#mimic wraith

[thatonepikminperson]

Okay second to last post about this topic today, I just love this page. In the top left, we have Pom suffering, and on the rest of the page, we have wraiths SLAYING those outfits!

[sirwow]

what are harbringer’s thoughts on the mamuta with the whole “smoky progg are mamuta eggs mutated by the lumiknoll” thing?

he doesn't really care what happens to them

[changeling-rin]

Would Wraith use Gimmighoul for storage? Also, what does the ghost boy think of new ghostie? (It is dark. You are likely to be poked by a Servo.)

Depends on if the Gimmighoul wants store things for him! But if he finds one that would be up for it, then yeah absolutely. They're adorable, why would he not?

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere! X-Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓔𝔁𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ♡ ｡ ゜

˚୨♡୧˚Magneto - Erik Lehnsherr | مگنیتو - اریک لنشر 

Techno graces your body in lieu of veins. Wires coiling like arteries should. You use it to mimic him, embody him, be him. His starry-eyed parody. Erik needs you to be more, to be everything he -and everybody else- could never be. You are synthetic and sacred in every way, you are the future he so desperately craves. 

He can't help seeing them when he looks at you. The reverend wraiths of tortured adoration speak to him through your eyes. He sees a bit of everyone inside you, Charles, Raven, Rogue... their faces flashing like holy ghosts. You have too many constellations inside of you, all on the verge of erupting. It keeps him up at night, especially when you're curled up on your side of the bed, asleep and oblivious. 

"You will save us, little one, you will be the savior we have longed for"

He feels the centuries rolling through him, desperately lost, trying to find his way back to a home he never even knew. Maybe that's why he kneels, brushing his lips across your knuckles tracing each vein in hopes that'll lead him back to a place he's only ever seen in his dreams. I'll stay lost, I'll wait for you to find me. He knows you will, you'll do anything for him. He's sure of it. 

Genosha asks for a queen, demands it really. It's funny how these things work. Funny how those who rule the world are so intent on destroying it. Kingdoms aren't built in a day yet they can so easily be toppled in one. In turn, Magento asks you. Who else? It's his one cardinal tenet, you are the savior he could never be. The one his people, your people, need. Erik rolls your name between his lips, relishing as the syllables melt on his tongue. There's a magnetic pull to 'queen' it tastes like a hallowed prayer. "My queen" he whispers in your ear, his tongue sending sparks up the cartilage shell. Magneto pins you to his lap, keeping you tethered to his strong body. His fingers run lines up your hips indulging in your presence. You don't squirm although he suspects you want to. his lips lower, kissing your jugular and savoring the ungainly moan that slips past your pretty lips. "M-Magneto" He's only now realizing you've never called him by his birthname, maybe cause in some way you find it treacherous that he should bear such a human thing. He may see you as salvation, yet you've always gazed at him with the pietistic eyes of a zealous worshipper. 

"Use your power, feel the magnetic pull flowing through you."

"You're overcomplicating it again, master, I just need to command that which I need lifted."

You've always been a rebellious student. The sardonic irony isn't lost on him, Magneto finds it fitting that he should master such an intricate pupil.

He wonders if you can forgive him for the bodies he's scattered in your name. From this far up he doubts you notice the broken bodies littering the concrete. He'll do it all again, anything to keep your distractions at bay. His kind needs a leader, not another sanctimonious hero.

You will be their savior.

You will be his queen.

♠️🂱♠️Gambit - Remy Lebeau | گمبیت - رمی لیبو

Remy wonders if the king ever longs to be stacked with the queen. Holding his breath every time the cards are shuffled. Praying that this time, this time for sure, he'll be next to her. Gambit's holding his breath too. There's a lively lilt when you giggle, he wonders if you truly grasp how much he means every word. "Mon Cheri, you know you're the only one for me." It sounds so childish, so jejune and Gambit knows he's too old for school-boy crushes. But he can't help it, he's desperate too, just another aspirant king vying for the attention of his red queen. 

You once told him the blacks of his eyes remind you of a starry night sky back home. He thinks about that too much. About the sting of your hand on his shoulder and how good it felt sitting crooked in his bones. So that's why an ace surpasses the king. There is only, one who holds power. Maybe it's never been about the queen or the king or the royal house. It's been the Ace all along. Remy only has one heart, he knows he only has one ace too. There was an ace of hearts on your nightstand this morning, you don't recall how it got there. 

Remy's kisses are too explosive, they hold all the weight of a dying star. Yet the force never ceases, it feeds off the detonations only growing stronger, you think you'll be consumed in this kinetic nova he calls love. 

-`X´- Cyclops - Scott Summers | ��یکلوپ - سکات سامرز

There's a shutter of loneliness crawling up his spine. He knows you feel it too. Scott bends and breaks under its crushing weight. You've always been there, tangible, solid. You're the living metaphor for a rock in a raging river. He just can't find the right words yet. You can't see his eyes, you can't withstand his power. But you can be there holding his hand through it all. 

'Is this selfishness'? Scott wonders and he kisses you under a dying moon. He's never had anything to call his own, nothing that stayed for long anyway. He's snuffed out his desires his whole life. His place is with the X-men, playing the no-choice hero of a thankless story. But you, you're still here, you never left. Even now you stand still as his lips taint yours. He feels your fear, undue thing that it is. But he can't let you go not when everything is always marred in endless red monochrome and melancholy. Not when the only blessing the universe had ever given him comes in the shape of you. He's so tired of only ever knowing the life of a perfect toy soldier. 'Stay' he begs you between each kiss, each touch. Please just stay. Ease his pain.

 

☽✭☾ Wolverine - Logan Howlett | ولورین - لوگان هاولت

He's been alive longer than he cares to count. Running from one hell to another. He remembers your ghost, essence weaving between places too blurred to be graced with a name. But he remembers you, he swears he does. It's just that time is so fickle and so few can withstand its crushing tides. 

