#But I WILL be imagining skeleton good times that one was for real

[wistsandmagic]

No Way Out (Brother I Let You Down)

Welp. I finally caved in to one of the plot bunnies @keferon 's Mecha AU keeps putting in my brain. So here, have some Swindle and Vortex ANGST.

(under the cut because it's over 2k words)

It was the middle of the night. The lights in the hangar were dimmed, the sounds of the skeleton crew that worked as night shift far away in the mechanics’ sector, not on the hangar floor. The mecha stood still in their refuel bays, waiting on the next time the Quintessons attacked, when the alarms would blare and the hangar would become a frantic cacophony of activity.

For now though, things were quiet. Still.

Lonely.

Swindle walked silently across the catwalk strung between the mecha, the smell of oil and gear lubricant seeping into his nose like an old friend's aftershave. He didn't smell that often enough nowadays. Sometimes he missed it.

Sometimes, he thought, turning at a path junction to walk down to one particular mecha's bay, one that towered over everything else in the hangar. Sometimes he just missed the people that the smell accompanied.

No one would have ever guessed that he and Vortex had been close friends. They fought like cats and dogs, always sniping at each other, yelling and picking at each other until Onslaught had to break them up before things got too physical. They'd both ended up in medbay more than once after a fight hadn't been broken up quickly enough. They were the youngest of the group, after all, and so close in age that fights seemed almost inevitable.

Swindle had thought of Vortex as the closest thing he'd ever had to a brother. When he didn't come back from that ill-fated mission...

The former pilot stopped in front of the giant mecha in the bay, the faint hint of old blood adding itself to the scents mingling in his nose. Vortex's mecha always smelled vaguely bloody, though since that young medic-turned-pilot, First Aid, had taken over, things weren't as strong. Swindle thought that might be a good thing. Maybe.

He wasn't one to really believe in ghosts, not in the way people meant. A spirit that haunted the living? Seemed improbable. Ghosts were the memories that lingered when you stared at the things the dead had left behind. The scents that once followed them suddenly wafting through the air, the feel of a missing presence, an ache that never went away. That was a 'ghost'.

But when Swindle stared at the red visor of Vortex's mech – it would always be Vortex's mech to him, no matter who piloted it or for how long – it was all too easy to imagine the other kind of ghost. All too easy to give in to the superstitions surrounding this mecha, to believe that a malevolent spirit haunted it, for all it seemed to at least like First Aid. One pilot it didn't want to kill.  

The visor stared back blankly, and Swindle caught sight of his own reflection, warped and twisted by the thick, bullet-proof plexiglass. Somehow the warped reflection felt more like it was the real him than the him that existed in his own skin, at that moment. All of the stress, the heaviness, the days of lying through his teeth and pretending he cared less than he did, that all he was in things for was the money, that the pilots that came back to base maimed and traumatized didn't matter to him as long as the program got the money needed, that his best friend who couldn't even remember that he was Swindle's best friend was laying in a hospital bed, half of his body burned and his mind in tatters didn't matter beyond his ability to bring in investors...

It was too much. It was just...too much.

"H...hey," he managed, flinching at how much his own voice cracked. Where was the smarmy car-salesman he pretended at being? The smooth operator, the con man? "...Vortex, if...if you're in there, buddy, y'mind? I just..." Tears pricked at the corners of Swindle's eyes, startling him and making him put a hand to his face. Man, he was losing it, wasn't he? "I...I just needed..."

Before he knew it, Swindle found himself slumping to the catwalk floor, his back to Vortex's mech. Knew that if the ghost stories were true, that might not be a good idea, but he'd always trusted his friend. His brother. Saw no reason to stop now. "I miss you, y'know that?" He murmured, trying to stem the flow of tears without letting his voice hitch. "The entire...the entire program's shit. I know we knew that already, but...Vee, it's got so much worse. And here I am...actively promoting the damn thing 'cause we have no other choice. " ...he hadn't called Vortex 'Vee' in years. It was usually "Tex"; that was what Vortex had preferred. Swindle was the only one that could ever get away with calling him Vee without getting punched, even so. Swindle had reserved it for special occasions, knowing he held privilege. Now seemed like as good a time as any. Vortex wasn't there any longer to half-heartedly gripe at him for the affectionate diminutive.

That didn't make it better.

Swindle leaned his head back until it thunked against the catwalk railing, letting him stare up from behind his rose-tinted glasses toward the ceiling, heedless of the tears streaming down his face. "I dunno what to do to stop it, Vee. You were always the one c-coming up with the harebrained schemes that somehow worked. You always were smarter than I am, just damn crazy. We worked so good together, like brothers, you 'n me." He laughed mirthlessly, a shaking hand coming up to cover his face as he sobbed, unable to stop himself. "...though guess I'm probably the crazy one now, h-huh. Talkin' to your mech like somehow you c-can hear me through it. Like you're gonna act like my crazy older brother again and somehow tell me this's all gonna work out in the end, and I'm not a heartless monster for doin' this, goin' along with this shit."

He didn't pay attention to the faint nudging at his side at first, figuring it was just the edge of the railing digging into his ribs. When the touch became more insistant, however, he looked down, blinking away tears. Only to stare dumbly at the very large fingertip pressed ever so gently against his side. His breath caught, and for a moment Swindle couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't move, because that was the hand of Vortex's mech, his index finger pressed almost lovingly to Swindle's side, rubbing up and down very slightly now that Swindle was actively paying attention. Almost as if it were trying to comfort him.

Dashing tears from his eyes with the back of one hand, Swindle switched his attention from the massive finger at his side to the head of the mech beside him, expecting to see First Aid curled up inside the cockpit controlling things. But no, the cockpit was empty, the faint lights inside just enough to let him see through the visor before everything flared to life, the visor turning bright and opaque as the mech's head turned slowly to look directly at Swindle.

He'd spent years pretending there was no such thing as ghosts, hating that Vortex's mech killed pilots, but refusing to believe it was anything other than glitches. To say otherwise would be having to say that something of his friend, his brother, still lingered, and Swindle couldn't help him. Now, though, he couldn't deny it. He could feel Vortex there, staring at him through the mech, through that red visor so much like Vortex's own remembered helmet. He blinked as the sound of soft static filled the air, a mechanical text-to-speech voice whispering through the speakers embedded in the mech's head. "Swindler, c'mon now. You never were one for tears, little bro."

If...if Vortex intended that to stop Swindle from crying, it had the exact opposite effect. Sure, the voice was mechanical, it sounded off, but that was still, somehow, Vortex's voice, and Swindle hadn't heard it outside of old recordings for far too long. He shakily got to his feet, one hand covering his mouth to muffle himself while the other scrabbled frantically for Vortex's finger, any and all fears about the rogue mecha deciding to crush him into paste fleeing from his mind in his desperation to have some part of Vee touching him. Only Vortex ever called him "Swindler". Only Vortex ever called him little bro.

"A...are you really in there, Vee?" Even to Swindle's own ears he sounded pathetic. Not like himself at all. It was the stress. It had to be the stress. That was the only explanation.Maybe he was crazy. Maybe watching Blurr almost die was the final straw that broke him, and now he was headed for the looney bin as soon as someone found him. Damn. But hearing Vortex's voice, even distorted by machinery, coming from his mech, broke something inside Swindle's soul, and grief came pouring out whether he wanted it to or not.

Again that soft static, again that voice. "In the figurative flesh, Swindler." Somehow it even managed to retain Vortex's characteristic croon, the way he only spoke to those he actually liked, not the bitten-off snark of those he tolerated, or the open hiss to those he actively hated. Vortex carefully raised his hand over the railing, making Swindle step back a pace, and lowered a couple of his fingers, beckoning carefully. "C'mere. Can't hug you, know you need it, but c'mere anyway." Swindle should have thought twice. Every protocol to do with Vortex – the mech, not the long-dead person – screamed about caution and wariness. But this was Vortex. The person, not the mech. Crazy, full of bloodlust, stay out of his way on the battlefield, don't make him hate you, sure, but above all else he was Swindle's mech partner, his brother, his friend closer than a brother. The one who always had his back on and off the battlefield, in ways Onslaught never could.

He stepped into Vortex's hand without hesitation, trembling hands coming down to help hold himself steady as Vortex's fingers and thumb gripped him in a hold too gentle to come from a mech's default pilotless programming. He saw the visor open, and before he knew it he was deposited gently inside, warm air that smelled vaguely of vanilla – had First Aid hung an air freshener somewhere? – already wafting through the cockpit.

