bluerobotbitch - Tumblr blog

[bluerobotbitch]

starfcx:

It seemed mentioning Gamora touched a nerve for her, but Eros had not been assuming anything about Thanos’ other daughter. He had no idea what Gamora would do after having left Thanos. She might very well have the same goal as Nebula did. But regardless of what either of them intended, he did not “prefer” one over the other. All of Thanos’ children were equally dangerous. “I would hope Gamora is different, by which I mean that I hope she will not dedicate her life to destroying my brother, as you have. If she has, then I will be equally concerned about both of you. But if she has not, I will not consider her a coward.” Thanos would need to be dealt with, but not in the way Nebula wanted. Once again she assumed he was weak for giving in to emotion. Just as Thanos would say. “Owed? Many people have been wronged by Thanos, Nebula. It is hardly something you can claim solely for yourself. I too will be prepared for when my brother comes, but I shall take no pleasure in standing against him.”

Seeing her look away made Eros wonder if his words had had any effect, if he could possibly get through to her. He could understand that being brought up by Thanos would make it very difficult to accept compassion from someone. He did not even need her to tell him that his brother would see such a thing as a sign of weakness. Thanos always had seen such things as weak. “That does not mean I will not still give them. Because I am sorry. Choose not to accept that, but it is true. A little kindness can go very far, after all.” That was something Eros had always believed, and though it sometimes look a bit more than a little kindness, it usually worked. But in Nebula’s case, he may well have been wasting his breath. “And will you be happy then? Once you have your revenge, will you be at peace? And what exactly will you dedicate your life to doing once you have killed Thanos? I can’t help but think your life may be a little bit empty.”

Unless she simply continued on threatening others, as she was doing now. Eros glanced down at the baton she was holding to his throat, perturbed but not intimidated. “I don’t wish to stand against you. I know what you can do, so a demonstration is unnecessary. I merely hope to show you that, despite what Thanos’ has inflicted upon you, you can be more than simply a killing machine. He may have left his mark deeply on you, but you are still your own person, are you not? You claim he no longer dictates your movements, yet your goal still revolves around him.” Somehow, Eros felt his brother would be pleased; even if Nebula’s goal was to kill Thanos, it was still all about him. “I’m not asking you to change your path for me, or even for my brother. I’m asking you to change it for yourself.”

Gamora would always be... a complicated subject for her. But she was gone, fled to the stars in mourning her precious Star-Lord, and Nebula saw no reason to rehash the past. It was merely fuel for the fire in her future, the one that would rage and consume Thanos entirely. But her uncle’s presence was an unpleasant reminder. The wrong parts of the past. “Gamora has abandoned this planet. I don’t know where she is,” she hissed lowly. “I do not care what she plans to do, but rest assured uncle -- she is both a coward and completely irrelevant to our situation.” The situation, of course, being her father. The tie that bound them inescapably. “Then those who’ve been wronged should be clamoring for the chance to take him down for themselves,” she said simply. “But it seems I am the only one willing to do what is necessary. And I will enjoy hearing him scream, watching him suffer as I have suffered. I am owed a planet, uncle. I am owed a people. I am owed a body. But since no one can give such things to me, I will take what I’m owed from the pounds of his flesh.” 

Her eyes grew dark as she imagined it. A fantasy she never grew tired of -- her father, writhing in pain. Staring up at her with wide eyes, confused and dismayed at being defeated by the daughter he destroyed, then cast aside. He would regret every moment of agony he had inflicted on her, he would feel the cybernetics in her arm tighten around his throat, and the last thing he would see would be her eyes, more like screens than the eyes of her people. “I do not want your kindness. It is pity, and pity is useless,” she snapped, feeling the rage seething in her chest. (A mere chassis, a shell of metal surrounding more wires and electrodes than blood or flesh.) “It is not about happiness. Or peace. There is no peace left to my existence,” she whispered darkly. “Perhaps I am empty, uncle. But there is enough left inside me to kill him. And I will fill myself with his death, with his pain. I will feast on it, as he has feasted on tragedy for centuries.”

She was used to her victims screams, used to the pleas for mercy -- but none came from his lips. He was more like her father than he cared to admit, that haughty gaze in his eye. “There is nothing left to me, do you understand that?” she asked, pressing the baton harder to his throat. Everything in her wanted to kill him, to put an end to this distraction -- but something stayed her hand. “I am nothing but what he has made me. So I will do all that I can, and make him regret creating me in the first place. I am not a ‘self.’ I am a weapon, and I will do as weapons do.” What else could there be? What else could she be? 