"How have you been, Logan?" 

"I..ah... fine, just fine." 

When he looks at you he can't believe the changes. There's no trace of the rosy cheecked little girl who used to chase demons in the snowbanks. Playing hide and seek with every stray in the neighborhood. That's good, he thinks, he likes this refined dignitary better, somehow it brings out your eyes. There's a feral gaze when he looks at you, he thought he was over that. He feels the pulsing of his heart reverberate through his claws. It brings back something less than memories, something nostalgic, yet all so distant it may as well have been the sent of his childhood home. It's not right he thinks, as his claws trace your curves trying to feel something he knows is lost. You quiver, trying to make yourself smaller and he knows, he knows he shouldn't do this. But there are just so many pieces missing and he's never tried to look for any of them. Maybe just this once he can delude himself into remembering. 

˚ʚ★ɞ˚ Nightcrawler - Kurt Wagner | شب خزنده - کورت واگنر

Not too long ago this used to be fine. He's always been better within shadows, letting the soft dark weave around his body. Obscurity has always felt like a second home, a haven in everything but consistency. You speak in italics, talking and talking without understanding what he shoulders. If he didn't deem it blasphemy, Kurt would gladly dub himself Eros.

You would be Psyche. Oblivious, sweet Psyche.

Kurt longs to kiss your cheek, he knows it'll only starve him for more. He wonders how soft your hands will feel. If you'll You cradle his face nails tracing the sharp point of his ears, his fangs, the jagged scar he got from dreaming of you in the danger room. Will you grace him with a kiss? Something to relinquish the anguish stirring within. This should be fine, you're talking to him, laughing with him as he remains hidden within the dark. And yet how can he see this as anything less than retribution? You're so close, just a breath away. If only he could reach out and...

۵𓋹۵ Apocalypse - En Sabah Nur | آپآکلپژ- ان صباح نور

Your heartbeat sounds all too familiar. He used to hear it a thousandfold walking down the Bazaar's street. It's dead now, the noise, the rapture, the music. He wonders what went right for your heart to beat to such a lost tune?  He remembers once hearing that pain travels through families until it lands on the right generation. He's glad fate picked you. He's glad you share the same ancient burdens.

He puts the stars in the sky.

You've been warned against worshipping false idols so blindly.

Yet how can one not fall at his feet?

He who makes the earth tremble and mighty cower. 

He who seems to know everything you do not. 

Your fingers thread through his hair. It's too black, like staring at a moonless sky in December. You wonder if the eternal ebony is what gives Apocolypse his cynical edge. He laughs at the comment as he melts into your familiar touch."Thank you" he mutters. His pride laces every word twisting them into something metaphysical. Nur wonders if you catch the true sentiment behind the words. If the sand and stars make it through. 

You're too archaic for this time Nur thinks as he watches you run across the fields. The other mutants are there, persistent in the games you all play. In his time he'd have already declared you his wife. Do you know the ancient ceremonies? Would you have gifted him gold or flesh? The yearning builds in his throat. Maybe he should have stayed dead. 

Apocolypse lingers the days away in your room, plotting, scheming. You keep him hidden like a blood secret. He's the only one who seems to understand where your power comes from, where you come from. " I could win against you...someday" Your fingers glow igniting a forgotten glow, Nur can't help but laugh as he traces the curve of your spine. " I don't doubt you could, beloved." His blue lips are on the length of your neck. Everything about you screams dead nostalgia. You've followed him through lifetimes. Smiling as you dragged him across the sand dunes just to watch the sunset. How he longs to carve you open and feel your heart between his teeth. 

He's choking on sand.

Drowning in stardust.

Nur feels like he's swallowed the sun whole. Devoured Ra and spat out his holy bones. He still feels the sting of its rays seeping through his teeth. He's divinity and desperation are all in the same breath. Apocalypse and Nur are just two sides of the same daric. You stand in front of him, tracing the blues of his face, kissing the reds of his eyes. An excavation into the lost, unearthing that which could collapse the world. You enjoy him, savor him, keeping his gold essence on your tongue locked behind rose-tinted lips. You beg Nur to dig through your bones, open you up, unseal every crypt. He obliges, kissing the hollow of your bones until his teeth graze your unsteady heart.

"And what will you do once you meet the real world?"

"Oh, nothing, the real world will have to meet me first."

There is so much blood, he doesn't remember doing this. You stand beside him watching the sand in the hourglass run out. He is Apocolypse bringer of destruction, the end of worlds, funny how he needed you, frail sweet thing that you are, to remind him of this. It's only when he looks at you, really really looks at you that he realizes how many things are still the same. Twisted deformed yet still they harbor their old shapes. Apocolypse kisses you under the shade of a palm tree hoping it'll mean something in the end.

Hoping everything can just go back. 

[running-with-kn1ves]

 Male Love Interest: Masterlist~~ (OG Work)

ADVISATORY WARNING: This list potentially deals with yandere behavior, violence, death, non/dub-con, NSFT, etc.! Please read at your own risk.

Last Updated: Sept. 25th, 2024

Male love interest

Rich! Yandere X Yandere! Reader 

Yandere! MIMIC Creature X Reader

Yandere Gym Trainer X Client Reader

Yandere! Killer Clown X Reader

Yandere Boyfriend X Insecure! Reader (Pt.2 In the Book Stacks)

Photographer X Reader

Stalker X Reader

Yandere X “I can fix them” Reader 

Satin Pillows to Cry On

Masked Intruder X Reader l Masked Intruder X Reader Pt. 2 l Masked Intruder X Reader Pt. 3

Virgin! Best friend X Reader (NSFT!)

Yandere Masochist X Reader (NSFT!)

