF I CRIED. A glimpse of silliness in the storm, and Altsar fuckin grinning from ear to ear (perhaps literally lmao-) I love that and I want them to be ok in the end-

Can we talk about the deer alternate. Can we tALK ABOUT THE FUCKING DEER AAAAUGHH

They had us in the first half not gonna lie with the Mark fakeout- The way I slapped my hand over my mouth like "WUH? HUH??"

AND THEN ALTSAR, OVERWHELMED WITH RAGE, STRIKING THIS ABOMINATION WITH ALL OF ITS THEIR MIGHT. AND YET IT JUST KEEPS TALKING. WORDS DRIPPING FROM ITS SLACKED JAW LIKE SALIVA. WHY WON'T IT STO P.

The moment Altsar realizes he's gotten way in over his head past the point of no return- The constant change of it to they to he, struggling with newfound humanity and unable to see where the alternate ends and the dead man begins. Is there even a difference anymore?

The whole warm and cold thing..... Mark taking Altsar's hands into his and bandaging his its wounds..... Injured. Broken. Both of them living a lie for as long as they can.

AND CAN WE JUST APPRECIATE THE WAY EVERYTHING COMES TOGETHER AT THE END:

The Mary statue and the deer alternate coming back

Mark's righteous fury framed by the shards of the Evangelist

The change from ¬ Shoot me, Mark Heathcliff. I am not what you think. ¬ to ¬ Don’t shoot me. I'm not what you think. ¬

Altsar finally experiencing pain, only for it to be at the hand of his best friend. Bleeding out as he screams for the one thing he just can't go without.

“It hurts, Mark. It hurts.”

IT'S JUST SO!!! GODDDDDDDDD. WHAT IF I CRIED. WHAT IF I TURNED INTO A LITTLE PUDDLE HUH. WHAT THEN.

I just. I struggle to find the words to describe how much I adore this fic, yall. If you were to look in my brain you would just find that one video of the guy shouting "HEEEELP. HEEEEEEELP. HELP MEEE." with the most expressionless face-

I like this fic. I like it a whole lot. And I can't wait to see what comes next ouo

[beansprean]

The boys are on a mission!

My Familiar’s Ghost part 7

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Ghost Guillermo floats up behind Nandor, looking worried, asking, "and you're sure I didn't come by at all? You don't know where I went?" Nandor scowls and looks away, annoyed and twisting his fingers together. He snaps back, "Why don't you ask your sire?" 1b. Guillermo floats around to Nandor's side, ghostly tail splitting to form back into legs. He looks a little surprised, replying, "Oh yeah, that's a good idea, actually." Nandor tenses, hands going to fists at his side, angry his passive aggressiveness was ignored.

2a. Guillermo steps in front of Nandor to face him and says "He works at the Sunoco on Page Avenue, so just go over there and-" Nandor interrupts, hands planted on his hips, "What, so because you're a ghost now you think you can send me on errands?" 2b. Guillermo flares up in sudden fury, flying off the ground into Nandor's face with blue fire in his fists and shouts "I can't leave the fucking house, Nandor!" Nandor leans away nervously, muttering, "Alright, alright, yeesh. So testy lately."

3a. Nandor watches apprehensively, twisting his hands together and leaning away, as Guillermo slowly floats back down. Guillermo has his eyes closed and exhales a deep breath, holding his hands up vertically in front of his chest in a calming gesture. 3b. Guillermo opens his eyes and chops both his hands forward decisively, saying, "If we want me to move on, we have to know what happened when I got turned." Nandor straightens, turning his head away irritably, and makes no comment.

4a. Guillermo floats up again to circle around Nandor, holding out one hand placatingly, and continues, "We need to find vampire me, and Derek is our only lead." Nandor crosses his arms, eyes squinting, and angrily clicks his tongue. "Derek," he repeats with venom. 4b. Nandor limps one hand in an uncaring gesture and relents, "Fine. I will do this for you, Guillermo! Someone must step up because your useless sire turned you so badly as to get your brains all scrambled up." Guillermo laces his fingers together against one cheek in mock gratitude, face tired as he drones facetiously, "Oh, thank you, Master! My hero!"

5. Extreme close up on Colin in his room, sliding on a new pair of glasses. He looks up as Nandor ducks awkwardly into the doorway wearing a travel cloak, asking, “Colin Robinson, what is a Sun-Oh-Koh?” /end ID

[manuscriptsdontburn6]

Here are some thoughts on Lestat’s band! Playlist/song recs at the end.

TL/DR: Lestat could’ve been an early ‘70s glam rock star, and most of the music associated with him has connections to that era.