The speakers crackled to life. "Find a seat, little bro." Cabling hissed out of hidden apertures, operating oddly like hands and arms as they found Swindle, pulled him in closer to the emergency jumpseat off to the side of the pilot's seat, designed for maintenance and a place to stretch if trapped in the cockpit for too long, pulling it out from the wall and ushering Swindle to sit. Like Vortex knew Swindle couldn't bring himself to sit in the pilot's seat of a mech that didn't belong to him, that still belonged to Vortex, even if First Aid was 'sharing' it now.

"Vee..." "Hush." The voice was rough, kindness having always been oddly difficult for Vortex to manage, always making him sound like he was angry at himself for daring to show any kind of humanity. That was the case now, of course. Death hadn't changed some things. A lot of things. Still, Vortex's cabling wrapped gently around Swindle once he sat, draping over his shoulders and snaking across his lap like one of Vortex's annoying full-body hugs that had always been so good simply because of their rarity, even if he had to be drunk to give them. The thought made Swindle want to tear up all over again, grief and stress radiating off of him even as he reached out to brush over one of the cables, feeling unseen eyes watching him as he did his best to gather himself, unable to feel any fear for the faint malevolent presence that surrounded him, because he knew that malevolence wasn't directed at him. It never had been."I...you didn't come back," Swindle whispered, swallowing to try and keep his voice steady. "You died, Vee, and everything else went to hell after. It's only gotten worse now, and I...I didn't...I didn't even know you were still in here. You died."

"Yeah, I died. But. Still here, little bro. Got me a good pilot now that I like, finally, but I'm still here." Vortex's voice softened a little, in ways that would make almost anyone who knew him before his death stare at him like he'd lost even more of his marbles. Nobody ever really got to see this side of him other than the one pilot in their group who was younger than him; Swindle had been the only one to deserve the softness he was capable of, and even then only in secret. "Can't get rid of me that easily. I still got your back, y'know?" The cables wrapped around Swindle tightened slightly, reiterating Vortex's point and enclosing him in just that little bit of security. A hug from his dead friend, who was not entirely dead, and always closer to being more than even a brother would have been.

"Okay Swindler. Let's talk, you'n me. Let's come up with a plan. I'm here, little bro." "Always will be."

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #57: Indulgence

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery, comfort, starvation, body image issues, fear of torture, whumper turned whumpee

sorry for the long wait! i really do want to write more this year :)

-

Before Kane could get a single word out, he was tackled.

He just barely managed to keep his balance and stop himself from toppling to the ground as Bellamy’s arms wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him in warm and tight.

“You were dead.” His voice came out squeaky, thick with quick-forming tears. “There was that incident last month, but everyone thought that must have had to have been an impersonator. You’re truly here! Truly!”

“I’m here.” Kane hugged him back, but they only stayed like that a moment before Bellamy pulled back to see his face, still looking quite as though he couldn’t believe Kane were real.

“Where on Earth were you?” he asked, hands still clutching Kane’s arms with the grip of a man who imagined those arms would vanish if he let go.

“It’s a long story.” Kane took a deep breath. “Bellamy, I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I know–”

“Oh, don’t worry about that right now,” Bellamy did free one hand then, requiring it to gesture flippantly and then wipe the tears from his face. “Appreciated, to be sure, but there will be plenty of time for that after more pressing matters. Please, do come in, darling.”

A soft smile grew on Kane’s face. Bellamy wasn’t angry with him, at least. “Thank you. I would love to.”

It was only after he’d crossed the threshold of the doorway that Bellamy dared to let go, though he didn’t let his eyes off Kane for a moment as he made his way to sit on a plush couch in the living room.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, all politeness, though Kane knew exactly what he must look like. What Bellamy must see. Perhaps if Bellamy had seen him months earlier, he would have been unable to maintain such composure.

Not that Kane really minded at all. He was being offered food. “Yes, please.”

Before he knew it–Bellamy having dashed the whole way to the refrigerator and back–there was a pack of cold blood in his hands. “I’m able to warm it up for you, of course, but I do recall that when we were boys, you’d always said the pre-packaged never tastes as good reheated.”

“I don’t mind either way, nowadays.” Truthfully, Bellamy could have tripped and spilled the blood all over the floor and he would have gladly licked it up without much thought. He had before.

He bit into the soft plastic casing and drank. The cool blood was a bit stale, though nowhere approaching spoiled. He wouldn’t have cared if it was. It was delicious nonetheless, and after he’d exhausted what he could suck out through the holes, he tore the packaging apart and licked up every remaining drop clinging to the sides.

“It’s ethically-sourced,” Bellamy commented. “From free, willing, paid humans overseas.”

“It’s really good! Can I have another?” Kane asked before he could stop himself. He’d never been able to indulge before, not since his capture. He was grateful for what Jim had given him, of course. Grateful would be the understatement of the century. But Jim was one human, and he could only give so much at a time.

“Of course!” Bellamy clapped, just once, delighted. And when Bellamy returned, he had two.

Kane downed both, in the same manner as the first. Three meals, just like a human.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Bellamy started slowly, despite that it was very obvious he quite badly wanted to pry. His voice got a touch lower, gentler. “But Kane, my dear. Have you been… eating well?”

Kane crinkled the empty casings, something to do with his hands. He’d really been very proud of the progress he’d made. When he’d first seen himself in Jim’s bathroom mirror, he looked almost like a skeleton, every available bit of fat and muscle his body could spare cannibalized in its attempt to find something to keep him going, until there was nothing left.

He did look better now, after six months of regular meals. He was still far, far skinnier than he was before the hunters, but he had some meat on him now. His cheeks only sunk in a little bit. His collarbone jutted out in a way that just barely bordered ‘passably normal’. You could see the bones of his arms from the inner arm, but not the outer, so as long as he took care to hold his arms just so, no one could tell. Not that he ever really made an effort. His hair didn’t have bald patches anymore, didn’t shed every time he touched it. If he wore layers, which he always did–and not even for that reason–you couldn’t see his ribs. So long as one didn’t look too carefully, he could pass as a regular man.

But Bellamy always looked carefully.

Bellamy didn’t look starved at all. He didn’t have to try not to, of course. His skin was smooth and his face was full. His hair was thick and lucious and styled. He had the figure of a healthy man, one who had food available to him every single day of his life. He only wore one shirt and his abdomen didn’t fall inward from under his ribs like Kane’s did. He smelled like lavender cologne. He practically glowed.

“I… went through a period where I hadn’t been eating very well at all. But as of the past few months, I have,” he answered honestly.

Bellamy sat beside him. “Truth be told, I do mean to pry this time. On account of my increasing worry, you see. Where have you been all this time?”

“Human territory.” Kane looked down at the empty packaging in his hands. The label used the same phrasing Bellamy had–Free, willing humans! “I was captured by vampire hunters when I’d, I’d, ah, hunted f-for a new human. Things were not, um, good there. I wasn’t fed, as you’ve gathered. Then Jim, you remember Jim? He came and got me out. I’ve been living with him for the past seven months. Not owning him!” he clarified hastily, looking up then. “As roommates.”

“I see.” Bellamy’s eyebrows had slowly drawn together in concern more and more the longer Kane had talked. “Well, I’m certainly glad you’re out of there now, dear. I did always like that Jim boy.”

“And I’m sorry,” Kane tried again. “You were right about everything. About humans, about me, about our families, all of it. And I was a bad friend. Even before we parted ways, I always acted like I was better than you. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. I really am sorry.” And then, before he could stop himself: “Do you think we could try again?”

Bellamy smiled. “Well, I really am right about everything,” he mused. “I’ll admit, it’s all true. It took me a time to see as well, that you really were dreadful, though I never imagined I’d hear an apology from you.”

Though Kane had expected worse to start, it still tore a hole in him to hear Bellamy call him dreadful. Even if he knew it was true.

“That said,” Bellamy continued, “We were children. I was never the one bearing the brunt of your wrongs, and you’ve clearly turned over a new leaf. If even Jim has forgiven you, I see no reason not to. Absolutely, we can rekindle a friendship.”

Jim has not forgiven him: he’d made that clear. But he moved forward anyway. Maybe he could do that himself, too.

“I would love that.” Kane let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding, like a weight had been lifted from him after a century. “Maybe–maybe you could visit sometime. If you want to. I’d have to get permission. Do you ever go to human territory? I mean, you shouldn’t, but if I got permission, Jim’s sister is a hunter, you see, so it should–”

“Oh, yes, the sister! Elizabeth, if I recall? Yes, I’ve spoken with her, though well over a decade ago,” Bellamy cut in. “I do imagine she’s quite pleased to have her brother returned.”

Kane blinked. “You know Liz?”

“Oh, Jim and Caroline had exchanged phone numbers that night we met, you see. Caroline and the young girl had had a few conversations, but the girl had stopped at some point when she’d realized we had no way to affect Jim’s situation. I do not mean to imply I know her, I’d merely answered the phone and handed it off to Caroline a time or two. She’d always sounded frightened when I’d been the one to answer, so I did not linger,” he explained. “My, she must be grown by now. How time flies!”