[bluerobotbitch]

daemonlegacy:

the word “terrans” cascades from her admittedly-purplish lips and it tells him everything he needs to know in a single moment, any further questioning would simply be for aesthetic purposes or follow-up curiosities; she’s an alien, which of course would make sense and was one of his initial guesses despite his callow sarcasm, along with some sort of genetically-enhanced dermis-shifting experiment possibly. her blatant disinterest in humans and their infantile parties evident in her speech and her facial contortion, which suggests not only is she at least disillusioned with humanity, but also further advanced than they are as well– something that might be useful along down their timelines, should damian manage to not completely sabotage their conversation before it even begins.

“why shouldn’t i agree with you? it’s true and i’m not foolish enough to delude myself otherwise, not when there are more important obligations to be carried out.” he sidesteps slightly to gain himself better footing in a subtle way, as well as sparring space should she even attempt any sort of disposing of grievances she suggests– not that he’s wary of her however, bio-mechanically engineered to be superior to most terrans she’d encounter, born to be a new conqueror, a new tyrant, but he never drops away from a challenge. he retains his posture and relaxed disposition, despite heightened defenses on alert, his eyes pinned to her more securely now. “you’ll find i’m not so easily disposed of, despite already being a well-known problem, but you’re welcome to try it if you’re insipid enough.” his eyelids squint slightly, head tilting as though to catch her in a different light. “where are you from? which planet?”

He was the least-Terran Terran she had ever met. And for that reason alone, she didn’t pull out her baton to ward him off (or disable him more permanently). He showed no more interest in this strange, insipid gathering than she had, though his irritation was harder to place. She was insulted at not having been consulted by Doom, or even warned -- but where did this boy’s anger stem from?

“And yet, you are here,” she pointed out, eyes narrowing. Was he one of the enhanced? A ‘hero’ as the Earthers so often called them? (In reality they were little more than a nuisance, there were far too many of them, each one like bait, drawing Thanos closer each day.) He was trained, this boy, she could tell from his subtle re-positioning even before he made his foolish threat. There was still something of a Terran in him, after all. “Are you a problem for me?” she clarified. “I do not like to waste my time on pointless fights. If I needed you dead, you would already be on the ground,” she said simply. She shook her head slowly. “None of them. All of them. I have no home, it was destroyed long ago. Are you one of the ‘heroes’ of this city?” A blunt question demanded another in return. 

[bluerobotbitch]

ncvarider:

“Being dead was boring, so here I am.” He drawls, his Long Island accent slurring the vowels gently into each other as he shrugs his shoulders, folds his arms across his chest. He can hear the sound of machinery whirring, presumably designed to mimic the tensing of actual musculature in preparation for some kind of conflict. He could tell her that he isn’t really looking for a fight–he doesn’t appreciate the damage she and Ronin have done to the Corps, but she isn’t the enemy here–at least, not yet. He mostly just wants to make it clear that there is a Nova on Earth now, should she decide to make herself the enemy. The fact that he’s a Nova Prime, with the entirety of the Nova Force at his beck and call, is a card he’s going to play close to his chest until the time is right–and he sincerely hopes that time comes, in honor of every Nova she and Ronin had killed. 

Rich could have easily have said the same thing–the Cancerverse took everything from him and literally spat him back out–but it was never able to take his belief in himself as a Nova, his belief in the things that the Corps stood for. So he believes in something, even if it’s small and self contained at the moment. “He wants them to eat together, have fun together, so they’ll see not only that he saved them, but that he saved them to such a degree that he can literally give it away. It’s all just propaganda.” He’s seen enough oligarchs and tyrants on other planets to know when he’s looking at one–none of it is any different from Thanos claiming benevolence for the universe, or Annihilus destroying everyone who he thought would oppose him. 

“Can’t blame a man for thinking of his home world.” He raises an eyebrow, keeps the rest of his features purposefully blank. “Even if he is no fan of being trapped on it either. You’re just usually not the kind of person who responds to invitations, or has nothing better to do.” 

