#the red angel

[cultofthewyrm]

Big red vs Big green by terkmc

[inquisitor-edgelord]

‘I died down there,’ Angron said bitterly, drawing the radiant Emperor into his fiery gaze. ‘With my brothers and sisters, freezing, starving and free. Emperor or no, creator or no, all you will ever get of me is a shell, the ghost of Angron, who never left Nuceria.’

The Emperor looked back at him, expressionless and aloof. Angron felt static crawl over his skin, and the reek of ozone flood his nose.

+Then a ghost will have to suffice.+

-Ghost of Nuceria, Ian St.Martin-

Artist: L J Koh

[dragons-in-spaceee]

Appreciation post for the red angel suit cause it’s cool as fuck and of course Michael looks cool as fuck wearing it!!!!!

For day 2 of Celebrate Disco 2023

[trannytheophage]

It's angry Ron! My butcher boy is finally done

[fuukonomiko]

Angron the Gladiator by Mauro Belfiore

[unknownfaceless-ds9]

I don't know why, but I had, for some reason, really hoped that in "The Red Angel" ( s02e10 DISC), when Michael is strapped to the chair and Pike tells her "On your mark, Commander", she would answer with "Hit it."

It doesn't really make sense, but I somehow had hoped for it.

btw this scene:

"I would be charged with killing a Starfleet officer. Again. It would therefore be ideal if you survived."

classic. loved it. No reason to argue with me on that

[45780]

Little headcanon for you.

The crew of the Entiprise in TOS do know about Michael but not in the way you would think. Spock told them about her like this.

"I had a sister," he said, while in one of the rec rooms.

"really! Why, Mr Spock, how come I've never heard of her?" Jim replied in shock as he abandoned his studying of the chess board.

Spock looks out of the window and a rare smile graces his lips, a sad smile. The type of smile only those who have known true pain and acceptance can possibly make. "She'd approve of you. All of you"

"I'm glad," Jim spoke softly, noticing how this was a more emotional subject for his usually stoic first officer.

Uhura, who had previously been chewing on the end of her pen while looking through endless movies for her to choose for ship movie night, also abandoned her musings in favour of listening to this rare insight of her friend.

Spock looked at her, "you remind me of her, you have the same work ethic, same way of figuring out mysteries, the same well earned confidence"

Uhura gasped, it was clear that this was a large compliment if the sparkle in Spock's eyes was anything to go off.

"Will we ever meet her, Spock?" Jim asked

Spock exhaled drawing his eyes down then back to the windows. He shook his head minutely.

"the last I saw of her she'd turned into an Angel"

[best-star-trek-character]

Round One

[data2364]

via Trekcore.com

Mary Wiseman (Sylvia Tilly) 2019 in Star Trek: Discovery "The Red Angel“

https://data2364.wordpress.com/2022/03/25/daily-star-trek-25-maerz-2022/

[doe-prince]

Whenever they kiss a star eats itself

[heavenswaif]

[cultofthewyrm]

Eternity Gate - Battle of the angels by L J KohP

[inquisitor-edgelord]

Other? Put it in the comments. This is very series research in the name of the Imperium.

[reineydraws]

i dont have a caption for you lol i'll let shanks's heart eyes speak for themselves 🫶

(source)

[cherrygothnightmare]

[pedrasacorn]

Pairings: Jason x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, head injury

Summary: self indulgent,

“Hood—” your broken voice cuts through his adrenaline rush, echoing through the dark, damp alleyway.

He holsters his guns quickly, “Hey hey hey—hey sweetheart. Look at me.” He brushes the blood stained hair away from your eyes, “There she is…I gotchu sweet thing.” His voice feels so distant, morphed by the modulator in his helmet into something you don’t recognize.

Your eyes start to wander to the mess of blood. He blocks your sight with his body, “No…You of all people, don’t need to see that,” He cups your cheek, tilting your face up, “That’s not for you okay? You keep those eyes on me.”

He removes his gloves. Although his bare hands are clean, the blood is always there.

His fingertips barely touch your cheek, just enough to ground you.