“Oh. That’s–she never mentioned,” Kane stammered. “Is Caroline still…?”

“Alive and well, I assure you, though she has moved on to greener pastures. She’s found love, you see. She lives with her boyfriend nowadays, though she’s over often enough that my kitchen is still stocked with human food.” Bellamy reached to collect Kane’s empty packages, which he reluctantly released.

“So she’s back in human territory?” he asked.

“No, just across town. Her boyfriend is no human.”

Kane’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Oh my.”

He supposed he shouldn’t be too scandalized by the thought of a human and a vampire together. Humans were people, he knew that now, he’d accepted it long ago. Still, it felt… odd, in a way he could not adequately explain.

Bellamy laughed. “You must get with the times, darling.”

-

They sat there chatting for hours, and Kane had almost never felt lighter. It was like he was someone else, a version of him he’d never been before, where he was not horrible to anyone and no one had ever been horrible to him. Bellamy didn’t know what happened, not really, and with him, it was like he could forget, too. Just for an evening.

Just until he happened to glance at Bellamy’s clock and notice the time.

He startled out of nowhere. “It’s late,” he gasped. “I’m not–am I going to be able to get home in time?”

“Well, I’m not sure, as I’ve no idea where you live,” Bellamy points out. “Will you?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Kane grabbed Bellamy’s sleeve, terror striking his heart. “Please don’t make me go out there,” he begged. “I can’t–please, Bellamy, please.”

“What?” Bellamy put his hand over Kane’s, though he made no effort to remove his hold. “Of course, dear. You may spend the day if you wish. Why on earth would I force you into the morning?”

It was all crumbling apart. Of course he couldn’t be normal.

“I’m sorry,” Kane squeaked out, tearing up, but before he could say more, he found himself enveloped in a hug.

“It’s alright.” Bellamy held him as he struggled to collect himself. “You needn’t explain. Or you can, if you’re ready, or once you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Kane breathed.

It was silent, then. He didn’t want to explain. Not yet.

When he’d stopped crying–not that long after, by Kane’s standards, to his pride–Bellamy pulled back. “You know,  I was wondering… how you’re getting blood? Is it still Jim?”

“Oh, yes,” Kane sniffled. “He’s very generous. But he’s actually just recently stopped, and I’m to provide my own from now on. I was meant to go to my parents and clear my status as deceased, but at the last second I decided to come here.”

“I’m flattered,” Bellamy said haughtily, a hand on his chest. “You’d mentioned my going to visit you. What if I were to bring you blood? The kind you’d ‘sampled’ tonight.”

“You’d really do that?” Kane asked. The idea was beyond tantalizing–he could have all the blood he wanted, and not have to run across human territory, even the part with friendly hunters.

“I do. I would so like a chance to visit human territory without scaring the locals, besides!” Bellamy enthused. “A win for us both!”

The next night, Kane returned home with a bag full of blood packs. For once, he could see a future for himself.

-

…

He reviewed the grainy VCR footage captured by the security cameras at the de Sang estate. It was the strangest thing: he just ran up to the gate, stood there for a moment, and ran away. And everyone else was ready to write it off as if it had never happened, all hush-hush. The boring lot of them.

Anton smiled. “Well, look who’s not dead.”

-

taglist in reblogs

[somegrumpynerd]

This day has been a series of slaps to the face so I will be aggressively imagining skeletons having a good time in my little cage until tomorrow morning, this will be different to what I normally do here in no way, thank you

[juanarc-thethird]

Since your doing the DP and Wolverine prompts does this mean that Nora’s used Jaunes dead body as a weapon or just his sword?

Deadpool used Logan's bones because they are metal, so in this case I chose a third option that I came up with. --------------

Nora arrives at a forest where a cross marks the site of a grave.

Nora: (Narrating) For a long time, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be back. VIZ Media bought RWBY, there was a whole boring rights issue, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. But then, it turned out that they wanted me! the one girl who shouldn’t even have her own show! That was all so stupid. Look, we know the title of this thing, so I know what you’re wondering. How are we going to do this without dishonoring Jaune's memory? And I’ll tell you how. We’re not.

Nora then starts digging

Nora: (Narrating) I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Jaune is not dead. Sure, it made for a perfect ending to a very sad story, but that’s not how his Aura boosting thing works. You think I want to be out here in beautiful downtown North of Vale, digging up the one and only Rusted Knight? No, thank you. But the fate of my entire world is at stake. He may not be living his best life, but he sure as hell ain’t dead.

Nora finally reaches the bottom and finds the coffin.

Nora: Bingo... Yahtzee...

She then begins to tear apart the coffin.

*Smack! Tap! Scratch! Bang!*

Nora: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

*Crack!*

She makes a hole in the coffin and then…

Nora: Damn it!

She didn't like what she found.

Nora: Son of a bitch! *Hits the cross* Fuck! Motherfucker! My world is fucked!

Moments later....

Nora leaning against a fallen tree

Nora: *Talking to his right while the camera is only focus on her* That was weird. I’m much calmer now. Look, I’m not a woman of science, but you seem incredibly passed away.

The camera zooms out to show a very dead and skeleton-like Jaune, but still wearing his armor.

Nora: But it’s good to see ya. I gotta be honest, I’ve always wanted to ride with you, Jaune. You and me, getting into a Ladypool and Rusted Knight. Just fucking shit up. Can you imagine the fun,... the chaos,... the residuals?

She then starts playing with Jaune's helmet.

Nora: (Mimicking Jaune's voice) That's right Nora. There’s nothing that’ll bring me back to life faster than a big bag of RWBY cash.

Nora: Me too, Jaune. *Gets upset* No, no, no, no. Ugh, he had to get all noble and die for real. God damn it! *Looks back at Jaune* I could really use your help right now.

Suddenly, a group of futuristic soldiers appear out of nowhere. Nora sees them and hides along with Jaune's corpse.

Nora: Wait! I’m warning you! I’m not alone!

Soldier: Nora Valkyrie! You’re under arrest by the Time Variance Authority. Too many crimes with this, come out!

Nora: I hate this guys.

Soldier: Last chance! Throw out your weapons and come out peacefully!

Nora: I’m not gonna give you my weapons! But I promise not to use them. *Looks at you the reader* Did you know that Jaune's armor is made by a lot of pieces together? Here we go, maximum effort.

Nora jumps out of her hiding spot, and uses Jaune's corpse as cover. The soldiers are confused.

Bye Bye Bye by NSYNC It starts to play.

Nora: *Looks at Jaune* Okay, Jaune. I guess we’re getting that team up after all.

Nora grabs a piece of Jaune's armor and throws it at one of the soldiers, killing him instantly. The other companions of the deceased are stunned, but seconds later they run towards them as more soldiers appear.

Nora takes two pieces of armor from Jaune's shoulders and uses them to stab two of the soldiers. One in the back, and the other one she slashes and then stabs him in the head. Following with a kick that makes the piece come out the other side of the guy.

She then uses her leg armor and begins to swing around, hitting the soldiers in the face. She knocks one to the right, another to the ground, and one to the left. She then takes her phone and takes a photo of herself kissing one of the deceased on the helmet.

She then takes both of Jaune's arm armors, bones and all, and begins to slap each and every one of them like it's a game. With what remains of the armor already shattered, she kills the remaining ones. I use Jaune's fingers to stab one of them. Jaune's head to hit another one in the genitals. What's left of the legs to stab quite hard right into the chest of another soldier who was running.

Nora: What is this?

Nora notices a part of the armor that looks like a sword handle and pulls it out. And just at that moment a blue sword blade appears as if it were a lightsaber.

Nora: *GASP!!!!* IT'S THE SWORD OF DESTRUCTION!!!

Nora: I am soaking wet right now.

Nora: (Narrating) To be clear, I’m not proud of any of this. The wanton violence, the whiff of necrophilia, it isn’t who I am, it isn’t who I wanna be. Who I wanna be? Well, to help you understand that, I gotta take you back. My little joy ride I took through space and time, to the day that changed everything.

Nora: (Narrating) But that will be for another day, because the idiot who wrote all this is a little tired.

