#Tooth and Claw Operation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nogacheloveka-blog · 2 months

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Horrorgaze

"I'm not very good at speaking and writing in English. I did my best to make the text understandable, especially the jokes, but I may have been mistaken in this. If you see any serious mistakes, don't hesitate to write about it. You will help me a lot. Thank you.

Pairing and Characters: Killer/Nightmare, Horror/Cross, Killer/Cross, Cross, Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Horror

Other Tags: only Horror point of view, no sexual scenes(i think so), a lot of reflections, some memory lapses, weak sexual dimorphism, pairings hinted at in general

Description: Horror lives among variations of himself. He can think a lot and say little. He is also a nearsighted stalker.

Notes: All "Sans" in the text belong to Horror. According to my headcanon, he looks somewhat frightening and beast-like, with fangs and claws, keen hearing and smell, but extremely nearsighted. He is also "older" than Killer and Dust: Horrortale moved forward in time, while the universes of these two remained frozen in repetition.

***

Sans often gnawed on things. This habit remained from the hungry years in the Underground: to suppress the gnawing feeling of hunger, akin to the birth of a black hole below the sternum, he would scrape his teeth against his post in Snowdin, the resinous bark of trees, boil pine needles, and the hard-earned fish. He chewed on thin children's bones.

After Nightmare gave his world a chance to survive, Sans had to keep an eye on his habit. It would be rude to leave marks on someone else's territory, right? But even so, the pens and pencils that came into his possession, as well as the mugs with cutlery, suffered. All his belongings bore the imprint of his sharp-toothed jaw.

All his belongings, not himself.

Sans noticed a bite on his left hand while cooking, surprised by its presence. It was not painful at all, but deep enough to still be visible. It crossed the malicious "U" of his metacarpals and slid into scratches along the heads of the proximal phalanges, becoming particularly deep on the middle phalanx of his pinky finger. Sans himself could not have forgotten to bite himself this way—such an awkward angle.

The injured head made itself known. His memory sometimes failed to retain recent events. It was not as dire as with the Multiverse Defender, as he did not forget his daily routine. Only incidents with strong emotional outbursts, moments of excessive tension, became heavily blurred and slipped away, leaving gaping holes behind. He remembered things in fragments, from the words of those around him or by finding himself in similar situations, but he never had a complete picture. Life now presented itself to him as a series of calm days with patches missing during certain missions—when something went wrong, he had to operate at maximum capacity.

All attempts to recall the nature of the injury were unsuccessful. He remembered a vague excitement and an unclear obsessive desire, as his hands were tightly wrapped around something thin, like tree branches. No, no, wait, it was round and rough. And fabric. The claws on his right palm had definitely snagged something made of dense fabric, digging in, and it had torn under pressure, but it hadn't split apart. And he sank his claws deeper, simply because it felt good to have that sense of power.

His soul raced slightly even at the attempts to remember. Sans swallowed.

Judging by these scant fragments, it seemed he had been holding someone. Perhaps Nightmare had tasked him with stirring up trouble in some place, and he had gotten carried away? That seemed quite plausible. In most universes, just the sight of his massive, twisted figure in the middle of Snowdin or the New Home was enough to raise the level of negativity. Usually, during such missions, time did not particularly constrain him, and he allowed himself to chase the locals, driving them through the woods or engaging in extortion. He loved hunting too. It reminded him of the old days, but now he was full and could do it for fun, like someone of royal blood. Nevertheless, Sans did not like to kill—this did not apply to variations of Undyne—and he had a good sense of his opponents, which was why Nightmare appreciated the work he did.

Horror glanced at the calendar. He marked the days when he experienced memory loss, just to ask the others for details later. Or they would tell him themselves if they saw a new note. The bite had been less than a day ago. Meanwhile, the events of the current day seemed quite coherent, and Sans had noted the second half of yesterday. It seemed unlikely that this was a task from Nightmare, and he would remember many more details if that were the case. Perhaps it was related to someone here at home. In that case, it definitely wasn't Dust: he had left for a mission three days ago. He had seen Killer this morning, bored in the living room, and he looked the same as usual. Judging by the feelings from the memory, his victim should have been pretty battered. And it definitely wasn't a boss. Simply because it's hard to imagine how Lord Nightmare would bite him in self-defense rather than leave him with yet another hole in his skull.

Then Cross…?

He hadn’t seen him today, so that made sense. Did he get into a fight with Cross? Should he...

…The strong, white radial and ulnar bones in the grip of one of his hands, due to the splayed fingers, look like maple branches. Almost dazzlingly white compared to the grayish-yellow of his own bones. They are beautiful. Their color is indistinguishable from the snowy white of his clothing; even the scars do not mar them. Sans sees a brief flash of fear and how Cross freezes, pinned to the floor by his weight. He takes a breath to ask something…

...bring him some healing food?

A brief flash of memory pierces through like a spark.

…Sans covers Cross jaw with his free hand, not allowing a sound to escape. Cross's head is now pressed to the floor, revealing his beautiful profile and the white pupil widened in confusion at what is happening. From this angle, the strong cervical vertebrae, usually hidden by clothing, are visible. They are as lovely as blank sheets of paper and white, sweet marshmallows. He wants to bite-

His heart races from the unclear images. Sans runs his palm over his face. This is just disgusting. Yes, Cross is definitely beautiful, but that’s no reason…

…Hypnotized, he releases the other’s wrists and places his hand on the warm side. Cross flinches. Sans's claws dug into the layers of clothing, tearing through under pressure, but not splitting apart. And he sank his claws deeper, simply because it felt good to have that sense of power. He feels a smile stretching across his face. He wants to purr from the intoxicating sensation…

...to pounce on bones like a hungry dog. Sans wants to be dusted right now. No, no, first he needs to check on Cross's condition, to do everything he can to atone for his disgusting act — whatever it may have been. And then he’ll go impale the remnants of a skull...

…Suddenly, his victim kicks out and bites the hand on his face. He blinks sluggishly, and that moment of confusion is enough for Cross to slip away and disappear in a flash of shortcut teleportation...

...on something deadly.

Okay, fine. Great. He just scared him. The collar of panic and guilt around his neck loosened.

He will get up now and make a coffee pot of hot chocolate. And he will go talk to Cross about what happened. Apologize. Maybe he’ll try to…

It’s painfully shameful because Cross is really too good for all of them.

***

Sans remembered how Nightmare brought in a creature that smelled of dust and human blood. It was like a ghost: a silhouette near the occupied sofas in the living room, disappearing food from the fridge, the scent of cigarettes in empty rooms. One-word answers and silence to personal questions.

It was acutely aware of monster magic — Killer was openly losing at hide-and-seek.

It only yielded to Sans himself in the real hunt. Sans even managed to remember its scent of death before it turned back.

The frightened expression of the skull reminded Sans of his own past when he looked at his changing body in the shards of a mirror. Back then, he saw living emotions. And how much effort it took him to discern in it the almost defeated self from the past, the one who needed help.

Hunger, long-standing trauma, and LV had long ago twisted Sans's bones, making him more dangerous, like a wounded animal. Dust's LV hung around like a heavy, biting cloud, constantly warping his mind, turning him into a madman, quietly begging the empty corners for either forgiveness or help. Horror caught snippets of phrases as he silently passed by. The addresses to Papyrus particularly pierced his soul. Sans remembered the times of the eighth human's fall and all that exhausting dance with timelines. In Dust's case, the hopeless conditions of the game broke him so much that he couldn't hold on. But it must be said that guy was holding up pretty well now, albeit with disgusting methods.

Dust's refuge was not far from Sans's own room, and at night, his keen hearing picked up unsteady footsteps, while his sensitive nose detected the alcoholic haze, in addition to the usual smell of the dust old attic. Horror was wildly glad that the skeleton didn't use shortcuts in such a state. Sometimes he heard the footsteps stop at his door. From that side came whispers and sobs, provoking a strong desire to grab this dummy by the scruff of the neck like a wayward kitten and carry it to safety.

On one of those days, Sans realized that he simply couldn't ignore his younger and more confused version. He had something to offer him. He did what Sanses did best:

“Knock, knock,” the knuckles rhythmically tapped against the door from the inside. There were doubts about the success of this plan on the first try, but at the very least, it would let him know he was open to company.

“ Who… is there?” The voice sounded uncertain from the other side, as if it were trying to remember the beginning of such jokes. Or preparing for an attack.

Sans was still glad to hear a response.

“A liver,” his large, clawed hand slowly unlocked the horrifically creaky door, creating a small gap. He could distinctly hear a shaky step back from the other side. A faint light streamed through the small opening into the dark corridor. Sans saw half of a skull, a swirling two-colored pupil beneath a disheveled hood, and an elbow frozen in a defensive gesture. The air smelled of fear.

“What… liver?” came the quiet mumble.

“Delivery,” Sans replied with a satisfied rumble, extending a Spider Donut.

It reminded him of how he used to lure children into traps in his Underground with bright sweets wrappers. In any case, the sweets had never been a trick — a really nice scream. He wasn’t a complete fiend.

Dust looked unusually bewildered. But he took the donut. What a good boy. Sans's hand itched to pat him on the head. But he had to hold back.

“Knock. I’m usually here. I’ll open up and help if you need it.”

Dust didn’t knock. It was as if he had completely evaporated. The need to find him and make sure he was okay left Sans restless. But there was no shuffling around and emptying the stock of strong alcohol in the kitchen either. Not for a while.

One calm day, early in the morning, Sans woke up to the sound of something falling outside the door. Could that be considered a knock? Yes? Definitely, yes.

Dust lay there without lights in his eye sockets, like an old, slippery, dusty rag that had wiped up a puddle of absinthe and hadn’t been wrung out properly. Sans took him in. He stripped off the stale Dust's clothes and the only remaining slipper, wrapping the unconscious bones in a blanket. After a moment’s thought, he brought an orange and a glass of water from the kitchen.

He would take care of him.

***

Sans stared blankly at the bare bones, unsure of what to do with himself. Scored with scars and illuminated by the poisonous crimson of the target's soul, they couldn't hide the gentle curvature at the joints. The light, elegant rib cage, with its lovely splay of collarbones, emphasized the fragility of the shoulders. The spinous processes of the vertebrae, unlike the others on the team, were not spiky like a gnawed fish spine but rounded, like feathers on a bird of prey. He had forbidden himself to look below the lumbar region of the spine, but even so, he counted three large vertebrae. The black tears of hatred, it turned out, concealed the subtle differences in the facial bones and jaw. Until that moment, Sans hadn't realized how nearsighted he was. Not just him, but everyone on their team of world evil.

Killer tilted his(?) head questioningly at Sans's confusion. The shattered radius seemed to bother him(?) not at all, just as the broken false ribs didn’t; he(?) was playfully swinging his(?) legs while sitting on the table amid the rubble of bones, like an unfinished cookie. A bit of bandaging and some healing food. That was all. Sans managed it in a couple of minutes, under the mocking, uncomfortable squint of the chocolate-black voids of eye sockets.

It was a pity that sorting out mixed feelings wouldn’t be so easy. He was somewhat old-fashioned about such matters. Sans was so flustered that he didn’t ask anything or request to cover up. Why did none of the guys react to—

But on the other hand, Sans reacted normally to other variations of himself. Himself who killed his brother. Himself with four tentacles. Himself in a blue neck scarf. Himself as a creator, himself as a destroyer. Why did he only short-circuit at the thought of himself

as a girl?