The red of his helmet warps as tears blur your vision. He quickly swipes them away. “That scumbag is not worth your tears.”

His eyes follow your tears as they mix with the blood on your face. Not your blood. He grimaces.

God nothing bad should ever get the chance to touch you. Yet here he was with his palm cradling your face. He, is a hypocrite.

“I’m taking you to my safe house, s’that okay?”

Your throat feels too raw to speak. So you nod.

The world around you tilts, before strong arms wrap around your shoulders, “Easy there sweets, I gotcha.”

He scoops you up. This man who you’ve seen toss full grown men like rag dolls—still surprises you because you weigh nothing. You feel like you weigh nothing, but you’re not holding yourself. Wait he weighs…you to him weigh…you weigh to him like…which one of you weighs nothing?

“Jay I don’ feel good.” You croak.

“Shh I know sweetheart, I know. Almost home.”

You barely register being set down on the bathroom counter.

He unclips his helmet, and tosses it to the floor. Something stirs within when his green eyes meet yours.

“I saw it,” Your voice trembles as unshed tears choke you, “the blood.”

His brows are furrowed with concern, his full bottom lip is almost a pout. Angels above he has never looked softer. It helps sooth every bit of reluctance now that you can see his face again.

Your eyes feel heavy.

His thumb brushes over your brow, “Open those eyes f’me. Please…” You squint at him as he brings a small flashlight to your eye line.

You knew this one, you’d watched asmr videos of it.

“Concoction.”

He huffs through his nose, a smile lilting his mouth, pulling at the scar above his lip. “Concussion sweetness. Follow the light.”

You do so halfheartedly, not much of an overachiever right now. “S’con-cuntion?” Your tongue feels heavy, clumsy in your mouth.

“Yeah…s’okay though I’ve had plenty of my own. You’re staying here tonight.”

The cotton filling your brain makes your nod feel weightless.

A warm washcloth is brought your cheek, you lean into it happily letting it melt the bite of the cold alley still clinging to your skin. God you can’t remember the last time someone touched you like this.

“You with me pretty girl?” He croons, as he wipes the dried blood from your brow, and cheeks.

You nod, almost dazed.

Tears blur your vision, but he doesn’t try to stop you from crying, just patiently wipes them away with the cloth.

Contently closing your eyes you whisper, “Your hands are soft.”

He is careful not to wear his heart anywhere near his sleeve, and somehow you’ve coaxed him into wearing it on his face. “You’re soft.” He murmurs.

The blood is finally gone.

He sets you down on his bed, keeping you propped up on the bedpost, “Don’t lay down yet.” He coaxes.

You focus on the coolness of the wood, until the bed dips next to you.

“I’m gonna help you get dressed, in the least mortifying way for you possible. I’m so sorry but also…” his eyes rake over you, “I’m not letting you catch the disease that killed the dinosaurs.”

Touché. Who knows what Gotham has cooked up in her petri dish.

“S’okay, m’clothes feel gross.”

He nods curtly before oh so gently lifting your sweater over your head, quickly swapping it for his tshirt.

It smells good—like spring—but you wish he’d given you one off his back. It’d smell like him.

You hold up the shirt to keep it out of contact with your pants. As careful as diffusing a bomb he unbuttons them. “Lift your hips f’me.” He holds you steady, one hand on your hip as the other tugs them down your legs. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as you lean your body weight against him.

“Ya good like this? I have pants they’re just…large.”

You let the shirt back down, it thankfully falls past your hips. “M’okay.”

You’re weightless again as he lifts you, gently laying you on the mass of pillows.

“Oh hallelujah.” You sigh.

Something brushes your nose, you pry your eyes open to be met with his.

“Swallow these.” You wash the pills down with the bottle of water he presses against your lips.

“You’re gonna hate me for the next 24 hours.” He gently brushes the hair out of your eyes with his thumb.

“S’okay ’cause I love you even when I hate you.”

He huffs amusedly. It’s not the same love he feels for you, it can’t be.

“Yeah…I love ya too.”

———

A/n: I stayed up way too late so the concussion yapping is just me trying to figure out what I’m trying to say