[calder]

Tim Cain on comparing Fallout 3 to New Vegas: "I did enjoy both Fallout 3 and New Vegas. I know that surprised some of my fans, who wanted me to hate the games and rail against their design choices (which I have repeatedly pointed out were different than the ones I would have made), but there is no arguing that more people enjoy the modern versions of the franchise than the older ones. If I were to compare the two games, I would say that Fallout New Vegas felt like it captured the humor and style of the Fallout universe better than Fallout 3, but I have to hand it to the FO3 designers for developing VATS, a cool twist on called shots for a real-time game. I also loved the set decoration FO3. There was so much destruction, yet obviously everything had been meticulously hand-placed. So much story was told entirely through art. I ended up naming these little art vignettes and creating side stories in my head about what had happened. There was "The Suicide", a dead guy in a bathtub with a shotgun, and I figured he just couldn't handle life after the bombs. There was "Eternal Love", a couple of skeletons in a bed in a hotel room, forever embracing each other. There was "My Last Mistake", the corpse in the temporary one-man fallout shelter which obviously didn't do its job of keeping out the heat and radiation. My favorite was "Desperate Gamble", where I found a feral ghoul in an underground shelter filled with lab supplies and lots of drugs... except for Rad-X. I imagined that a scientist found himself irradiated and desperately tried to synthesize some Rad-X to cure himself before he succumbed, but he was too slow. I did notice that whatever was left of his mind sure did seem to enjoy toilet plungers. If I had to pick something I didn't like about FO3, I would pick its ending. I hated the ending. There, I said it. I didn't like the sudden problem with the purifier, and I especially didn't like the lack of real, meaningful multiple endings beyond what I chose in the final few minutes (FEV or not, me or Lyons, and that was it?). But the worst thing about the ending was there was no mention of the fate of places I had visited. In my head I had already imagined slides for Megaton, the Citadel, Rivet City, Underworld, GNR, the Enclave or the mysterious Commonwealth. But I got... pretty much nothing. I liked FONV's ending much better. It had a nice set of slides at the end of the game. They covered everything I was wondering about. I went with Mr. House at the end... and that seemed a worse choice after the slides, but still OK. It led to a law-abiding but somewhat impersonal Vegas. I wish I didn't have to kill the BoS, but I want House to control the future, so I had to do it. It was a great morally ambiguous choice, and the decision made me pause. That's a sign of good design, right there.​"

via Triangle City

[lala-blahblah]

Character flaws that would have been more compelling for Will to have to overcome in TSATS instead of "uh oh my boyfriend is a little bit edgy and that came as an unexpected shock to me even though he wears black and has emo bangs":

Struggling with setting boundaries and being honest when things bother him. As a healer he always has to put other people first, it would be interesting to see him approaching a relationship the same way where he feels the instinct to put Nico's feelings and wellbeing above his own, following him into Tartarus even though it is extra hard for him as a child of Apollo to be down there. It feels so much more authentic for Will to keep quiet about his negative thoughts rather than to blurt out all these criticisms about the underworld. And then Nico could feel hurt that he's hiding something from him for the drama, and Will could grow by allowing himself to communicate better even if he has negative things he wants to talk about

Fear of abandonment but ground it more with his real experiences instead of him just randomly panicking about Nico leaving him behind. Michael and Lee both died and left him alone after he got close with them. His dad was generally distant his whole life, he finally got to spend time with him but only under dangerous circumstances and all too soon hes gone again. Will's mom was the only constant in his life but after monsters started attacking he had to live at camp away from her for most of the year. This results in generalized superstition and anxiety that every time he has a good thing the universe takes it away from him, maybe it makes it harder for him to allow himself to get attached in a deeper way. It would be interesting to see him being the one that was more upfront with his emotions and about liking Nico at the beginning, but as their relationship goes on he struggles with more serious things like saying I love you or imagining a future together because he feels like once he does it will be taken away.

Flip the TSATS struggle on it's head and have Will secretly be very into all the dark underworld stuff but feel like he has to repress that because it's weird and people judge him. Being a healer is already a little dark and intense, I feel like Will wouldn't be scared of the undead but somewhat fascinated. Like you're telling me he wouldn't love to examine a walking skeleton and see how the bones move and connect? Growing up as a son of Apollo everyone expected him to be sunshiney and positive and so he tried to hide his weirder interests but oh my GOD he has so many questions for Nico about underworld magic and it's so hard to play it off. You could still emphasize the yin and yang of Nico having lightness and Will having darkness but make it feel less judgemental to Nico this time

Basically I just take it as a personal offense that Will would ever be critical of Nico's sarcasm and grunge aesthetics. HE'S INTO IT!!! HE HAS A THING FOR EDGY MEN OK!!! THIS IS THE GUY WHO SAID HE WOULD GO ON A DATE WITH DARTH VADER just you TRY and tell me that prequels Anakin was not his bi awakening and the blueprint for all his future crushes.

[space-blue]

This shot took me out!! Skeleton Crew is so cute and earnest, it's such a great kid's show. That moment, and how she calls him a Jedi afterwards, honestly made it some of the best "star wars" star wars in a long, long time.

This sort of excludes Andor, which feels too good and not campy enough to be "sw" star wars if you catch my drift.

KB going through an arc of learning that minimizing her disability to save friendships is not the right thing to do was so wholesome and well done.

For the longest time I wasn't sure what was up with her "augs", if it was cosmetic/practical, like having a personal computer installed or what.. but then her parents had that line where they were so worried... and now it's confirmed, she's had an "accident" and is clearly missing large parts of her brain that were replaced with cybernetics.

Fern reacting by acting like "nothing is wrong" with KB and that she hasn't changed at all is such a realistic developement. And it backfiring in this strained context, where acting too much like everything is normal and nothing has changed puts strain on KB... It's all so real, and very well handled considering it's basically entirely wrapped up in one episode.

It was sweet too, to have KB, who has been a bit of a "sidekick" to Fern's shenannigans, explicitely acknoledge that she, too, lives in her own world, because it's so true! Forever telling tales, hiding who she is at home, basically having a dual life and projecting lots... KB is keenly noticing all that and supporting her friend throughout. She's so precious I can't...

But also... the incredible impact that life saving procedure would have! IDK what's in store for Wim, whether he becomes a Jedi or not, imagine the story that makes! "The first time I saved someone's life..."

He didn't know he was doing it, even if it felt terribly urgent. He worked with a pocket blowtorch in a resort's trash heap. He was just a kid. It was his friend, guiding him and trusting him the whole way through.. Come on, that's incredible!!

Meanwhile Jod STILL doesn't have his shit together lmao.

[oneforthemunny]

I'd imagine that every time Halloween rolls around, Rockstar!Eddie and Nepo Baby are on the cover of at least one magazine with a spooky Halloween photoshoot. I'm seeing a werewolf eating (out) a fair maiden. Or a pregnant Nepo Baby tied to a table and a Rockstar!Eddie getting ready to sacrifice her. Or them recreating a scene from the biggest horror movie of the year.

Only over the years, as the kids accumulate, it goes from Playboy to Parade. And instead of tits with fang punctures, you've got a line of tots in skeleton pajamas.

(This was originally meant to be a blurb prompt and I got carried away so now I think it's more just a Spooky Thought I had to share with you. Whatever, Happy First Day of Fall! 😂)

oneforthemunny's spooky stories: rockstar!eddie x reader's time warp

or how halloween looks through the years for rockstar!eddie and nepo baby!reader :) ps pics below are for inspo that i used not specific more of just how the photos looked or what the idea was based off of!

October 31st, 1992

“Look at you.” Eddie grinned, dimples and shining eyes when they rolled over your frame. “My bride.” 

That you were, both in and out of costume. It was the only recognizable part of yourself right now, your engagement ring. Your skin had been tinged a pale green, the SFX artist made your ‘gashes’ and ‘stitches’ look far too real for your liking. Tonight, you were the bride of Frankenstein, instead of Munson. 

“Look at you.” You pouted, eyes rolling over his costume. Not Frankenstein, but… a vampire? “What-What are you wearing?” You huff, throwing an arm out at his costume. “We’re supposed to be Frankenstein and-” 

“-Technically, it’s Frankenstein’s monster.” Eddie grinned, fake fangs making his smile more sinister looking. “I had a last minute change. Dracula and Bride of Frankenstein together? That’s scandalous. So much better, baby, believe me. No one’s done this before.” 

You rolled your eyes, shifting the torn white dress to cover yourself. “When did you change your mind? While I was in makeup for six hours?” 

Eddie laughed, hands running down your skin. “I like your hair.” He muttered. “Think you should do this more often. Pretty metal look for you, baby.” 

“Yeah?” You hum, running a hand lightly over the electrified updo. “Too bad it’s a wig. Maybe I’ll keep it. Put it in the dungeon for you, when you want to get really weird and freaky.” 

“I always wanna get really weird and freaky with you.” Eddie growled, a low rasp in his tone that had your knees shaking. His lips ducked down towards yours, the fake blood around his mouth making your stomach turn. 

“No,” You shake your head. “Get these pictures first, then you can kiss me. I’m not sitting in makeup again, Munson, my ass was falling asleep. I was sitting there for so long.” 

