#Slayer Crucible

[mulletsg]

may the blood on your sword never dry

and may we never need you again

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Doom Prompt 17: Drink

A writing prompt from my Doom discord, basted on the Garnets story.

has a mild hilt/spoiler for one living crucible that has not showed up. in the story. Came out that it was placed in a dream/vision world so to say for them to interact with the Slayer . 17: "John, Last Gift, and Sunwalker go out for a drink." ("Drink" doesn't have to mean alcohol, just something that makes them relax while they shit talk each other and reminisce)

“Aaand he's waking up. Morning boss,” a semi familiar voice spoke as John felt himself stretching, paused and felt around for Heather. Momentarily worried he had rolled over on the girl-

“What? Wait what?” The not really man blurted, then paused in confusion at hearing his own voice. He sat bolt upright, hands reaching incase he had rolled on the tiny fragile human-

And recognized Frederick in his phantom form. Blinked slowly before checking around them, seeing another all too familiar phantom, then the place sank in. The place was not quite in focus, as if the world outside of the two phantoms was not really there.

It was not, technically. 

John had to focus his mind for a few long minutes, almost at a random recent memory to get the world to snap back into a semblance of order. John found himself sitting in one of the still unused areas of Taras Nabad. Somewhere mostly quiet but sounds of life could and did echo from below up to him. Them.

John yawned, sitting up in a planter and reached out. Catching and easily hauling the startled, shorter man closer. Arms wrapping shamelessly around Frederick, ignoring the protests before John shifted heavily on the soul tied to him. Settled in this endless moment now that he recognized they were in the Eternal between heartbeats. His body was… healing John was pretty sure.

“Really?” The once human demanded, Frederick was very firmly stuck and pulled up into the planter with John.

“Yes,” a gravel voice rumbled out as John shifted so the shorter man  was sitting between his own legs and the war god leaned forward to rest his chin on Frederick's shoulder. “Mine.”

“I told you not to get too close to him,” a third voice spoke up from the side. 

John glanced over to see the other Phantom, arching an eyebrow at finding that one not in armor for once in their phantom form. Well, full armor. Sunwalker still looked like he was in light armor, at least around his lower half. The tall Argenta man had exposed chest, back and arms. Dark red tattoos shifted and moved along the exposed dark skin. As if climbing up one side and down the other on him.

John gave a lazy smile, “You think being over there will help you, old man?”

Sunwalker blinked, then frowned, “Don't you dare.”

The Slayer grinned in a lazy way, rubbing his cheek against Frederick’s head and shoulder. Arms tightened a bit more, knowing he could not hurt the other soul. The soul that made up the Last Gift gave what could be a sigh and leaned back, resigned as much as not really minding the attention. It was… oddly nice to be held in this form, not as a cubicle. 

Though Frederick was getting used to that feeling too… he missed having a body proper. Missed many things, but at least his surviving family was safe in the Fortress again. His baby girl was safe, protected and loved, Frederick could relax a bit as his phantom form leaned back into the other and lost the armor. The reflection of his phantom being dressed in jeans and a blue Hawaiian shirt. Grinning over at the other living crucible as he was pulled closer.

“What? Just because he likes me more, you're just gonna glare, old man?” Frederick asked, reaching back to ruffle John's short hair as there was a thunder deep chuckle behind him.

“He does not,” Sunwalker found himself glaring, blinked red eyes and bristled. As much as himself for that moment of jealousy that slipped out of his control, then realizing that the Slayer was watching him intently. He bristled again, because this was HIS chosen after all, and Sunwalker had…chosen the Demigod first, even shared his title with the Slayer-

“No fighting, you're both mine.” John smiled, it was lopsided with the pulling scars as he chuckled and added, “You're both pretty.”

Frederick burst out laughing at that, sagging into the hold on him. While Sunwalker looked puzzled and then looked downward at his phantom self. Trying to sort out what was ‘pretty’ about him- or was it meant for his crucible self?

In this place, the Eternal, John felt comfortable to show a bit more of his emotions. As well as the curious sensation of feeling and hearing his own voice without the primordial forcing its way out of, well, he did not have to die to hear it again.

“I'm prettier than yooou,” Frederick was saying in a singsong tone.

“You have no glyphs or history yet boy,” Sunwalker snorted, but was now at least looking around the memory of the world around them. Recognizing almost belatedly that it seemed like Taras Nabad. Only… warn down. 

Was this what his once home looked like as a Fortress City? It seemed abandoned.

“Sun, go around the corner, there should be a few barrels,” the Slayer said, even as he finally let go of Frederick to reflexively sign what he said, “I want one of those.”

He paused, blinking as if not used to hearing his own voice. Then mildly confused that the phantom of the Last Gift made no move to get away. If anything, Frederick seemed happy to lean back as if silently demanding to be held again not unlike Lily did but not wanting to admit it aloud.

John wondered if she got it from him, as he closed his arms around the phantom of his new living weapon. More than that, maybe not friends, not like they might have been if Frederick was alive. Definitely a bonded soul that the Slayer did not mind at all, and enjoyed when a memory was shared.

“Alcohol? Really?” Sunwalker demanded as the taller Argenta man came back from investigating. Holding a small, brown barrel between his hands, maybe only two feet long. “You know this would not affect you in life, let alone here?”

“Want.” John shrugged and made a clear ‘gimme’ motion without letting go. 

“It would be vinegar,” Sunwalker made a face as he set it in the edge of the planter the other two were on, it almost had them at his eye level. The older living weapon reached to crack the wax seal and opened the top of the barrel. Not sure what to expect but it seemed like normal, dark liquid.

“You can have vinegar if you want,” Frederick as he sat up a bit too look at the barrel on the right, catching on first that it could be whatever he wanted the liquid to be. Looking around, the phantom patted down himself, and caught color in his peripheral and looked to the left.