Their kind had weak sexual dimorphism, and the presence of an ecto-body reduced the natural sex to something akin to hair color, essentially a joke. It was a remnant, considering the overall bisexuality. In his time in Horrortale, there had been other skeletal beings — not that Sans “shared a closet” with any of them — who helped him a lot by looking after Papyrus and providing both brothers with an education when their father to vanish into Core oblivion. At the very least, he knew how the females of their kind differed from the males (a couple of anatomy atlases from the Surface had lived under his bed throughout puberty).

Sans decided to observe.

All previous interactions with Killer had not revealed any concern: his(?) clothing was unremarkable, he(?) didn’t try to cover his(?) nudity (Sans realized he hadn’t really noticed nothing during those times), he(?) spoke firmly in the masculine form, teasing without hesitation. Even the tone of his(?) voice (Sans had to listen closely to all the nonsense that came out of that voice) hinted at nothing. The only thing that distinguished him was his(?) fighting style, where Killer preferred to use his(?) natural flexibility and show off in close combat, impervious to pain. And, damn, it was beautiful. Inventive. Next to Killer's deadly tango, Horror felt like a clumsy bear.

The others also didn’t react. Only Cross occasionally grumbled about the need to constantly heal Killer’s fractures, to which the latter shrugged, saying, “It’s so you can touch me a little more, Crossy.” Dust was irritated to the point of cracking with barely restrained magic. Their LV didn’t allow for any other kind of communication.

It became amusing that in all their variations of unfortunsanse outcomes, the conversation about pistils and stamens would only be his. Nightmare clearly had no intention of changing the current state of affairs. Although Sans had seen how disapproving he looked at the flirting from his protégé. To be honest, he himself also looked at it disapprovingly — Lord of Negativity was too old for Killer.

In the end, Sans resigned himself. Killer had socialized as a guy for too long, so even the sudden news that his body was somehow different and that he had to behave differently wouldn’t affect much. If someone suddenly told to Sans, “Hey, buddy, you have feminine bones,” he would shrug it off and do nothing. But Killer could throw something unexpected (in a bad way) in response. So he needed to take his gentlemanly instincts and shove them far up his backside.

Killer was a guy. Conversations about his body being female wouldn’t change anything — they were, for star's sake, made of bones that were covered in magic when it was really needed, with open interpretations the rest of the time. Case closed. Apparently, the long-simmering tension made him worry about trivial matters.

“Been a while since you ran from me, big guy,” Killer said, playing with a knife. “Thought I’d lost my charm with you.”

Sans snorted softly. He had only been thinking about him these past few days.

“I haven’t fought in a long time.”

“Ah, that’s it. Then…” His bored expression shifted to childlike joy. “Hi there! I’m Kill the Killer! Want a little LOVE from me? I share it through my little, pointy ‘friendly knives’!” And with a laugh, he launched magical attacks that appeared in the air, not particularly aiming.

***

Lord of Negativity was strange.

But that was somewhat pleasing, as he didn’t respond to “Sans.” And his brother didn’t respond to “Papyrus.” The body made of black sludge was strange too. Theoretically, it was the same substance that flowed from Killer's eye sockets, which explained the latter's attraction: a part of the substance inside him longed to reunite with its source. Or something like that.

The only thing that was not strange, but rather predictable, was the aura of negativity that followed him like a cool trail, displacing even the feverish, biting whispers of their colorful company’s common LV. When it was nearby, breathing felt easier. Dust relaxed his tense shoulders. The trails of eternal tears from Killer dried up. Only Cross became more serious, but he revered Nightmare.

It was no secret that he simply fed off them during such moments.

Well, so what — he didn’t consume regular food, so everyone just benefited at dinner. And dinners were always communal since Nightmare always gave instructions for the next day if there were any. He didn’t make his presence known every time, but judging by the feeling of relief, he was always nearby. Sometimes, Sans felt like he was even сhecking on their well-being during such visits. The feeling of being Checked could have just been a figment of his imagination.

“I don’t need you worrying about your problems,” Nightmare said authoritatively when he sealed their deal. “Just take care of my instructions. I take you, your world takes the food.”

At that time, his words sounded like selling one’s soul to pure evil, which doesn’t keep promises. And he agreed to it simply because everything that gave him the strength to survive was dying in his hands, turning hopes and dreams to dust. But the longer he worked under his patronage, the clearer it became that putting Lord of Negativity's concerns above his own was the best means of achieving any other goals and desires. He wasn’t senseless evil; rather, he was a spectrum from chaotic to lawful and was a personality.

It wasn’t an act of love or care.

For a knife to attack your opponent, its tip must be pointed where you want it to go. If it looks elsewhere, you’ll miss. If the knife is dull, you’ll waste your strength. If you apply constant pressure to it, the knife will break, and you’ll be left unarmed. Also, butter knives are bad for chopping trees, and axes are for social receptions.

Nightmare solved their problems if it truly required his intervention. He taught them tactics and strategy, kept the necessary books on the lower shelves (even if it contradicted the library system), and personally trained them. He gave them personal time and time for healing if it was needed. He didn’t send them on missions if it didn’t suit their abilities.

In other words, he replaced their goals with his own, didn’t let them dull, and didn’t pressure them more than necessary. A delightful approach.

And Sans was devoted to him out of gratitude.

Dream's arrows were no more dangerous to him than usual. You could say he took only half the damage from them, just like any normal skeleton*. And he calmly caught them mid-flight with his bare hands or…

“Wow, big guy, you’re completely insane!” Killer sounded genuinely enthusiastic, encouraging his ego with a peculiar compliment.

His admiration warmed the soul pleasantly, like a fletching of pure positivity warmed his mouth. The magical arrow crunched like glass under the pressure of his teeth.

Dream looked flustered. Blue and Dust even paused their fight to see how the half-broken arrow vanished into cool blue sand in the air along with Sans's 5 HP. For Nightmare, it would have taken comically more.

Horrortale made all parts of the body weapons, so there was nothing strange about utilizing everything available for Lord of Negativity. Magic wasn’t as fast.

And by protecting Nightmare, he was primarily protecting everything most precious in his life, which Nightmare also protected.

However strange that may sound.

Notes:

Horror: Well, I would be quite hot in a female body. Killer: Flirting with a 500-year-old surströmming. Horror: Damn

- In games, skeletons often have resistance to swords or arrows

#horror sans #bad sanses #undertale au #au #killer sans #nightmare sans #cross sans #dust sans #fanfic #utmv headcanons #utmv #killer!sans #dust!sans #nightmare!sans #cross!sans #horror!sans

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spiky-berry21 · 5 months

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So I've been thinking...

Lackadaisy. Zombie. Au.

Just imagine... In an apocalyptic 1920s St. Louis, a mutant disease is rapidly turning the American population into ghastly flesh eating zombies. Among the decline of population, gangs of cats are popping up everywhere around the country, taking in survivors deemed worthy for their operation.

In spite of this, the gangs turn to rival each other, fighting tooth and claw for the one thing able to drown them of their sorrows... Alcohol. One of the primary gang leaders of this now not so secretive operation, Atlas May. Yet after his mysterious death, which was rumored to be a strategic zombie ambush, Atlas's legacy is left in the paws of his widow, Mitzi. Though with the zombie populace gaining more and more each day, Mitzi, and the Lackadaisy as a whole, must defend the once glorious speakeasy from ruin. Despite the ever increasing threat of the zombies, including the various rival gangs, and crooks, dotting the surrounding St. Louis area...

(Note: was thinking about this for a while and just had to get it down, have any thoughts on this au?)

🍄Have a good day/night!🍄

#fandom #lackadaisy #writing #just had to get this out into the world #apocalypse #au #fanfiction #some random thoughts

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nessieart · 7 months

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tooth&claw chapter 1.

Read TEETH first

t&c Masterlist.

Summary: you and Sam Wilson have been following up on intel about old HYDRA bases around North and South America for the last several months, with no sign of Bucky Barnes. Wrapping up your last lead, you and Sam attempt to head back to New York, but are stopped on your way by a few mysterious people. They have more information for you than you bargained for.

WC: 5.7k

Pairings: Tony Stark x Shifter!Reader

Age of Ultron

Warnings: Canon typical violence, language!, blood, mentions of death, alcohol use, fluff, angst. No Y/N used. Use of nicknames(Poppy, Flowers)

You were sitting on Tony’s lab desk, waiting for him to finish maintenance on one of his Iron Man thrusters, so you both could go out to dinner. He said he made reservations at some fancy new restaurant downtown because, of course he did. The black dress you wore was simple, halter tied behind your neck, with an open back, and the tulle skirt flowed just below your knees. Your wedge heels dangled from your toes as you hummed to the music that JARVIS had playing softly in the background.

Just as Tony finished with his last gauntlet, former SHIELD agent Maria Hill, now assistant to one Tony Stark, strolled in. Her heels clicking in a confident stride - you’re sure you’ll never master- towards her boss. Tony raised an eyebrow at her as he set his tools down, safety glasses coming off to be replaced with his normal glasses.

“What's the ‘sitch? Got something new for me?” Tony rolled his chair out from the desk and stood next to your legs, a hand resting on your thigh as he spoke to Maria.

“Just received some intel about a new active HYDRA base, boss,” Maria supplied, she tapped a few things on her StarkPad and a big hologram of what looked like a castle floated in the area around the three of you.

Since the fall of SHIELD, The Avengers have been scoping out old HYDRA bases all across the world. Their main goal was to find Loki's missing scepter - the mind controlling one. Four barren bases down, and 7 months later, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Tony lets out a low whistle, squeezing your thigh before he circles the hologram projected in the lab. His eyes are calculating, scanning the image with practiced ease as he peers over the top of his glasses. His hands come up, and he manipulates the image, making it smaller and taking layers away. “What am I looking at, exactly? New vacation home, Hill?” He teases.

“A little too cold for my liking,” she says without missing a beat. Her fingers move quickly, and another few images appear in the air. “Intel says this is actually a HYDRA base hidden in the mountains outside of Novi Grad.”

When you make a face, Tony speaks up, “Sokovia, honey,” and you nod. Geography was never your strong suit. “Show me something, JARVIS.”

Suffice it to say, dinner would have to wait.

***

“Another dead end,” Sam sighs, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. He leans back against the railing next to you and adjusts his sunglasses. You scrub a hand down your face, resting your forearms on the railing, and heave a sigh, too.

"This is the fourth city in however many months, Sammy,” your tone is defeated and sad. You can feel him looking at you, but you don’t turn your head. “He's a highly trained ex-assassin. If he doesn’t want to be found, we won’t find any trace of him. Ever.” You chance a glance, and you see his shoulders fall. You know he’s not the biggest fan of Bucky, but he promised Steve he would follow up on the leads they had. No matter where they took you.

And right now, you and Sam were in Cuba, another cold trail of old HYDRA safe houses and small operation locations left to collect dust. Your intel said it was an abandoned barbershop, but nothing stood in front of you but an empty building. The skeletal remains of a barbershop long since packed in.

There aren't many people on this side of town, and even fewer cars. The 1950s-style cars stood out like sore thumbs when you first arrived a few days ago, but now a welcome sight whenever you would pass one by. The red corvette a block away was brighter than the others. A man in a black suit casually leaned against the driver side door, his arms crossed at his chest. You could swear he was looking at you both, but it was hard to tell with the sunglasses clouding his eyes. You shook your head and turned back towards Sam.

