#Tooth and Claw Operation

[skyscrapergods]

ik this blog is in a bit of a lull rn, so no pressure on answering, but I've perused thru most of the posts on worldbuilding for ssg and I didn't see this question asked: one of the main traits of humans that let us become the dominant sentient species is our opposable thumbs. ponies don't have those! and yes, unicorns can control and move things with magic but thats a difficult process to learn and not readily available to everyone. most worldbuilding I see for MLP tends to leave this question ambiguous behind the veil of cartoon logic. what are your thoughts? how do ponies maintain technological advancements and perform everyday tasks despite only being able to hold things with their mouths or (in some cases) horns? and what of writing and art?

Horses have extremely dexterous lips for ripping up grass. So they use their mouths WAY more than they do in the show. Fine motor skills are all done with the lips and teeth.

For bigger tasks, many earth ponies have horseshoes made of ferrous metal, and have magnets on items they need to interact with. Tea pots with magnetic handles, but the handles look like big disks for the shoe to fit in.

In the show, all these things are human-shaped for familiarity (and because designing for hoofed apex species is a lot of work). But in my world, things like door handles, light switches, buckets, sewing machines, typewriters, and such are all converted to large-surface hoof levers, mouth pull-strings, pressure plates, tooth-grips, etc

Here's a look at an environment that is built for someone with hooves and mouth rather than hands.

See how he doesn't struggle to operate human-centric machinery?

Meanwhile, creatures with hands will struggle in ponyville, when presented with something that is meant only to be bitten to operate.

Likewise, areas with mostly-unicorn populations have doors, buildings, devices, utensils, bookshelves, food, and everything else built for form rather than function, since they don't need to use their hooves and mouths for anything. Think a teapot with no handles at all. Nothing on the back, and nothing on the lid either except embellishments. No post that sticks up for hands or mouths to grab, just fancy markings. Unicorns can just lift that smooth lid out of the way and telekinetically hold the pot under the water. For this reason, isolated unicorns are often shocked and horrified to see ponies and pegasus use their hooves and mouths. A unicorn with a broken horn would be able to function in a pony world just fine, but is severely disabled in unicorn-only society. Though, they would still struggle when faces with devices that require horse-teeth, since unicorns, being deer, lack upper front teeth. Their hard dental pad is useful, but it is more delicate than teeth and can be injured by using pony devices.

Pegasus settlements use their mouths and hooves too, but have additional devices and adaptions mean to be operated with their wings. They have a highly developed alula, which is is the free-moving digit at the wrist of the wings.

A pegasus can grab and move things with it, but it's not as deft as their cloven hooves and prehensile dewclaws.

This is especially helpful since pegasus mouths are made of a lot of hardened cartilage with feathery skin over it. This helps them preen their feathers, but lowers dexterity.

Thankfully, most areas of Equestria have been adapted to all three species. Places of business, housing, devices, and commerce have pullies, hoofpads, soft mouth-grips, and such. Unicorns learn to use their bodies to operate things, or they train themselves to press the right area with magic to get results.

Twilight's school of friendship is the most inclusively-built area os equestria, with desks, writing utensils, and classrooms fit for a variety of hooves, hands, claws, mouths, and more. This breaks down a major barrier than has kept pony and non-pony creatures apart from each other. Hopefully the rest of equestria follows in her hoofsteps.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A moment of peace

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt has finally found someone who makes bad days easier.

warnings: None? I don't even think there's cursing tbh...this is tooth-rotting fluff with a hint of mopey Matt.

a/n: This is technically set in the "In All The World" verse, but you don't have to read that to read this. I hope you all enjoy! I wanted to write something that was void of angst because there's enough of that going on at the moment. Please let me know what you think! (And feel free to submit a request!!!)

w/c: 1.9k

In the handful of years Matt had been…operating outside the law, he’d encountered more than his fair share of injuries. Bruises, scrapes, split lips and brows, concussions, broken bones, and a pierced organ or two–he’d taken it all in stride and kept on swinging. Any night when blood remained inside his veins, and the wounds he incurred were superficial, was a massive success. Tonight he’d been lucky enough to remain relatively unharmed, yet his movements were sluggish and limp as he wobbled his way back to you. 

Each step sapped more of his energy, his brain solely focused on maneuvering his leaden limbs as he clambered up your fire escape. Oxygen slipped in and out of his lungs rapidly, the harsh pants bringing his aching chest no relief. Clammy hands clinging to the rusted guard rail, he hauled himself up another flight of rickety steps, nearly cracking his head open when the toe of his shoe caught the jagged edge of a stair. 

“Fuck..��� He hissed, wincing at the clatter around him as he slapped his hands down on the fire escape, barely managing to steady himself. Frustration clawed at the walls of his throat, threatening to choke him. C’mon Murdock, this is pathetic.

Releasing a stifled growl, he dragged himself forward, ambling onto your balcony with the grace of a three legged dog. Sprawled out on the narrow slab of concrete, his eyes fluttered shut, his senses locking onto the noise within your apartment. Exhaustion fanned the metaphorical flames of his radar sense, sending his focus in countless directions as he tried to find you. 

Your heartbeat trickled through the walls, blanketing his chest with a familiar warmth. Louder still, from somewhere in your living room, a muffled speaker spit out a tune he didn’t recognize, though you clearly did; you were humming along to the music, your sweet enjoyment punctuated by the scratching of pen on paper. 

A pang of guilt welled in his stomach at the realization that it was a weekday. Of course you’d be swamped with grading and lesson planning, the semester was in full swing. And he’d almost interrupted your productivity in a moment of weakness. 

Forcing his plodding body into a seated position, he clamped his jaw shut around a sigh. Another minute beyond your walls wouldn’t cause any harm, would it? A moment to rest before venturing home? And if he happened to overhear you skillfully humming a tune, well, God would have to forgive him for indulging in an incidental pleasure. 

As he settled against the building’s crumbling brick exterior, you shifted, whisking around your living room in a haphazard waltz. Matt’s lips quirked up subconsciously, affection flickering between his ribs. You always had that effect on him, heating his cheeks and stealing words from his tongue with your mere existence. Between your endless compassion and your effortless optimism, the Devil had willingly wrapped around your finger, eager to heed your every command. 

Completely entranced by your quiet song, he stupidly allowed his guard to fall, his consciousness ebbing as you lulled him to sleep. Almost. 

“Cheese and crackers!” Your squeak of surprise startled him in turn, his weight lurching sideways as he hurried to regain his bearings. While he‘d unintentionally been drifting off, you’d meandered to the window at his back, your pristine hands throwing it open after a brief spike in your heart rate. “What are you doing out here, love? You nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

Matt scrambled to stand, apologizing profusely as you slid through the frame to meet him. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I wasn’t thinking. I–���

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” Your hands hovered over his biceps, as if you expected him to topple forward. Hair swishing around your face, you frantically scanned him for injuries, absentmindedly grasping his hand when he reached for you. 

“Not hurt, promise.” He huffed out, mindlessly leaning into you as you gathered him in your arms. “I should’ve called. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Intrude on what, darling? The dinner party I’m throwing for my stack of 7th grade music theory quizzes?” You joked brightly, cupping his jaw with one hand as he bowed his head, ashamed. “I haven’t seen you all week, love. I was about to unlock the window for you when a mysterious masked figure jumped out at me.” 

“Sweetheart we talked about this,” Matt groaned, sidestepping your attempt to make him smile. “You can’t leave your window open all night, it’s not safe.” 

He could practically hear your eyes roll as you deflected his half-hearted chastising. “My point is: you’re not intruding. You never could, love. You’re always welcome to visit.” 