This was not reality, being like a dream although it was not one either. So seeing his favorite mug was not that much of a surprise as he grabbed for it, even being held tight. His fingers just got the handle before John’s grip loosened. The mug was large and fit nicely in Fredericks hands, it was a swirling, senseless pattern of dark brown and tan colors with a blue lobster on it. The inside used to be gray but had been stained a bit by years of being used for coffee and espresso.

Frederick loved this mug, the memories tied to it, not minding sharing the real one with John as Lily had offered it. The once human man dipped the mug in the barrel and pulled it back, looking at the now warm amber fluid as he took a drink. A familiar smokey, oaky taste with a bite. Though with memory it was not as much of a bite that real whisky would have. “Gods I miss a good, aged whisky…”

“I liked… whisky.” John muttered, finally letting go to find a cup to get some himself. Half on Frederick’s memory, half with his own to taste. 

This was not so bad, this moment that lasted forever, and after a quiet minute between them. There was even a feminine giggle and shadow of movement, the hell created crucible dancing on the edge of awareness. Not so fully bonded, but Sunwalker bristled even more. 

The Argenta man turned away from the other two protectively. As much as he did not approve of everything the Last Gift did, Frederick’s soul was still young and favored too by Sunwalker’s Chosen. The living Hell blade had him glaring and just seeing something child size with a heavy looking skull over her head almost hiding whatever features she used to have but for burning orange eyes. 

Moving almost too fast, Sunwalker lunged and the third phantom gave a delighted scream and ran through the ruins. Cackling in glee at what was a game to her as the Argenta tried to keep her away from his Chosen.

“Can we get him drunk, to chill out?” Frederick asked as he sipped, watching with John the chaos happening. Paused and hummed at his drink changing to a strong mocha.

“Hmm,” John considered it, “I… think I’ve already killed the titans old enough to do that to him.”

“Damn, he’s fat and old.”

“...WHAT did you call me boy?!”

“FAT and OLD!”

John grinned wide at the stomping coming back out of the ruins, and made no move to stop the fight about to start. Just watching as they could not hurt one another as phantoms or swords. He shifted to offer his cup of whisky to the girl that crawled out of the shadows and to look around him. The third living weapon grasping his hand and taking a sip, even making a face at the taste of the alcohol, but then when it changed to root beer took a keen interest in the cup.

[1stprototype]

Slayer's Testaments crucible is kind of how I hope it'll work in The Dark Ages.

[junk-jester]

Damn, that's a good sword.

And with it in my collection, all I gotta do now is wait for SS 109 Bumblebee Movie Concept Art Megatron to arrive in the mail on the 7th, just so it has a proper wielder.

Until then, SS Gamer Edition 04 War for Cybertron Megs will do in the meantime, because it still works.

[theuglymachine]

I had some scrap glass from a stained glass project, so I made it into a little Crucible with brass scraps and old paint.

[devileaterjaek]

Doom Eternal

[dark-l-angel]

HIIIII! I don't know if you will ever see this but ...

I was thinking that maybe when batman was going on patrol with Robin ( Damian ) . they suddenly encountered black widow ( Reader ) , fighting some assassin on top of an abandoned tower or building . They don't know who they are so they come to investigate and just watch how black widow ( reader ) fights and when the battle is starting to really get bloody . All of a sudden batman and Robin step up in the fight . And when the fight was over the reader was ready to throw fist . Until she passed out of blood loss and too much injuries , and when she woke up she was suddenly in the Batcave . And the Batfam just started questioning her , Tim Drake Investigating her until he comes across of redroom the Notorious home for Men slayers . So when she woke up and started answering all the questions of how she ran how she got injured . And how she wants to free women and young girls from the redroom and prevent bloodshed and showed them her little bag with " Red dust " antidote for the mind controlled assassins . And she started her sad backstory . And for a month she stayed there and started getting closer with Nightwing (Dick) and Red hood (Jason) . Cause they have the same experience . The two are just starting to fall in love with the reader . ( just basically the Black widow movie but with a more mind blowing plot . )

Yeah and if you read this I'm a fan of your writing and sorry for my grammar english is not my first language ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ . If it's totally fine with you writing this . And I was hoping if you're totally okay with it them being poly and being a happy family with their Quadruplet kiddos ... And just being cute ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

It took time, but i hope it was worth it ✨ ��

Echoes of Shadows

Batfam x blackwidow!reader (oneshot + headcanons)

The Gotham skyline loomed above, a jagged silhouette against the inky night sky. Batman and Robin, cloaked in shadows, prowled the rooftops with practiced ease. Tonight's patrol had been routine, until they stumbled upon a scene that shattered the calm.

On the abandoned tower's rooftop, a deadly ballet unfolded under the moon's cold gaze. A figure clad in black, swift and lethal, engaged in a desperate dance with a group of assailants. Her movements were precise, calculated—the mark of someone trained to kill.

Batman and Robin observed from the shadows, silent witnesses to the deadly elegance before them. As the battle escalated, with blood staining the concrete, they knew intervention was necessary. With the precision of a well-honed team, they descended upon the fray, striking with controlled force.

The skirmish ended in a blur of punches and kicks, the assailants subdued by the combined might of Batman and Robin. Amidst the aftermath, the mysterious woman stood, her breaths labored, wounds oozing crimson. She eyed the vigilantes warily, ready to continue the fight.

But exhaustion claimed her, a heavy toll of blood loss and injuries. She collapsed, unconscious, in Batman's arms. Without hesitation, they whisked her away to the safety of the Batcave—a sanctuary hidden beneath Gotham's veneer of darkness.