The evening sun setting did little to lessen the heat, and you ran the back of your hand across your forehead, “We should get back to the jet. They should be back from Sokovia by now.”

Sam could tell you were itching to get home. He put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed, “c’mon, let’s get a late dinner, and then we can head home in the morning.” You agreed and went to follow Sam down the sidewalk, glancing one more time behind you toward the corvette, only for it to not be there.

At dinner, the conversation is minimal. You and Sam could sit in companionable silence for a while, getting lost in your own heads.

You haven't given up looking for your brother, Leon, but his trail was as cold as Bucky's. Everything ends in a dead-end no matter where you searched.

The streets of Havana were alive and thriving as music flowed from bars up and down the street. It brought a smile to your face as you glanced up and down the road.

“I've noticed him, too,” Sam says abruptly, pulling you from your thoughts. When you look up at him, he's staring down the street, and you follow his gaze. You see the same man from earlier. His hands in his slack pockets and leaning against the cherry red corvette.

“Since when?” You ask without taking your eyes off the stranger.

“When we arrived,” and your head whips around to Sam, eyes wide and brows furrowed. How haven't you noticed? Some guy has been tailing you both for 3 days, and you were completely oblivious.

Sam places a few hundred pesos on the table and gets up, and you follow his lead. As you both make your way down the street opposite of your mystery man, you can't help but glance over your shoulder to check if he's still there. It isn't until you round the corner that you stop, you feel it, then; the eyes on you like you're under a microscope. It makes the hair on your arms and the back of your neck stand on end.

Sam notices you stopped, and before he can question it, a woman steps out from behind a car. Her stance says nonchalance, but you've been around for a long time to not judge a book by its cover. Peggy Carter taught you that.

You step in front of Sam, sticking your arm out to stop him from advancing. The woman rounds her shoulders when you take the step forward, and a rumble fills your chest.

“What do you want?” You shout over to her, her lips curl up into a smirk, and she tilts her head. She steps into the streetlight, and you get a better look at her. She's Asian and maybe in her late 30s, her hands are balled into fists, and you think she seems ready to enjoy fighting you.

Out of the shadows behind the woman, the man from earlier steps into the light, “We just want to talk,” you didn't even know he was there. What is it with this guy? He gives you a reassuring smile, hands still stuffed in his finely pressed suit pants.

Of course. You scoff, “SHIELD died in the ashes along with HYDRA, I don't think we can help you, man.”

“SHIELD?” Sam asks, so only you hear, his hand goes to your shoulder, “Maybe we should hear them out.”

“If you believed that,” he continued, “The Avengers wouldn't be out there clearing out active bases or getting Loki's Scepter from Sokovia.” He brings his hand to his chest and rubs at a spot absent-mindedly. The woman next to him gives him a concerned sideways glance before he nods and returns his hands to his pockets.

“How do you know about all that?” Sam asks, and when he goes to step around you, you grab his wrist to stop him.

“Who do you think Maria Hill was getting her information from?” The man gives a simpering smile, like you should know better.

“We don't have anything to give you. Like I said, we can't help you,” you go to push Sam behind you so you both could leave. A heavy sigh stops you. The woman takes another step closer to you and looks over her shoulder.

“Sir?” She asks, and when he hums in affirmation, the woman lunges to get to you.

“Sam, go!” You push him, and in the next movement, you're blocking a punch to your face with your forearm. You push the woman back by her chest and send her flying back to the man's feet.

His eyebrows raise, “you good, May?”

The woman, May, grunts in frustration and climbs to her feet, offensive stance ready to lunge at you again.

“Get to the jet,” you tell Sam. He goes to protest, but you cut him off, “I'll be fine, i'll meet you at the rendezvous point.” You look over your shoulder at him when he doesn't move, “Sammy go!”

Sam stumbles back to get ready to run, “you better show up, or Stark will have my head,” and he turns on his heel and runs, leaving you with May and the mystery man in the alley.

As soon as Sam is out of sight and earshot, the man in the suit steps towards you. You growl, it fills your chest, and the man puts up both hands in surrender.

“Whatever you have to say, say it from over there,” you tell him, but he takes another few steps to put himself between you and his friend.

He gives you an easy-going smile, eyebrows creased in worry, “it's not that simple, Agent Jones.” You scoff a laugh and pace away from him. “It's about your brother,” he says hesitantly when you don't stop.

You go rigid, skin rippling, and claws threatening to come out, “what did you say?” When he doesn't answer, you turn to face him, eyes shining blue as you growl at him and his companion.

They don't seem at all surprised by your appearance, “Please, come with us. We have a good idea of where he is. It's more complicated than you think it is,” he tries to placate you again. He gives you a reassuring smile, and when you look at his companion, she crosses her arms in front of her chest and raises an unamused eyebrow at you.

You heave a heavy sigh and drop your head, “Fine,” you mumble out, “I'll go with you.”

***

One phone call to Sam, and an hour later, you stood in an empty field with Agents May and Coulson. After the earful you got from Sammy when you told him to head home without you, the two former Agents of SHIELD told you about what they've been doing behind the scenes -give or take a few details.

Sam was adamant about you not going, but he also didn't want you to miss out on an opportunity to find your brother. Even if the chances were low, there was still a chance.

Agent Coulson, or Phil as he introduced himself, had told you him and his team had been chasing down a group called Centipede for the last few years. He had said he thinks it's finally come to an end with the fall of HYDRA and a man named John Garrett. Who apparently was an evil Mastermind who had his fingers in a lot of pies, so to speak.

They led you to an empty lot, seemingly nothing in the vicinity until Phil pulled a small fob out of his pocket and a quinjet shimmered into existence.

“Should I be concerned about a missing jet, Phil?” You asked. He gave you a sidelong glance and a smirk to match. He shrugged and led the way on board. May insisted you go before her before she closed the hatch after you all entered.

It was a short few minute flight to a larger aircraft that shimmered into existence as the quintet approached and landed on top. A hatch opened on the floor leading down into the aircraft below. As your feet touched the soft carpet at the bottom of the stairs, your gaze landed on a multitude of people around the lounge-like area.

“Welcome to the Bus,” Phil informed you, coming to your side and laying a hand on your lower back. “Skye,” he called out, and a young woman - maybe in her 20s - stood up from the couch with a laptop in hand and followed. Phil ushered you away from curious gazes to another room filled with monitors and computers.

Doors slid shut behind you as the three of you occupied the space. The glass walls did little to stop the prying eyes of those on board from sharing glances and hushed words with each other.

Coulson introduced you to Skye, giving her your name and the reason you were here. He praised Skye at being a veritable genius when it came to computers and her hacking abilities, a proud glint in his eye. She ducked her head a little with a small smile.

Her fingers worked fast over her keyboard, only glancing up at you once or twice while you waited.

Who do you think she is?

Obviously, the agent Coulson told us about.

Yeah, but who is she?

Not sure, why don't you go in an’ ask, Trip?

Oh, don't tease him, Fitz. She's obviously here for the information Skye was asked to gather.

But, do you think she's really an agent?

You smirked, “you told them I was an agent?” Gesturing out at the group of people huddled in low conversation.

And when Coulson looked over at the group, they dispersed with hurried chatter. Phil smirked.

“Aren't you?” The girl, Skye asked as she arched an eyebrow at you, then looked to Coulson. He smiled in return. “Isn't she?”

“I haven't been part of SHIELD for a very long time,” you leaned a hip against the desk and crossed your arms over your chest. You took a whiff around the small space, not coming up with anything. Your brows furrowed as you looked between Phil and Skye.

You thought you were imagining it, Phil not smelling like anything. Thinking maybe the wind carried it away. But now, with him standing so close, you were positive there wasn't anything there. You stepped closer to him, picking up his hand and scenting the inside of his wrist. There was something faint, like a long forgotten book or newspaper, leather bound and dusty, ink fading with time, and the hint of vanilla. Soft and subtle. And you wouldn't have smelled it if you didn't lean into his wrist more.

“Uh,” he eyed you, a frown pulling at his lips when you let him go. “What was that for?”

“I can barely smell you,” you stared at him, head tilting to the side, “either of you. What happened?” concern filling your voice as you stared at him.

He cleared his throat, hand smoothing down the tie around his neck, “I died; is what happened,” Your eyes must have been the size of saucers because he gave you a sympathetic smile. “I'm fine, really.”

“And you? Did you die, too?” You asked Skye. She avoided your gaze and made a noncommittal noise. “Must be something in the water..” You tried to lighten the mood a little.

Skye finished her tapping and turned towards the big monitor in the room, “This is what I've found so far,” she cleared her throat a little, looking back at you as you scanned the screen.

There was an older man, relatively handsome, his shoulder leaning against the side of a building. His hands stuffed in his slacks, the trench coat he wore billowing in the wind, frozen in time. The picture was taken from a cell phone, most likely accidently catching the image of the mystery man. His eyes seemed to glow as the shadows cast the upper portion of his body in darkness.

His hair was dirty blond, gray at the temples, and slicked back in a nice coif. His beard was littered with gray hair, but it didn't take away from his attractiveness.

Another image popped up next. The mystery man had his back to the camera now, glancing back over his shoulder as his eyes glowed more. Next to him now was none other than Leon, eyes shining in adoration as he leaned into the touch of the man with his hand on his face.

You felt your hackles raise, a low growl escaping your lips when another photo appeared. Another photo popped up next to that one. They kissed, which isn't new for you, but the very visible bite mark on Leons neck was enough for you to snap.

“His name is Deacon Frost,” Skye began, “current residence is some plantation his family owned - in Louisiana. It goes back at least 100 years. According to the records I found, he has a whole load of people living there. Whether it's staff or otherwi-”

“Vampires,” you cut her off. Another growl sounds deep in your chest.

Skye looked back at you, eyes wide, “No way. Seriously, vampires? They don't exist,” she scoffed. When she looked at Coulson, he was already looking at you.

“You knew,” you told him.

He pursed his lips, “I had my suspensions. Theories,” and when you raised your eyebrow at him, he sighed. “OK, ok. I wasn't one hundred percent sure until you confirmed it.”

“Wait, you're serious?”

“I'm always serious.”

“Coulson!”

You pursed your lips, “I normally don't do this to new people but,” the skin on your arm rippled from your shoulder to your fingertips, claws coming out as the fur made its way down your arm like a wave.

You wiggled your fingers, knuckles cracking with a roll of your wrist. It was always harder to Shift during a new moon. It definitely hurt more.

You looked from Coulson to Skye. The former's expression filled with delight and a small smile. But Skye.

“What the hell? What the hell are you?” She all but shrieked and stepped away to the far corner as fast as she could.

“Welcome to the world of the Supernatural,” you shrugged, shaking Your arm out as the fur along it reseeded and flesh took over once more. “There's more than just vampires out there.”

***

With Coulson's instructions, Skye put everything she had onto a flash drive for you. You'd figure out more when you got home, and JARVIS could give it another once over. When she was finished, she slid it across the table top, not wanting to step closer to you. You sighed and pocketed the USB stick, gave a curt nod in thanks.

“Thanks for this,” you said, “but you could have called. You do know where I live,” you smirked at Coulson.