(NSFT!) Jealous Boyfriend X Reader l (NSFT!) Jealous Boyfriend Pt.2 (Valentines day) X Reader (NSFT!) Jealous Boyfriend X Flirting Reader

Yandere Best Friend X GN Virgin! Reader (NSFT!)

CRUSH(ED)

Yandere X Amnesiac! GN Reader

Cannibal X Reader l Cannibal X Reader pt. 2

Rich! Husband X Reader

Stalker X Reader

Possessive Delinquent X Reader l Possessive Delinquent X Reader Pt. 2 l Possessive Delinquent X Reader pt. 3

Secret Admirer X Reader l Secret Admirer X Reader Pt. 2

Childhood Friend! X Reader

Yandere Soulmate! X Reader

Male! Yandere x Servant Reader (Drabble)

Christmas Intruder X Reader

Fantasy

Giant X Faerie Reader

Orc Tribal Leader X Reader

Wedding Night- Orc Warrior X Reader

Manticore X Reader

Doll X Reader

Elf(Cirdan) X Reader

Elf (Cirdan) X Reader Pt. 2 (NSFT!)

Satyr God X Human Reader

Satyr X Human Reader Pt. 2 (NSFT!)

Elf Lord X Entertainer! Reader

Orc X Guard! Reader

Werewolf Elias X Reader

Werewolf Elias X Reader Pt. 2

Naga X Reader

Naga X Reader Pt. 2

Werewolf Boyfriend X Reader

Incubus X Human Reader

Alien X Reader

Alien X Reader (Pt.2)

Wraith X Reader

Mothman X Reader

Plant Creature X Reader

Shapeshifter X Reader

Symbiote Armor X Reader

Vampire X Reader

Mermaid X Reader

AFAB! Reader

Sleepy Afternoons: Dragon Boyfriend X Reader (Period comfort)

Omega! Male Yandere X Alpha! Fem Reader

Ex-husband X Pregnant Fem! Reader

(NSFT!) Robot X Fem! Reader

(NSFT!) Kidnapper Drabble AFAB

AMAB! Reader

(NSFT!) Kidnapper Drabble AMAB

Male + Female Love Interest

Incubus + Succubus X Reader  Incubus + Succubus X Reader SMUT

Male! Yandere X GN Reader X Female! Yandere

[lethesbeastie]

There are benefits to living on a mimic ship. This is not one of them :)

Bit of lore below the cut for those who are curious

Meet The Wanderer's Jaws! A living ship with a reputation as wide as her grin, and home to Wraith and their crew!

How exactly a mimic of such colossal size managed to survive for so long is a question almost as contested as the truth of the ship's existence; while every sailor has heard of the Wanderer and the fearsome Captain Nautilus who guides her, few have encountered the ship and lived to tell the tale. Those who have survived tell frightening tales of a beast that eats the ships that challenge her and savors the flesh of their crews, or of a captain with teeth as sharp as the monster he steers. And, as of recent, the sailors have started spinning new tales. Stories of something strange being kept aboard the monster, something that shifts it's faces like the sea shifts it's tides, a ghost that had once haunted the merchant's seas brought into the fold of the Wanderer's crew. Of course, such things are just rumors among those who cannot prove such a ship even exists.

Wraith has lived aboard the Wanderer's Jaws for four years now; like the rest of her crew, they've come to be unphased by the eccentricites of the Wanderer, and love her as one of their own. They rarely leave the safety of the ship, knowing the world beyond is dangerous for a hybrid as strange as them, and as such they've developed a very close bond with the giant mimic. It's just as well; separated from their crew as they are now, their bond with the ship may be what saves them. Still, a mimic needs to eat, and now it's up to Wraith to keep her fed. Perhaps following a pirate into the maw of a mimic wasn't the smartest idea...

[ultimateempath]

A Compiled List of the Reasons Louie is the Most Unhinged & Unfathomable character Nintendo has ever created

Spent his childhood eating bugs and now finds ways to prepare & eat various pnf-404 creatures, which wouldn't be all that unusual...EXCEPT THAT THE ENTIRE REST OF THE HOCOTATIAN RACE ARE VEGETARIANS. HES A GENETIC ANOMALY.

has to actively restrain himself from eating the pikmin and still fantasized about how they taste

has attempted to eat a majority of the treasures we collect

Consumed his bosses entire cargo of golden pikpik carrots and then lied about it.

Attempted to transform multiple innocent people into leaflings solely because he was advised by Olimar to mimic him at work. thats it, there's no other reason for this behaviour

Tried to kill us like three times now for no reason other than...wanting to be left alone I guess???

Stole food from groups of stranded explorers, twice. Both of which were koppaite teams trying to save their people from starvation.

Jumped off the S.S Shepherd during takeoff with the desire to stay on pnf-404 forever, seemingly not putting into account the fact that his life support will run out eventually. Or maybe he did think about that and wants to become a leafling, who the hell knows.

Has somehow managed to tame and control what, like two or three different wild beasts now? Which he then used to try to kill us as previously mentioned.

Appears to be selectively mute and also ignores Olimar & everyone else for no good reason.

Tried to eat the water wraith.

he never gives any explanation for any of his behaviour. He's just like that, he's a complete and utter enigma to his own kind, pnf-404, and the rest of the universe.

In conclusion: Louie is a little freak, I absolutely adore him, and Miyamoto had to have been on something to create the weird lil guy and continue his unexplained antics in every pikmin game since then.

[lethesbeastie]

Movie night with the mimic squad

Mike is short for Michael Wave :3

Now I'm just thinking about a person finding out that all their household appliances have been replaced by mimics in similar ways as with the fridge. They put bread in the toaster and it eats it. They try to bake a casserole and come back to it done cooking but with a large bite taken out. They stare into the sink dramatically because all their appliances are mimics and the sink stares back. Non of the mimics eat them because they keep feeding them on accident. The appliance mimics all still function as appliances. The person eventually decides that this is better for the electricity bill than getting rid of the mimics so they just keep the mimic appliances and feed them regularly

AWESOME. and honestly this isn't a huge downside you just have to treat the mimics with respect and suddenly you have a toaster who knows how you like your toaster. adore this so much beastie you have nooo idea

[paradoxicalli]

GIGS as phasmo ghosts

This is no original idea, but which ghost best fits the GIGS phasmo crew?