Days passed like shadows in the depths of the Batcave. The woman, now awake and alert, found herself under the scrutiny of Gotham's guardians. Tim Drake, the analytical mind of the Batfamily, delved into her past with relentless determination.

Tim's investigation unearthed a trail of deception and darkness—a trail that led to the Red Room, a notorious crucible for female assassins. The woman, known only as (Y/N), recounted her journey with grim determination, revealing her mission to free others from the Red Room's clutches.

"I've seen what they do to girls," (Y/N) spoke softly, her gaze haunted by memories buried deep. "The conditioning, the brutality... I couldn't let it continue."

Her revelation struck a chord within the Batcave's walls. Dick and Jason, each scarred by their own pasts, found empathy in (Y/N)'s resolve. They shared moments of camaraderie and quiet understanding, drawn together by the weight of shared experiences.

As days turned into weeks, (Y/N) became a fixture in the Batcave—a reluctant ally turned trusted friend. She trained alongside Robin, honing her skills under Batman's watchful eye. Her determination to dismantle the Red Room resonated with Gotham's protectors, each of whom saw shades of their own struggles reflected in her resolve.

Nightwing, with his easy charm and steadfast support, found himself drawn to (Y/N)'s resilience. Their late-night conversations carried echoes of shared pain and unspoken hope. Red Hood, with his fierce loyalty and unyielding nature, saw a kindred spirit in (Y/N)'s quest for justice.

Amidst the shadows of Gotham, (Y/N) found solace in the company of heroes—each with their own scars, each with their own battles fought and victories won. Together, they forged bonds that transcended the boundaries of vigilante justice, bound by a shared commitment to protect the innocent and defy the darkness that threatened to consume their city.

And as (Y/N) continued her fight against the Red Room's legacy, she discovered something unexpected—a sense of belonging in the unlikeliest of places, alongside those who understood the weight of shadows and the enduring power of hope.

Now to Jason and dick x you *I'll do headcanons

Jason Todd:

Jason Todd was not one to easily trust or open up, but (Y/N)'s presence in the Batcave stirred something within him. Her resilience and determination mirrored his own turbulent journey from darkness to redemption.

Jason recognized the haunted look in (Y/N)'s eyes—the echoes of a past scarred by violence and manipulation. Her unwavering commitment to dismantling the Red Room struck a chord with Jason, who saw shades of his own quest for justice in her relentless pursuit of redemption.

Despite his gruff exterior, he found himself drawn to (Y/N)'s vulnerability—a vulnerability she rarely showed, except in fleeting moments when the weight of her past threatened to overwhelm her. He admired her strength, yet felt a protective instinct that defied logic.

Their interactions were often marked by unspoken understanding—a shared language of glances and gestures that spoke volumes in the quiet of the Batcave. Jason found himself seeking (Y/N)'s company, drawn to the solace she offered amidst Gotham's relentless chaos.

Over time, Jason's admiration blossomed into something deeper—a fierce loyalty and an unspoken yearning that caught him off guard. He found himself wanting to shield (Y/N) from further harm, to stand by her side in the battle against their shared demons.

Jason's protective instincts, honed through years of survival on Gotham's unforgiving streets, surged to the forefront. He wanted to be her protector, her confidant—a role that defied his lone wolf persona but resonated with a primal need to keep her safe.

Dick Grayson:

Dick Grayson, the heart of the Batfamily, approached (Y/N) with a warmth and empathy that set him apart. His easy charm and unwavering support endeared him to (Y/N), who found solace in his steadfast presence amidst the shadows of Gotham.

Dick's charisma drew (Y/N) in from their first meeting. His genuine interest in her well-being and his ability to lighten even the darkest moments created a bond of trust and companionship.

He admired (Y/N)'s strength and resilience, seeing in her a kindred spirit who refused to be defined by her past. He supported her in her mission against the Red Room, lending his expertise and resources to aid her cause.

Both him and (Y/N) shared a deep-seated commitment to justice and protecting the innocent. Their conversations often revolved around their shared ideals, sparking debates and moments of introspection that deepened their connection.

Dick's role as Nightwing extended beyond vigilantism—he became (Y/N)'s emotional anchor in the storm of their shared battles. His ability to listen without judgment and offer comfort in times of doubt earned him a special place in (Y/N)'s heart.

As their friendship evolved, Dick found himself drawn to (Y/N) in ways he hadn't anticipated. His protective instincts kicked in, wanting to shield her from harm and offer her the love and stability she deserved.

☆ i hope you like it ☆

[schureizeg]

Doom Slayer in my favorite Astro armor!! I really enjoy this combination of white armor and Crucible.. ... .

[querulousartisan]

There hasn't been much in illustration I have been working on lately, and that is because I have been working on my first Dragoncon cosplay since 2021.

I decided to create and make a Doom Slayer ballgown and have been working on it for the last 9 months. There are over 10000 rhinestones (and that has been the most time consuming thing). I still have to finish up the crucible (I am waiting on some LEDS to come in) and the extended version of the doom blade (waiting on some magnets), but other than those and some minor things like adding some elastic here or soles to the boots there or paint pvc pipe here, I am just about complete with this cosplay. I am so excited to be wearing this to my first Dragoncon back after a couple of years of chaos!