The Nova Corp were little more than an afterthought to her. Both when she was killing them by the dozens, and long after. Their little victory with the ‘Gardens of the Galaxy’ meant nothing. Ronin was a fool, but a useful one. She’d never intended to stay with him forever, he was merely a means to escape Thanos. That much had worked in her favor, at least. She supposed he was dead, too – she’d never really stopped to think about it.

“You are aggravating,” she told him, blunt as ever. “Your voice is irritating to every single sensor I have. It’s almost impressive.” She was testing the limits now. Seeing how far she could push him. He may have had the strength of the Nova Corp, but how many were truly in this dimension with them? Still, even one Nova could be a very big problem. She did not have the time to deal with him right now, and Doom would not appreciate her being tailed by a child with a god complex.

“It’s foolish,” she spat. “There are better ways to show one’s strength, and strength is all a leader needs,” she said, gazing around the crowd. The Nova was correct though, most people were singing Doom’s praises, swayed by nothing more than a little food. Idiots. There weren’t even any scones available, which clearly meant the menu was lacking.

Nebula turned to him, eyes dark and narrow as she stared at him. “You do not know me,” she hissed. “Don’t presume to know how I will respond to anything.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Regardless. I mean your stupid home world no harm. I need it intact,” she said, glancing sideways at him. “How is it you came to be stuck here? Does the Nova have nothing better to do with their time? Or is it some kind of punishment for you?”  

[bluerobotbitch]

quakesjohnscn:

“You’re in my office,” Daisy pointed out again. “If anyone has the right to ask for an explanation here, it’s me. And I’ve gotta be honest, you’re not really inspiring confidence that you’re doing anything not shady.” There wasn’t any part of her that liked this, wasn’t any part of her that was comfortable with what was happening, and as the woman continued to threaten her, Daisy tensed. She kept her hands up, ready to attack at a moment’s notice, jaw clenched tightly. “I happen to be very good at knocking anyone who tries on their ass. So, seriously, please come at me. I’ll have you on the floor before you realize gravity’s got a hold on you.” Her anger flared again as the woman compared her to a bug, as if mistaking one alien race for another was comparable to calling someone an insect. “I don’t look anything like an insect. From where I’m standing, it’s an easy mistake to think you’re a Kree. If you think those two are the same, maybe ‘idiotic’ isn’t far off.” She was done being nice now, done trying to play around with someone who only seemed interested in insults and threats. Daisy could be friendly, but someone as needlessly combative as this didn’t exactly deserve friendliness. “Okay, just a refresher, my office. That sort of makes it my concern. What ‘official business’ are you on here?”

Nebula simply stared back at her, face expressionless, eyes dark and empty. Johnson’s instincts were good, irritatingly good, but Nebula was not going to cave so easily. She accomplished her missions, no matter who they were for. She was effective, had been trained and molded and created to be that way. A weapon, a tool, not a living thing. There was so little of her left alive. “You would be nothing without your abilities,” she hissed finally, voice low and threatening, though she didn’t ‘come at’ Johnson. She was not a fool. “If you think humans and insects are so different, then you’re more oblivious than I ever believed,” she said, taking a slow step forward. “This species has barely begun to touch the stars, but already, you’re a plague. A disease. You have spread across your planet like a swarm, devouring everything in sight, destroying what few precious resources you have. If there is anything worthwhile to be taken from this pit of a dimension, I trust you humans will find a way to devour that as well.” She inhaled deeply, standing before Johnson, eyes locked and no sign of surrender in her gaze. “Perhaps you’re right,” she crooned. “It does concern you. I’m here to ascertain whether you and your people are a threat. Not to my employer, but to the general public. As if I could care,” she muttered, the words leaving a terrible taste in her mouth. “But you do. You care for all your fellow insects, and I don’t let anything stand in my way. So go home. Forget you saw me.”

[bluerobotbitch]

master-of-mystic-arts:

Despite the fun atmosphere of the party, Stephen had been concerned–and suddenly he found his concern had been entirely justified. Doom had made an appearance, and not merely to thank everyone for coming to the party. No, he had taken the opportunity to broadcast the names of all the heroes who had listed their powers for him. At first Stephen simply stared in shock, hardly believing Doom had done such a thing. But then his concern and his anger kicked in, and he tried to think of what–if anything–he should do.

Whatever Doom’s intention had been, the crowd was certainly reacting to the reveal of the list…which Stephen was not on. Some people had recognized him earlier, and he could see a few noticing him now. His earlier worry that they would ask him to do magic tricks seemed quite paltry in comparison to his worry now. For if anyone came after him now, they would be demanding why he had not listed, and that was hardly something he wished to debate with a raucous crowd. 