The pad of your thumb rippled over his facial hair as you gently stroked his cheek. “What’s going on, Matt? Did something happen?”

Shaking his head, Matt spit out an answer without a second thought, trying to stave off the inevitable confession. “I’m fi–”

“Horseshit.” You shot back, your callousness taking him by surprise. “What’s wrong?”

Your earnesty was tangible, prodding him relentlessly as he searched for another excuse. At a loss, he exhaled shakily. “I..I don’t know.”

Abruptly dropping your hand from his face, Matt braced himself for a complete loss of contact as your certain disappointment caused a rift between you. Instead, your arm snaked around his waist as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Why don’t you come in and we can talk about it.” Your suggestion lingered in the air for a moment before Matt dropped against you with a weary nod.

Ushering him through the open window, you encouraged him to perch on the corner of your mattress while you shut and locked the makeshift entrance behind you. Dramatically brushing your hands together, you blew out a breath. 

“Secure enough for you counsellor?” You asked in jest, heart skipping when he scoffed in response. 

“I suppose.” He tried for a scowl, his forced moodiness immediately thwarted when your skilled fingers lifted his helmet from its resting place so you could scratch at his scalp. Groaning under his breath, Matt arched into your touch.

“Long night?” It was less of a question and more of an observation, but he tried to soothe your worry nonetheless.

“Not too bad, why?” Your nails raked through his hair, tracing the barest touch over his forehead.

“You seem tired, is all,” The steady pound of your heart jumped in his ears as one of your hands crept away from his crown, a knuckle brushing softly over the dark circles bordering his eyes.

He forced a weak chuckle, instinctively wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “That obvious?”

“How long’s it been since you slept?” Ignoring his joke, the question wasn’t more than a murmur. An invisible string wrapped around his stomach, drawing taught as he answered honestly.

“I slept last night–”

“For more than three hours.” You amended quickly, the stern tone you used poorly concealing your building concern. When Matt failed to respond, you tutted in disapproval. “Oh Matty..”

“I’m sorry, angel,” He murmured, chin dipping towards his lap as you stood up. 

Two of your fingers tapped the underside of his jaw, tenderly guiding his attention away from the floor. “No need to apologize, handsome. It’s not your fault.”

“Not sure anyone else could really be to blame,” A wave of discomfort rolled in his belly as you withdrew from his loose grasp, padding towards the cupboard-sized bathroom in the corner. He held his breath while he waited for you to agree, to scold him, to scream at him for being reckless and self-sacrificial and for burdening you in the process.

But the expected fight never came. 

Instead, you returned dutifully to his side, armed with a soaped up washcloth and your perpetually thoughtful demeanor.

“Sometimes we don’t need to blame anyone. Sometimes things just happen.” Carefully dabbing at his forehead with the damp cloth, you swiped away a smear of dried blood surrounding the cut above his left eye. “Let me bandage this and we can get in bed.”

Momentarily stunned by your forgiveness, Matt blinked at you. “That’s it?”

Tongue sliding over your teeth as you stifled a giggle, the sound wavered as you shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I can call Claire if you want, but I’m pretty sure I can handle sticking a bandaid on your face.”

“No, that’s not,” A rumbling noise of frustration escaped him as he clenched his fists, brain swinging wildly as he tried to find the words to explain himself. 

“I know, handsome.” Urging him further onto the mattress, you settled into his lap carefully–giving him the opportunity to reject the motion if needed, and beaming at him when he greedily yanked you down. “I’m not angry with you, Matt. You can ask me as many times as you need to, but the answer won’t change.”

His breath stuttered over your earnesty, coasting over your satiny skin as you leaned in to brush your noses together. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, love. I haven’t told you the bad news.” You snorted, fingers crinkling the wrapper of a small bandage as you slipped it from your pocket. “The only band-aids I could find are for children. Apparently, I forgot to restock my grown-up first aid supplies.”  

Barking out a laugh, Matt slid a hand over the base of your skull, drawing you into a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You giggled, gently poking a finger into his side. “Now hold still.”

The subtle vibration emanating from your pocket froze you in place, the pen in your hand dangling limply as you fished out the device. Tossing the utensil aside, it skittered to a stop on the pile of assignments on your desk. Good enough. With a swipe of your thumb, you greeted the caller. 

“Hi, love! Everything alright?” 

“I have a bone to pick with you, sweetheart.” Matt’s annoyed grumble brought a smile to your face, his supposed anger lacking any real heat.

“Oh boy, what did I do now?” You asked, faking exasperation to humor him.

“You could’ve warned me about the cartoon ponies on my face! Foggy has been calling me ‘Rainbow Dash’ all damn day,” Clapping a hand over your mouth, you smothered a laugh. You hadn’t yet sent Foggy the photo of Matt’s sleeping face mashed into your pillow with pastel horses galloping over his eyebrow, but this was a lovely reminder.

Unamused, Matt continued on petulantly.  “It’s not funny. I should sue for emotional distress.” You could imagine the impressive pout gracing his face about now.

“I’ll be sure to pick up some more manly designs next time.” You promised, snickering when he groaned at you through the speaker. “Let me make it up to you, Matty. Dinner at my place this weekend?”  

“I don’t know, my ego is pretty bruised, sweetheart. Not sure if I can forgive you for this.” He muttered disdainfully, the hint of a smile slinking through his words. 

“Good thing you’re not the grudge holding type, my dear.” You assured him, absentmindedly glancing at your calendar. “How’s Sunday? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” 

“You’d better.” Matt scoffed, his pretend aggravation dissolving entirely when you laughed. “I’ll see you then. Do I need to bring anything?”

“I don’t think so!” You chirped, already brainstorming meal ideas. “I’ll let you know if anything comes to mind.”

“Sounds good, angel. I’ll see you–” A muffled voice cut Matt’s goodbye short, his attention only drifting for a minute. “You sent them WHAT–”

“Love you too! Gotta go, bye!” You rushed out, erupting into giggles as you returned to the stack of work before you.

General Matt Murdock taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @daisy-arien0 @yarrystyleeza @silas-aeiou @harleycao @for-hearthand-home

[a-twistedheartslonging]

I did it

I put it to words after so much time lol

DEER ROOK HUNT

I keep forgetting to make this and to drop it in

Aaaaa

So, i know that most folks go

"Oh? Rook Hunt? He's gotta be a hunter, a predator type of thing or creature!" Which, makes sense in some aspects BUT it ignores WHY Rook Hunt is so off-putting to his brethren in canon and why he is so formidable and interesting. Firstly, Rook Hunt is a human. A human who is willing to hunt Beastmen, who can hassle Floyd, who even Leona avoids, a human who is incredibly formidable and skilled. Who is sneaky, to the point that Ortho has commented that the only reason he was able to detect the guy was due to his motion sensors. Rook Hunt who even tries to go after Malleus in PE (mainly by trying to mess with him so that Rook can interact with the dragon fae) and has asked Lilia if the bat fae would let Rook hunt him (both fae seem to be a bit irked by him, Malleus for being messed with and Lilia even makes a threat him which i think shows what a curve ball Rook is that he got under the skin of both fae who arguably find most non aggressive interactions amusing). He's human, arguably one of the physically weakest races of Wonderland and he outmaneuvers many of the beastfolk and often hassles the Leech twins (definitely Floyd, at least, who tries to avoid him as much as possible). He's very different from most of the humans and the usual expectations. He uses wit and strength and cunning to outdo his quarry while being one of the races that DOESN'T have the natural equipment that beastfolk with fangs and claws or fae with strength and power have.