[bragganhyl]

Y'know given Avowed's whole "there aren't many godlikes left" thing, allow me to serve some copium bc I personally don't think that godlike Watchers died and there is sufficient enough lore reasons for that

In case you never played Seeker, Slayer, Survivor, or you forgot about it, near the end of the dlc we meet Aexica, the person behind the Seeking Face and the ghost of an Engwithan animancer who worked on the Crucible which was basically a test version for the Wheel which was built next

As she explains, the Crucible and the Wheel emits (or used to emit in the Wheel's case) a signal that Watcher souls also emit - the Watcher sees souls and the souls see them back, remember? That is why the Engwithans could divert the natural flow of souls towards the Wheel instead and Aexica also explains, figuring out how to mimic the Watchers' soul signal was the hardest part of the project

Which basically means that even though Watcher souls are juicy and probs would make the best snack, in terms of long term survival, the gods are better off leaving godlike Watchers alone so they could be studied or maybe even have their souls power the new Wheel in a worst case scenario

[the-gnomish-bastard]

How to flavor your barbarian subclasses:

Ancestral Guardian:

Ooga booga ritual mean punch you in face

Himbo spirit medium

The voices

Traditional barbarian

The other kind of ghost buster

Battlerager:

I’m the juggernaut, bitch!

Rhino (the Spider-Man villain)

That’s about it

Beast:

Mutated Experiment gone wrong

Mutated experiment gone right

You were raised by wolves

You’re Venom (the spider man villain)

Elden Ring Crucible Knight

Feral man

Berserker:

Hulk

Angry man

Angrier man

Angriest man

Horrah Loux, Warrior

Man with anger issues

Giant:

Hulk

Antman

Super Mario Giant Mushroom

One of those pill things you put in water and then it grows

Calypso

Storm Herald:

Thor

The Sandman (Spider-Man villain)

Mr. Freeze (the Arnold Schwarzenegger version)

Zeus

Himbo weather guy

Totem Warrior:

Pissed off inspector gadget

Himbo with a wood carving hobby

Crash bandicoot with the tiki mask thing

Wild magic:

Gambler

Reality warping Himbo

The one friend who you can never tell what they’re thinking

Muscle wizard

Zealot:

Doom Slayer

Black Templar

Terminus

Crusader

The Black Knight

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Doom Prompt 14: Old man Sunwalker

A writing prompt from my Doom Discord, tied into the Garnets story. old Crucible is just...grumpy old man . 14: “Old man Sunwalker being slightly grumpy at Lily holding him”

The old crucible woke up not against its chosen wielder, and for a moment was confused. The Slayer was not far, but also�� calm.

There was a low deep rumble that turned into a chuckle at a frustrated sound from… someone else? Sunwalker shifted their attention and found that other, new living weapon alike to himself, but they were settled and sleeping still needing that mental rest so to say. Still very much connected to the Slayer King….and for the first time Sunwalker found out who was also connected to the younger weapon.

He had to take a phantom form to look around on his own, finding himself sitting at the head of a bed. Argenta made but the big royal room had been filled with the oddest assortment of things to Sunwalker. The living weapon could hold this form for a good long while, just not many could see him.

A glowing blue eye opened to look over at the phantom. The Slayer was stretched out on his front in his bed, arms crossed under his chin and though his body language was deceptively relaxed… Sunwalker knew better. He was connected to this one after all.

He also blinked red shined eyes back as the crusible’s phantom clearly picked up the warning glare. 

There was a bit of a pulse from a healer’s wraith gift, drawing Sunwalker’s attention and he jerked a bit in shock. Confused as to why a child would be in the Slayer King’s rooms. She was sitting back on her knees, on his back before huffing and sat up to plop her weight onto the heels of her hands on one spot. Frowning in concentration, her wraith gift was still so new but flared a bit in time with her emotions. In this case, trying to get something to work.

The child had to be just starting to learn her healer’s gift, no fine control one could say. It was like someone smacking a papercut with a non-stick gauze pad to see if that worked.

…actually it was exactly like that. 

The Slayer had many small cuts on his back, no longer bleeding and would heal on their own in the next day or so. Yet he was just letting this child try to heal, knowing she just was not at that level? 

This amusing sight was what got Sunwalker’s attention, but what held it was the living weapon realizing that his chosen’s own energy, power? The Slayer’s energy was threaded and mixed into this girl’s soul, his power skimming over top of her in a way that was like a shield. A way that almost seemed intentional to hide her. But there was no Mark on her. Just one little mark on a bit of jewelry, and on her wrist, something not even like the Sentinel's own to use some aspects of his power.

“Why… do you… have… to be… built… like… a brick… shite… house…?!” The girl growled out, resorting to bouncing as the Slayer laughed lowly. Lily was not really trying to heal the cuts at first but to work something out. She sat back and glared at the scarred back, then pounced forward on the heels of her hands as if a surprise attack would improve results. 

Sunwalker just stared, taken aback at the strange insult. Watching as the Slayer shifted and somewhat started to get up, making the girl laugh and yelp as she fell to his left, away from the side of the bed. It was like watching a wintherin stretching in the nest as the Slayer got up just enough to rotate his shoulders before settling down with a groan. The girl sat up, Lily checked and then tossed up her hands as the knot she had been trying to work out and heal, had been forced into accelerated healing by the demigod.

The Slayer rolled over and reached out, grabbing the child with a playful growl. Getting a yip and an attempt to kick before wrapping his arms around the small girl. Sunwalker jerked as he stared and then suddenly realized that sort of connection he was seeing should not be from just a gift through a mark-

When did his chosen wielder have a child?!

Sunwalker could only stare in a now confused, shocked state, not sure what was going on as the Slayer loosened his hold to start using that silent language. The girl responding the same way, as if raised with it?

The Slayer was sitting up a bit, then rolling onto his back and reaching upwards. Not so blindly reaching to grasp the hilt of Sunwalker. That warning look was leveled at the phantom he could see even if his child could not. Then the Slayer was offering it to the girl as she sat up in the bed. 

“That’s… the new… old one? That’s older than dad?” the girl, Lily asked, getting a nod back as the Slayer sat up. He took her hand and carefully set the hilt into it. Both her hand and the crucible hilt fit in his own.