Grian

Demon. They can hunt whenever they want, regardless of external factors like sanity. Grian can and will bring potentially lethal chaos to any and all situations. (Also, pls consider Grimon) Alternative picks

Moroi, for their sanity draining abilities

Revenant, because they’re most deadly when they see you. Almost like they’re always watching

Honorble mention: Grioni, deogrian

Impulse

Not sure, first pick Phantom. He does the camera a lot, and he can’t be in the photo if he’s the one taking it. Also Phantompulse S8 our beloved Alternative picks

Spirit, purely for the irony of it. Ain’t no way this boy is the generic default ghoul. But consider Impulse’s love of smudge sticks, and a spirit’s intolerance.

Demon because Imp

Banshee, Skiz is the target. ImpulseSV ImpulseBanshee

Deogen, I just think he’d like it. Deos are fun, and he does sometimes meme people with a voice changer. (Deo spirit box)

Yokai on account of how many times he just straight up doesn’t hear Gem

Oni, since no one else knows what the deal is with the hiss. Onimpulse

Gem

Myling. They’re quiet, a bit sneaky, and deadly. You don’t know how screwed you are until you’re already facing Geminislay. Alternative picks

Yokai, because she WILL kill you if you don’t shut up

Shade, the very shy ghost, for when Gem stays in the van and doesn’t go see the other ghoulies.

Revenant. Slow, deliberate steps in time with Gem’s as she strolls through her calm cottage core village. But then she sees you and BOOM ya dead.

Hantu. Canada. Cold.

Honorable mention: GeminiThaye, Jinninitay, GemOnitay

Goodtimeswithscar (Scar)

Wraith. Consider a flying ghost wheelchair. That’s why he doesn’t step in salt. There’s also similarities in the wraiths teleportation ability and being Hot Guy’d. Alternative picks

Poltergeist. They’re known for throwing things around and general chaos. The item explosions happen when he hits things with his wheelchair. Poltergoodtimeswithscar

Banshee, because of the iconic *scared whimpering Scar noises* when running away from things

Mimic, their shifty and confounding tendencies cleanly mirror Scar’s sales tactics.

Honorable mentions: The goodTwinswithscar

Skizzelman:

Poltergeist. YEET. Just overall chaos, mostly just has polty vibes. Alternative picks

The Twins. Sometimes he’s quick sometimes he’s not. It’s anyone’s guess, and he certainly isn’t thinking about it.

Mare. In the absence of light, there is no color. Especially after guess the build, we’re all starting to think Skizz is color blind. SkizzelMare

Banshee, Impulse is the target.

Please let me know if you have any more ideas!

[ann-atar]

A few more observations from ep. 7:

!!!spoilers!!!

Angbang folks we're living well. I'll be chanting for a flashback to the days of "pain became a game" at some point next season.

Celebrimbor's horror when he realized the "mithril ore" was Sauron's pitch black blood. "What is this?" What is this stuff, Annatar, that's all over every surface, on my hands, and in my hair? I put mithril ore in my coffee this morning, did I drink your blood? (This is great insight into the wraith phenomena and the rings' effects on Men but fuuuccck.)

The pattern, the cycle. Sauron's illusion can only mimic life, and he's trapped in the cycle of abuser and abused. Does he get it? He's choking on it but doesn't quite understand what's caught in his throat, so to speak.

Mirdania's horrifying, tragic end. Another thing I didn't see coming! I love it when shows surprise me. Once disembodied she'll be back in Mandos' Halls, and she'll eventually be reunited with Celebrimbor in Aman.

Gil-galad looks fabulous in armor. Now he needs a floppy asymmetrical haircut like Elrond's. Benjamin Walker is such a good-looking man, let's style him up! (Yes I'm shallow.)

Galadriel is drawing strength from three people in this ep: Elrond, Celebrimbor(!!!), and Adar. She's beginning to see Adar as a reflection of what could be if she ever gives in to what I'm calling the Sauron-effect: Adar is ruined and corrupted, so obsessed it might kill him and enslave the Uruk again; Celebrimbor is the other side to that, someone who broke free but is still broken, he turned back toward the light and now he has turned around to face the consequences.

Or maybe four people: that scene with Arondir got me good.

I wrote this post about Adar and the possible implications of using Nenya yesterday, @baddybaddyadardaddy wrote this amazing post about the idea that final confrontation this season might be a three-person fight, and when I watched the ep again the way they frame Adar as being caught between darkness and light was so apparent. Crossing my fingers for this because damn, that would be some fine storytelling.

Poor Durin. And Elrond waiting for him on the battlefield was just so awful. I really hope Durin can resist the call of the rings but this confrontation with this father will make him emotionally vulnerable. BUT if he is tempted to put on his father's ring I firmly believe that Disa will chop off his hand. They better not do ANYTHING to Disa; I'm really enjoying Rings but if they use Disa's life to make Durin susceptible to Sauron's influence I might drop it like a hot rock, just saying.

[thatonepikminperson]

Mimic Wraith (Mixed Wraith AU)

The Mimic Wraith is one of the oldest Wraiths on the planet, being born as the first successful Wraith ever made. There is only one still alive at the current moment. It takes the form of a Plasma, but it’s much fatter, and instead of being gold, it’s a human flesh color. It also has FIVE holes instead of one, with one being located on each arm and leg, and the final hole being located on its chest. It also has a black top hat, which doubles as its core.