In nonhuman au, he wouldn't be a predator species. He wouldn't have claws and fangs, nor brute strength. That's not what makes Rook so intriguing and interesting. He is light footed and suited for rough terrain, for getting through forests and being hardy. He would be something that most expect to be wary of beasts with sharp tooth and talon. He would be a deer. Deer are light footed, they are remarkable hardy, sneaky. They also get into a lot of trouble. But unlike the animal deer and how most would view a deer beast, Deer Rook is able to take down nigh any predator. He goes out of his way to do so. He's stalking down lions and hyenas and anything else that catches his eye. He still needs to rely on wit, hence his bows and arrows, his hunting knife and his skill set. That's how Rook operates and would be most in keeping with his character. Rook Hunt being a deer is also why many still find Rook Hunt so settling in nonhuman au. He's a hunter and predator, a deer who's claws are his arrows and fangs are his skills and wit. A formidable one, that many find a bit odd. It would be expected and understandable if Rook was a type of carnivore, a stalking hunting animal of some kind. But being expectable is not Rook Hunt.

So yeah

Deer Rook Hunt

Aaaa

I've been meaning to put this in lol

Sorry for the time taken haha

Of course, everyone can have their own vision of rook and harpy Rook has wonderful place in my heart but also Rook Hunt as a deer is very fitting and a deer beast hunting lion beasts and hassling others and freaking out everyone is very very funny and fitting lol

Also In keeping with his character and with the animal deer, he is still a curious individual and he tends to get into trouble.

So yeah

Rook Hunt as deer would be very fitting.

I would agree that a deer would be fitting in his case, and a prey animal being a hunter makes an interesting concept. Plus, Rook is already weird and deer and be pretty weird in their own right.

Not a lot of peeps know about them actually eating meat, they even eat baby birds out of nests on occasion, though I would smack any beast boys I catch doing that.

I do wonder about the kind of deer he would be, there are over 60 different species of deer worldwide. Deer are present on all continents except Antarctica. They can live in a range of habitats, from mountainous areas to warm and wet rainforests.

Plus, I wonder how he would deal with his antlers; would he keep them shaved down since they could get in the way of stuff? Would he still wear a hat but maybe a different one? Then there's the shedding of the antlers which happens pretty suddenly, imagine in the middle of class you hear them suddenly falling onto the floor and giving everyone a startle. He prob makes something out of them, I used to have a knife with a handle made out of deer antler.

I'm also curious about him doing mating calls and such...they would likely startle a human that does know anything about deer and make them think there's a creature outside.

I want to see that silly man do deer hops and I want to see his cute tail and hoof feeties.

[puck-luck]

request from @yauchfilms.... cappuccino with cold foam for SJ24: "can you include the phrase "kitty tickler" at least once?"

hell yes i can brother🦅

You’re perched on the bed in nothing but a towel, watching Seth take a razor to his face. The boys recently got knocked out of the playoffs and Seth finally grew tired of his playoff beard this morning when cereal dripped into it for what he swore would be the last time.

You’re mourning the scruffy, bushy, dark hair and you won’t pretend you aren’t. Every time Seth looks over and sees you pouting, he starts to giggle and walks over to plant a kiss on your lips. He turns to you a lot, your presence distracting him from his routine. Usually he shaves after practice, when you’re already at work. He must have really hated the beard, since he’s thrown his whole routine out of whack just to get rid of it.

“Babe, check it out,” Seth says, rinsing his razor and shaking it out before wiping extra shaving cream from his chin. He smiles wide, showing off his crooked teeth. His eyes crinkle and he models both sides of his face for you. “Mutton chops!”

You laugh, rolling your eyes fondly at Seth’s new look. “Are you going to keep that?”

“Aww, you don’t like it,” Seth groans, wandering over to you and pawing at your towel. 

You laugh louder, clutching your towel to prevent him from revealing your body. “It would take a lot of getting used to.”

Seth grins and pecks your lips before pulling back and walking back to the bathroom. “I would’ve killed in Wolverine.”

You choke on your spit, coughing. “You want to be Wolverine?”

“Dude, I would make a career out of real-life Fruit Ninja if I had claws like him,” Seth says. “The mutton chops are just a perk.”

“Get rid of them, Seth. It’s not your look, babe.”

He whines, slumping his shoulders and frowning at you. It’s all an act, which you know, so you stare at him with a raised brow and a knowing smile. Seth breaks first, picking up his razor and lifting it to his face. He shaves the sides away, leaving a handlebar mustache on his face.

Seth turns to you again, lifting his arms and flexing. “Hulk Hogan?” he asks.

“Raging racist,” you reply with a sad nod. “It’s always the icons that end up evil.”

“Can’t be a king without war crimes,” Seth sighs, feigning sadness. You know he’s pretending because of how quickly he raises the razor and shaves the legs of his mustache away. He leaves his normal stache intact, placing the razor on the sink and rinsing his face to get rid of any lingering pieces of hair. He then joins you on the bed, covering you with his body. 

You fit your thumb in the divot of his chin, feeling the smooth skin that is rarely bare. Seth is a goatee guy, which you like, but his stache is your favorite type of facial hair.

“Kept the kitty tickler for my girl,” Seth tells you, his clumsy fingers going through your hair like a wide-toothed comb. 

“The kitty tickler?” you demand, jaw dropping incredulously. “What?”

“Yeah,” Seth says, brushing your shock off. He brushes his thumb and index finger over his mustache, going from the middle to the ends. “You know…” He taps your mound over the towel, then wiggles his fingers, sticking his tongue out flat before speaking. “Kitty… tickler.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you chortle, smiling widely. 

Seth takes offense, drawing his eyebrows together. “I’m not,” he whines. He tugs at your towel. “Do you need me to remind you?”

“I think I do, actually,” you say. “I’m really intrigued by this terminology.”

“Baby,” Seth scoffs with a frown. He slides off the bed and adjusts you so you’re laying flat, knees bent over the edge of the mattress. “The kitty tickler’s a machine. It’s not just a name. Don’t belittle it like that.”

“Oh, my bad,” you reply sarcastically. “I wouldn’t want to offend the operator of the machine.”

“Well, it’s too late now,” Seth says. “Now I’ve gotta show you how the kitty tickler navigates the bush.”

“Oh my God, fuck off,” you reproach, kicking Seth’s shoulder. 

Seth giggles to himself and palms your thighs, spreading them apart. “Gonna show you how I mow,” Seth adds before disappearing tongue-first beneath your towel, his enthusiasm and vigor changing your mindset from incredulous to pleasure-ridden.

[insert-random-account-name]

Analyze the Princess- The Beast

The Beast is similar to her companion voice, the Hunted, in that they’re a nightmare to analyze (for me, at least). Her route is one of the most difficult to discover naturally, since you have to make a sequence of decisions that don’t make much sense in order to reach her chapter. She is probably the least popular out of all the Chapter 2s, simply because there is no “good ending” in her chapter, and her design may not appeal to some people like the other Princess’ do. The Beast is almost as if the Witch was even more feral, and these similarities have doomed the Beast to obscurity. Of course, with what I know about the Beast, she’d enjoy slinking in the shadows, known only by the whispers left in her wake.

You get the Beast by entering the basement without the knife and a) Backstabbing the Princess when the knife reappears, and giving up when she attacks you, or b) Retrieving the blade and closing the door before investigating the arm. The Princess overwhelms you with her savagery, and rips you to pieces with tooth and nail. In the dim moonlit basement, she looks more animal than human, staring at you with glowing eyes. This results in a Princess who is, well, inhuman. She resembles every mythological creature blended into a single terrifying chimera of death. She has sharp claws and teeth, small wings, (creepily enough) hair, and has the stature of a four-legged animal rather than a human. Her eyes glow in the dark like a predator.