Descriptions of the band from the books:

“I could hear their whining electric guitars, their frantic singing. It was as good as the radio and stereo songs I heard, and it was more melodic than most. There was a romance to it in spite of its pounding drums. The electric piano sounded like a harpsichord.”

The Vampire Lestat, page 5

“Then came the piercing, twanging fury of the electrical guitar. The drums boomed into a marching cadence, and the grinding locomotive sound of the synthesizer crested, then broke into a bubbling caldron of noise in time with the march. It was time to begin the chant in the minor key, its puerile lyrics leaping over the accompaniment…”

The Vampire Lestat, page 537

I remember reading that Anne saw an Iron Maiden concert as research for writing The Vampire Lestat. She also cited Bon Jovi and the Doors as inspiration. I think in one of the @thecoveninarticulate podcasts, someone even talked about how TVL has a keyboardist but no bass player, which was a reference to the Doors. Also, the description of the keyboard sounding like a harpsichord is reminiscent of the Doors’s sound, which includes a lot of electric organ. So we’re not working with less commercial ‘80s goth music (which I like to think Armand and Daniel were into). TVL probably wouldn’t reach the insane level of commercial success that they do as an ‘80s goth band, as goth was very much confined to subcultural status at this time. The same goes for heavier/more underground metal subgenres. Over-the-top ‘80s rock and classic ‘60s rock are what we’re working with, based on the books.

The Doors are an interesting reference for TVL, since they’re out of the ‘80s time period. They experimented with lyrical and sonic darkness, and Jim Morrison is noted for the boundaries he pushed as a performer. They’re aesthetically associated with the underbelly of ‘60s L. A. Think Once Upon A Time…In Hollywood. Thus, Lestat’s music is meant to cut deeper than his ‘80s hair metal contemporaries, whose music was mostly just good fun.

I personally think it might have been appropriate for Lestat to emerge in the early-mid ‘70s as a sort of dark glam rock star, instead of in the ‘80s during the hair metal/goth era. Lestat’s experimentation with persona is VERY similar to what David Bowie did with Ziggy Stardust. Additionally, the band and singer sharing a name seems like a call back to o. g. Alice Cooper (no clue if Anne intended that or not, but it’s what I immediately thought of). This connects back to the Doors as well; Jim Morrison’s performance style formed the rock star archetype of the tragic figure battling internal demons, which glam rock dramatizes. The sound that woke Lestat up from his vampire nap (abrasive yet melodic and of course hard-rocking) had been developing for a long time before 1984. Plus, ‘70s glam rock was all about pushing the envelope on male gender presentation and sexuality. Marc Bolan (of T. Rex) and David Bowie both came out as bisexual during this time period, and male rock stars dressed more and more androgynously. It’s all very Lestat-core. I really have trouble believing he would have slept through Bowie, Bolan, Iggy, and Alice.

Whatever else we might have to say about AMC’s adaptation, I did enjoy that they played T. Rex during the scene where young Daniel and Louis (plus Armand) meet in the bar. It was perfect for a queer scene set in the ‘70s.

The Queen of the Damned movie from 2002 makes The Vampire Lestat into a nu-metal band. I’ve only seen clips of that movie on Youtube, and I felt like I got a good enough idea of what it’s like…but I have looked at the soundtrack. Its songs were written by Jonathan Davis of Korn and sung by the who’s-who of nu-metal, and ‘90s-2000s alt rock generally. Davis’s dark, sludgy sound seems a bit far from what the books describe and what Lestat’s own tastes probably would have been. Also, it’s important to note that some artists on the soundtrack have turned out to be egregiously horrible people, even by the standards of the very fucked up rock music world. We don’t need to give them attention by incorporating them into our worldbuilding.

That being said, there are a few elements of the overall Lestat nu metal vibe that I think work. Nu metal was a more commercialized version of goth and metal that was recognized more widely, which corresponds with TVL’s level of success in the books. I can also get behind the mall-goth aesthetic for band and their fans. Vampire kitsch, combined with real vampirism. It’s textbook camp. Also, songs about Lestat’s life are going to inevitably have disturbing lyrical content. Nu-metal explores this kind of subject matter more explicitly than many other subgenres.

A lot of the nu metal bands on the soundtrack took inspiration from the early ‘70s, evident in their androgyny, blurring of the line between persona and reality, and campiness. So, even in that intensely 2000s movie, the ‘70s influence remains.