Coulson guided you out of the room, leading you through the lounge and up a spiral staircase, and into another room. It was a spacious office, Coulson's name plate gleamed on the desk.

He sat on the edge of the desk and folded his arms over his chest, “it's hard to come calling when the majority of your housemates think I'm still dead.”

You gaped at him, mouth opening and closing several times. “What do you mean they think you're dead?”

“Fury thought it best to never tell anyone,” he shrugged. “That included all of SHIELD and the Avengers.”

“What about the people that cared about you?”

Phil shrugged again, “Anyone that used to be in my life, outside of SHIELD or otherwise, knows I died. And will always know it.”

He gave you a leveling stare. It made your hair stand on end.

“You can't expect me to keep this from Tony,” you shook your head. “If you know what I am, and I think you do, you know what he means to me. I can't - you can't ask me to keep this from him.”

“You're right, I can't. Just don't go out of your way to bring me up,” Phil gives you a sad smile and paces toward you to put a hand on your shoulder. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your brother. I know you'll find him,” he gave your shoulder a squeeze.

You returned his sad smile and gave a shirt nod. After a moment, you cleared your throat, “ok, well, how am I supposed to get home? Don't suppose you're going to drop me off at the front door.”

Coulson laughed, and nodded his head towards the door, “C'mon.”

“Sir, we're ready,” May's voice came through the intercom as you went to leave the office. Coulson led you back down to the lounge and then another spiral staircase to the loading bay.

You pass between a van and the same red corvette from earlier in the day, running a finger down the body and coming to a stop next to Coulson. He hits a button, and the bay doors open, wind whips through the garage violently, and when the door fully opens, you see a quinjet hover a few dozen feet away.

Sam stands at the opening of the quinjets ramp, his hand gripping a handle so he doesn't fly out. He gives a nod, and Coulson returns it.

“It was nice to meet you, Phil, but I think my rides here,” you shout over the roaring wind. You go to take a step back to get a running start, but he calls your name, and you stop.

“You'll find him, I know you will,” he gives you a smile, and you place your hand on his arm and give a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” when you look back, you can see his team standing behind some glass and on top of the mezzanine, and you look to Phil again, “it was nice to meet you.”

You take a few steps back to get a running start, you sprint, leaping from the edge of the Bus. weightlessness filling you as the harsh winds carry your body from one place to another. And just when you think you start to free fall, your hand grips Sam's arm, and he catches you in his grip, bringing you in for a one-armed hug.

“You're crazy, you know that?” He huffs a big laugh into your hair as you hug him back.

Your forehead rests on his chest, “I'm just keeping you on your toes, Fly Guy,” you chuckle. He gives you another squeeze, and when you both look back out into the sky, the Bus shimmers from existence and disappears.

“C'mon, Baby Girl, let's go home.”

***

"’Boom! Are you looking…’ why do I even talk to you guys?” Rhodey is met with silence, and he sighs, “Everywhere else that story kills.”

“That's the whole story?” Point Break smirks over his beer.

Poor Rhodey, he tries. “Yeah, it's a War Machine story.”

“Well, it's very good then,” Thor laughs, “It's impressive.”

“Quality save. So, no Pepper? She's not coming?”

Pepper? Why on earth would he bring her up? Rhodey has met you multiple times. He seemed to love you. At least that's the impression Tony got. He hasn't talked to Pepper in a while. He knows you two talk all the time.

It's not weird. Don't make it weird.

“No,” simple. Smooth Tony.

“Hey, what about Jane? Poppy? Where are the ladies, gentlemen?” Maria cuts in. Now Tony knows for a fact you and Hill get along.

“Well, Miss Potts has a company to run,” smoothing his tie down a bit, “And Poppy is chasing ghosts in…um..” Where did you and Wilson go off to this time?

Thor shifts from foot to foot, “Yes, I'm not even sure what country Jane's in, either. Her work on the Convergence has made her the world's foremost astronomer.”

Tony hums.

“There's even talk of Jane getting a... um, uh... Nobel prize.”

“Yeah, they...they must be busy because they'd hate missing you guys get together.” She fakes a sneeze, what is this, the early 2000s? “Oh, excuse me.”

“Want a lozenge?” Rhodey fake comforts her as she nods. They both share a quiet chuckle, “Let's go.”

“But Jane's better,” Thor says into his mug.

Tony's eye twitches, Thor hasn't even met you yet. What does he know?

Nothing.

He looks around the party, avoiding eye contact to not further this conversation with Thor at all costs. He notices Sam Wilson ascending the stairs and meeting up with Steve.

Where the hell were you? Fashionably late was his thing. Surely you were around here somewhere.

***

“You go on up, Sammy. I need to change out of this, and I'll see you up there,” you wave him off as you step off the elevator to your and Tony's floor. Sam waved a ‘see you later’ as the doors closed.

He was smart and packed extra clothes, just in case.

You needed a moment for yourself anyway. The last few days are taking a toll on you mentally. Not finding any sign of Bucky after months of searching, and now new information about your brother, Leon, have surfaced. You just needed a quiet few minutes to yourself.

You dug the flash drive from your pocket as you passed the Smart Table in the room.

“Hey, JARVIS, I've got something I'd like you to take a look at when you have the time,” you said as you plugged it into the top USB port. The holographic keyboard and display came to life as you did. “It's got info about my brother on it. I can check back in later with you about it, ok?”

You retreated to the bedroom as you talked to JARVIS, shedding your boots and tactical outfit as you went.

The shower was heavenly. Rinsing the day off yourself always felt nice. But you had a party to attend, at least that's what the message from Tony had said a few days ago when they got back from Sokovia.

On the bed were two outfits, one you're sure Nat had picked for you, and the other Tony. Smirking, you put on your go-to.

A pair of dark, high waisted slacks and an oversized burgundy turtleneck. Your combat boots would have to do. No way were you wearing heels just to go upstairs and see your friends.

Once ready, you made your way back towards the elevators. Checking one last time at the progress JARVIS was making. You noticed a bunch of files open, more information being downloaded than before.

“Thanks, J! I'll go through all that with you later,” you call out as you enter the lift. You hit the button for the right floor and wait. The soft chime of the lift stopping, has you straightening.

The music wasn't as loud as you'd thought it would. Only a few people noticed you stepping off the elevator. No one you knew, however.

As you scanned the large lounge, you noticed Sam and Steve on the loft. They lifted their hands in greeting, and you gave a small wave.

“There she is!” Called a voice to your right, Maria and Rhodes met you halfway, and you gave them a hug.

“Maria, James. Good to see you,” you looked around a little, trying to find the man you came home to see.

“He's at the bar,” Maria nudged your arm. You gave her a grateful smile and excused yourself.

Tony wasn't paying attention when you found yourself standing behind him, his hands fidgeting with the glass in front of him.

“This seat taken, handsome?”

He straightened, glancing over his shoulder slightly, “Actually, I was just waiting for my girlfriend,” he turned fully to face you, eyes lighting up as he looked at you. “She's very possessive, y’know. Gets pretty bite-y when she doesn't get her way.”

You hummed as you stepped closer to him, fingers lightly running up his tie, “Think I can handle myself,” you step closer and one of Tony's hands finds your waist, pulling you in more. You pout up at him, peaking through your lashes, “And I don't get bite-y when I don't get my way.”

He chuckles, and you feel it vibrate through you, his free hand coming up to your face, and his thumb rubs across your cheek.

“I missed you, Pretty Girl,” Tony's hand cups your face and you lean into the touch. He leans in and runs his nose along yours, and a sigh leaves your chest.

“Missed you too, Tones.”

“Ahem,” a voice loudly calls from behind the bar. “OK, love birds, you're making everyone else jealous.”

Natasha smirks at you when you look over Tony's shoulder at her. He pulls you into his side as he turns to face her and reaches into his suit jacket pocket, placing a one hundred dollar bill on the countertop.

Nat's perfectly manicured fingers land on the bill, and she slides it over and places it inside of her blouse.

“Bet him you'd wear my outfit tonight,” She's still smirking. “I'll make you a drink.”

Tony, you and Natasha talked for a while, losing time while catching up and sharing drinks. They told you about what went down in Sokovia, from the advanced HYDRA weapons to Strucker's experimenting on humans with Loki's Scepter. Down in Strucker's lab, there was advanced robotics work, scraps, and heaps of salvaged material from the Battle of New York.

And a few more small details as well.

“Wait, wait,” you gasped between laughs, hand clutching Tony's arm to keep yourself upright. “He really said that? Language! Like you're 5?” You giggled again when Nat and Tony both nodded.

Tony pursed his lips, trying to hide the smile that spread across his face, hand resting on the back of your chair.

Bruce came over shortly after, his eyes only seeing Natasha, so you and Tony excused yourselves and made the rounds.

You met a few new people, including Dr. Helen Cho, who was in town for a conference, from South Korea.

***

Hours later, you were sitting in the loveseat between Tony and Rhodey. A casual and easy conversation flowed as everyone wound down from the evening's festivities.

You placed your finished Chinese food container on the coffee table in front of you. A sigh of contentment left you as you settled back in the seat.

“But, it's a trick!” Clint yells out, pulling you and Rhodey from conversation.

Thor chuckles from his spot next to Steve on the couch, “Oh, no. It's much more than that.”

“Uh, ‘Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power!’ Whatever, man! It's a trick,” Clint snarks.

“Well please, be my guest.”

Tony places his arm behind you on the chair, “Come on.”

Clint raises his eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh this is gonna be beautiful,” Rhodey says from beside you.

“Clint, you've had a tough week, we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up,” Tony's comment makes everyone around chuckle.

Clint struggles for a moment as he tries to lift Thor's hammer, “I still don't know how you do it.”

“Smell the silent judgment?”

“Please, Stark, by all means,” Clint places his hands on his hips as he challenges Tony.

You roll your eyes as Tony makes a show of getting up and peeling off his suit jacket. You willingly take it and drape it over your shoulders, letting his scent fill your nose.

Tony tries and fails to lift Mjolnir. Even with the help of Rhodes and their gauntlets.

Next was Bruce, and he fails, pretending to Hulk out in the process. You give him a sympathetic smile at his attempt.

Steve was next, and you swore you thought it budged, but he relents and sits back down next to Thor.

Thor sighs in relief, and he looks to you, and all eyes land on you after.

“No way, I have enough things to worry about, thank you,” your hands come up in defense.

“Widow?” Bruce asks, and she leans back, taking a sip of her beer.

“Oh, no, no. That's not a question I need answered.”

Tony picks you up bridal style and places you on his lap as he takes your seat, “All deference to the man who wouldn't be king, but it's rigged.”

Clint nods, “You bet your ass.”

“Steve, he said a bad language word,” Maria mocks and points to Clint. Everyone chuckles.

Steve gives Tony an exasperated glare, “Did you tell everyone about that?” You giggle from your spot on Tony's lap, and Steve shakes his head.

Thor gets up and easily flips the hammer around in his grip, grinning as he scans around the group, “You're all not worthy.”

There's a chorus of boos and disagreement as Thor just chuckles at everyone.

Then there's a loud screeching noise, like microphone feedback, but ten times worse, and everyone covers their ears. You let out a whine as it stops, and Tony runs his hands up and down your arms.

As the screeching fades, there's a thumping coming from the hall, a metallic voice fills the air, and Steve stands on high alert.