“I can help you with that.” Eddie growled, a playful smack to your barely covered backside that had you shrilling, glaring at him through white contacts. 

October 31st, 1993

“You can barely even see the bump.” You huff, cradling your bare stomach in the mirror. “It just looks like I’m bloated.” 

“You’re out of your mind.” Eddie shook his head, inked hands cradling your torso. “You look so pretty.” 

Your lips settle in a pout, turning to the side, pushing your stomach out further in the pink, frilly lingerie from the 60’s. The sheer robe tied at your collarbones, flowing over your frame beautifully, parting so your belly could poke out. It wasn’t the pregnancy announcement you expected to have, but a fun one, regardless. One that would leave a shocking impression when it was sent to the press. 

Eddie’s ‘costume’ hung around his waist, arms crossed over his bare, tattooed chest. You grinned at the green, scaly suit- designed to subtly resemble Creature From The Black Lagoon’s monster. 

You smirked to yourself, looking at Eddie through the mirror. “My parents are going to hate this.” You grin, nearly proud. It made Eddie’s heart skip. 

“Good.” Eddie snorted with an eye roll. “Not their baby. Not their choice.” He shrugged, hands roaming protectively over your soft, stretched skin. “Victor shouldn’t hate it too much, right? It’s a movie reference, at least.” 

You laughed lightly. “True, and I’m… more covered than last time, right?” You grin, smoothing your hand over your exposed skin. 

“Definitely, much more reserved than last time.” Eddie grinned, chin hooking over your shoulder. “We have to be more appropriate, Button, now that we’re going to be parents.” Eddie mocked your father’s posh, droning tone, quoting what Victor nagged about over the last brunch you had together- a month ago when you told them you were expecting. 

Eddie’s lips pursed at the pinch still unfaltering in your brows, hands still smoothing over your belly. “Hey, look at me.” Eddie rasped, hand cradling your jaw gently, pulling your eyes to meet his. Those soft eyes that made your heart skip a beat every time you found yourself in their gaze. 

“Fuck ‘em, alright? This isn’t their baby, it’s our baby.” Eddie muttered. “You wanna do this? We don’t have to. I’ll tell them all to go fuck off if you want me to. Or we can do something different. Do the Mummy things if you want to. Just say the word. Your call-” 

“Ed.” The smile he’d been looking for graced your face finally. “I still want to do the photos. I’m just… I’m having a moment. I’m hormonal, and-and I’m just having a moment.” 

Eddie grinned, plush lips pressing a kiss to your nose. “Have a moment. You look hot, though.” 

“Thanks.” You muttered, eyes fluttering to look up at him through the strip of false lashes. “Not bloated?” 

Eddie snorted. “Definitely not. Very pregnant. Very, very hot.” 

October 31st, 1994 

“Ed, is she looking?” You say through a smile, eyes still trained on the camera. 

“No, she keeps looking at you.” Eddie huffed, lowering the camera. “Looking at your webs.” 

No crew this time, oh no, Eddie wanted to do it all on his own. The set up wasn’t elaborate, but your costume was. The Black Widow, finished with webs that attached to your dress, hung around you for the perfect dramatic effect Eddie was looking for. In your arms, your little itsy bitsy spider, Persephone. 

“Sephy,” Eddie cooed. “Fuck, babe, where’s the rattle thing? The lamb?” 

“I grabbed it. Look behind you.” You nodded, cradling Persephone closely, her little hands reaching for you and pulling the fake spider arms with her. “You’re just a pretty little spider, aren’t you? The cutest little spider!” 

“Found it!” The camera bounced on Eddie’s chest, shooting you a dimpled grin that had you flushing. “Look at me, Sephy! Look at Daddy!” 

You fixed her in your arms, cradling her to your side. “Is she looking?” 

“Yes, she is!” Eddie lilted in that babbling baby talk that had your heart swelling. “Look at my little spider. That’s so good, look at Daddy!” 

“You sure you don’t want to be in this one?” You asked, hoisting Sephy up higher into your arms, swaying her lightly. 

“Nah,” Eddie shook his head, looking down at the camera, pulling out the film. “Just wanna look at you, baby.” He winked. 

October 31st, 1999

“Kensie,” You coo, looking down at the red faced four year old, desperately trying to keep her from tearing off her ears, two fuzzy clips that mimicked a cute werewolf. “We just need to take a couple of photos, and then we can change and go Trick-or-Treating, I promise.” 

“I wanna go no-o-ow!” Kensie wailed, a piercing sob that had you cringing, the twins stirring in their black bassinet prop. 

“Kensington,” Eddie grit, adjusting Persephone’s cape. “Trick-or-Treating hasn’t even started. There’s nothing out there right now. No candy.” 

You glared at him lightly, though Kensie’s sniffles did ease. “No?” She asked, head tilting to the side sweetly. 

Eddie shook his head, green painted frown softening lightly. “No, baby. Doesn’t start until six. We have plenty of time.” 

“Better quit frowning, baby.” You hum, tapping your finger on Eddie’s creasing forehead paint. 

This year's theme was a take on the classic, creepy show from the 60’s. What better way to celebrate your still growing family than this? Everyone else was favoring the Addams Family this year, but not the Munson’s- Munster’s. 

“Are you ready, Mrs. Munson?” Phil asked, looking up from his camera at you. 

You nodded, fixing your dress while you stood next to Eddie, one hand on the bassinet. “You think they can tell?” You grit through your smile, your dress snug when you turn towards him. 

“No.” Eddie gritted back, eyes flickering down to your abdomen, just starting to swell with baby number five. “You look good, baby, always do.”

[jay-arts-t]

October slide is up on us chronically ill individuals so here are some Logan, Laura and Wade headcanons.

I'd like to think Logan experiences pretty similar symptoms to EDS (So more like HSD since they may not experience all related symptoms) since his joints have to hold together adamantium bones. He gets that deep aching twang in his knees, his back hurts more no matter what position he sleeps in.

Wade jokes that he's going into hibernation because Logan starts to struggle with getting up in the morning - not because he's a lazy lump, he just can't bring himself to get out of the warm little pile they've got going on. But once Wade realizes it's because Logan gets chronic pain as well he's investing in an electric blanket to keep them all warm. Logan lives in that blanket now. Their electric bill is through the roof.

I imagine whenever something dislocates or drifts he just casually shoves it back in place as best he can, unless it's his ribs. There isn't much he can do about it. The first time he mentioned that his ribs drift Wade went, "I'm sorry your WHAT?? Put them back???" while Laura just nodded in understanding

Laura experiences pretty similarly to Logan since they have the same conditions. Well, at least in the movie franchise they both have fully adamantium skeletons. I think in the comics they surgically removed her claws, coated them in adamantium and re-implanted them. Pretty sure they did the same thing with Daken with the muramasa blade- but that's a whole can of worms for another time.

I think Laura gets a lot more of the internal issues rather than a lot of joint pain. Yes it's still there, but she has a harder time with stomach pain, her periods are more painful because even internal tissue is affected by EDS. So essentially if she's having a Not Fun Time™ she's crawling over to Logan and using him as a heating pad. Which Logan doesn't mind because 1 Yippie Daughter Time, 2 Yippie Affection, and 3 the pressure feels good on his joints and they both end up falling asleep for the lovable 3pm 6-hour nap.

Laura 🤝 Wade - silly patterned compression socks. You will never see that woman not wearing them. She gets Logan Garfield ones and he wears holes into them.

Once the first leaf falls from the trees Wade is BUNDLED. Warm hat? Check. 3 shirts, 2 hoodies, 2 pants plus compression leggings, 3 socks, and a big ol' winter coat. Logan calls him ridiculous and reminds him that winter and autumn aren't as consistent as they used to be, and they'll probably be back in the 80s the next day. But Wade isn't hearing any of it. He's staying vigilant. He knows his body. It doesn't matter if it's hot or cold, as soon as fall hits his body is like, "hey you know that healing factor you have? Damn where'd it go???"

Laura gets him a portable heating pad.

Vanessa helps Logan learn about what foods are easy on Wade's stomach and which ones to avoid making so he's not in more pain than he already is.

Once winter hits Logan is happy because he's lone wolf cringe and likes the silence and solidarity of winter. Baby you're not getting that in the inner city parts of New York. You're getting slush in the sidewalks and the distinct smell of artificial salt and probably most definitely sewage.

On the other hand, Laura and Wade are miserable. They miss summer. Everything was better when it was hot. Their only reprieve is that it's soup season and also hot beverages are more available (besides coffee, though Laura is a big coffee person. Logan hates it, she calls him a pussy. Wade also hates it unless it's iced with 800 pumps of vanilla and caramel and creamer (real)). I think Wade would be a big eggnog lover but it destroys his stomach. Logan has caught him chugging the carton in the middle of the night. It was disgusting. Logan does the same thing with apple cider.