The Slayer signed carefully with his free hand. Aware of the almost instinctual reaction of the crucible, but there was a solid, though unseen hit of the Slayer’s will at the living weapon. He broke reality once, he would break Sunwalker in half again if the living weapon hurt his Flower.

“...feels weird.” Lily said, unaware of the momentary battle of wills. Being careful on instinct, knowing she could not trigger the blade but still gentle as she turned the crucible over. “...it …it feels warm. Almost like you… not the same kind of heat.”

The Slayer asked a question in sign.

Lily thought about it, still being careful, the edges of the crucible felt sharp unlike her dad’s. Like it was bristling at her almost. “It… feels like just before a sunburn. You feel like… well right now you feel like the heater on a boat. Nice and hot but don’t touch it.” she set the crucible in his hand again, and then playfully touched her fingers to the demigod’s head.

The Slayer chuckled, eyed the new-old weapon to make sure it would keep behaving before reaching to grab Lily. Grinning at the squeak as he lifted her up, pressing his head to hers to make sure to drive home to the crucible that this was his. His daughter, and Sunwalker was not allowed to lash out in any way. He sat back to free a hand and sign another question, the hilt set back on the bed.. 

“...yes! Spaaaace!” Lily cheered, getting picked up and carried over to the not really but ‘open’ balcony.

…when did the Slayer have a child?!

[allsaiint]

↠ doom slayer/reader

↠ word count: 3200

↠ masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

↠ description: while you had heard tales of the doom slayer's unrelenting rage and power, it was a different story when you witnessed it first hand.

↠ warnings: gratuitous butchering of canon | reader has physcial description for specific plot reasons but is otherwise neutral | feminine pronouns | descriptions of blood, gore, and violence | slayer finally doesn't try to shoot you... though he does threaten to

↠ author’s notes: more or less just a filler chapter to get to the next arc. reminder, as if the warnings aren't enough (sometimes they aren't) that i am dismantling canon bc i can and bc it fits the idea better. if two warnings aren't enough for you, you're a lost cause. as always, an ao3 link is on the masterlist. in reference to the chapter title: yes, yes i had to.

“What,” you groaned once you had picked yourself up off of the floor, “the fuck was that?”

That being the flashes of Hell that had been forced into your brain when the slayer unlocked the Helix Stone from its confinement. It had been confusing at best, full of flickering red flames and sandstone and, most prominent, the hilt of a large sword made of bone. Its eyes had been alive with the fires of Hell, if one was feeling poetic. You were not, truth be told.

It was Hayden that answered, though you got the sense it was more out of convenience than an actual interest in giving you one. His excitement was a little too palpable when he said, “The Crucible. That’s what Olivia was after. Vega, do you have the location?”

“I do, Dr. Hayden. Transmitting now. The signal is showing it to be in the Great Steppe— the Titan’s realm. You will need another Argent Accumulator, however, and the only one left in this sector is in Specimen CD597.”

“Woah, woah, wait,” you said, throwing your hands up. The instant that the A.I. listed the numbers, cold anxiety spilled down your spine. “Specimen CF597? The Cyberdemon?”

An Argent Accumulator was a cylinder made of a heat resistant alloy mined from another planet outside of the solar system. Inside of it was a refined version of something known as Argent Energy, which the facility pumped from the Argent Fracture. While the UAC told humanity that Argent Energy was just plasma found beneath the surface of Mars, the truth was much darker. Argent Plasma, before it became energy, was the source of power that kept the Hell realm functioning. No one had yet discovered how it was made— or at least, no one had informed you. You only learned of it after having been reassigned to the Lazarus Complex, and the knowledge had rocked not once, but twice now that the memory resurfaced thanks to Vega.

The Argent Accumulator that Vega was specifically referring to was in the chest of the biggest, most volatile demon in containment on the entire planet. During the Second Manned Lazarus Expedition into the Great Steppe, the teams came upon the petrified remains of a massive Titan that later research revealed to be an ancient Baalgar demon. Corrax tablets— the name given to the written history of the demons by the demons— suggested that the Baalgar demons were once Shadow Lords, a high rank amongst demonic ‘nobles’. 

Upon being brought back, experiments began on the remains. It was soon discovered that, upon exposing them to small doses of Argent Energy, the flesh would respond and grow. From what you knew, the scientists began to meld cybernetic technology into the slowly regrowing demon. You were unsure of the finer technicalities behind it, but somehow— and for some reason— they gave the demon the ability to control the Argent Accumulator they implanted in its chest. This gave it the ability to administer Argent Energy to itself as needed but, as expected, they lost control of it. When they allowed it to awaken, it went on a rampage in the lower sector, and they were forced to contain it in holding cell 6— the only one large enough and strong enough to contain it. 

“That is correct,” Vega  answered as the slayer pulled you along behind him. “I have uploaded its coordinates to you.”

“Once you have extracted the accumulator, it should become unstable enough to send you back to their world.” That was Hayden, who sounded unconcerned by any and all of what they had just found out. “We can control your point of entry with the tether system in your suit, and extract you once you have retrieved the Crucible. I must insist, however, that you leave her  out of it—”

Whatever other objections he had were cut off by the obnoxious klaxon of the warning system. A too calm female voice came over the intercom, announcing that a lockdown was in effect due to an extremely high demonic presence, which preceded the actual appearance of the demons by milliseconds.

Figuring that it was as good a time as any to make yourself scarce, you ducked the volley of fireballs cast by Imps in your, but more specifically the slayer’s, direction. Slipping and sliding on their entrails as he cleaned house with nothing but a shotgun, you threw yourself into the relative safety of an overhang, tucking into a corner made by the wall and the staircase. 