The Beast operates with a scarily intelligent instinct. She outplays you at every step. You can’t run, you can’t hide, and you certainly can’t fight. She holds no resentment for your previous actions: It’s a dog eat dog world, after all, and she understands that your interests lie with only yourself. However, the Beast also knows that you’re the key to escaping her cage, and dead doesn’t count. Talking isn’t her style: It only opens her up to attack. No, she will devour you and hold you in her stomach until the cabin finally releases her. It isn’t personal, it’s just survival. You of all people should understand that.

The Beast also holds no patience for resistance. If you keep needlessly running, or you try to kill her, she will effortlessly reduce you to a pile of bloody feathers. If you try to slice her open from the inside, she isn’t scared, but curious. What will break first: The cabin door, your will, or her flesh? If you “allow” her to leave, she will tauntingly acknowledge the weakness of your resolve. After throwing you up outside the cabin, she notes that you survived, and should count yourself lucky.

The Beast represents extreme selfishness. Neither of you will ever be able to cooperate, especially not her. A compromise could easily be made, but that’s not what either of you want. Her desire to consume you is so strong that even the Shifting Mound comments on it. Both of you will do your best to drag the other down with them. The Beast’s chapter truly shows the cunning in her heart.

Guess who finally caved and made a masterpost? Me! You can find links to all of my character analysis posts there!

Slay the Princess Character Analysis Masterpost

[crepey-pastries]

Okay, I've been thinking of this, and I want to expand on Path 1 for Female Creepypastas and how the Operator takes it, which spoiler; It doesn't. It does not like/care/know about relationships, it just knows productivity. So what does that mean?

It means once a Female Creepypasta gets into a relationship with a Male Killer/Proxy, there's a high chance she won't get to leave that relationship without the Operator's/Male Killer's okay.

How does that figure? Well, it comes down to motivation and morale- We'll use Ticci Toby and Clockwork for this example since they're the token Male Proxy x Female Killer dynamic and sort of what happens there.

Now, being in a relationship I imagine boosts both killers' ego; Proxy gets arm candy and sex and the Female Killer gets protection and status. It's a mutual deal. But in the cases where it fizzles out or the Female Creepypasta tries to leave the relationship- well, she'd have more trouble getting out than getting in.

Firstly, if it's a Male Proxy- Good FUCKING Luck! Because if that Male Proxy likes you/the Female Killer and doesn't want it to end- it doesn't end. Even the Operator will attempt to force the Female Creepypasta to stick it out because: A. It keeps the male killer happy/morale up and B. Forcing the Female Creepypasta to stay is a power play move. Remember, Female Killers/Proxies are flukes in the system; The Operator doesn't intend for them they just sort of.... Happen. And to it a happy male killer is more valuable than an unhappy female killer so.... Yeah the Operator will try to mentally exhaust or consistently harass the Female Killer into complacency or staying in the relationship especially if they try to pull away.

And if it's a Male Killer, it's even worse because if the Male Killer chooses to kill the Female Killer instead of let her go- yeah, nobody's going to stop him. Again, a Male Killer is more valuable than a Female Killer, there probably have been cases where they were killed and eaten after trying to break up. It doesn't happen.

Unless the Male Killer/Proxy takes the initiative.

Which, going to be real, it still sucks. Because then if the Male Killer dumps the Female Killer they lose the rep points they already made and they're sort of treated like "Discarded Goods" because now they're back at the bottom and they have to climb their way back up.

But I mentioned Ticci Toby and Clockwork right, so let's touch on them:

Like I said, my perspective of their relationship is they dated but Clockwork ended things and there were probably a few factors to why but the main one was Clockwork wanted to build her own reputation, she had learned how to survive as a Creepypasta/Killer in the forest and wanted to build herself up. But I imagine Toby was the one who didn't want to break up; Could be because he liked having her for the rep points or that he genuinely was concerned for her but I feel like Toby wasn't the one to break things off and Clockwork had to deal with Slenderman/Operator harassing her until she actually pleaded with Toby to let things go. Which of course I imagine Toby did eventually but it wasn't easy because now Clockwork went from up there with Toby to the bottom of the barrel, and now clawing her way back up is the tougher feat.

Bear in mind, Clockwork was the one to break things off but Toby had to be the one to sign the "Okay" on it or else the Operator would've kept harassing and berating her, that's sort of the dynamic that comes with Path 1, a Female Killer has to be ready to either stick it out or fight tooth and nail to escape.

It's just messy, honestly, but I'd prefer the Creepypasta Ships/Path 1 to be this way, especially if we're discussing Female Creepypastas.

[theminecraftbox]

dumb question but the scene in genuine finale when c!Dream says "you deserved it (torture)" to c!Tommy, why do you thnik he said that even while c!Tommy was trying to understand him. Thats what I dont get about that finale is how he says stuff like that and hits c!Tommy with an axe and mocks him all while c!Tommy is opening up to him. Forgive me if u already explained this I couldnt find anything srry

You seem to be operating under the premise that c!Dream started out genuine finale being interested in being opened up to and being emotionally vulnerable with one of his greatest enemies…?? He was fighting that tooth and claw, my guy. Which is why we watched his attitude change over the course of genuine finale.

You’re basically asking “why is c!Dream struggling against the dismantling of his whole worldview and the forcible and agonizing admission of his true priorities despite everything he personally sacrificed on his delusional quest.”

I’d say the answer to that is pretty damn self-evident.

[christinebloodwrittings]

Die in your arms #9

Alastor x Fem!Reader

Taglist open: @littlebluefishtail @maxlynn17 @vxllys @modifiedmonster @sirens-and-moonflowers @qardasngan @polytheatrix @dprweganggang03 @aainr

Warnings: Implied SA, imprisonment, trauma, relaties with mental ilnesses. Sensitive themes.

Masterlist

Proofing made by: @littlebluefishtail

Acheron, 1999.

Very few people were allowed to go in and out of the Acheron, one of them was Michael as head of operations; Adam who rarely visited for something other than the collection of the new army members; and Lute, who at a very young age earned the title of Adam's right hand. 

But Vaggie knew how to sneak in, using Lute's access card.

Usually she only wandered near your cell, looking from time to time to the screen where they monitored how many memories to show you, and in what order. Like an ongoing series.

When you arrived to the land of the dead, you manifested as mostly human, save for the pointy ears, long mane, long tail, black clawed paws, and slanted knees of a Grey Wolf. 

When Vaggie was younger - in a matter of the relativity of time - she used to sneak in the cell and tuck herself in your tail, sometimes taking naps on it. 

When she grew a little, she would bring scissors and cut your mane, leaving it messy but lighter. Every time she did so, she got caught and reprimanded, but the relief she saw in your face was enough reward.

Not a single time she was inside the cell you were awake to see her. Except one time. Vaggie had fallen asleep on your tail again, she was surprised to feel the muscles of the tail moving. 

She figured it was just a muscle spasm as usual, but when she shifted on the soft fur she froze in place, a pair of golden eyes looked at her from above. 

By being tied up in suspension you couldn't do much as for movement. Your throat and mouth being dry didn't help either with any possible communication. So, you just managed to get control of the new member on your body, and wiggle your tail against her face. 

Her laugh shot a chill up your spine causing your knees to weaken slightly. 

It was such an unusual feeling, but not exactly unwelcome. 

"Soft" She hugged your tail, making happy squeals and giggles. You made a shh sound at her, hearing steps in the distance. She climbed up your back to hide, forcing pressure on the restraints holding your wrists, but for the sake of the kid you were set on to resist the pain. You grounded your feet on the tiles, scratching the ceramic with your claws.