The Mimic Wraith has a very limited, yet very powerful ability, and that is massive hallucinations! Yeah, so upon being seen by a creature, the Mimic Wraith will become whatever that creature finds the most sexually attractive. This either allows the Mimic Wraith to get close and kill the creature, or just talk with them without having to resort to violence, as the only Mimic Wraith alive currently doesn’t like to fight at all. Oh and it’s power will 100% fail if the creature is asexual. And if it's used on a Wraith, it has a failure rate of around 40%. If a Wraith gets the Mimic Wraith out of it's vision entirely, it gets to reroll the odds of the power working. (Like if a Wraith isn't affected, and it looks away and then back, it has a 60% chance for the Mimic Wraith's power to work on it, even if it didn't before.)

This Wraith is not affected by the Lumiknoll.

So, the Mimic Wraith is like, the only decent Wraith in the entire family, and I'm not joking. They're the only one who actively punished Ref and took care of Pom like a normal person. They care for the kid, and most times, they're far too busy to stop Ref from hitting or hurting the kid. When they do catch her, they do punish her, most often forcing her into her own mirror for hours at a time (She hates that so much), but Ref never learns. They're a polite dude, and just want the best for every one of his friends.

Oh yeah, and the Ancient Sirehound is his dog. Its name is Brubark. And Hero’s Hodeaway is Dave and Brubark’s home. Dave keeps up the houses good appearance for Brubark.

[gqt-posting]

[GAIA] Are you dangerous?

[Luna] Only to those attempting to pierce the atmosphere unannounced.

QXJlIHlvdSBkYW5nZXJvdXM/

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[molabuddy]

little bit more about my wraith oc (because people in the tags seemed to like it & that made me very happys)

i've been calling it the bubble wraith! it acts very curious and childlike, and doesn't seem to have the means or desire to attack pikmin directly, but it can steal pikmin from your group by ensnaring their leaves in some of the frothy pink bubbles that make up its body, putting the pikmin under its control

it can take the vague shape of most creatures, but it loves to mimic the captains. its even picked up a little bit of language (though stilted and in a garbly, alien voice) but all it talks about is wanting to "play" <:]

[foxflierdeviousemoji]

Piktober day 2 - Lifeform

ft my oc, Mimic Wraith

[wraithsoutlaws]

TITLE: Perfect Drug CHAPTER ONE: Jawbreaker WORD COUNT: 4,309 PAIRING: Dagger/Dum Dum CW: Light violence, gore mention The story of how two fucked up guys become one fucked up couple.

The sky changed colors in the city. The endless scroll of neon gave it an artificial glow, and from the first moment he crossed the desert line, Dagger had resented it. Nothing looked real. Nothing was–not the food, the music. Certainly not the people. He found himself looking up as he drove further into it’s clutches, searching for a sliver of sky that felt familiar, but the only thing he found was a thinly veiled layer of bullshit.  Northside was different, though no less oppressive. The smokestacks kept the air murky, and no matter how many times he blinked or re-calibrated his optics, he couldn’t quite clear his vision of the red haze that defined it. But unlike Night City, it took pride in it’s own ugly. And he liked that. 

The All Foods factory sat like an icon at the center of it all, more mythical to the locals than even the crumbs of Arasaka littering the district. Dagger stood outside with a cigarette, gazing into it’s shuttered maw. 

A week had passed since he found his way to the building for the first time, toting a severed head in one hand, and a duffel of recovered Militech cargo in the other. He had taken both from a smoldering warzone in Sierra Sonorra where two behemoths fought their last battle; a cadre of Maelstrom gangoons and a unit of corpo dogs. He could have taken the wreckage back for the Wraiths. The gear would have fetched a pretty enny, and the head of a Milietech sergeant would make a lovely hood ornamented for his Quadra–but Dagger never cared for money, and he had plenty of heads already. 

He brought the cargo home to Northside instead, head in hand like a peace offering, still bleeding fresh after decapitation. He wanted a deal, not a payday. Something worth more than a shiny new car, or a pair of genuine leather boots, and after one long blurry fucking night, he got one.  

The Wraiths would protect Maelstrom’s interests in the Badlands and the ‘borgs would give them leverage in the city, pushing to wipe Sixth Street from Santo Domingo. Dagger would move between them, lending his skills to one while extending his power in the other.

In the end, he'd puppet them both.

His mama always said to dream big.

He pressed at a dwindling bruise over his ribcage as he double checked for his smokes in his jacket pocket. Each breath came with a dull ache that hadn’t quite quelled from that night, even a week later. He’d paid his price for admission. He could still feel the wreckage in his bones as he stood at the entrance of the garage, cigarette half smoked already, waiting for an answer at the door. The security camera at the edge of the roof peered down at him, it’s blinking red light a mimic of the trademark optics that were watching him from inside. And they were watching him. Making him wait, though they were the very ones who had set the meet. When he glared up at the lens, he could feel them on the other side.

Another minute passed. He threw his cigarette down, banging a fist to the rusted metal with impatience. After a moment of waiting he considered going around to the intercom, but it felt too much like defeat. He knocked again instead, kicking with a steel tipped boot for good measure and flicking another glare up to the camera. 

The noise must have worked. The door swung open with a growl, sudden enough it nearly took an inch off his nose. Before he could blink, the front end of a revolver shoved itself against the scar on his cheek, forcing his back to the wall with its presence. Seven eyes peered over the muzzle, a shiny chrome scowl beneath them. Dagger’s fist moved on instinct, nestled now against the underside of Dum Dum’s chin where the skin still felt human. The steel claws in the chassis of his hand inched in the sheaths between his knuckles, hungry for a drop of blood. They stood still, entwined in each other’s violence, neither one ready to budge.

“Keep that gun in my face any longer and I’ll get real acquainted with your fleshy bits.” He wasn’t sure which lens he should look at, or which ones were looking at him. His icy gaze settled on the ones that looked most like eyes, though he couldn’t read them. The tip of his claws met skin, just slightly. Enough bite to prove he wasn’t lying.