The Imps, you came to learn, were just the appetizer, keeping the slayer occupied until the larger demons could make their way through portals. At first it was a handful of Hell Knights, their thunderous steps overpowering the rapid fire of the heavy assault rifle the slayer utilized against them. The cacophony would have been aggravating to begin with, but coupled with the fact that you were overwhelmed by— just about everything, it was all you could do to watch the devastation unfold.

You shrieked when the obliterated pieces of a Hell Knight corpse splattered to the floor from over the railing, following on the heels of an electrical warping sound. The slayer himself appeared right after, and the impact of 350 lbs of metal clad man on a metal floor was  thunderously deafening. Your head, already spinning from the chaos happening, positively vibrated when he landed. The entire room swirled, the lights of Argent Energy and Plasma and fireballs and bullets all spiralling into one another until you were unable to tell where any of it began or ended.

When the Mancubus demons showed up next, you knew right away. The putrid stench they carried with them, whether it was their own rotting flesh or that of their consumed victims, was recognizable from miles away. Being so close forced you to lean over to dry heave for the second time in less than four hours. There was nothing left, not even bile to come up, but that never stopped your stomach from trying. The smell only grew worse when the slayer took the first one down. You had the luck of witnessing it explode first hand with a well aimed shot from the Gauss Cannon. The superheated plasma tore through the poor stitching that held its stomach together. The flesh inside ignited, dousing the slayer and the surrounding demons in a layer of its acidic bile. While the armor he wore was untouched, the Imps that had the unfortunate pleasure of being covered began to melt almost right away. The same would have happened to you if you had hid anywhere besides under the balcony overhand, but you watched it splatter at your feet to eat holes in the thin metal.

Without skipping a beat, a second Mancubus fired at the slayer from the floor above. The blast sent the slayer sliding back on his heels, through the thick soup of blood and viscera that coated the floor. It rolled down his armor, mixing with the vile concoction that made up the Mancubus’s weapon. Your shriek was drowned out by the powerful explosion that followed, caused by the slayer launching up to the second floor, drawing too close to the Mancubus. The room lit up with orange and a sound like a flamethrower before the slayer reappeared. Where he hit the railing sent him cartwheeling down but you, in spite of your near sheer terror, found yourself impressed that he still managed to land on his feet. As if he had meant to do it, the Gauss Cannon withdrew and a third explosion rent the air. Innards and viscera and unnameable other gunk rained down, adding to the puddles already on the floor. 

It had grown so thick that it began to seep towards you and, faced with the choice of being eaten through with acid or traipsing through the mess, you scrambled to your feet and picked your way around the portions of flooring that had been eaten through.

“Damn, but you are terrifying,” you said upon reaching the slayer. The level of carnage he had left in the Archive Room was on par with the mess the cultists had left in the rest of the complex. Splatters reached all the way to the ceiling and had coated the Helix Stone so thoroughly it was reduced to illegibility. It was impressive.

In response, the slayer grunted. With the muzzle of his still hot shotgun, he nudged you in the back, indicating you walk ahead of him. A staircase was opening around the stone’s display case but, at the top, you came to a stop.

“Woah, woah, wait, I just remembered something,” you said, throwing your hands out to rebalance where the slayer had almost knocked you down them anyway. “Did you find the weapons development lab?”

A hand landed on your shoulder, and you found yourself jerked around. The slayer was glaring at you , eyes narrowed, before they cut to his shotgun.

“If I may,” Vega said, attempting at delicacy, “I believe he means, Why do you ask? As far as we have discovered, he is incapable of speech.”

You clicked your tongue. “I ask because, if you’re going to face the Cyberdemon then dive into Hell, and insist on dragging me along, then I would like to give me the best odds of escaping again. Vega, the BFG is still in containment, right?”

The A.I. made a noise of understanding. “Most prudent. It is indeed still in the development lab in the Advanced Research Complex.”

“All the way upstairs,” you murmured, cupping your chin. “What’s the status of the tram topside?”

“All power has been diverted from non-essentials. The tram is one of them. I can divert power from the elevators, but you will need a clearance keycard—”

“Vega, please, remember who you’re talking to. Bypassing the system would be much faster than looking for whatever shambling corpse has the damn card.” You paused to scan the slayer up and down. “I know you don’t trust me because I look like a demon, but I really do just want to help. Do you want to go up and get this gun or carry on? The longer the portal is open, the harder it’ll be to close, but I’ve heard horror stories about what’s in the Steppe. It might be worth backtracking.”

You could see his eyes narrow in what you assumed to be suspicion, but his desire for a really big fucking gun was evidently stronger than his baser instincts. With the shotgun, he motioned you onward, back towards the elevator. It was a short, silent, and awkward ride back up. If only you had had elevator music to complete the picture, it would have been perfect.

“It will take me a moment to reroute power,” Vega said once the doors had opened. “The lights will dim, but do not be alarmed.”

The platform was still empty where the slayer had obliterated the demons earlier. Their bodies had been transported back to Hell upon death, but evidence of the battle remained— bloodied bodies and chunks, the blackened evidence of missile strikes on the walls, and the broken door that the slayer had entered the room through that was now demolished in its entirety. He was the true definition of a one man army, and it made you take a closer look at his suit.

“Dr. Hayden’s given you access to the Argent Cells, hasn’t he?”

The slayer turned to you, shoulders stiffening beneath his armor. Considering his hatred for demons, you found it a tad hypocritical that he was using energy mined from Hell to power himself up. Then again, perhaps it was a sort of poetic justice. Regardless and considering you liked your head where it was at, you were keeping any and all opinions to yourself.

Well, except for one.

“It also looks like Dr. Hayden added slots like the Elite Guards have in their armor,” you said, circling around the slayer’s back. “Chips are for security alerts per complex, mostly. They contain maps too, though, and the locations for weapons caches— pretty much in case something like this ever happened. Hey, Vega, how much longer?”