An white coat angel passed by, checking cells just outside the glass, "That's one of the scientists, they make sure all cores are well connected" You heard her whisper in your ears. 

"Cores?" You asked her, hoarsely, "That's what they call you guys, people who help us feel strong and healthy" Her innocence was key for you to understand, she didn't know you were being held prisoner. No wonder they kept you on fluids and other IV supplements, you were like a human battery.

When the angel was out of sight and away she climbed up further on you, to settle on your shoulder. "I know you're my core" She whispered as if she was telling you a secret.

"I'm not supposed to be here, but I had to see you" you chuckled, the first one since you died, "I style your hair from time to time" proudly she smiled.

"Oh? And how has it been so far?" She climbed down and sat in front of you. "Choppy but your face relaxes when it's short" it warmed your heart to see her concerned about your comfort. "I appreciate your consideration, dear" as you spoke you felt the sharpness of every tooth, so trying not to bite your tongue and show your fangs at her was tough but doable. 

"I have to go" she stood up, her voice sad and apologetic. "Be safe out there" you wished she could stay longer. There was a need, a pull, that drove you to her. Maybe because she was made out of you? 

She got close to the machine, the one connected to your head. "Do you want to choose a memory?” It infuriated you how your mind could be easily played with, yet, she was just a child. “December 1915 if you could" you made a bitter request, and she was eager to fulfill it, that mitigated your annoyance. 

"See you next time, I'll find some rubber bands to make braids in your tail" you chuckled after her silly smile. "I look forward to your artwork" after seeing her, you decided, the light within her had to be protected. 

December 1915, New Orleans, Louisiana

‘Y/n. There’s no easy way to say it, I know what you may think of me, but I would like to have a sit down conversation with you, if you allow me. A Christmas dinner like old times.

Also I’d like to meet the man you married, in a wedding I wasn't invited to give you away, or invited to see my only daughter-’ and the pettiness went on and on for two more pages.

Alastor couldn’t reject the invitation, as you suspected, and so you two were on a day trip to upstate New York, on a bus. It was cramped, smelly, and loud. People looked at Alastor as if he was a pest, that pissed you off. 

“Darling, we have a long road ahead” he spoke unfazed, he was used to it. “He is my husband, if you all have a problem with that, you can shove it up your asses!” and since we were so used to it, he didn’t expect to feel so warm when you defended him.  

A kid. You couldn’t shake off the image of the little girl in your cell. You finally had a kid, not voluntary and not exactly conceived nor delivered out of your entrails, but a kid nonetheless. What else is life going to take from you? Now aware that you’re dead meant that the Alastor next to you was nothing but a memory, so he must be long gone too. Now, your dream, having kids, first taken by men was taken away by angels. 

They can’t take more, you won’t allow it. 

By the end of December 22nd you arrived at your father’s new house. “Ostentatious” you muttered, clutching the handle of the bag. “Couldn’t put it better cher” Alastor walked up to the door and rang the bell. 

Footsteps were immediately heard, rushed, sloppy. The door opened to show a disheveled, sweaty and nervous man. “Ah!” He gasped looking up at Alastor, then when his eyes set on you, he started to whine, “My daughter, my love” broke into sobs without moving, holding onto the door. 

“Been a while dad, this is Alastor Heartfelt, my husband” Alastor presented his hand to shake his, but the man didn’t move. “This is the cockroach, the one who took my daughter’s hand without me to give her away” he pointed up to him, angry. You sighed and slapped your dad’s hand, looking up to Alastor, “Don’t take it personal, he calls all men roaches” he rolled his eyes.

“Something’s burning dad” the man sniffed the air then ran down the hallway to the kitchen panicking. “Have I mentioned he’s slightly senile?” Alastor looked down at you with an incredulous smile, “I hope it is not inheritable” you kicked his heel in response. 

“He doesn’t have much time” you took off the cloth covering your mouth, while Alastor removed your coat and hung it next to his. 

“He tends to be rude, and doesn’t realize it until someone punches him in the face, so please try to be patient, or not, he has a metal nose replacement” I took his bag and set it next to mine at the entrance. “Was he like this before?” you could see a tick on his eye already, “Yes, mom made sure to let him know when he ran his mouth” you were going to allow the poison to flow out, but you bite your tongue. 

“Ah my dear, the third door on your right is yours, and the cockroach can sleep outside I guess” your father squinted his eyes at Alastor, like a tuxedo cat would look at a stranger from a far away corner. You began to push Alastor up the stairs with his bag to prevent a murder, “He’s sleeping with me since we are wedlocked” You heard your father grumble something before getting back in the kitchen.

After a quick exchange of looks, a worried one from you, and a judgy one from him, heading upstairs seemed like a good idea. “He hates all men” he handed you your case after he saw you making grabby hands. “Do we know why?” you thought about that for a minute, “Not really, mom had a theory that he was a friend of Dorothy*, then it went wrong, unlikely though” there were pictures on the wall, pictures blurred and forgotten, it seemed like your brain could remember some things here and there. 

“Safe to say I may not win his favor” he partially meant that as a joke. “I wouldn’t count on it, and you don’t need it, after this we are never coming back” the ‘we’ made Alastor’s insides twist weirdly, yet it was not unwelcomed, he was glad you included him verbally, “Why would you say that?”.

You took a second to walk down a few steps and yell from the railing into the hallway, “DAD? Did mom marry the soldier guy by any chance?” You shot an unamused look at Alastor waiting for the answer. “She did, and moved down the street” you shrugged, “There is your answer” he just stared at you equally unamused.

But something didn’t sit well with him, “In the file it stated that your father had sold you to the mobsters”. You stopped and scoffed, “Do you think that man is capable of handling a deal with a mobster?” The police said that in the record your father’s name was written, but it wasn’t his handwriting, and he was never prosecuted for being senile and old. 

“If not him then…you’re not suggesting-” you hummed a yes in response, “Nine out of ten mothers are trash, and you had THE one out of those ten who was decent, may she rest in peace”, Alastor put the bag down and leaned against the wall up the stairs.

“Why would she do that?” Of course he didn’t understand, because why would a mother sell their only child to rapists and killers? All you could do was shrug, “Go ask her and then die with the answer for all I care”.

When your tone hit your ears after a minute, you turned his way, “Sorry”. He snickered and smirked, “Not to offend you, but I find your uneasiness quite amusing” which earned an unapologetically unamused eye roll, “Always glad to entertain you”. 

He got close enough his lips touched your cheek. He had the audacity to laugh at your misery, kiss you and walk away to the designated room pretty satisfied with the previous interaction.

Wait a minute, what was that?

“Please don’t think you have to act lovey-dovey and disgusting in front of my dad, he doesn’t care, trust me” while your words went though one of his ears and went out the other, he puffed up one pillow and looked at you with a incredulous smile, “Does this violate the terms of our deal?” and he did that on purpose, that scoundrel. 

 “Don’t change the subject…but yes. A little? It’s not like we haven’t done it before” he managed to not only change the subject successfully, but also confuse you? damn sociopath. “You were drunk” he excused himself, for the fact that he stayed the night, holding you like a stuffed bear. 

“You could’ve walked away as soon as I hit Morpheus’s arms” he looked at you with a mix of concern and confusion, “Morpheus, Greek god of dreams? it’s an euphemism for sleep- Nevermind” you gave up, losing the point you were trying to make.

“I see your point, dear, but I’m not acting” there was something in his charm that didn’t let you in if he was lying or not, it pissed you off. “Just don’t” you sighed and got out of the room, since he took it upon himself to open your bag as well and start unpacking. 