“Worthy... No, how could you be worthy?” it's a beat-up Legion suit. An arm is missing and leaking fluid. There's parts missing from its body, and the face is scratched and marred. “You're all killers.”

“Stark,” Steve says in his Captain voice, his stance wide.

Tony sets you down on your feet, placing himself in front of you as he pulls out his phone, “JARVIS.”

The metallic voice of the Legionnaire continues, “I'm sorry, I was asleep. Or... I was a-dream?”

Tony starts tapping at his phone, “Reboot, Legionnaire OS, we got a buggy suit.”

“There was a terrible noise…” the Legionnaire says, “and I was tangled in... in... strings. I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy.”

Steve takes a step closer, “You killed someone?”

“Wouldn't have been my first call. But, down in the real world, we're faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor's voice booms.

A recording of Tonys voice plays from the suit, "I see a suit of armor around the world."

Bruce looks at Tony, shock on his face, “Ultron!”

“In the flesh,” the suit - Ultron - says, "Or, no, not yet. Not this... chrysalis. But I'm ready. I'm on a mission.

“What mission?” Nat asks.

“Peace in our time.”

***

Next>

AN: boy!! This took so long for me to finish. I knew where I wanted to go, but I just couldn't get it out there! Thank you for reading, it means so much to me!! More to come soon!

#tony stark x reader #mcu fanfiction #shifter!reader #tony stark x shifter!reader #tony stark imagine #mcu imagine #tooth&claw

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seth-burroughs · 6 months

Text

The Rain Code x Warriors au no one asked for nor will receive an explanation for

What's up I'm still doing bad and feel my last year's mystery stress sickness is coming back and none of my drafts are anywhere remotely close to getting finished anytime soon because of that how are you are you interested in cat

(picked the TPB timeline because it makes the most sense and has the most fitting characters, but I might cheat or bend it a little, we'll see)

Yuma Kokohead -> Rusty/Firestar

Main boy :) because of course he is. Yuma's now an orange cat. Firestar was the name of Number One, and Rusty (canonically Fire's old house cat name, I'm not calling them kittypets I'm sorry) was the name of the trainee he very politely borrowed his identity for.

Makoto Kagutsuchi -> Scourge

In wc canon, Scourge is also Firestar's half-brother (but they don't ever knooow) and they both kill each other + he's canonically stated to be VERY short like one of the smallest cats in the series. After the cloning, Makoscourge painted his fur completely black except for a one white paw (for the aesthetics. or maybe I'll just give Fire a white paw as well, kinda like Yuma's and Makoto's lil ahoges), started wearing the "OwO" mask, the dog tooth studded shrimp color collar, the fucking blood dyed amv bangs, the dog tooth reinforced claws........ The former CEO took him to hot topic for the first time in his life and he was fucking MESMERIZED none of them knew what they have brought upon themselves by this single act. He is a very silly man, lost in the whimsy. When his mask gets pulled off in the Mystery Labirynth, his face is just not dyed at all and it's just ginger with green eyes just like Rusty's/Firestar's/Yuma's/whatever.

Shinigami -> Spottedleaf

In canon, Spottedleaf does infamously end up haunting Firestar's dreams as a ghost to send him cryptic visions and furiously make out with him in front of his pregnant wife, he did have a crush on her before she died and I'm pretty sure she was retconned into reciprocating it was real bad and then they double killed her so Fire won't have to choose between her and his wife in heaven it was REAL bad uhh. I still like her though. I can get you out of the narrative girl just take my hand.... She can be the weirdgirl incarnate she was always meant to be. I wanted to say something else but then I realized holy shit I'm just tweaking her into Bonefall rewrite Spottedleaf am I... What can I say it IS peak Spottedleaf.

Yomi Hellsmile -> Tigerstar

Also extremely obvious. He is evil and has immaculate sexual tension between the protag whoops sorry I forgot literally only me and like 2 other people here ship Yuma and Yomi uhh anyway. While it does fit I'm a little dissapointed that Yomi/Tigerstar is gonna be losing so much of his cringe charm..... Like, say goodbye to deeply unserious insecure prettyboy toothpick Yaoi with silly little insults such as "umbrella sewing machine man operating hand hook car table" and how do I even describe all of this in less than 3 paragraphs. Say hello to broad-shouldered muscular extremely intimidating 100% serious and competent fascist built like a fucking brick shithouse with very broad-shoulders that doesn't need a henchman boytoy to handle all his numerous murders, have I mentioned his massive fucking broad shoulders, Firestar sure did do that a lot. It's like, where's the fun..... Whatever.... I guess...........😔😔😔

Martina Electro -> Leopardstar

Now for an assigned role I'm way more cool with >:)))) for an outrageously long while I had trouble with whether Martina should be Sasha or Goldenflower, fool I was, until I remembered Leopardstar fucking exists. She is literally perfect like I cannot state this enough. AND canonically she was later retconned to have feelings for Tigerstar but I hate to acknowledge it how dare you massacre Lep like that. She can still be his gf alongside vice director though, she's just engaging in acts of deceit whilst putting opioids in his food and trying her darndest to convince herself she's actually 100% in control of the situation before she's dragged to the cube dimension and has a brief "are we the baddies" moment. I don't think she still resigns from being a peacekeeper though Leopardstar 100% would take that fucking promotion the moment she's offered it and a year later when she' done feeling guilty regresses back into being a violent asshole she has learned NOTHING❤️

Fake/Hitman Zilch -> Darkstripe

So many dissapointments happening here sigh..... This one was obvious and honestly the only valid option for FZilch aside from maybe Nightwhisper or Blackfoot? Anyway, the downsides: one, Darkstripe will never be as cool as fake Zilch he thrives on being a cringe mistreated lickspittle. Two, he's definitely not one of Tigerstar's "closest advisors (🏳️‍🌈)" whilst Dark is pretty obsessed Tiger does not give a shit and considers him a looooooser boooo lameee fuck you *canonically swats him away with his tail that one scene*. But, I mean, at least the toxic yaoi became an entire new category of toxic.

Swank Catsonell -> Brokenstar

Pure vibes. It just fits. He employs small children and makes them fight to the death in his office for glory

Seth Burroughs -> Longtail

In canon, another one of Tigerstar's lackeys that didn't know about his crimes and when he found out he immediately left. I thought he was not evil enough to be Seth at first, but it kinda fits and he does make up for it in his cringe value and being noted to be a coward, though that may have been just Fire's opinion. Also, with all the bunny Seth Burrows jokes, I'd like to mention Longtail got his eyes clawed by a rabbit so hard he went blind so do with that what you will

Guillaume Hall -> Russetfur

Aaaand this is where I started having trouble with the remaining peacekeepers. Eventually I settled on Russetfur & Blackfoot/Blackstar for Guillaume and Dominic, because I like this danger duo I and some of the fandom completely made up about them. It's okay, the authors don't know you like we do...... While Blackstar did have a higher rank and Russet was his deputy, I do think she still had at least an equal amount of power as him, they're buddies pair bonded for life Blackstar is nodding respectfully to whatever incomprehensible wisdom she's sharing

Dominic Fulltank -> Blackfoot/star

In canon, started out as a murderous henchman of two major equally murderous evil dictators, before they both died and he finally got that boss promotion he always wanted, then he got ruined by the, you guessed it, retcons, but I don't like to be reminded of his atrocity of a novella. I always imagined Blackstar as like, unbelievably jacked holy shit the muscles on that cat, (and honestly most of the fandom does too so. lmao) and he does indeed canonically unflinchingly do the dirty work of all his bosses such as killing and maiming and destroying an

You get the point. He serious'd. Darkstripe wishes he could be him. And I'm pretty sure that was even canonically implied in the sixth book lmaooooooooo. Loser <3

Dr. Huesca -> um. Goosefeather?

The looks definitely fit, Dr. Huesca indeed bears striking resemblance to that tortured feline. However, while sometimes an asshole, Goose is definitely not evil... But he could be. He deserves to be. As a treat. Also: old man pride

Kurumi Wendy -> Cinderpaw/pelt

Easy, get Cinder'd idiot. They even have a pretty similiar energy too, I feel. This is where I got a bit tired, uhh...It's 11pm. Anyway I love Cinder and I love Kurumi say anything bad about them and I'll start scream crying on the floor

Halara Nightmare -> Yellowfang

Halara gets the old beam. They're now in their fucking 60s or something perhaps 70s. Yellowfang, on the other hand, gets the non-binary spec beam. She already gave off massive butch vibes in canon already, whatever. I don't think I can uhh in short terms explain Yellowfang's whole deal rn but the gist of it she's a very snarky grandma figure to Fire that gradually warmed up to him while she was- my cat vomited. While he was assigned to take care of her while she was taken prisoner into ThunderClan camp. Her personality's pretty funky. And she does seem cool enough in order to deserve to be Halara Nightmare.

Desuhiko Thunderbolt -> Graystripe

I think I'm taking a break and coming back to this tomorrow actually after all. Hello this is tomorrow Jasper. In canon, Graystripe is Fire's silly goofy boybestie when they're young, then he starts secretly dating Silverstream - hold on i can't fuvking take tjis im making myself hot cocoa again bye. Ok it's done let's see if that makes me feel something. As I was saying he's dating this cat and she's from a rival Clan so that's illegal forbidden love and then she dies during childbirth and he leaves his own Clan for a while to raise their babies there but then he gets exiled and goes back to his own and then his kids almost get publically executed for being half-clan so he and his buddies rescue them. And then he gets abducted by humans and meets this new gal called Millie and they start dating and then she gives birth to his new babies and then a tree falls on one of them. I'm pretty sure Fire was also pretty gay for that guy. Uh, anyway. I think he fits the bill because of his goofy charm but also it's pretty disturbing to imagine any iteration of Desuhiko actually getting bitches

Fubuki Clockford -> um. uh. Silverstream?

Silverstream, in canon, is the only daughter of Crookedstar, the leader of RiverClan, and is (implied to not having a problem with) getting various privileges because of this. Fits with Fubuki's rich timelord parents, plus light blue aesthetic, and a few other things which are hard to articulate. Only thing is that she's generally way more headstrong and impulsive than Fubuki showed to be, could "bend her father to her will with little effort", and disrespects the law if it's stupid to her which, queen shit. I think she'll play a lot of little pranks with her time powers, and devote her free time/time with YumaRusty when he's accused of terrorism crimes (but that's just unrestrained summer fun anyway) to absolutely decimate any peacekeepers they come across with some looney tunes shit

Vivia Twilight -> I'll be honest I have no fucking idea

Zero fucking idea. Literally NOBODY in this arc fits for the 5D chess of a character Vivia is. I'm not even sure if in any of the books. Help me. But also I don't really care because I don't even like Vivia at all anyway he freaks me out get him away from me.

Yakou Furio -> Bluestar?

Protag mentor figure except Bluestar is actually doing a good job at that until she loses her marbles after her mid-arc torment gauntlet and has a corruption arc until she drowns and gets healed of all her issues momentarily before fucking dying. She has a dead husband, dead mom, dead sister, dead baby, dead deputy, dead deputy #2, dead bestie, holy shit that's a lot of motives for suicidemurdering Huesgoose. Btw Goose was her weird voice of god hearing uncle in canon (and he was also dead) but I'm probably taking it out unless. Anyway she's kinda too good for Yakou but. They're also both blue like that is a blue cat

And for some side characters, keyword some:

Aiko -> Littlepaw/cloud

Aetheria's now not an all girls school anymore sorry I cannot do this guys. Littlecloud was Cinder's/Kurumi's good buddy and I like their friendship. Unfortunately, you know what that means.