“Still a few minutes more.”

When you beckoned to the slayer after that, you expected more resistance than you got. There was still a healthy amount of suspicion, as evidenced by the way he pointed the shotgun at you before falling into step behind. The doors still hissed in a half-hearted attempt at closing, but the slayer had damaged the hydraulics so thoroughly that electrical sparks showered you as you passed through. 

You led him back up to the laboratory, where the four Mancubus demons that had previously occupied the tables now lay in scattered but no less revolting pieces. In the grand scheme of things, you were happier to be sidestepping a few smelly chunks than skirting around full and lumbering demons.

Just up the steps was a lone table, propped up like it had been holding the Mancubus as a museum exhibit. There was just enough space for the slayer to slip between the table and the railing for the left hand staircase, following you into an unobtrusive alcove. 

“A lot of caches are hidden like this,” you said, pressing on one of the decorative panels in the wall. It popped out and rotated to reveal a code panel, into which you put your own identification number. No one but guards, the head engineers, and the lead scientists were allowed access to them, mostly because no one else had need for what ammunition was hidden inside. The panel disappeared and the wall slid in with a pressurized hiss, then up into the ceiling. “Well, that’s convenient.”

Just inside the door, propped against a crate, was one of the Elite Guards. The pool of blood around him had long since dried, and in his hand was a stun baton. As if that would do any good against anything more than a Possessed.

The slayer moved past you while you crouched, and while you patted at the guard’s vest you heard the clatter of metal on metal. With your fingers pinching the chip, you looked up to find that he had broken the lock off of a crate full of shotgun ammo. Into one of the numerous metal supply pouches that adorned his armor went handfuls of shells, stacked neatly within reach. Next, as you yanked the chip from its slot, the lock on the crate for missiles for the rocket launcher was broken. Those were locked into the belt on his back, a dozen or so along with some mini-missiles off of his hip. 

“Here,” you said, holding the chip out to show him. “I don’t know what this one will give you, if you want me to plug it in. Vega might be able to locate more using the signals, but—”

“I am afraid not. The signals have been corrupted by the Hell Portal’s opening,” the A.I. responded. “You may be able to access them via a security data terminal.”

The slayer handed the chip back to you and, in spite of what you guessed was his better judgement, knelt down so you could reach the designated spot. It was a perfect fit, and the slayer pressed a few buttons on his arm guard before standing. He turned then and stepped into your personal space. Unsure of what to make of it considering everything else so far, you put your hands up as a useless barrier between you, and took a step back. 

“Two pieces of good news,” Vega said, startling you. The slayer had just reached out with one massive hand, up towards your banded horns, but it dropped at the sound of the A.I.’s voice. “One, I have successfully rerouted power to the tram. You need only make it to the lab and back to the tram once you have collected the weapon. Two, the chip you have has the locations of all of the weapons caches within the facility.”

“There’s a security terminal up in the ARC too, in the same area as the BFG,” you said, dragging your thumb across your lip. “In theory, there might be a guard up there as well, considering how important that lab is. Also in theory, if I can find a blank chip or a chip that proves useless to us, I can reprogram it to bounce back the signals from the others.”

“Well, whatever you decide to do, you must hurry. The longer the portal is open—”

“Yeah, well, it won’t do us any good if this guy dies before closing it, so the few extra minutes it’ll take to get the gun should prove worth it, especially against the Cyberdemon— or god forbid we meet a Titan.” You paused, narrowing your eyes at the slayer, who was rummaging through a crate full of grenades. “Remind me why I have to go with you?”

It was Vega that answered, of course, saying, “I believe he distrusts leaving you unguarded. It is fair reasoning, given we do not know how the transformation might effect you the longer it goes on.”

That logic was hard to refute, even if you still disliked it. Then again, who would like being dragged into the depths of hell by a man who was somehow twice as likely to tear their head off as literal demons were? You knew how you felt when you woke up, which had been confused but still human. Even terrified by the slayer and all of the demons, you had never stopped feeling human. Only looking down at your hands reminded you of your new appearance, or when wisps of your white hair fell loose from the tie holding it back. On those occasions, you would push it back with your fingers only to be stymied by the horns twisting up from the center of your skull. 

You returned to the platform to find the tram ready and waiting with the doors open. The slayer stood silent sentry, shotgun propped on his arm while you fiddled with wires and pressed buttons. You could appreciate that he was putting some faith into you and had listened to your suggestions and followed your advice so far. At least this time there was no direct warning, with the barrel of the gun pointing towards the window instead of at your back. 

The power went off with a barely audible click but, before the slayer could begin to think you had betrayed him, it came on once more and the doors began to close. Pressing one last button to get the tram moving, you turned to him and lifted a shoulder.

“Vega rerouted the power, but I had to reroute power away from the key pass in the panel,” you explained, tapping the glass. “Meant turning it off for a sec.”

The slayer stood still for a moment, silent as ever, then grunted.

You supposed, considering Vega failed to elucidate, it was a good sign. 

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[critter-genfic-events]

Pike Trickfoot Recs!

This week, we have eleven fic recs that focus on Pike Trickfoot! Healer, fighter, and Grog's buddy - we have fics that focus on many different facets to her character. Check them out under the cut and don't forget to comment and kudos if you liked them!

The Sun Always Rises by tameila (120527,Mature) Warnings: tw depression Pairings: Pike Trickfoot/Scanlan Shorthalt

In the quiet, mountainous town of Westruun, where nothing much happens, Pike Trickfoot leads her parish. She knows her work and does it well. If she has ever wanted for more, it has never been her place to ask. But, a new spring is blooming, and those longings may become too fervent to ignore, especially when one wears the face of popstar sensation, Scanlan Shorthalt.