One year, 1915 in your brain was partially erased from your head. Only those six days of December stayed. You could guess at some point you had grown into Alastor’s charming and quirky attitude, bringing him into your day to day, and after some acceptance you shared meals with him at the table.

But other than that? Nothing, nada, not a single memory of that year. 

Just that he was touchy, very touchy. Was it to rile you up into punching him again or something even more dangerous?

In the kitchen your father seemed to have a skill unknown to his own mind. He had acquired the taste for it since he had nothing but time, filling the space and silence with sweets and rarities.

“Can I help?” he looked up from a pan towards you. Pity, disgust, sadness and rage went though his face in a hurricane of emotions, upon seeing scars on your face you guessed. “Carrots, could you chop them into round slices? Not too thick please” he pointed to the green marble counter next to the stove.

“How did you meet this uh…Albert?” he broke the silence, “Alastor, dad, and through Howard” you corrected. He seemed surprised, “You don’t say, how is he?”. You hummed, “Drunk as you can imagine, he owns a radio station” you wondered how is it that he handles a business while staying drunk most of the time.  

“Huh, his degree in business helped, sort of” he was probably as disappointed as Howard's dad was. But also, there was longing and regret, it was only fair since he lost a brother. 

Silence, one you could read too well. 

After taking a deep breath you decided to speak, “You can ask”. Of course the scars would draw his attention, you knew it would be a matter of discussion. He reached out to cup your cheek, gently caressing the outline of the scar, “They prostituted me, a client got sadic and overconfident” you spoke, watching a tear roll down his eye. 

“Does he know?” he took a step away as you nodded, “I’m sorry”. He meant that, you knew that, but also you were in no mood to sugar-coat anything, “Doesn’t change what happened, but I appreciate that you feel sorry for me”.

“Try this” he offered a spoonful from one of the simmering pots, you indulged him and received it, it was creamy and salty, but you hummed in approval. “It’s Clam chowder” then he spoke and ruined the experience,  “Yuck” you grimaced.  He scoffed, feigning being offended, “You just said it's good” he began chuckling when you hit him with an unamused look, “Well yeah, before knowing what’s in it”.

Things reminded you of the old house, of the calm life before it all went to hell. The garden was covered in pretty flowers and herbs, and mom always smelled like lavender and pastries.

“Do you love him?” he spoke up, stirring another pot. “I- I don’t know, we married for convenience” it slipped, like in a matter of fact tone, which threw off the idea of your father that your marriage was just weird. “How so?” you took a second to make up a lie, but the more you thought about it the more ridiculous it sounded, “He was socially compromised due to his age and Howard didn’t want to legally deal with me, and jail wasn’t an option” so the truth - partially - was the next good idea. 

“Does he love you?” ouch, did you know that? “I don’t know, but he cares that’s for sure... and I care for him too” far too much for your liking, “Good, that’s at least something, one year of the ball and chain and many to go” his comment made you roll your eyes. 

“Does your husband like seafood?” the word came off his tongue with evident repulsion.

“He’s creole” 

“That’s a yes” 

“He’s decent” that was a lie, and he knew that, but he was wrong in the way that was true. “He’s a man, they are all the same, sex driven monsters” not him, not Alastor. “I have no faith in him, he has death in his stare, the moment you let your guard down he may cheat with a young blonde just like your mother, or kill you in your sleep” perhaps, but you could kill him first.

“And I mean, he might as well do shady business, or whatever his kind does and…” you hit the table with a knife, “His kind?” you must’ve looked like a monster, or your father wouldn't have looked at you like one. 

“I didn’t mean-” from his tethered suit you pulled him to your level, “He’s not like them! And that is more than enough for me. His skin means nothing, just like ours means nothing” you let him go forcefully.

The earth shook beneath your feet, with that everything went away in view. Even the memory of seeing Alastor’s shadow in the hallway. 

Just like that, you were back to a conscious state. Your head spun violently, to a sickening state, “If you’re going to keep pulling me in and out, might as well keep me in a coma” you opened your eyes to see Michael, and his smug face again. 

He proudly displayed his metal blue wings with pride, four, they cling like windchimes as he walked. “I wanted to talk with you” he posed as a warrior, but it was clear he lacked the poise of one. 

“Nobody at home to bore you?” No wedding ring either, but knowing his stupid stance, he probably gets himself off the opportunity to settle down. 

“That’s none of your concern, sinner” he sat down on a stool across from the machine. 

“Quite a riot of a man you married, after that did he really punch your father in the face?” He laughed. “My father pushed him too far, he deserved the punch” you chuckled, looking up at him once the image settled in. 

“Why are you still alive?” The question was confusing, “There’s some that break free from the memories, trying to escape is futile, so they use the tools to off themselves instead” he paced around you, “How come you, even when you’re conscious of the illusion, don’t pull yourself out?” 

Because in your entrapment, is the only way to see him. 

“An eternal being like yourself wouldn’t understand” that seemed to tick him off, “Why is that?” it roze a nerve he hid very well, but the subtle tic of his eye let him out in the open. “Because when you live forever nothing has meaning anymore” you let out, then after a deep breath and brazing yourself, you let go of a punch - metaphorically - “How can you sleep at night, knowing that you pushed your own brother off the holy lands?” he kicked off the metal stool in response. 

“You weren’t there” he shouted, that clearly was a soft spot. “I know that blood runs thicker than water” his eyes shifted to a bright light, then your head started hurting,like fingers roaming around the crevices of your brain, then he smirked.

 “Like you and your mother?” 

“That’s different” 

“Is it?” 

“That’s a new one, you’re on a new level of rape, get out of my head!” Michael felt as if he had been bitten in the face by a wolf, he backed up on instinct and hit the back of his head with the glass. “Sturdy, I’ll give you that” he straightened his hair.

“It’s strong willed demons like yourself that make this more exciting” he ignited a back panel, “Amazing how an angel like yourself can be sicker than a human” after a few seconds the machine powered up and the electricity made lights out for you. 

-----

A friend of dorothy*: slang for gay

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Tuesday, April 1, Part I

Dawn: You think it's true ... what he said? Buffy: I don't know. Dawn: Destroyer of the universe. I guess cutting school doesn't seem so bad now, huh? Buffy: It's not you. You know that. Dawn: But it's in me ... isn't it? It's inside me. What are we gonna do? Buffy: I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.

~~Buffy Season 5 Episode #98: "Spiral"~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

One Heart Beating (Buffy/Angel, T) by badly_knitted

Place in the Universe 16: non sum qualis eram and 17 (Ensemble, T, Blake’s 7 xover) by madimpossibledreamer

Red in Tooth and Claw (Faith, Willow, T) by Willow Jane (Willomina)

she sometimes dreams like air (Buffy/Tara, T) by belledamn

Lacy Ripper (Giles/Jenny/Anya, M) by TheClowniestLivInExistence

I like boys (Angel/Kate, Connor, G) by TheClowniestLivInExistence

make your heart beat faster like boom boom boom (Angel/Riley, M) by MadeInGold

Edge of Dawn (Buffy/Angel, T) by Scribes1015

To Prove Yourself Worthy (Buffy/Angel, T) by Greensword101

[Chaptered Fiction]

They Know Exactly What We're Here For Ch. 12 (Angel/Riley/Spike, E) by MadeInGold