That's all I got for now

[violinios]

Corrupted!Dream

What if he ate the golden apples? More information below! (This au is not finished yet)

Some facts about him:

I wanted to use roots with thorns to reference Nightmare's tentacles, and also to recall the roots of a tree, like the tree the two guardians used to protect. It comes out of Dream's back, and the first time they came out, right after being corrupted by positivity, they tore the back of his clothes and his cape, so he eventually changed the clothes he was wearing, but the old cape remained. Another reference to Nightmare in his design are the yellow and purple carnations in his left eye, not only because of the meaning of the flowers themselves, but because Nightmare of the goo covering one of his eyes, so I decided to do something similar, but with plants instead of slime. Dream is blind from the left eye after gotten attack from defending his brother from the villagers.

As for the meaning of the colors of the carnations that come out of his eye, I did very brief research, so don't take the meanings I'll write here for certainty. Yellow carnations represent rejection and purple ones represent loneliness. Although they are attached to Dream's body, they represent Nightmare's feelings towards the villagers who often mistreated him. The flowers grew after the corruption and after Dream discovered what they did to his brother.

What is controlling Dream's body now is not Dream himself, but rather a parasite that has taken over his body and identity, while the real Dream remains semi-conscious and unable to regain control of his body.

He feeds on positive feelings and his objective is to exterminate negativity for his own survival. He is not capable of feeling remorse, and will not be afraid to exterminate an entire universe if it has a very strong negative aura (like universes that follow the genocidal route, for example), but he cannot visit these universes alone since his magic works using positivity as "fuel", so he's dependent on allies to travel to negative universes.

He doesn't kill because of his moral compass and doesn't really care about what's right or what's wrong, who's good who's bad, he will kill them anyways if their negative aura is enough to give him a headache. This means he will kill innocent people who hold suffering on themselfs only to end with their negativity.

He calls himself a hero/savior/angel to manipulate people with false promises, when in reality, he only acts out of his own needs and survival instinct, not actual kidness.

There's only one who is full of negativity that Dream wants alive; for now, names won't be mentioned (who the person/monster is still not decided, it can be an already existing character or maybe i'll make an OC for this, but for now, feel free to imagine whoever you want to imagine) but their aura, somehow, makes the burning feeling of overwhelming positivity inside of Dream feel a bit less like it's burning. Yes, the positivity is too much even for Dream to the point it feels like it's burning from inside (remember how in original Dreamtale, a human body would barely even survive with the amount of energy the magic held inside the siblings body? Well, now imagine that now the magic way more powerful to the point that even his skeleton body hurts sometimes), and their negativity makes it feel less painful.

He is not completely incapable of feeling negative feelings, but it is VERY rare. Some examples are his fear of owls, a trait from the original Dream that remained, or the anger he feels when he is disobeyed.

He killed the citizens of the village when he saw the amount of negative feelings they caused his own brother. At first, he didn't want to kill Nightmare, but after he saw Nightmare attack him after the genocide he caused, Dream now seeks to kill him as well. He thinks of him as ungrateful for trying to hurt him after finishing off the people who caused him so much suffering, and he blames himself for leaving him alive, knowing that he is also the result of negativity.

Nightmare doesn't want to kill Dream, because he knows that the balance in the multiverse is important and it is their existence that causes it to exist, he just fights against him to not be killed and when some universe/being is being hurt by Dream. He wants to find a way to bring his brother back to consciousness, he still wonders if he could kill the parasite without killing Dream too. Dream, on the other hand, doesn't care about the balance.

His spines possess a poison that gives his prey the illusion of comfort, hiding the sensation of pain and fear within his own positive aura so that they do not escape when captured. It is rare for their prey to regain consciousness to realize the danger they are in, but not impossible, and some may be immune to the venom or his aura, like Nightmare, who'd feel a big pain if he got captured, which is a good advantage if you don't want to be trapped with Dream forever or eventually die.

[qin-qin16]

OMYGOD THANK YOU SO MUCH 🙏

Basically reader has family issues, especially mommy issues, and killer finds out about that maybe seeing bruises, finding about them crying silently, idk. a scenario i would really like is going on a sleepover with killer, and then maybe as they want to try silly pjs, he spots bruises and as he asks reader about them they burst into tears

i would prefer reader to be female, but please dont make her act too feminine, maybe like you would a gender neutral act, even better masculine

thank you so much

cw: Killer x Reader, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, talk about past abuse, slightly mommy issues, Killer is trying to be a good shoulder to cry on… 

note: I hope this, even a little, makes your day better!

"I'm just giving you a heads-up: I talk in my sleep." 

"Is this for real, or are you just trying to freak me out?" You don't even lift your gaze to Killer, choosing instead to keep arranging the sheets on your makeshift bed on the floor.

"Totally serious! One time, Color threw holy water on me because he thought I was possessed." This made you snort a little and then, finally, you looked at Killer, one eyebrow raised.

"That doesn’t really sound like him."

"Come on! Have a little faith in your friend here!" he says dramatically, throwing his hands up, "And Color is way more of an idiot than he lets on! He might seem grumpy and serious, but he's just as goofy as any other Sans." He then crosses his arms, looking pleased with his point.

"Does that apply to you too?" His victorious look fades quickly, but then is replaced by a smug grin. 

"Of course not! I’m better than any other Sans!" You roll your eyes at his arrogant claim, but your smile mirrors his.

"Alright, alright, oh great Sans, hand me my pajamas." You quickly grab a pillow and throw it at him, but, as expected, he easily dodges it and then grabs the same pillow to toss it back at you, which you don’t even notice until it hits your face.

"Nah, I’ve got a better idea." He then jumps onto your bed and heads for one of the closets in his room. Before you could yell at him for messing up your freshly arranged covers, he comes back with two soft onesies,  both featuring a cat theme (which didn't surprise you at all).

"See? Best friends need matching pajamas for their sleepover." Killer extends the orange onesie toward you; the hood is adorned with two fluffy ears, and there are stripes on the back and sleeves made of the same fabric, resembling soft cat fur.

"They’re so soft!" you say after feeling the fabric against your hands. "Okay, you’ve convinced me: you are the best Sans there is." You dash to the bathroom in the room, eager to try on the onesie as soon as possible.

"I know, I know, I’m the best!"

"Don’t let it go to your head!" you call out with a laugh, imagining Killer’s grumpy face behind the door.

Finally alone, you start to undress. The light above the mirror flickers from time to time, but the dim light is enough to reveal the marks on your body: bruises, scratches; some old, others newer with redness still showing, and one near your left rib that had just recently gone down.

It wasn’t a pretty sight, you knew that, but it wasn’t like you could avoid it. The situation at home was unpredictable and chaotic, yet it was still the only scenario you could think of for your survival. For a while, you stayed like that: holding your shirt in one hand as your eyes scanned each of the bruises on your skin.

"Hey! You won't believe what I—" The door slams open, nearly knocking you backward. Both you and Killer tense up.

Your hands act faster than your words. One moment the door is wide open, with Killer's empty eye sockets staring at you in shock; the next, you’re shoving the door shut with force, not even considering whether you’ve hurt the skeleton or not.

"What the hell, Killer!" you shout, your hands still pressed against the now-closed door. Your shirt is lying on the floor now, along with any semblance of composure you had before. 

For a while, there’s silence from the other side. Your head rests against the door, your forehead giving a gentle bump in the wood.

What a mess, you think with a pang of regret, He must think I’m a crazy, pathetic punching bag… 

"Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to startle you." His voice comes muffled, not only because of the closed door but also because he’s speaking softly, as if choosing his words carefully, "Could you please open the door for me?" 

I don’t know, why should I open the door? There’s nothing to see here, I don’t want to hear the same awful words I hear at home… The insecurities grow louder in your mind, your hands trembling slightly against the door.

"Please, sweetheart, I promise I just want to understand what I saw." he says in that same low tone again. You watch as the doorknob turns, but neither of you makes a move to face each other again. "Nothing bad will happen, I promise, and you know I don’t make promises I can’t keep." He tries to lighten the mood with a little chuckle at the end.

Still trembling, you slowly reach for the doorknob as your throat tightens, holding back the tears that are about to come. When you finally open the door, your eyes don’t immediately find Killer. Instead, they drop to a fixed spot on the floor as Killer’s shoes come into view.

"Thank you, sweetheart…" He only used that term when he wanted to reassure you. "You did very well, but I need you to do one more thing for me, okay?" His hand moves toward yours, moving as cautiously as his voice.

You consider pulling away, but then you remember that this is Killer, who, despite his name, would never harm you. Soon, his cold fingers gently clasp yours. The little you could see started to blur behind the tears welling up in your eyes. Your entire focus was on holding back your tears and not showing the pain you were feeling.