Dum Dum didn’t sweat it.

“You think your trigger is quicker than mine?”

“Might be fun to find out.”

The sound that came from his throat could have been a laugh. A moment later, Dum Dum drew the gun back and slid it into the waistband of his pants. Slowly, Dagger followed suit, letting his hand fall away with a tinge of disappointment. A click of his tongue.

“Scared?”

“My bullet would rip through your meatpan before your chrome even touched me,” Dum Dum said. He sounded sure, the weight of his optics nearly prying Dagger apart, scanning his hardware in bemusement. He wouldn’t find much, except maybe that his assessment was correct. Which begged the question: why not pull the trigger?

Dagger grinned.

“You gonna invite me inside?” 

Dum Dum didn’t answer, turning a corner toward the street without looking back at him. “Nothing in there for you.”

“Is that right?” Dagger pulled his cigarettes from his jacket and lit one as he followed. A busted up Chevillon was parked on the corner, garish Maelstrom colors splattered across the rusted paint like a badge of honor. Ugly, like everything else around it. He smiled. “Taking me out to pasture then?”

Smoke slithered from his lips as they walked. 

“You wanna play with the big dogs you’re gonna have to work like a bitch.” Dum Dum stopped at the car, and spared him an indecipherable look. “That means you do what I say, when I say it, how I say it. If I tell you to lick the shit off my boots you better fucking get on your knees and do it, yeah? Piss me off and it’s bye bye with a bullet. We’ll sell your meat to the Scavs without a second thought.”

Dagger raised a brow, amusement flickering in his eyes as he took another drag from his smoke. “My god, I think I can see Royce’s hand up your ass using your mouth like a little puppet. Don’t you wanna be a real boy?”

Dum Dum looked tough, but Dagger had seen enough already to know that he folded for the big man as easy as paper. He half expected the gun again, but to his surprise, he only saw a smile on the other man’s face–teeth that looked too human to belong to him. The tension in his shoulders seemed to drop.

“You are one stupid motherfucker.”

He almost sounded impressed.

Dagger stared him down with the same grin, head tilting. Anyone else, he might skin them alive for the assertion but Dum Dum could be useful. No doubt more than any of the other rusted lugnuts lurking in the gang who’d still be more than happy to kill him. If he wanted this to work out, he’d need someone watching his back, and he’d already proved he wouldn’t pull the trigger.

Dum Dum slid into the driver’s seat and gestured for Dagger to go around. He wasn’t thrilled about playing passenger, his own car parked down the block, but he decided not to push it. He didn’t know his way around the city yet, let alone wherever the fuck they were headed. Or why.

He climbed into the Chevillon, choosing to play nice, a decision quickly waning as he waited for an explanation that never came. He blew smoke toward Dum Dum, a juvenile attempt to get his attention as the engine turned over.

“Got a problem, princess?” Dum Dum asked without looking. At least his head didn’t move.

Dagger leaned back in his seat. “Just wondering what the fuck I��m doing here.”

“You’re the one who knocked.”

“Funny.”

The car pulled onto the street. 

“Got a pick-up.” The flat drone of his voice gave away his own annoyance in the silence. “And I wasn’t bullshitting before. Do as you’re told and we won’t have a problem.”

Dagger rolled down his window to vent the smoke from his cigarette. “Pick-up? And here I was hoping for a little fun. Ain’t you lot known for your violence? No offense but thats a waste of my talent and I’m keen to believe it’s a waste of yours too.”

“Royce wants to know you can follow orders. You might be hot shit to those desert dogs but you’re a long way from the top out here.”

Something in the gravel of his tone indicated a warning, but Dagger flicked it off with the ash from his cig. He glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, watching the city blur past the tinted glass. Northside was less colorful than the rest of Night City, all smoke and concrete. In a way, it reminded him of home–the badlands, an endless sprawl of sun bleached dirt, harsh and rigid. Vibrant in its decay. They bore their similarities alright. He could smell fire in the air. A laugh lodged itself in his throat as he finally looked over.

“So that’d make you what, then? The babysitter?”

A grunt. There might have been humor in it. Or a threat.

“You should count yourself lucky. Anyone else prolly woulda shot you by now.”

Dagger didn’t doubt it for a second. Dum Dum was different from the rest, and somehow just the same. He followed orders, and crumbled like soggy paper for the top dog. Out of fear or loyalty, he couldn’t tell yet, but he lacked the self-respect to see that Royce would throw him out as soon as he wasn’t useful. He wondered what might happen if those strings pulled taut. If something sharp happened by to whittle them down. 

Dum Dum’s voice caught him by surprise.

“I’m actually impressed you’re still walking. Didn’t think you’d show up after that beating last week.”

“That right?” Dagger said, casually flipping down the visor ahead of him and examining his face in the two inch mirror. The bruise beneath his eye had faded from plum to a brown rot and for a moment he could feel the impact of the metal punch that knocked him on his ass again. It wasn’t the only one. His body was littered, like the canvas of an old painter–splashes of color hemorrhaging against his skin. He knew there was a cracked rib, probably a concussion, too. A few busted teeth, and more. Welcoming gifts from Maelstrom. It was his own suggestion, a last ditch effort to get close to the gang without having chrome shoved up his ass. An initiation plucked from his smuggling days. Each member got a single hit. If he was still alive by the end of it, he’d get in.

And Dagger always got in, smiling and spitting blood. He’d do it again just to prove that he could. 

“Hell, I thought that left hook from Lars might kill you.” Dum Dum laughed.

Dagger flipped the visor closed. “You kiddin’? My Daddy hit me harder for stealing a cigarette when I was eight years old.”

“You were prolly just a pussy back then.”