Ragged, Young, Possessed, and Sauced Ch. 13 (Buffy/Faith, E) by thisyearsgrrl

Stolen Moments Ch. 8 (Buffy/Spike, G) by flootzavut

Ommission Ch. 24 (Riley/Spike, E) by toutes_les_routes

Older Ch. 21 (Buffy/Angel, unrated) by KairosImprimatur

Red Xandra: Season One Ch. 13 (Xander, Ensemble, T) by Kickaha

With Sprinkles Ch. 47 (Xander, M, multiple xovers and pairings) by dogbertcarroll, Narsil

One Girl in all the World CH. 12 (Buffybot, Ensemble, M) by wi11der

Reprise//Ще раз Ch. 10 (Buffy/Spike, E, Russian Language) by Uraniya

Lost and Found Ch. 27 (Willow/Tara, T) by sixofstakes

The Blood Rushing Through Her Veins Ch. 8 (Buffy/Angel, E) by Saphire_Naida

Corrigendo Tabulam Ch. 6 (Willow/Tara, unrated) by lyrical_echoes

Faith & Hope Ch. 6 (Faith, T, Degrassi the Next Generation xover) by KitRokaku

The Other Side of Someday Ch. 3 (Buffy/Angel, G) by maryjanerambles

Clean Slate Ch. 4 (Buffy/Spike, M) by bdenn

The joining of souls Ch. 16 (Buffy, Dawn, unrated, LotR xover) by Delfyne_Gwenn

who could ever leave me, darling – but who could stay? (you could stay) Ch. 18 (COMPLETE) (Buffy/Spike, E) by MillennialCryBaby

Faith The Series Ch. 2 (Faith, Ensemble, T) by jinxismyeverything

Reckless Ch. 1 (Multiple Pairings, E) by drsquidlove

demon and squirrel Ch. 2 (COMPLETE) (Buffy/Spike, T) by platosgirl (kitkat246)

To Step into the Same River Twice: Ch. 39 (Willow/Tara, E) by VladimirHarkonnen (TheLightdancer)

Mirror, Mirror, Chapter 22 (Buffy/Spike, E) by scratchmeout

Try Not to Think About What Might Have Been, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Willow25

Where We Went From There, Chapter 11 (Buffy/Spike, ) by Pyewacket

Fun During the Apocalypse, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, M) by DarkVoid116

Troubling Deaf Heaven, Chapter 12 (Buffy/Spike, M) by JuneCurry

Hell Hath No Fury, Chapter 12 (Buffy/Spike, M) by the_big_bad

Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?, Chapter 29-30 (Buffy/Spike, T) by Gabby

Operation: Vampyre, Chapter 7-8 (Buffy/Spike, E) by DarkVoid116

Just a Taste, Chapter 8-9 (Buffy/Spike, E) by The Danish Bird

Stolen Moments, Chapter 19-22 (Buffy/Spike, G) by flootzavut

Fury of the Fallen, Chapter 15-16 (Buffy/Spike, E) by CheekyKitten

Small Hours, Chapter 14 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Niamh

Burn, Chapter 19 (Buffy/Spike, T) by violettathepiratequeen

Descent of the Slayer, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, E) by VoronaFiernan

The Zeppo In Time, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, E) by CheekyKitten

This Saturday (and Every Subsequent Saturday for All of Eternity), Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Maxine Eden

The Pryce of Tyme, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Joan963z, Ragini

Lie to Me, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, E) by CheekyKitten

Scenes From a Session, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, E) by In Mortal

Key Point of View, Chapter 22-23 (Buffy/Spike, E) by VeroNyxK84

This Is Me Trying, Chapter 14-30 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Kenijo

Unauthorized, Chapter 31 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Girlytek

Finding Me, Finding Us, Chapter 29-31 (Buffy/Spike, T) by Penny1880

Transitory, Chapter 6-15 (Buffy/Spike, T) by GhostsInLove

Multiplicity, Chapter 30 (Buffy/Spike, M) by simmony

Reply Hazy, Try Again, Chapter 30-21 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Alyot

Queen of Everything, Chapter 30 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Dusty

Revelations, Chapter 15 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Niamh

Orotundity, Chapter 12 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Behind Blue Eyes

Spit To See The Shine, Chapter 28-31 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Annyankers

Wherever Life Takes You, Chapter 2-4 (Buffy/Spike, T) by VioletMoon

Chip Called Riley 1: An Unwritten History (Buffy/Spike, M) by myrabeth

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: The Angel Investigations Polycule by Kittenwritings

Artwork: Traces of Red (Warren/Andrew) by GarsCrucible

Artwork: A Dose of Death (Warren/Andrew) by GarsCrucible

Artwork: Together Forever (Warren/Andrew/Jonathan) by GarsCrucible

Artwork: Spike by 0-pepites-0

Artwork: Nerd Trio Cartoon by garscrucible

Artwork: Xander and Andrew by garscrucible

Artwork: Warren & Andrew Cartoon by garscrucible

Artwork: Warren by garscrucible

Artwork: Buffy & Spike by inksilvery

Artwork: Amy Madison by sideartblog999

Artwork: Buffy & Spike by foundinthevoid

Artwork: Drusilla & Spike by oddfoggy

Artwork: I cannot express how much I wanted the series to cover Buffy finding out Spike came back to life. by djmanemihi

Artwork: Buffy & Spike by sayanrougshaban

Video: Call of the Zombie (Hush) Vidlet by fatalfaeri

Manip: Episodic art for BtVS 04.02. “Living Conditions” by revello-drive-1630

Manip: Buffyverse Art Post by fatalfaeri

Artwork: ATS 302. That Vision Thing by tmcarlee

[Reviews & Recaps]

Video: Episode 1: "Welcome to the Hellmouth by Major Slayage

Season 2, Episode 1, “When She Was Bad.” by violettathepiratequeen

ReWatch Review: Angel - S4, E2 by sweetcritique

ReWatch Review: Angel - S4, E1 by sweetcritique

PODCAST: ARS 314 - Couplet by Another Buffy Podcast

[Community Announcements]

April 2025 Posts by [community profile] fic_promptly

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[nogacheloveka-blog]

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

[dailyanarchistposts]

Co-operation and human nature

A second anthropological generalisation relates to principles of reciprocity and co-operation. Social Darwinists applied the doctrine of survival of the fittest and the struggle for existence to the human social world and argued for the paramount importance of struggle and competition between individuals. Those who are successful in such competition are seen as the best. This was, of course, quite amenable to a burgeoning capitalist economy offering as it did a justification for the superiority of the rich and powerful and for the inferiority of the poor and disadvantaged. The notion that competition is a necessary and universally dominant feature of the human condition therefore has become a common part of the middle-class creed. The data of anthropology does not dispute that competition is an element in human relations, but there is an enormous variation amongst different cultures in the expression of this phenomenon. The well-known Pueblo Indigenous people, especially the Hopi and Zuni, of the American southwest are an example of people who inhibit competitive expression. It is even difficult to teach Hopi and Zuni children Euro-American competitive games and sports. Yet there is no reason to doubt that Pueblo culture has not been in its time a very successful adaptation.

Not only is there great variation from culture to culture in the expression of competition, but within a given culture there are some areas in which competition may be encouraged and others where it is definitely discouraged. The contemporary cultures of Western Europe and North America are a case in point. American children, for example, may be taught to compete vigorously in games and sports and in school grades. Later they will be expected to continue this competition in the business world. On the other hand, it is expected that one should co-operate in the home and also in the neighbourhood and parent organisations. Similarly, while the Northwest Coast Indigenous were notorious for their encouragement of intensely competitive feast and gift giving ceremonies (potlatches), it is often not adequately stressed that the sponsorship of a potlatch depended first upon the co-operative effort of a large group of kinsmen.