Karen -> Swiftpaw

Originally was supposed to have Aiko's place before I remembered Little exists. In canon his most notable moment was dying brutally, which I mean also fits the Karen quota. Plus, while not an asshole per se he does have a more fiery/overall angry personality and he did try to impulsively take on a pack of dogs to prove himself and fucking died, if under enough pressure I'm pretty sure he could smash Aiko's/Littlepaw's head in with a brick too👍👍

Yoshiko, Waruna, Kurane -> Brackenpaw/fur, Thornpaw/claw, Brightpaw/heart?

Siblings in canon and two of them are guys so no murderous yuri I guess :(( But I mean I don't have to follow canon to a T anyway lmao so we'll see. In canon, basically the other three remaining apprentices along with Swiftpaw and the ashfern siblings, plus they do function as a trio via just being sibs. Plus some notes from the books: Cinder is the fourth sibling. Brightpaw follows Swiftpaw in his quest to slay the doggy and while he dies she survives but gets her eyeball and half of her entire face's fur torn off.

Real Zilch -> Redtail

He's very dead. Very, very dead. His most iconic moment was dying abruptly and tragically via murder rip in rest

Kei Colan -> Snowkit

He is a child. That's a little boy

Snowkit, signing furiously: MY MAMA GOT FRAMED AND IS GOING TO BE PUBLICALLY EXECUTED BY THE PEACEKEEPERS IF NOTHING IS DONE PLEASE HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEE. HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Yellowfang, signing back in swagful motions: and how much cash does your mama have on her currently

Jiei Colan -> Speckletail

Snowkit's very old mama. Looks like she could kill you but genuinely does not have a body count. Yet.

Ramen Stand Owner -> Ravenpaw

Ravenpaw in canon hit the bricks and ran away from the Clans due to being in danger there, and lived out the rest of his days on a farm with his cowboy boyfriend Barley mostly free of drama. I'd say that fits lmao. We can make his old name Rusty, not a problem.

Margulaw -> Pinestar

90 year old voice "yeah so uhh my fucking son grew up to be a dictator now. When he was a newborn ghosts were yelling at me to kill him because he'll grow up to be a bad man otherwise and of course like any sane kanaiwardian father I said "fuck that" and had to leave ma' family behind run away from the company so the demons would shut up. And y'know little buddy... Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I just can't help but. Y'know. Anyway. Sigh."

Do you get my vision did that sound comprehensible

#mine #rain code #warrior code au #<- oh hey thats an actual thing in wc lmao.#Not tagging any of those characters hell nooo.#the i did not proofread this tag

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lazypanartist · 2 years

Note

Hi hi hi!! Im back with your blind bag. Good ol angst and a little found family fluff. 💛💛

Fun fact: this is based on something I deal with! So uh this is a bit Personal i think but also like... I have feelings abt this stuff.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! Also im a big fan of Leo having medic knowledge, sooooo...💅 enjoy

-📝 Nonnie

----

Your chest hurt.

Shuddering, ragged breaths rattled through your body in shallow gasps and heaving pants. You felt ill, the tacky feeling of nausea coating your mouth as a precursor to your need to expel. You were dizzy, so very, very dizzy. Your trembling fingers reached to a water bottle on the table nearby, but ultimately you fumbled and sent the whole thing clattering to the cement floor.

It hurt.

Your lungs ached.

You fought tooth and nail to not cry out, stifling your pained wails by biting into the borrowed quilt. You don't think you could live down the fear and concern your friends would have.

Were you having a heart attack?! No, right? That's ridiculous. It felt that way was this it was this the end no it couldn't be that's insane but stars above this was killing you- Besides, it didn't feel like your heart, it was more like…under your ribs? Lungs maybe, or your diaphragm. Maybe try square breathing? Yeah…Yeah square breathing, that would help steady it, right? In for four, hold four, out for four, hold four, rinse and repeat! You shouldn't be curled up, you needed to stretch out or something, that should…help?? Help not let the muscles bunch and cramp from the spasms?? That's what runners do.

It didn't help.

God, it hurt, and you were losing strength…

A gasp came from nearby, and through your watering eyes, you could see the shape of one of your reptile friends. Vaguely, you could see Red, and it was much too big to be Leo. Quickly, the frame hurried over to you.

"R-Ra-ahph..?"

"Right here, right here, it's okay. It'll be okay, yeah? Do you know what's wrong, or how I can help?"

When you shook your head, voice barely a breathy whisper of 'no's, Raph bellowed loudly, calling for S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N to gather everyone available and alert them there was a medical emergency. A few flashes of purple swirled in your spinning vision and Raphael yelped and supported your head when your eyes rolled back and your eyelids fluttered briefly as you almost fainted. Soon, a cacophony of voices blossomed around you, fear and worry laced in words that flew past too quickly for you to catch.

"Back up, make room! Raph, sit them up and lean their back against your pastron. Sit behind em if that's easier." Leo fell to his knees in front of you as Don stuck to your left, monitoring his wristbrace as his drone son took your vitals. "Alright, symptoms so far?"

"Ch-che-hEST pain, can't breath, can't get oxygen, d-dizzy…dizzy spells and fat-t-t-tigue…"

"Almost fainted twice while I held em, seem a bit delirious too."

"Gotcha. Don, how are those vitals?"

"Elevated pulse, oxygen looks fine though, their breathing is kinda futzing those numbers though."

The leader looked over to the youngest. "Go get your old inhaler. I don't know if it will work, but I want to try all options."

You vaguely heard Mikey run off to go fetch what was requested, returning not long after and even helping you use the device since you were so weak that you couldn't operate it.

It didn't help.

Your head lolled back again and Raph helped support your head. "S…Sick…feel like I'm gonna…throw up…So hot, h-hah-hot…"

Dontello turned his back but scooted a trash can closer. You hoped you wouldn't need it. Meanwhile, he kept prattling your vitals off to his twin.

The room grew colder, and you heard padded, soft footsteps and scrabbling claws as Splinter hurried over himself, taking one of your hands in his.

"You mentioned pain, explain it. Describe how it feels. Don, check for a floating rib or fractured sternum."

How this felt? Well…"Like…L-like my r-ribs are cru-cRUShing-hah, my l-lungs. Like a b…bear trap? But…squeezing, crushing, not p…punctur-r-re…"

You heard several hisses of sympathy and whispers of apologies. Behind you, Raphael gingerly squeezed you, mumbling his concerns.

Your eyelids shuttered and began closing, exhausted from how long this had been happening, and you felt a pinch to your cheek. Blearily, your eyes opened and you pitifully glared at the old rat. "I'm afraid you need to stay awake until this passes, my child."

" 'm s…so tired…I just..I jus' wanna sleep.."

Frustrated tears puddled and overflowed from your eyes, and gently, Splinter wiped them away.

"H-hurts…!"

"I know, and you're doing so, so well. I am so proud of how well you have been fighting."

By now, Leo moved away, giving you space as he leaned over and murmured something to Donatello. The twin frowned at whatever was said, but nodded. Leonardo then whispered to Mikey, who had a grim, serious expression before nodding and leaving.

"Seems like you know what's up." Grumbled Red, lightly stroking your head. "Care to share with the class? What can we do to fix it?"

Leonardo shook his head. "Best to just let it run its course at this rate. Which…sucks, but we caught it late."

After what felt like hours, but could have been merely minutes, you felt a strange prickling static as the pain began slowly oozing out of your chest and ebbing away. Soon, you were left a sweating, shivering, and sniffling mess, but you could breathe once more without issue and felt…Fine. Utterly emotionally drained and exhausted, but fine.

"There we are…" murmured the old rat who soothed your tears, gently patting your shoulder. Raph began to slowly rumble a sort of purr, humming softly as he allowed you to practically melt against him. Donatello sat nearby, not touching, but you saw him take a bottle of painkillers and plucked up your water bottle and helping you take what he gave you.

Finally, when you felt like your voice was going to be fine, you looked at Leo and asked the million dollar question: "What…was that?"

"That, my dear, was a panic attack."

You frowned at that and shook your head. "...No, no that wasn't. I've had anxiety attacks and they never hit that sudden or-"

"Nah-ah! Not an Anxiety Attack, a Panic Attack." Donatello corrected, tutting you. You gave a confused, somewhat loopy glare as Splinter held your hand. "A quick way to explain it is to think of an Anxiety attack as the slow, long build up and gradual dissipate of much more mild symptoms, so it's not 'as bad', quote unquote, but sticks around and lingers while a panic attack is quick, hard hitting with more severe symptoms but leaves much sooner.

"Moreover, a panic attack and an anxiety attack have drastically different symptoms. Anxiety will harbor more restlessness, agitation, fatigue and general anxiety, whereas a panic attack can have more intense or physical effects such as pain, nausea, fear and dread, dizziness, headaches and migraines, disassociation, heat and cold spikes, and difficulty breathing. Some people even feel like they're dying when having one."

You blinked at that, shocked cold. No way, all that? For a little panic??

Your face went red and you felt humiliation bubble in your stomach, but Leonardo threw an arm on your shoulder and knocked lightly on your head. "Here's the best part: sometimes; they don't even have a trigger. You body just flips its lid and then remembers its fine. Trust me, I've had a few after the Invasion, it sucks."

Your eyes watered a bit and you ducked your head before leaning more into Raph. "...Thank you. Thank you all, I'm s..so-ohry-rry..."

"Hey, no problem! Raph's here for you, and so is everyone else."

"You know it!"

"Not scaring us off that easy."

"If you ever need anything, my child, I will always lend an ear and paw."

"I'm here for you too!" You all looked up as Angelo hustled back in, a few objects and what looked like some slides in hand. He was now in a stately sweater and some glasses. "Well, I, Mikey, as well as Doctor Feelings. Leo told me what was happening, and I got everything I could to help you out! Information, techniques that might help, though talking to a doctor and getting medication might be a good first step. However, I know talking to a doctor is always stressful and scary for you, so I figured we could try some roleplay and scripting to prepare you for your visit- ah, but you look awfully tired, maybe this should wait until tomorrow…-"

The box turtle stiffened when tears bubbled up in your eyes again, and the family of mutants were all quick to soothe you with kind words and affirmations. You fought desperately to stay awake, but it was a losing battle. Ultimately, the whole family decided to sleep in the projector room for the night. Raphael held you to his plastron, with the slider and the softshell on either side. Angelo was partially draped over your legs, head on your belly, and Splinter slept in his recliner, watching over you all until he, too, couldn't fight sleep, not when S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N draped his favourite cozy throw blanket over his shoulders before going to a close by charge port.

Yeah. Tomorrow.

Oh, wow.. I don't think I've ever seen thy symptoms shown this realistically before. Obviously this is something incredibly personal to you.. thank you for writing this!