A grin cut across his lips as naturally as the sun cresting over the cityscape. “Well, he had a harder swing than you, at least.”

“Makes sense.” The car turned a tight corner and Dum Dum’s head tilted toward him for the first time. “Considerin’ I pulled my punch.”

Dagger met those empty red lenses with a raised brow. “The fuck you did.”

The crack of his own teeth rang out in his ears again, as if that chrome fist was crashing into his face all over. He could still remember his seven eyes watching him as he stumbled back, spitting blood and enamel in his face. He tongued the empty space on his bottom gum where the molar used to sit. Dum Dum had extracted it more seamlessly than the world’s best dentist ever could.

Pulled his punch. 

Dagger scoffed.

Dum Dum didn’t show any sign of humor. His silence said it all.

“And why the fuck would you do that?”

A pause. And then finally a smile.

“‘Cause the harder we hit you, the louder you laughed. Didn't wanna give you the satisfaction.”

Dagger’s face fell, as expressionless as the red lenses in front of him, which seemed now to burn holes through his chest in the silence. He should cut them from his skull, but the feeling passed at the sight of a smile on Dum Dum’s lips.

“Fuckin’ lunatic,” he said, somewhere between affection and dismay.

Dagger took it for a compliment. He grinned, and a bruise sang triumph beneath his skin. 

The car pulled off the street beside a painted wall that looked nearly identical to every other street corner in Northside. Dagger could find his way through every small vein of dusty road across the Badlands with his eyes closed but ask him to distinguish between one block or the next within the industrial sprawl of the district and he’d be lost. He pressed his forehead against the window and looked up. Not even the sky could help him. The shadow of the city all but smothered it. 

Dum Dum cut the engine. 

Wrecked cars littered the crowded alleyway where they sat now, nothing but skeletal remains, picked clean by the vultures. But there was one ahead of them, a black van that stuck out among the rest. The pick-up, if he had to wager.

“What are we waiting for?” he asked, his cigarette almost nothing but ash. He finally flicked it out the window. 

Dum Dum didn’t answer. He studied the van ahead of him in the quiet, and after a moment Dagger pushed his optics to scan it too. Standard. No heat signature inside, though there was something stored in the back, a chemical signature he couldn’t get a specific read on. Drugs, more than likely. Of course it was. He had heard the ‘strommers had their own brand of shit. The kind with enough kick to push past the thirty pounds of chrome in their head. 

“Something the matter with it?” On instinct, Dagger looked in the rearview, scanned the surrounding area. A flash of light flickered somewhere behind them and disappeared. He waited for it to happen again, but he saw nothing. 

“Gadge ain’t here,” Dum Dum said, tone flat. Once more unreadable.

“Taking a leak?”

A grunt. He leaned back in the seat, hand dropping down to the revolver wedged between his seat and the middle console. He flicked his head forward, toward the van. “Well, go on, bitch boy. Check it out.”

Dagger’s eyes narrowed, but he pushed back the urge to tell him to fuck off. He lit another cigarette on the way out. The street was quiet, though somewhere a few blocks down a siren echoed off the smokestacks. He paused when he reached the back of the van, head turning over his shoulder. There was nothing here. Nobody in sight beside those seven glowing eyes behind the glass, and still the hair rose on the back of his neck. 

No Gadge. No blood. No struggle. So why did he have a bad feeling? He focused his attention back to the van as Dum Dum waved a hand at him impatiently. Another quick scan told him the same information before he finally reached for the handle and pulled the bed open. A creak of metal cracked through his ears.

It almost deafened the gunshot.

Dagger ducked, dropping low without thought. His cigarette fell to the ground half burned, mocking him as another bullet riccochetted against the back of the van. His first thought was Dum Dum. Royce had changed his mind on the deal, ordered his execution. A quiet hit didn’t sound like his style, and Dagger was almost disappointed he wouldn’t get to see the ugly bastard one more time just to call him a fucking pussy to his face, but a moment later he could hear the ‘borg’s static voice yelling at him from the car to get the fuck up.

He stayed low, unable to pinpoint the direction of the gunshot, and made his way back to the passenger’s side of the Chevillon.

The engine sputtered to life at the same time as the van in front of him. He crawled inside just in time to witness the driverless van crash through a charred Mackinaw to the next street over.

“Fuck!” Dum Dum yelled, flooring the pedal before Dagger could get his foot pulled in all the way. “Shit’s hacked. Gonk’s don’t know who they’re messing with.” 

He rammed through the same debris as the van but caught a harsh edge of metal, and the Chevillon stalled for a moment before struggling through. The ringing in Dagger’s ears hadn’t stopped, and he only realized his hand was bleeding when he reached for his third smoke. 

“Hack means their close.”

Dagger rolled the window down and stuck his head out, catching the stale air of Northside in a suffocating wind. He could see the van ahead of them like a black smear, but it wasn’t the van he was interested in. Quickhack on a vehicle was useful, but it had drawbacks. One being proximity. Had to be close or you lost connection, even with boosted gear. 

A small Hatchback swung suddenly out from a sidestreet, narrowly missing their car as it sped past. Dum Dum swerved and lost a foot of paint on a fire hydrant in attempt to keep steady. Dagger scanned it as it followed track with the van, spitting chooh2 to catch up. Two signatures inside. A runner.

He ripped the gun from Dum Dum’s seat and pulled himself halfway out the window to take aim. He shot quickly and near blind, bullet lost in the wind as the chase veered left. 

“Fuckin’ shoot steady,” Dum Dum yelled over at him.

“Drive fuckin’ steady,” Dagger snapped, and this time he held his breath as he aimed for the speeding car. A shot came back at him in response and he ducked back into the window before firing again. The windshield spiderwebbed but the car stayed true, zipping through a line of traffic as they headed into a busier part of the district. A horn blared beside him. The hatchback disappeared between two trucks, and Dum Dum struggled on the wheel, crashing into the edge of a turning car and nearly throwing the gun from Dagger's slick, bloody grasp when he shot again.