Peter Kropotkin was one of the earliest to attempt to counter the Social Darwinist emphasis on tooth and claw struggle when he wrote Mutual Aid: A Factor in Evolution. In it he catalogues countless cases of co-operation both in the natural world and in human societies. Marcel Mauss and Claude Levi-Strauss stressed the idea of reciprocity as a fundamental and universally important feature of human societies. Reciprocity is a system of exchange found in every known human group. Items (gifts) are passed from one person or group to another with the implicit assumption that in the future items (gifts) will be offered to the donors by the recipients. Reciprocity takes different forms, but the fundamental type is a balanced reciprocity in which there is an exchange of goods of approximately equal value between participants who, at least in the context of the exchange situation, are of equal standing. Reciprocity then entails co-operation and mutual aid and is the essence of Proudhon's notions of mutualism and contract.

Both archaeological and ethnographical research support the hypothesis of the cardinal importance of co-operation in human groups. Some form of human family has proven to be the most enduring of all institutions, having survived for thousands of millennia. Whatever the type of family, none operates on a principle of survival of the fittest, at least with the relation between parents and dependent children where a sort of communist arrangement exists in which one receives according to need and gives according to ability. Families, and indeed all kinship groupings, are in some way mutual aid associations. They could not be otherwise.

Reciprocity is an explanation for one theory for the origin of the family. It holds that in the period of roughly one to three million years ago, our ancestors acquired a taste for meat. Females would have been restricted in any hunting and scavenging activity by the presence of immature dependent offspring. Males, on the other hand, were free to indulge in far-flung hunting and scavenging. A relatively permanent bond between adult males and female provided meat and protection and females reared the young and foraged for vegetable food and small animals. This is also an explanation for the origins of the sexual division of labour.

Hunting and gathering was the only way of life for humans until the advent of plant and animal domestication about 12,000 years ago. Ancient hunter-gatherers, as well as those who survived to modern times, necessarily engaged in extensive co-operation amongst members of the group. Hunting, for example, invariably entails elaborate co-ordination of the activity of several participants. The more simple the weapons one has, the more dependent one is on collective hunting. The isolated independent hunter is more a product of the rifle and the steel trap.

The origins and the possibilities for culture are dependent upon the evolution of co-operative and reciprocity institutions, since such institutions provide for some permanency of positive relationships which in turn provide for the exchange of ideas and the transmission of tradition, which is the heart of all cultures.

[spiky-berry21]

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!🍄

[nessieart]

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!

[seth-burroughs]

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

[cloudwolfieaskblog]

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.

[lucascecil]

Third Doctor - Project: Blue Box

TV Stories

◆ Spearhead from Space

◆ The Silurians

◆ The Ambassadors of Death

◆ Inferno

◆ Terror of the Autons

◆ The Mind of Evil

◆ The Claws of Axos

◆ Colony in Space

◆ The Daemons

◆ Day of the Daleks

◆ The Curse of Peladon

◆ The Sea Devils

◆ The Mutants

◆ The Time Monster

◆ The Three Doctors

◆ Carnival of Monsters

◆ Frontier in Space

◆ Planet of the Daleks

◆ The Green Death

◆ The Time Warrior

◆ Invasion of the Dinosaurs

◆ Death to the Daleks!

◆ The Monster of Peladon

◆ Planet of Spiders

Audio Adventures

- 3rd Doctor Adventures

◆ Prisoners of the Lake

◆ The Havoc of Empires

◆ The Transcendence of Ephros

◆ The Hidden Realm

◆ The Conquest of Far

◆ Storm of the Horofax

◆ The Rise of the New Humans

◆ The Tyrants of Logic

◆ Primord

◆ The Scream of Ghosts

◆ Poison of the Daleks

◆ Operation: Hellfire

◆ The Unzal Incursion

◆ The Gulf

◆ Conspiracy in Space

◆ The Devil’s Hoofprints

◆ The Annihiltors

◆ Kaleidoscope

◆ Supernature

◆ The Conservitors

◆ The Iron Shore

◆ Intelligence for War

◆ Revolution in Space

◆ The Quintessence

◆ The Brain Drain

- Audio Novels

◆ Scourge of the Cybermen

◆ The Box of Terrors

- The Companion Chronicles

◆ Old Soldiers

◆ Shadow of the Past

◆ The Last Post

◆ Binary

◆ The Blue Tooth

◆ The Rings of Ikiria

◆ The Sentinels of the New Dawn

◆ The Doll of Death

◆ The Magician’s Oath

◆ Tales from the Vault

◆ Find and Replace

◆ The Mists of Time

◆ The Scorchies

◆ The Many Deaths of Jo Grant

◆ Ghost in the Machine

◆ The Three Companions

- The Lost Stories

◆ The Mega

◆ Deathworld

- Classic Doctor, New Monsters

◆ The House That Hoxx Built

- Short Trips

◆ Landbound

◆ The Blame Game

◆ Walls of Confinement

◆ The Christmas Dimension

◆ Blue Boxes

◆ A Home From Home

◆ Taken for Granted

◆ Damascus

◆ Gardeners’ World

◆ The Switching

◆ The Other Woman

◆ Still Life

◆ Pop-Up

◆ Time Tunnel

◆ The Same Face

◆ Sphinx Lightning 

◆ Lost in the Wakefield Triangle

◆ Waiting for Gadot

◆ A True Gentleman 

◆ The Threshold

◆ AWOL

◆ Crime at the Cinema

◆ Decline of the Ancient Mariner

- Prose Short Trips

◆ Freedom

◆ Honest Living

◆ Countdown to TV Action

◆ Still Lives

◆ The Switching

◆ The Tip of the Mind

◆ Hidden Talent

◆ Losing Track of Time

◆ The Discourse of Files

◆ An Overture Too Early

◆ Deep Stretch

◆ Come Friendly Bombs…

◆ Primitives

◆ The Seismologist’s Story

◆ The Dead Man’s Story

◆ The Steward’s Story

◆ The Touch of Nurash

◆ /Carpenter/Butterfly/Baronet

◆ UNIT Christmas Parties: First Christmas

◆ UNIT Christmas Parties: Christmas Truce

◆ Angel

◆ Morphology

◆ Neptune

◆ Sedna

◆ The Lampback Wars

◆ The Thousand Years of Christmas

◆ The Bad Guy

◆ Separation Day

◆ Echoes

◆ Dream Devils

◆ Ancient Whispers

◆ An Overture Too Early

◆ Hide and Seek

◆ Midnight in the Café on the Black Mountain

◆ Spoilsport

◆ She Knew

◆ Faithful Friends: Part 1

◆ The Sommerton Fetch

◆ Jigsaw

◆ Numb

◆ Rock Star

◆ Generation Gap

◆ Link

◆ Potential

◆ A Visit from Saint Nicholas

◆ Dateline to Deadline

◆ Interesting Times

◆ Lost and Founded

◆ Hiccup in Time

◆ The Science of Magic

◆ Once Upon a Time Machine

- Virgin Decalogs

◆ The Straw That Broke the Camel’s Back

◆ Prisoner of the Sun

◆ Where the Heart Is

◆ … And Eternity in an Hour

Books

◆ Dancing the Code

◆ The Eye of the Giant

◆ The Scales of Injustice

◆ Speed of Flight

◆ The Devil Goblins from Neptune

◆ The Face of the Enemy

◆ Catastrophea

◆ The Wages of Sin

◆ Last of the Gaderene

◆ Verdigris

◆ The Quantum Archangel

◆ Rags

◆ Amorality Tale

◆ The Suns of Caresh

◆ Deadly Reunion

◆ Island of Death

◆ Nightdreamers