As always, the characters are written INCREDIBLY well, and you give us realistic situations with realistic reactions from the characters. 💙

#kana's chats #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #📝 anon

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sabertooth-showdown · 1 year

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GENUS: HOMOTHERIUM

Common name: “Scimitar cat”

LONGEVITY: About 4 million years

DISTRIBUTION: Extensive (North America, South America, Eurasia, Africa)

NOTABLE ATTRIBUTES:

Short, strong saber teeth capable of both gripping and stabbing

Large, powerful incisor teeth that interlock to create a vice or beartrap bite

Evidence suggests pack hunting behavior and caching food for later, implying high intelligence

Non-retractile claws grant increased traction and speed when running

Gracile body with hyena-like proportions which allows for high-speed pursuits

Huge eyes and nasal passages similar to modern cheetahs, creating excellent vision and increased oxygen intake when sprinting

Bite force comparable to modern cats (much higher than the “dirk-toothed” sabercat lineage)

WEAKNESSES:

Physically smaller and weaker due to slender build

Unable to do severe damage with paw swipes or climb efficiently, due to non-retractile claws that become worn down when running

A very formidable group with an impressive paper record, homotherium cats may not be the biggest, but certainly have a strong argument for being the baddest. Their near global distribution and relatively long run is a testament to their efficiency as pursuit predators. As another testament to their effectiveness, isotopic analysis of their bones show that they were regularly killing and eating mammoths, one of the largest animals in any terrestrial ecosystem. All of this suggests that they operated in coordinated groups as a well-oiled killing machine. Even in areas where they had to contend with bigger, nastier cats like lions and smilodon cats, homotherium established themselves as capable and efficient predators. However, due to their overall lack of bulk and raw power, they often found themselves as less than apex predators, and most species were overshadowed by their bigger, meaner felid cousins.

I give the homotherium genus the rank of A Tier.

#homotherium #felidae #mammalia #sabertooth showdown #a tier

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another-corpo-rat · 1 year

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Shot by the dear @halsin💕

Victoria Crane Netrunner | Affiliation: Arasaka

“You know something I don’t? I doubt that but go on; I’m curious how you’ll waste my time.”

A snake in the rat’s nest, between her natural ease in lying and quiet brutality there was little doubt that Victoria Crane would flourish in the corporate life. Climbing high off of her mother’s shoulders and then higher still off the backs of beaten down peers, making sure to dig her heel into their spines, Victoria has managed to create her own niche within Arasaka. One she defends with tooth and claw.

She has had a hand in several company projects and missions throughout the years, garnering her own reputation as an individual best avoided in cyberspace. Her name gained extra polish due to her ongoing association with Adam Smasher.

Once deftly subtle in her approach, working with the cyborg for so long has taught her the effectiveness of tossing a grenade now and then.

Relationships

Partners: Adam Smasher (Current, Mainline) Unnamed wife†

Relatives: Marion Victoria-Diane Crane (mother) Joseph Benjamin Morris-Crane (father)† Angelo Victor Morris (half-brother)†

Biography

1990s-2020

Born in England in the mid-90s, Victoria was primarily raised by her mother while her father worked in the NUSA. Throughout her youth she would be repeatedly called her mother’s ‘mini’ due to their similarities in both appearance and temperament.

This temperament would be sharpened against the whetstone of her peers during her school years, aimed pointedly at those she felt didn’t belong anywhere near her social circles. She was notably unmoved following an announcement that a classmate had committed suicide, and hardly bothered when a friend of that classmate laid the blame for their death at her feet. This individual would later have to drop out due to their parents losing their jobs and standing within Arasaka.

Upon completing her education, Victoria immediately moved into a corporate job – working for Arasaka’s London Counter-Intel department. Her quick ascension through the pay brackets was accelerated by an unquestionable skill in netrunning and nepotism.

2021-2023

In 2021 Victoria was transferred to the Night City offices. Reunited with her father, she simultaneously learned of his affair and second family. Their relationship promptly crumbled.

She was kept busy during the Fourth Corporate War, assigned as the company netrunner for a hired merc, she worked with them until their attempted defection to Militech. Sloppy in covering their tracks, Victoria became quickly aware of what they were planning and alerted her superiors – she had the pleasure of zeroing them herself and did so with a brutality unique to netrunners.

Following this, Victoria was assigned to work with Adam Smasher. Throughout 2022 they would work several missions together, but Victoria would not meet the cyborg in person due to deeming it unnecessary. It was late in 2022 and through sheer luck that she happened to step into the same elevator as him on her way to a mission briefing. Their first words exchanged in person were allegedly insults.

Still, the duo would develop something of a camaraderie. One of their recorded mission communications included Smasher encouraging a less bloodless approach in how Crane should deal with her familial issues. While she agreed, Crane also claimed she didn’t want their suffering to end ‘too quickly.’

Present in Night City on the night of the nuking, Victoria was not operating within the tower as Smasher felt it stupid to have his netrunner present where the action was going to take place. This decision kept Victoria alive. She would jack out of her chair following comm disruption and repeated failure to re-establish contact with Smasher, only to look out in horror as she witnessed the sky turn red.

2023-2050s

Victoria would return to the London offices after the bomb, certain that Smasher had been lost in the attack. She would claim the contrary but it was clear to any who knew her that she was not herself for some time afterwards. Her fury at learning her father and his second family had survived was uncharacteristic as she had destroyed personal property and outright threatened the life of his mistress.

It wasn’t until 2026 that Victoria learned of Smasher’s survival. A notable relief gave way to her usual coldness in a matter of minutes.

She would operate primarily from the Arasaka tower in London, assigned once again to be the netrunner for an Arasaka-hired merc. Enthralled with the familiar brand of violence, Victoria and the merc would marry in the late ‘30s. Neither of them were particularly loyal or loving.

Following her marriage and due to his ailing health, Joseph would reach out and try to repair their shattered relationship. While his attempts would amount to naught and achieve little else than further agitating Victoria, she made copies of his neurological research knowing they would prove useful for her own project idea that had taken root.

Joseph died in 2039 and perhaps in a last-ditch effort to make amends, had left a majority of his wealth and belongings to his daughter. Victoria would dispose of most of it and sell anything of value, but she kept a painting he had purchased specifically for her (the original of Landseer’s Man Proposes, God Disposes.)

In 2042 Victoria returned to Night City when her wife was on an operation. While she waited for her to return in the AV Hangar, she was instead reunited with Smasher who was also involved in the op. He greeted her with the news she was a widow, her wife having “gotten herself killed.”

The two would leave the hangar together to ‘catch up.’ Within a matter of days, she was reassigned as Smasher’s personal netrunner.

2053-2076

In 2053 following Smasher’s assignment as Yorinobu Arasaka’s bodyguard, the Arasaka heir attempted to replace Victoria, removing her from the position and assigning another that he personally selected. Smasher would burn through a number of these replacements in a matter of months, with the longest surviving only forty-six days.

In this interim, Victoria had dedicated her time to a personal project called OIZYS.

She returned to the role of Smasher’s netrunner within the year and would continue to work on OIZYS during lulls between work Arasaka assigned to Smasher and any personal gigs he took on.

In 2056, the project would see a successful test that confirmed its viability. Victoria pitched the project to Arasaka, successfully gaining funding and permissions for further tests on company-provided subjects.

In the same week as this successful run, her father’s former mistress would vanish following a public spectacle at a celebratory dinner for her half-brother. Angelo, placing the blame on Victoria for her treatment of his mother through the years and demanding that their father chose while simultaneously rejecting his attempts to amends, hired a fixer to plant a bomb under Victoria’s car.

The attempted murder failed, instead killing her building’s valet. In the days that followed and with the gossip mills churning, a number of Angelo’s illicit activities from the 2020s onward became public. This included videos of him in the midst of orgies, drunken slander of the Arasaka family and NUSA government officials, recordings of his calls concerning the attempted car-bombing, and his involvement in recording the torture and murder of a NCPD’s officer’s son.

He would commit suicide by the end of the week. With no family to arrange a funeral and his friends in hiding, his body was dumped in the municipal landfill.

In 2061, OIZYS had changed as Victoria was ‘highly encouraged’ to incorporate an experimental nanite technology into its operations. While the nanites solved a trigger-delay issue, they were also more aggressive than anticipated and would not stop in their assault after the amygdala had been overwhelmed.

The project was deemed a success and Arasaka has used it successfully against a handful of international targets, however Victoria and a small team are still working to iron out the kinks. These efforts have been slow-going both because of the experimental status of the nanites themselves and the uptick in work Smasher performed for the company at the direct behest of Yorinobu.

2077

Following the sudden death of Saburo Arasaka and the aggressive actions of Yorinobu in the wake of becoming CEO, Victoria became suspicious of the man’s intentions. Like many, she saw through the inconsistencies with his poisoning story but would bite her tongue to see what direction he would steer the company.

Unhappy with said direction, she acts as if her hands are tied due to the influx of work that has landed in her lap with Smasher’s promotion to Head of Security. However, some have noted her free time spent in the company of Michiko Arasaka.

Cyberware

Cyberoptics, EMP Threading, Chromed cyberarms with claw mods, Chromed collar, Optical Camo, Syn-Lungs, Titanium Bones, Lynx Paws, and a Midnight Lady

Weapons

“Charon” A personalised M2038 Tactician that deals electrical damage. Rarely used but always on-hand.

“Lancehead” A gold and black balisong tipped with neurotoxin. Victoria’s preferred method for dispatching anyone who gets too close. This weapon was a gift from Smasher, she claims that holds no bearing on her favouring it.

Notes

Victoria has modified her Contagion hack to attack aggressively, causing death more often than naught in its onslaught. Even those who survive the initial upload may die days later from the prolonged assault on their organs.

Smasher is the cause for her cyberarms – having deliberately crushed her right arm in early 2023 following a flare-up of carpal tunnel. She opted to get both replaced.

Her titanium bones and syn-lungs were not wanted modifications but were necessary after Smasher’s AV was shot down by juiced-up Animals. Her lungs were punctured by her ribs when he was tossed on top of her by gravity.