Reccer says: It's LONG fic but it still manages to be raw, well-paced and -written, with a great character development and hints at a larger world. One of my very favourite modern AUs ever.

vice and failure by beeclaws (3216,General) Warnings: None Pairings: None

Pike, and the woman she never let herself be.

Reccer says: It's a love letter and absolutely beautiful character study of Pike

Cerberus Was a Puppy Once, Too by Crewe (11828,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot

Grog and Pike, growing up and growing into their destinies.

Reccer says: Pike and Grog's relationship is one of the best parts of Campaign One, and this fic is a great exploration of it with a great Grog voice. May have made me cry.

hail to victory (second champion is not surrender) by friendly_ficus (2538,Teen) Warnings: Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot

Sometimes you take a year off, sometimes you go to Vasselheim with your best buddy and become Second Champion of the Crucible.

Reccer says: I liked it

the first rule of fight club by impossibletruths (2430,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Pike Trickfoot & Kashaw Vesh, Pike Trickfoot & Vox Machina

It’s been a while since she’s had a proper fight, and Kash seems as willing a sparring partner as any. Friendship really does spring from the oddest of places.

Reccer says: I love Pike and Kashaw's dynamic

some sun has got to rise by allapplesfall (22973,Teen) Warnings: Major Character Death, technically (Wilhand) Pairings: Pike Trickfoot & Wilhand Trickfoot, Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot

Wilhand dies. If Pike were as used to being left behind as she pretends to be, this would all be a lot easier.

Reccer says: An amazing exploration of grief (especially grief of a parent) and Pike.

make the world better by EssayOfThoughts (2043,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot

Pike is tired. Grog takes care of her. Author's Summary: In the wake of the Dread Emperor, Pike is tired helping the traumatised children. It's alright, though - Grog's there for her.

Reccer says: It's just nice to see Pike be comforted and also to let Grog be the caretaker for once (while also being completely in character for both of them)

Until Our Luck Runs Out by turtleducknewton (3102,Teen) Warnings: Blood & injury, discussion of past character death, and some general existentialism Pairings: Pike & Vax, Pike & Grog, Pike & Vox Machina

Pike is injured on a Slayer’s Take mission and Vox Machina has to find a way to help her

Reccer says: I liked it

the sum of all our scars by memorysdaughter (1967,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Pike Trickfoot & Vox Machina

Where pike physically feels all the pain that she heals from others

Reccer says: Pike already has a self sacrificing/caregiving thing going on in canon, but this fic dials it up to eleven.

The Grand Poobah's Book Club by memorysdaughter (7199,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot

Six vignettes in Pike and Grog's friendship, as seen through the books they read.

Reccer says: It's adorable and sweet and has some great art to go along with it!

Life Keeps on Crashing by percahlia (2861,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Pike Trickfoot & Vax'ildan

Faith finds Pike in her family shrine and finds Vax years later in a tomb.

Reccer says: Pike and Vax's friendship is amazing in it (and in canon)

If you liked this rec list, follow along for more! We'll be posting a new list with a new theme each Monday. Want to make your own recs? Check out use this form to submit!

Next week, we'll be featuring mysteries - whether it's a mystery for the character, or a mystery of the reader - if you've got a fic you like that fits, please submit!

After that, it'll be monsters, humor, and then Hurt/Comfort!

If you're looking for some more, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[savior-of-humanity]

@maykrisms -- continued from here!

--

To be honest, Cassius had been expecting a demon or some other terrible bloodthirsty beast to jump out at him when the door opened. To instead be met with a ten-foot tall robot holding what looked like a demonic version of the Great Slayer's Crucible was... a surprise, to say the very least.

He blinks when Hayden speaks. Once, twice, his mind trying to play catch-up with a language he hasn't spoken in what might be decades. Thankfully, he still remembers enough of it to understand the former Maykr - and didn't seem to recognize him through the mechanical filter of his voice. His gaze naturally drifted to the demonic crucible in the cyborg's hand, but the sight combined with his voice still doesn't spark any sort of recognition as to who Hayden actually was.

"How do you know me?" Cassius would ask in perfectly fluent Argenta. He'd grown so much since he was a younger lad, almost as tall as his father but noticeably skinnier in physical build. He already had his fair share of facial scars, giving him an even closer similarity to the Great Slayer.

"And, to be fair, I didn't ask to end up here." Which was... mostly true. He'd only been following the trail of where his father had gone; he still didn't have a clue as to how he even ended up here, let alone outside of Hell at all, in the first place.

[slayers-testament]

[VEGA] ❮ During your last mission, I completed a project inspired by a conversation I overheard back on UAC Mars. I believe it is something you might like. ❯

A drone then floats over, carrying three small objects. They appear to be little charms? One is a rabbit resembling Daisy, another is a character from a game the Slayer had recently been playing, and the final is a replica of the Slayer's mark.

❮ They can be attached to your weapons for added personal flair. ❯

He looks down at the charms on the drone, raising an eyebrow. As a soldier, he thought the idea of putting charms on his weapons would just be distracting. They add nothing to the function of the gun, and really only dangle around as he moves and shoots, getting in his way.

...But he is also more than a simple soldier, and is very much into the personalization of his weapons, especially in rather silly ways, as a means of humiliating demons even more. So, to his Nerf Gun colored Heavy Cannon, he takes one of the charms and straps it to the bolt, his helmet now dangling from one of his favorite kill-sticks.

For the Slayer's Mark goes the Crucible, the mark dangling from it like a cellphone charm or Keyblade Keychain.

And for Daisy... no better place than his trusty super shotgun; strapped right to the bottom of the trigger guard.

"...Thanks." He gives the drone a couple of pats on the... head? Top? Seems he appreciates the gesture.