Speaking of 2000s alt rock, I was of course excited to see Gerard Way dressed as Bela Lugosi on MCR’s most recent tour. Lestat also dressed as a stereotypical vampire, cape and all, for his (singular) show. Glam rock is an influence for MCR as well—Gerard Way talks about Bowie in interviews, etc. It’s awesome. That got me thinking—Lestat would have totally written intense and dramatic MCR-esque love songs for Louis.

I think it’s also worth mentioning the final scene of the 1994 adaptation. Lestat jumps into Daniel’s convertible with a leather jacket over his ruffled shirt, which is a look a LOT of androgynous rock stars wore. It’s giving Jimmy Page in a major way. Lestat switches the radio station to play “Sympathy for the Devil,” covered by Guns and Roses. The Stones were precursors to glam rock in their way. Guns and Roses came later but took a lot from early ‘70s glam as well. It’s safe to infer that Lestat’s already going into his rock star era at this point in the movie. This gives us an idea of his music taste and general attitude at this point in the narrative. He’s interested in the dark and glamorous aesthetic of rock music, as well as how its contemplations of evil intertwine with his.

We don’t know what AMC is going to do with Lestat’s rock star era yet. I’m interested to see what route they take.

Here are a few songs that fit with how I imagine TVL, based on all these considerations. It’s a bit of a strange combination because Lestat has been associated with different styles of music, but they all connect with glam rock one way or another. I’d love y’all’s thoughts as well, ofc!

Songs:

More—Sisters of Mercy

Andrew Eldritch, goth icon who denies his own gothness, decided to try being a straight-up rock star with the album Vision Thing, leaving behind the melancholic sound of the Sisters’ earlier work. This song has violin on it—perfect for Lestat. The lyrics are also in character for him: “I don’t know why you gotta be so undemanding/one thing I know/I want MORE,” “I need all the love that I can’t get to.”

Riders on the Storm—the Doors

Imagine it done by an ‘80s band. It works.

Ziggy Stardust—David Bowie

This is Bowie telling the story of his character Ziggy, like how Lestat talks about himself in his songs. Plus it’s very Lestat to describe yourself as having a “god-given ass.” Am I wrong? I’m not wrong.

Ballrooms of Mars—T. Rex

This is one of the best songs Marc Bolan ever wrote, in my opinion. Unlike most of his work, which is whimsical and nonsensical in the best way, the lyrics and descending chord progression create a more ominous and mournful atmosphere. The lyrics can easily be read as vampiric.

Runnin’ With the Devil—Van Halen

Tough Cookie would probably have an Eddie Van Halen-esque guitar tone, as TVL would want to sound very modern for their time period. Themes of, well, runnin’ with the devil. Confessing your own evilness to a rock audience.

Change in the House of Flies—Deftones

The one QOTD movie song I’m including. I think TVL’s songs would have a bit more dynamic variation than the Deftones, but the love/horror combo this song is about plays a big part in VC and in Lestat’s life. Plus, I can imagine it would be a good song to perform live, and, being glam-adjacent, that would be important for TVL.

Sympathy for the Devil—Guns and Roses

Good job, 1994 adaptation.

[cozystars]

SPIDER-IMP INFO DUMP CAUSE I CAN!!!

IDs in the alt text, with way more info under the cut. Enjoy :)!!!

Insight into Personality

Dali and Araneum differ in their own ways. Take, for example, if someone was being passive-aggressive towards them.

The Human would mutter insults under their breath, hoping this hypothetical subject would never see them shooting daggers behind their back through a glare. Dali has a hard time being nice towards anyone they don't consider to be family, meaning those who give them a hard time doesn't deserve their time...they can't say that out loud, though.

Meanwhile, the Imp would resort to gossip, passing rumors to anyone with an open ear. In her opinion, secrets are how you gain strength, and if someone wants to be like that, she'll return the energy with a petty fury.

What they share in personality traits is the fact that they hate being reminded of how powerless they are. If the imaginary person I mentioned earlier were to confront them about the weird stares and secrets being spilled, Araneum would hide behind Dali, and Dali would melt. Witty one-liners do not come easy to the duo, especially when they are made to feel small. Well, smaller than they already do every day.

This is why Spider-Imp holds such importance for both of them. When fused, they take on a new persona that allows them to actually go toe-toe with others, mentally and physically. Their personality becomes similar to a loner who doesn't say much, but when they do, it's quick, punchy quips to scare assailants.

More on Spider-Imp

When possessing the mortal's body, Araneum becomes someone larger than life, literally bigger than her usual impish form, and she loves it. This energy then fuels Dali, like adrenaline, giving them vitae they could only dream of before summoning the demon. It's all the duo could ask for and more, making their bond insanely strong because they share a similar desire for power.