"Can you look at me, please?" But it was of no use. That simple question was enough to release what had been stuck in your throat. A sob escapes you before tears begin to roll down your cheeks, dripping to your chin and falling to the floor.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to do this, alright?" Killer tries to stay calm, but your sudden breakdown unsettles him. Still somewhat unsure of what to do, Killer pulls you into a tight embrace. "It’s okay, nothing will happen to you here…" he reassures, gently nuzzling one of your bruised shoulders and resting his face against the curve of your neck after he finishes speaking.

"I'm sorry," you say through your sobs. "I ruined our sleepover..." You mimic him, burying your face against his shoulder and smelling the cigarette smoke coming from the jacket he’s still wearing. Your arms soon wrap around him as well, holding him as tightly, if not more so, than he’s holding you.

"Shhhh, you haven’t ruined anything, you’ve never ruined anything." His whispers return; you feel his hand gently stroking your back, his thumb making small circles motions on your lower back. "My sweetheart, what happened to you?"

"My mom—" You can’t finish the sentence, the sobs and tears preventing any coherent words from coming out.

"Shhhh, shhhh, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to." He shifts slightly away from you, just enough to rest his forehead against yours in a comforting gesture, "We can stay like this for as long as you need." And so you did.

For a while, you forgot everything, simply just sinking into Killer’s warm and protective embrace. If anything bad happened again, at least you knew where to go now.

[busycloudy]

if u write only for twst can yew do Floyd leech and and and uhhh errmmmm uhhhh guy reader mc idc whose scenemo and floyd discovers they have shared tastes and mc/reader gives him make over 😣

IF UR POTENTIALLY OPEN TO OTHER FANDOMZ.. STARTZ TREMBLING AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH.. TARTAGLIA...

okay thanks ily pooks

thx for requesting!!! I will be actually joining new fandoms real soon and hopefully writing for them, so this will probs be my last time writing for twst atm :3 n e wayz, I hope you enjoy this!

A fluff fic

The reader is MC and goes by he/him pronouns.

This can be read in both a platonic and romantic way!

Floyd may be ooc due to the fact I haven't played twst in MONTHS + This will include hcs

You were making some kandi bracelets again since you didn't really have much else to do and also wanted to add more to your collection (you already had like 37 but shhh) until you heard your door creak, causing you to look up to a tall, smiley, blue haired figure, which was Floyd of course!

"Heya shrimpy, watcha making there~" He asked with curiosity in his eyes.

"Nothin much, just making bracelets" You responded as you tied the string together to finish this piece off.

"Ohhhh...I think I tried that before but got bored cuz the beads kept falling off" Floyd sighed, "But I like to make shirts!" Floyd excitedly claimed. "Really?? Me too!" You smiled. "We should bleach some shirts together sometime!" You requested. Floyd put a finger on his chin, pondering. "Mehhh...maybe...OR we could right now" He instead offered, to which you had to accept, hell maybe you could even give him a full makeover!

You got the black shirts, cardboard, and bleach out and began working. The two of you finished after about 15-20 minutes and adored the results. Floyd went with a skeleton type pattern and ended up cutting the sleeves off his shirt, and you'd gone with a spine with wings, but in all honesty you just went with whatever came to your head as you'd done so.

You two complemented each other's shirts and such and then you offered the idea you came up with earlier. "Floyd, what if I gave you some clothes to style with that shirt? I have some stuff that I got in a size too big so I haven't worn it yet, and I could get you some shoes" You suggested. "Shrimpy, giving me a makeover?hmmmm...sureee, but only if I can give you one too!" He said, and you nodded your head.

---

You handed Floyd your eyeliner, eyeshadow, brushes, etc and let him create away, and you discovered he was actually good at doing makeup and such.

Your makeup:

(you may imagine wtv you'd prefer tho!)

Floyd's outfit:( I couldn't find a good png and was DEF not drawing this cuz I can't 💔) FLIP I FORGOT THE KANDI. But anyways his stuff would say stuff like eel rave and sea slugs etc

Floyd entered his dorm happy with the new outfit he now has. "Ah, hello Floyd. Where has this outfit come from?" Jade came out of nowhere, asking. "I bleached this shirt, but Shrimpy gave me this other stuff! Isn't he soooo cool!" Floyd giggled. "I do rather like it...maybe I ought to see what he could do for me too..." Jade pondered

[ontheticktick]

Deadpool & Wolverine AU Starter for @oozeyboozey

"Damn it! Son of a bitch! Fuck! Motherfucker! Our world is FUCKED!"

Wade threw the shovel that had been in his hands out of the grave of one James "Logan" Howlett. The merc climbed out of the hole he had spent way too fucking long digging, and begun to pull the adamantium skeletal remains. He released a frustrated growl as he begun to drag it over towards a nearby log.

"This would go quicker with HELP!" He pointed out to his plus one on this little venture. Or was he her plus one? The British motherfucker hadn't really made it clear in his little jaunt of exposition. Either way, Anya hadn't elected to help dig.

"Look..." he sat the skeleton in a sitting position between himself and Anya, "I’m not a man of science, but he seems incredibly passed away." He reached out to pet the knee of the deceased Wolverine. "But it’s good to see him! I gotta be honest, I’ve always wanted to ride with this guy. Logan. Me an' him, getting into a Deadpool and Wolverine. Just fucking shit up. Can you imagine the fun? The chaos? The residuals?" He sighed wistfully. "But noooo...No, no, no, no. Ugh...he had to get all noble and die FOR REAL. God damn it! We could really use his help right now."

The TVA agents arrived just in time to be at peak asshole level, likely intending on adding injury to the insult of being completely fucking DOOMED.

"WAIT! I’m warning you! We're not alone!

"Wade Winston Wilson and Anastasia Winnifred Barnes! You’re under arrest by the Time Variance Authority. Too many crimes to list, come out! Last chance! Throw out your weapons and come out peacefully!"

"We're not gonna give you our weapons! But we promise not to use them..." He moved to begin picking apart the skeleton he'd dug up. Looking to Anya, he spoke. "There are 206 bones in the human body. 207 if I’m watching Gossip Girl." He reached out to hand Anya a piece of the remains as well. "Here we go, Commie Mommy, just like ol' times...MAXIMUM EFFORT."

A Note for the Audience, From Captain Deadpool:

To be clear, I’m not proud of any of this. Anya might be though. She always took pride in her work...when we were TOGETHER. Thanks to a knock-off Grimace with a BALL SACK for a chin, though, half of her whole family vanished...and I couldn't measure up to be enough to help. Where was I? Oh yeah. I'm not proud of any of this. Not that you're going to see any of it unless you go see my new movie in theaters, but Anya won't be in that one, so just...PRETEND that she is, maybe. I could teach you how to pretend she's there. I've gotten real good at it in the last couple years. All of this though...The wanton violence, the whiff of necrophilia, it isn’t who I am, it isn’t who I wanna be. Who I wanna be? Well, to help you understand that, I gotta take you back. Before my little joy ride I took through space and time, to the day that changed everything...

His birthday was filled with his friends and loved ones...all 9 of them. He had been mingling with the guests, when he happened upon his roommate. Blind Al seemed a little jittery.

"Want to do some cocaine?"

"Hey!" The merc insisted, "cocaine is the one thing that Feige said is off-limits."

"What about Bolivian marching powder?"

"They know all the slang terms. They have a list."

"Even snowboarding?" Wade nodded.

"Even disco dust."

"White girl interrupted?" Blind Al's brows furrowed.

"Even Boris bump," Wade affirmed sadly.

"Poker show?"

"I wouldn’t even try powdered donuts."

The woman tried one last-ditch effort. "Do you want to build a snowman?"

Devastated as he looked to Althea, his shoulders fell. "YES...but I CAN'T." With that, he got up from the chair that he had been sitting in and retreated from the woman that was essentially his live-in mother, heading over to the snack table...and coincidentally, over to where Anya stood. He was honestly shocked that she had even wanted to attend his birthday party. His best guess as to a motive was PITY. His heart ached and his throat felt tight as he got closer to her, until he was standing beside her. Gathering up all of his nerve, he spoke.

"Thanks for comin'," Wade told her genuinely, if not a little stiffly from his rampant anxiety. "How's uh...how's work? You still traveling to exotic, distant lands? Meeting exciting, unusual people and killing them?"