He couldn’t track where the bullet hit, but he could tell that it missed.

With a growl, Dagger reached over for the wheel.

“Switch me places.” It was a command more than a question, but Dum Dum didn’t protest. He ripped the gun from Dagger’s hand as Dagger pushed his leg over to the gas pedal and shimmied across the seat in an awkward dance, climbing over him without slowing the vehicle until they both settled into their new positions.

Dum Dum took aim as naturally as Dagger did the wheel. He was no stranger to this, or to the electricity running through his chest as he gripped the wheel knuckle tight, grin spreading over his lips.

The tight streets were no match for an open road, but it got his blood pumping all the same. 

He could barely make out the back of the car up ahead, but he could see the rear light explode as Dum Dum fired beside him, leaving red glass sparkling on the pavement like blood. Another shot bellowed, and the hatchback veered wildly, nearly toppling sideways as it made a sharp turn. 

Dagger followed, cutting the same corner with the ease of sharpened steel. He couldn’t see the van further up, but he locked his optics onto the car. Blood splattered the window, and he knew that Dum Dum had hit one of them inside. The engine groaned as he pushed it further. The Chevillon didn’t have the same gumption as his Quadra. He could feel the waiver in her gait, but they were close now. Dum Dum felt it too. He braced his arm on the roof. One good shot is all they’d need.

Dagger seamlessly crossed over the center line, taking the opposite lane to blow past several cars that separated them from their goal. Traffic sped by, so close it rocked the car, but he didn’t flinch.

One. Good. Shot.

Dum Dum fired. 

Blood sprayed the windshield. 

The hatchback veered suddenly into a passing car, which came to a skidding stop, halting the traffic behind it and keeping Dagger from passing back over into the right lane. His mind raced, and on instinct he took a quick left to avoid collision, and then another.

Dum Dum screamed in his ear, but the words were deafened from wind, the ringing, the sirens. Neon lights burned together, flashing against his corneas. 

“Wrong fuckin’ way!” He heard finally.

The streets grew narrower, and then he understood. 

He could smell the ocean. 

 Northside’s warehouses were a shadow in the rearview as they headed toward the bay into Kabuki. Tyger territory. They had crossed the district line. 

Dum Dum reached for the wheel in a last ditch effort to change course. The momentum of the turn threw them upward, tires leaving the ground. The car spun uncontrollably, flipped, crashing through the barricade on the side of the road in a explosion of crunching metal. 

He could see the ocean.

A smear of open blue that could match the sky his heart yearned for. It was beautiful.

Almost.

And it hit like a fucking rock. 

His vision blacked for a moment before the water caved in around them. Slowly, then all at once. He barely had time to take in a lungful of air. Kicking at the door wildly, he swam away from the wreckage as the sea pulled them under. His gaze shot upward, searching once more for the sky to lead him. He followed the light up and up, chest starting to ache, until finally he found it.

Dagger gasped as he breached, shaking water from his eyes. He didn’t recognize the city around him, but he spotted a dock nearby. He swam toward it, then stopped. Looked back. The only remains of the Chevillon were petering bubbles at his back, and smooth water beside that. There wasn’t any sign of Dum Dum. By the look of him, he’d sink as quick as the car.

He glanced between the dock and the bubbles and back again. 

All that fucking chrome…

Walking back to All Foods without the drugs and their sergeant at arms might earn himself a spot in that industrial microwave that Maelstrom liked to boast. Dum Dum was the only one who didn’t want to kill him, after all.

“Fuck.”

He spit water then took another breath and dived.

The car left a trail like ink in the murky water. Dagger clawed toward it, dragging himself further down into the dark depths. Day turned to night. The city was different here, peaceful, and if not for the pounding in his ears, quiet. 

The distant red glare of those eyes shined like a beacon further down. He followed them like the north star, pushing himself to go faster. Dum Dum kicked despite himself, maybe instinct, maybe panic, but his weight worked against him, pulling him down quicker. Dagger pushed harder, reached further. Dum Dum finally noticed him, lenses fixed and unwavering, a calm coming over him as he finally got close enough to grab. Dagger heaved upward, working against the ocean’s cold grasp and the anchor like weight dragging him down. His chest began to burn, and the sky still looked so dark above them. 

He considered letting go, eyes squeezed tight, angry ‘ganic lungs ready to burst. 

And then he could breathe again.

He reached blindly for the dock ladder, trying hard not to heave. Dum Dum climbed up beside him, still as a corpse.

“Fucking gonk shit,” he muttered.

Dagger almost didn’t catch it over the sound of his panting. He laid flat on his back, taking in the welcome blue above him. He could finally see a break in the cityscape, clouds sneaking in at the edge of his vision. 

“Quite a fuckin’ thank you,” Dagger said without taking his eyes from above.

“Oxygen reserves. Could sit down there all day.”

He sat up slowly, running a hand through wet, matted hair. “All the good it’d do you. Be a pile of rust by the time they found you. If they found you.”

Dum Dum laughed. Short, quick static. Somehow it sounded genuine.

“And I’m sure you did that outta the kindness of your heart.”

“What fuckin’ heart?” He said flat, patting down his pockets for his cigarettes. He pulled the pack out, sopping wet. He didn’t bother trying to light one before he tossed them into the bay with a sigh. “Owe me some fucking smokes.”

Dum Dum opened his mouth to speak, but the words never made it. He lifted his head, and though he couldn’t see exactly, Dagger knew he was looking past him. A gun cocked at the back of his head. Cold barrel against his skull. He clenched his jaw, and turned to see a woman he didn’t recognize staring down at him behind glass eyes.

His automatic translator picked up her words better than his ears.

“Welcome to Kabuki, bitch.”

[connectionterminated13]