Having a demonic patron isn't all pros, of course. When it comes to supernatural strength, it has its significant cons. For Dali, they feel parts of their core missing once they un-fuse. They don't know how to describe it other than they feel like they lose more of themself in Araenum with each possession. They're very aware that they did sell their soul to become Spider-Imp, but it takes them a while to realize the toll such a form takes.

Araneum becomes absolutely drained after they separate. She, too, loses bits of herself to the mortal plane. It's small, but it then snowballs to become an actual problem. A possible arc for Spider-Imp is them trying to find an alternative when it comes to hunting demons (this is also where the summoning from the grimoire becomes a more heavy aspect)

With Great Demonic Power...

As for abilities, compared to the usual Spider-Arsnel, Spider Imp's way more magic-based (if you couldn't tell). So instead of web shooters, they summon webs. Said webs are perfect for trapping the demonic or human ne'er-do-wells if the job calls for it. Their spidey sense is precisely honed to detect metaphysical sulfur, the scent of demons. And, of course, there's the grimoire. Instead of web-slinging, they prefer to crawl, jump, etc. They do better on all fours. The only standard powers they have is super strength and sticking to walls. Their fighting style emphasizes intimidation, sneaking, and slashing to get what they want.

Now onto summoning! To have a demon's name holds a significant advantage over others.

With this, a ritual can be performed so that that demon's proficiency can be used in a fight. I see Araneum weaving magic circles so other demonic patrons can aid Dali. And when the imp gains a higher ranking, she can do more than just spin sigils. I can also see Spider-Imp being able to summon the powers of other demons while in a fight. For example, if they were to catch a high-ranked monster with the ability to breathe fire, they'd be able to summon such power when taking the form of Spider-Imp.

Relations to Others

An ask said they'd see Peni and Dali being friends because of similar circumstances (being bonded to an external source that gives them power), and like yeah!! Along with Margo, I see them getting along with those two the most, even if they're tech nerds like those two are. And Dali would DEF cheer Miles on. They literally summoned a demon to try to get their Aunt back. They'd do anything to make that ‘canon' event’ not happen, let alone happen AGAIN.

And because of that, I don't see them liking Miguel much because of, well, everything about the guy. I don't even see Dali letting him see them out of a Spider-Imp form, a strain on Araneum, which is why they will not often be seen in Spider Society HQ. I also don't see them liking Peter B. that much, kinda out of jealousy; Dali wouldn't laugh at the jokes he makes, hates how he takes the whole multiverse breaking so lightly, "how can you smile in a time like this?" sort of attitude takes over. But they only act that way because they don't know him well. And probably only will if they avoid attempting to socialize with the guy.

I'm yet to figure out Dali's family, but so far, they decided to live with their Aunt because their mom and dad weren't the best, so they made her their new family, along with their Aunt's partner. Both were stricken with grief when she passed, but they especially hated seeing their remaining family in pain, which led to Dali wanting to do something about it, leading to the ritual! Yay!

That's all for now, folks! Hopefully, I'll find the motivation to do more work for Spider-Imp because I like drawing them lots and making stuff for them! I'd like to work on allies and villains following or fake comic covers. Who knows? I just wanna doodle Dali!

[crystalelemental]

Unit Teambuilding - Neo Champion Nate

Who wants to bet that someone on Reddit will argue that actually this proves Nate is the real protagonist of BW2, because this Shiny Haxorus is only obtained when you complete your Pokedex, which could only be done if he did all the stuff with the legendary Pokemon. Who wants to bet me? I already won by the way.

General Overview Nate finally gets his alt, and all of his pent up fury at the world is released, in the form of a black Haxorus that is out for blood.  Usually I try to be somewhat thorough in my rundown of a pair's talents, but I'm going to cut to the chase on this one.  240% sync damage on grid, his new Circle effect can give up to 40% bonus move and sync damage depending on Unovan count, Field EX Role for a multiplicative 50% bonus.  Effectively, 420% sync damage.  By himself.  For free.  All conditionals are absurdly easy to apply.  This is all you need to know about Nate to justify his existence.

But wait, there's more!  Nate has a ton of interesting traits, including an AoE buddy move that unfortunately doesn't get no-penalty effect, but is 300BP and therefore a second nuke.  He also has the new Circle effect, which is basically a second Master Passive, but it works for sync too.  Nate, by himself on an all-Unova team, is +90% physical damage dealt, and -45% physical damage taken.  Like.  Free.  For completely free.  He always crits, caps attack on first trainer move, and gets that Buddy move back every time the team uses sync.  All of this around a very proficient rate of boosting PMUN for himself.  His role is take first sync, AoE explode sides, then fire off a compressed Buddy move with sync strength, and with a rotation or Circle -> sync -> Buddy and a full Unova team, gets 200% bonus damage on said Buddy move. There are sync nukes with less power than that.