[overcastedsays]

So it’s established that the only part of the mindflayer that’s actually robot is the black mechanical part, and that the real body is just for show, right? If the mindflayer exists only as the “head” part and is effectively puppeting a vessel, what if a mindflayer could control OTHER vessels. Maybe in order to survive in the harsh environment hell it has to puppet a more resilient and mobile body (after all, a head can’t do much on its own). Maybe when a mindflayer self-destructs, it only gets rid of the puppet body, leaving a chance or survival for the main head to find another host. Without a vessel to control, I imagine it’ll headcrab style latch itself onto another creature (husk, machine, or otherwise) and take over its body.

Husks would be relatively easy to take over due to their low mental fortitude, but as organic creatures they die fast and are pretty weak. The mindflayer would probably end up siphoning all of the blood out of it before they could fully incorporate themselves. Demons would be far more resilient, but would be more difficult to take over because they’d put up more of a fight (physical or mental). They’d be more difficult to pilot because they operate on hell magic. Perhaps the Mindflayers are so adept with hell magic because they had to learn how it worked to effectively control a demon host.

Other machines, however, would function a bit differently. The Mindflayers usually can’t fully override the original machine’s programming because that would destroy important drivers that are required to keep the machine functional. On the flip side, leaving the machine’s mind fully intact would result in almost immediately removal of the mindflayer from the host. Even a streetcleaner or a drone wouldn’t take kindly to having their body commandeered and probably has some sort of antivirus. Instead, the Mindflayers take on the role of a sort of symbiote; whether it be parasitic or mutualistic is up to them. Perhaps they provide support, extra processing power, or another pair of eyes to give them a leg up in combat. Perhaps they stay like this mutually until they can find or create a new body. Maybe they stay like this forever. Maybe they spend time becoming acquainted with the code of their host, plotting the best way to instate a full takeover without completely shutting them down. Maybe they have a Venom type situation. Maybe a large enough machine could have more than one mindflayer symbiote.

This also gives a much funner reading to the mindflayer’s chosen bodies. Not only are they made to fit the Mindflayer’s personal ideal and make them happy, but they’re probably an engineering marvel. It has to have an intact circulatory system to support blood flow, a “skeleton” so it can support the weight of its internals , and likely some sort of vessel for casting hell magic. Mindflayer’s aren’t just artists, but very intelligent inventors. Certainly makes sense why they would get so uppity about their bodies getting ruined, it probably takes a LOT of resources to build one. The Mindflayers might not be scrapheads nominally per se, but they probably spend a lot of time scavenging for parts to build these. Of course, they have to be more picky than Swordsmachines. Making a body that good requires quality equipment. Maybe the scrapheads think Mindflayers are stuck up. Maybe they think they’re the pinnacle of self invention, on par with THE Swordsmachine. Maybe some mindflayers are their own de facto sect scrapheads. Do they give each other advice like swordsmachines do? I love Mindflayers so much can you tell.

[chronicdisasterwrites]

gamer!eren boyfie: minecraft edition

dating gamer eren is exhausting and exhilarating

like i can imagine him being such an ASS when you play a game w him - if you’re a noob, he will tease the SHIT outta you, but if you’re more or less experienced he might tone it down (maybe)

when you play minecraft together he would go on the craziest raids and just teleport you to him out of nowhere with no warning, just for you to fuckin EAT DIRT-

and when you die and lose all your stuff he’ll just laugh and be like “hah noob”

although, he’ll be sweet too 🫶🏽

like he’d definitely tame a wolf and name it after you

“babe babe look at my little friend-”

if you’re new to minecraft, he’d definitely help you out along the way.

“um beb? please don’t hit me, i will actually die”

“but it’s so fun-“ he will kill you if you don’t listen and continue hitting him, don’t test out that theory 💀

he would protect you from skeletons and creepers bc bro idc how experienced you are THEY ARE TERRIFYING

if you get lost, he’d get your coordinates and go find you

and then end up getting lost himself bc he saw smth cool and you moved to a completely different place as well 🤷🏽‍♀️

he for sure made his wolf sit somewhere and ended up forgetting about the poor thing 🤡 (i did this omfg-)

jean, connie, armin and sasha would join in as well and they would just be absolute menaces

one time, your wolf accidentally killed eren’s wolf and this petty bitch STILL brings that up in arguments

no matter how much eren and jean argues, they always go on raids together and they’re actually really good at communicating and fighting together

you started to build an underwater house w armin’s help and eren got jealous so he wanted to live there as well

let’s be real, he got jealous of your house, not you and armin 😌

bc his house looks like ass

this boy thinks he’s really good at architecture but he is so basic GAWD- you let him have his moments tho

he definitely teleports you to him whenever he finds cool things tho like one time you guys were looking for a village and he ended up finding a beautiful meadow with so many flowers and he collected a bunch of flowers and threw them all at you 🥹

he’s so cute

a/n: is this taken from real life? yes 🫶🏽 also i will make more of these gamer!eren imagines bc i love gamer!eren

also, help me out bc idk if i should add the taglist to every single fic/imagine i write. should i?

[wisegirl25]

Okay but imagine Jinx and Vi singing To The Bone with Vi as Papyrus and Jinx as Sans

Little lyric changes here and there and it would be perfect please read them this took ages

PLEASE tell me someone else knows what I'm talking about

The topsider who fell is Caitlyn btw

Vi: Jinx? Jinx! Wake up! Jinx: Well, what is it, dude? Vi: A topsider has fallen from Piltover! Jinx: Really? And you got a bone to pick with her? Vi: No time for puns! Jinx: C'mon, that was a real rib-tickler! (Ay) Vi: Ugh! Enough! Jinx: Alright, here we go again

Vi: Welcome to the underground Jinx: How was the fall? Vi: If you wanna look around Jinx: Give us a call

Vi: We don't see Pilties often Jinx: We're happy you just dropped in Vi: I'll be so popular when I show all the trenchers what I just brought in

Jinx: Hey, Violet, mind your manners Vi: Can it Jinx, no time for banter! Jinx: Excuse my sister, she's a bit eccentric Vi: And you're just crazy and apathetic!

Jinx: Call me what you want, I got thick skin Vi: Another bad joke and I'm finished with her! Vi: We are Zaunites, the awfullest kind! Jinx: To mess with us takes a lot of spine

Jinx and Vi:

We can relate to your determination Because we fissure folk have our motivations Topsiders betrayed us and left us burnin' One day we'll make our way back to the surface

Through all your travels, your sins will follow Your consequences aren't easy to swallow Who's the real monster, now you should know You've cut this story down to the bone

Vi: Really Jinx? (Jinx: What?) Vi: The last line of the chorus is a pun? (Jinx: Yep) Vi: You imbecile! That was very clever! Jinx: Ha! Thanks, sissy

Vi: You're stuck in the underground Jinx: Thanks to the fall Vi: Good luck ever getting out Jinx: Prepare to brawl

Vi: You could show mercy to us Jinx: Or turn all of us to dust Vi: Is your heart full of evil? Jinx: Or full of love?

Vi: I, the great Violence Vi: Challenge you to try getting by us! Jinx: Test the Piltie with one of my puzzles Vi: Brilliant, Jinx! That will leave her befuddled

Vi: I dare you to try a bite of spaghetti Jinx: Smells like the creepy pasta is ready Vi: Stop it Jinx! I'm done with the jokin' Jinx: Sounds like someone's funny bone's broken

Jinx and Vi:

We can relate to your determination Because we trenchers have our motivations

Vi: I am the mastermind, she's my accomplice Jinx: You're only still alive because I made a promise

Jinx and Vi:

You'll lose your mind when you wander for hours You might even decide to start talking to flowers Who's the real monster, now you should know You've cut this story down to the bone

Vi: Someday I'll join the Enforcers Vi: When I catch this Piltie, can it be that hard?

Jinx:

Look, if I'm being honest My sister ain't nothing but harmless I know you, and all that you want You'll get a lot more from Jinx than a curse The deeper you go, the messier it gets If I had it my way, you'd already be dead Kidding, if you couldn't tell I get so bored, I amuse myself

Vi: Down here in the underground Jinx: You're all alone Vi: We wanted to tell you now Jinx: You're kinda boned

Vi: If you survive this prison Jinx: You will know nihilism Vi: Don't mess around with trenchers Jinx: They're scared of tiny children

Vi: You've come far, but soon you'll stumble Vi: When I stump you with some Junior Jumble!

Jinx: Not so sure you'll get her with that Vi: Alas, I'll hit her with my special attack!

Jinx: Dun Dun Dunn

Vi: Leave me alone! Jinx: You know I've got a knack, for the trombone Vi: One more pun, and I'll be done! Jinx: But ain't two skulls better than one?

Jinx and Vi:

We can relate to your determination Because we trenchers have our motivations You know your story's already been told We can play again if you sell your soul

Jinx: I've got my eye on you, so you just watch it Jinx: I'll find any skeletons inside your closet

Jinx and Vi: Who's the real monster, now you should know You've cut this story down to the bone