Divider by Saradika

#cyberpunk 2077 #character bio #Victoria Crane #i can't wait to post this and then notice all the errors and inconsistencies #what better way to welcome in pride month than by posting the bio of my terrible bisexual rep Ms Crane #long post #while doing my research to try and keep things consistent #i discovered that canon makes little efforts in that regard #so fuck it

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itsdappleagain · 1 year

Text

six ways to get covered in blood

inspired by/format from this post by @1percentcharge i changed a few of the ways to fit my own methods!

the kind of story i came up with for this one is that this is an au where carmen, after being mindwiped, starts to gain back her memories and eventually makes a run for it to try to get back to her team.

vile catches wind and, just after she's gotten out, they send a gigantic force of operatives (paper star, el topo, le chevre, tigress, mime bomb, and crackle) to drag her back- no matter the cost. they aren't losing her. not this time.

they find her and just. obliterate her. she stands no chance. crackle is overwhelmed with guilt at seeing his old friend beaten to a pulp and about to be dragged back to a life she despises, destined to either be brainwashed or imprisoned (or worse) for her entire life. had he just gone for help instead of continuing to live the lie, maybe she would be free.

tumblr ruined the quality so click for better

attempt at an image id under the cut! i never do them but I really should. please feel free to add/fix if I'm doing it wrong

[image id:

a six panelled "comic" which is entirely black and white/uncolored except for the color red, which is used for blood. it has little to no shading and is for the most part black lineart on a white canvas. there are no internal panels within the piece, and there is only one subject per image unless stated otherwise.

panel 1: carmen is slumped against a corner, and the image shows her from the bust up. a shadowed silhouette is pointing a crackle rod at her. her expression is half angry, half scared, but tired and defeated. she is covered in scratches, gashes, and one bite mark all over her face and arms. her right eye is completely closed due to injury, and blood is coming from her nose and mouth. her hair is down and her clothes are ripped. a large splatter of blood is on the wall behind her. in all capital letters the word "BLEED" is in between carmen (left) and the silhouette (right).

panel 2: paper star from the shoulders up. she is wearing her usual clothing and hair style. she is holding a paper star up in front of her left eye (between two fingers) and smiling, looking down. she has blood splatters on her paper star, cheek, and shoulder. in all capital letters on the left (ps is shifted towards the right) it says "SPILL IT."

panel 3: el topo and le chevre. el topo is on the left, apparently kneeling; he can be seen from about the chin up with some shoulder, as he is slightly hunched. he has a worried/regretful expression and is looking down. He has a few small splatters of blood on his cheeks and forehead. next to him on the right is le chevre. he is standing up straight and his face goes out of frame before the eyes. his torso ends at the bust. he has a somewhat indifferent expression from what can be seen, and his left arm is somewhat out as though his hand is on el topo's back. he has more blood on him than topo; it is splashed on his chest, shoulders, and cheek. the words "GET SPLASHED BY IT" in all caps go over el topo's head and in between the two.

panel 4: tigress from the shoulders up. she is in her operative suit but does not have her goggles on. she is staring directly forward and grinning at the camera. her canines are pronounced, almost like a vampire. lets say she got tooth mods in addition to the claw mods so they are big now. her lips, mouth, and teeth are dripping with blood. she is centered on the canvas. behind her, in large, all caps letters is the word "BITE"

panel 5: a close-up of mime bomb. all that can really be seen is his mouth, part of his chin, the bottom of his nose, and the sides of his face. he is grinning, and his mouth is painted as usual. the entirety of the mouth paint is red, implying he has painted it with blood. his thumb, also smeared with red, is touching the right side of the mouth paint as though he is applying it. the rest of his visible hand is in a fist like a thumb up. in the small part of his hand that is visible under his thumb the words "PAINT WITH IT." are written in all caps.

panel 6: crackle from the shoulders up. he looks terrified/what have i done type expression. his hands are up in the foreground, open and a little claw shaped. crackle is in his operative uniform. his hands are full of and dripping blood, and crackle is staring at them. this panel is much more dramatically shaded than the rest; his hands are white, but the background is completely black and crackle himself is a medium grey except for the whites of his eyes and his teeth, which are clenched. the words above his head in all caps are "IT IS ON YOUR HANDS." unlike all the other writing in the entire piece, these words are in bright red (the only other color except blood red to be seen), are in a scratchy, imperfect font, and have a blurry black shadow behind them to make them pop.

end id.]

#blood tw #injury tw #carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego #back at it again with giving the fandom content that caters to no one but me

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mayxthexforce · 1 year

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@galaccias said

⚔️ - Bossk for Boba

Send me “ ⚔️ “ for my muse to defend yours from an attack.

Cradossk was disappointed.

That was nothing new. Bossk had long since gotten used to disappointing his father– nothing was ever good enough for Cradossk, and even if he acted like this time Bossk had exceeded expectations on just how much of a disappointment he was, Bossk was used to it. He was, however, not used to the reason why he'd disappointed his father this time around.

The child was small, soft and squishy in the way human children tend to be. He looked a lot like his father, with the stark difference that Bossk hadn't even seen Jango Fett show much emotion because of that helmet he wore, while the boy looked absolutely terrified. He looked so pathetically scared, trying to make himself even smaller than he already was in hopes of going unnoticed among all these bounty hunters but sticking out like a sore claw, that even Bossk felt bad for being the one that brought him to the bounty hunter guild, the fact this whole operation never sat well with him also didn't help make him feel less like he'd done something wrong. Jango Fett had the reputation he had because of his skills, and if he'd time and time again humiliated the bounty hunters of the guild by outsmarting them, then that should encourage them to become better so that they might one day outscore Fett, not cheat like this: by ordering Bossk to steal something important from Jango —his only child— so that they could use it as leverage to make Jango step down from the competitive bounty hunting field.

Cheating was dishonorable, that's what Bossk thought. But Cradossk didn't care what he thought. He didn't even think that he'd stolen the boy, because he claimed that Jango was still in his prime, he could father a replacement.

It didn't take long for the other bounty hunters to realize who the boy was related to, and they clearly wanted to get back at Fett. None of them were brave enough to actually try and get the boy, mostly just intimidating him with glares and words– until a hand grabbed at the child's arm.

Bossk's own hand wrapped about the offender's wrist, something snapped under the force of his ruthless squeeze and the boy was released. But that wasn't enough for Bossk, he twisted, yanked and lifted the hunter by the arm until he screamed for mercy- which Bossk would give him... in a minute. First, he had to make a point.

"Nobody touches the boy," Bossk growled, glaring at the gathered crowd. With his free hand, he grabbed Jango's spawn by the shoulder, pulling him closer. "He's mine."

He dropped the hunter and lifted the boy, carrying him under his arm and against his side, and out of there because Bossk didn't like the crowded areas of the guild anyway. He'd take the kid back to the Hound's Tooth.

"Are ya hurt?" Bossk asked. He'd have to go back in there and do worse than just break an arm if it turned out the kid was hurt, because otherwise Fett would kill him. "What's yer name again?"

#may the queue be with you #||mail: bossk||#||in character: bossk||#& boba #||answered ask||#galaccias #vanillahub #||verse: favored by the goddess; bossk||

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best-ghoul · 2 years

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//GRD: SIGNATURE WEAPON

Hey, Boss? It's Operator. So our giant robot fights autonomously, and is a Hungry, Alien Anomaly that our institute contains and studies.

Anyway, this thing's a tool of war, so- how should I direct weapons development? We can add to the loadout later, but this is its' signature.

[Masterpost]

#Giant Robot Dogpile

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cloudwolfieaskblog · 7 months

Text

Warning! The following file is still a work-in progress and will most likely undergo modifications.

Object: SCP-H4RP13

Object Class: Keter

Threat level: Orange

Disruption class: Ekhi

Risk Class: Warning

Special containment procedures:

SCP-H4RP13 is to be assigned a modified frost resistant living space, accommodating basic human needs, in Sector █ of Site-19.

SCP-H4RP13 is to be led on a chain attached to a neck cuff and restricted when moved, taken to- or brought back from tests. The object is to wear power nullifying gloves at all times and a muzzle when personnel assigned Class C or higher interact with it. Two guards are to be stationed in front of its chamber watching at all times.

In case of a breach, SCP-H4RP13 is to be subdued nonlethally immediately and taken back to its containment chamber. If necessary, SCP-H4RP13 is to be kept subdued during the breach to prevent another attempt at breaking out.

Description:

SCP-H4RP13 is a lycanthropic humanoid with pure white fur all over its body, standing at approximately 183 centimeters (6 '00) tall and weighing around 75 kilograms (165 lbs).

Its entire appearance resembles a humanoid canis lupus arctos, its eyes showing heterochromia and star shaped pupils. Its left eye is a vibrant violet with a pastel yellow pupil, its right eye is sapphire blue with a pastel blue pupil. On top of its head, the fur turns into more firm, human-like hair that curls in thick locks and resembles a stylized cloud.

From the top of its head two triangular ears extend, covered in medium length white fuzz and sporting a silvery color on the inside.

Its entire face is also covered in short white fur and underneath its big bright eyes are three lavender colored heart shaped markings arranged into a triangle. The reason behind this color difference is currently unknown. Its mouth has a pointy tooth sticking out of it at all times when closed, when opened the inside is blue instead of the usual reddish pink.

It's body is slim, and the entity is fairly athletic and highly energetic and sociable, displaying an increased need for physical exercise to keep it entertained. Its legs are digitigrade and its limbs end in paws, visibly appearing to had been declawed, with retractable claws, also found in some breeds of the canis lupus familiaris, namingly the Siberian Husky and the samoyed. Its front paws are capable of fine motor functions, mimicking the human hand with up to 98.8% accuracy.

Its spine is elongated and forms into a tail that is coated in thick, white fur. The entity claims the tail helps it balance, and it was also observed wrapping it around itself for comfort.

SCP-H4RP13 has been located on the ██/██/████ in a quiet, suburban neighborhood of ███████,██ after a citizen posted a video of the entity in the neighborhood, seemingly minding its own business. Agent ███████ was sent to investigate and prepare the entity for containment. The agent reported the following in a short summary:

"I approached the property with caution, my disguise ready and the story I made up clear. My alias was that my car broke down and I needed a place to stay until someone can collect me. The entity allowed me entrance to the residence it imhabited at the time and led me to an empty bedroom, offering it for me to stay as long as I need. Then it showed me around, mentioning the essentials, and offered me a cup of drink of my choice.

Its behavior was human-like to the point it felt uncanny. A lycanthropic entity that understood human etiquette and hospitality and was actually welcoming towards sudden guests. I requested some cream for my coffee, and while it was away, I slipped the level █ sedatives into its drink and waited for it to return. The sedation worked and the operation was a success."

Agent ███████ was sent to medical for a checkup after he mentioned drinking the beverage the entity prepared and was found unharmed, meaning the entity acted out of genuine hospitality. According to Agent ███████ the entity was docile and unsuspecting during the interaction, even managed to make smalltalk and spoke fluent English. Level of intelligence to be further researched.

██/██/████, █pm: SCP-H4RP13 awoke in its holding cell, confused by the sudden change in its environment. It's still lying on the floor and attempting to regain full consciousness and recollect the events leading to its capture. Will continue to monitor.

Update: A couple hours after its awakening, personnel approached the entity, which resulted in the entity breaching containment. It was cornered and subdued non-lethally.

Damage total: Moderate damage to the building, all rifles and armor unrepairable, involved personnel all subjected to mild to moderate freezer burn, one bitten, all tested negative to lycanthropy.

Until further notice, based on this incident report, the following changes are effective immediately: Object Class updated to Keter. Threat level updated to Orange. Disruption Class updated to Ekhi. Risk Class updated to Warning. O5-1

Update: on ██/██/20██, SCP-H4RP13 challenged SCP-076-2 during a containment breach, motives unknown. It was revealed to be capable of cryomancy. It succumbed to its injuries moments after 076-2 was taken away to be recontained. Object Class updated to Neutralized and entity prepared for autopsy. - O5-█ further details in this incident log.

Update: On ██/██/████ SCP-H4RP13 awoke from death after two weeks of regeneration. Dr. ███████ who was tasked with conducting the autopsy reported that the entity started healing without outside impact. The entity awoke at Site-19's medical wing and complained about migraines, sounding nonchalant about the fact that it just revived itself. Until further notice, the following changes apply: Object Class updated to Keter. Threat level updated to Orange. Disruption Class updated to Ekhi. Risk Class updated to Warning. –O5-█

Based on camera footage and the medical report from Incident H4RP13-B, the entity is capable of cryomancy, self resurrection and has heightened senses as well as superhuman strength, which was just enough to stall SCP-076-2 long enough for Epsilon-11 to recontain it.

The entity understands human speech, can form complicated sentences in writing and many reported to have overheard it speak fluent English in its cell while walking past, but it is yet to say a word to personnel directly.

#wip #scp oc #original character #original canon #Introduction entry #SCP-H4RP13

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