So what are the flaws?  Well...he's Nemona. You know how Nemona operates on burst damage, then has nothing once used up? NC Nate is the same. You sync, you Buddy move, then you wait for someone to sync. Scale Shot is atrocious damage. And with Circles being 2MP and an impermanent field effect, this starts to cut into damage. Nate isn't built for the long haul that way. He needs partners. And outside of Iris and C!Iris? His only Dragon-type partner is BT Leon (or BP Zinnia if you want to be cute). Every other dragon is special. And it's rare that you want two different offensive types in a match. Not that he can't make it happen for off-typing, but you get the idea. His ideal partners aren't plentiful. But in truth? I kinda like these flaws. Every pair has to have some kind of limitation, and this feels more aligned to interesting teambuilding than other top meta pairs. Like, because of the limitations in play? If he isn't ending the fight after his Buddy move, his partner is picking up some slack. And Unova-specific boosts with Dragon Zone means base Iris is contributing. And that's just great. I love when a really good pair drops and actually brings up the lower tier with it.

EX, Role, and Move Level? Nate is a fascinating case.  Move Level is, I think, justifiable at 1/5, if you're going for more supportive effects.  You know.  Like I would.  But you'd still want the EX and Role, because Field role is huge for his potential support.  It's what ratchets Iris up to absurd levels of power.  Obviously, 3/5 is when Nate goes off the rails and becomes a killing machine.

Team 1: NC Nate, C!Iris, Hilbert Nate and Iris are the obvious pair, as both contribute bonkers Dragon-type damage to the team.  C!Iris has the added benefit of being an offensive debuffer, giving Nate the defensive backbone to keep trucking.  Iris' main problem is her own setup.  She relies on Atk/crit support, and for Unova, there's...really only one option.  Hilbert.  Hilbert is nigh-required for a full Unova team, due to C!Iris' needs.  You could just ignore that, though.  Bring whoever you want and let Iris serve as debuffer/flinch bot.  Not like Nate will need the help.

Team 2: NC Nate, Iris, H!Caitlin Now, if you are insane like me, this is at least worth discussing.  Base Iris can make use of all of Nate's effects, making her a surprisingly fun choice for a 1/5 Nate.  H!Caitlin supplies all the Atk/Spd the team needs, as well as some defensive backbone, and full Unova privileges.

Team 3: NC Nate, SS N, H!Caitlin Okay, now let's talk some bullshit.  Off-type is a possibility for Nate, given the raw damage output he can provide.  One really, really fun option is SS N.  SS N operates on a two-turn rotation of attacks, and relies on hitting a denial on sides to succeed.  Off-type, this is incredibly hard without a lot of support.  Support in the form of +90% move damage with potential PMUN stacks.  H!Caitlin is chosen for defensive backbone, speed control, and the last bit of Atk that N needs.  Also just because she is optimal.

Team 4: NC Nate, Colress, S!Hilda/Lenora "I don't care about any of that nerd shit!  This is Nate's time to shine, I want him to do maximum damage!"  Colress, you're up bro.  -6 Def by first sync, GG EZ.  You can throw in Summer Hilda if you want super good defensive bulk and Topsy Turvy, or you can throw in Lenora for added Leer and some team healing.  Either or.

Final Thoughts Nate is one of those Strikers who embodies the damage type he was born into.  His sync is immaculate.  The added effects of the new Circle, the Master passive, and the Zone are all tremendous, and would serve him well regardless of his raw power.  When combined, the man is a menace.  I can think of little to fault Nate with, in truth.

[eldritchships]

Here it is at last! The finished reference for my Transformers OC, Flatline! (No relation to the canon character of the same name)

Dot points are also below the cut for anyone having trouble with my handwriting

Flatline

He/Him

Field medic

Specialises in toxins and performance enhancers

Alt mode: Helicopter

Unfairly branded a Decepticon, stuck on a prison ship for years

Escaped and joined the 'Cons

Definitely eccentric, but he exaggerates it even more as a defence mechanism

Lots of pent-up fury he projects onto the Autobots

Feet are formed from helicopter tail rotor + fins

Right arm has a compartment for inserting poisons, energon etc.

Syringe-blade can bend, but it's not as dexterous as other fingers