The people had surged together, and Stephen had no desire to try and push through them. All he could think at the moment–aside from hoping people would not berate him–was to try and help anyone if any accidents occurred. Which seemed highly likely now, especially when people were bumping into each other. So it came as no surprise when someone collided with him, yet he was a bit surprised when he saw who it was, not having expected her to attend the party. 

“Yes, that title may actually be appropriate now,” Stephen remarked, “Though I do not think I made the error.” He wondered just how she expected him to stop an entire angry mob. There were magical means which could help, of course, but he hoped to avoid drawing undue attention to himself, and displaying any powers right now was probably not wise. “Forgive me, but since I seem to have unwittingly made myself a target of their ire, I would prefer to keep a low profile at the moment!” he hissed. What did she want with Doom, anyway? Stephen’s gaze darted back to the list, and he realized she was on it. “I am not going to risk hurting any innocent people just so you can go yell at Doom. Quite frankly I would like to have a word or two with him myself, but this situation cannot just be swept aside, not even with magic. I’m not sure what we can do, but I will not use force unless absolutely necessary.”

Nebula hadn’t understood the point of the party. She did now, at least as far as Doom was concerned. The present-dent had organized this entire event to make a statement -- but he deliberately chose to include her name as well. He could’ve easily hidden it, shielded her as his asset, but no. She was just another pawn to him.

Of course, she had known that. Just like with Ronin, she was a tool to be used (until that tool turned against the bearer.) But to see it so clearly, to see how little he valued the work she had done... It infuriated her. It churned her stomach, or what was left of it -- perhaps it was more like gears grinding together, a piece of something terrible stuck in between the moving parts. 

What had once been a merry, if insufferable and illogical crowd, was now an angry mob. Some, like her, were calling for Doom to return. (Though they seemed to want to talk to him, not beat their answers out of his flesh.) Others were swarming around various enhanced -- demanding explanations, screaming for answers. 

“You’re living up to your other name as well,” Nebula hissed. “But we don’t have time for wordplay and strangeness, Source-Error!” she insisted. “Whether you did this or not, you must have the ability to move these people. They are in my way.” She could kill them, but that would take so much time, so much effort, and Doom would be long gone by the time she finished. She was surprised to hear that Strange wanted to a word with the present-dent as well, but she could see the truth in his words. Those around them were starting to close in, the source-error in their sights. “Very well,” she said, pushing off him and reaching for a baton. She brandished both with a flourish, which made those around them step back for a moment. “I will assist you in escaping, and then you can assist me in locating Doom. That seems an even trade.” 

[bluerobotbitch]

@master-of-mystic-arts

The fool. 

What was Doom thinking? Nebula was by no means a leader, she did not have the desire nor the necessity to be one, but she had served under several powerful leaders in the past. Killed more than a handful of them. She had learned what separated the powerful from the unimportant, the monumental from the inconsequential, but she did not understand this latest move of Doom’s in the slightest.

He had exposed her. Not just her, but every enhanced hero that had listed, and the list was paltry compared to the power she could feel pulsating in this room. Doom had stirred the pot, and tensions were already reaching a breaking point. She needed to see him, but the crowd had surged together, leaving an angry mob between her and her target.

“Let me through,” Nebula hissed. She was strong, but so were Terrans when they were angry, scared, and in large numbers. She tried to push her way through the crowd, only to be shoved back, directly into someone. She glared up at the man she landed against, as if it was his fault, and was surprised to see a familiar face. “Source-error,” she muttered. “Surely you have some way to put an end to this madness? Or at least to clear a path so I can speak to your beloved present-dent.” 

[bluerobotbitch]

starfcx:

So far, Eros had been quite enjoying himself at the party. It was nice to see that the Terrans could come together and lift their spirits in the midst of their distressing situation. Perhaps it was a bit ill-advised, but he was the last person to ever argue against having a party. And since the humans were enjoying themselves, why should he not do the same?

Not everyone was enjoying themselves, however. Eros had noticed a shape off in the shadows, lurking, not moving. That was not a good sight at a party, and so he eventually went to investigate. Only after investigating the bar first, for if he was going to have to deal with something unpleasant, he was going to have a drink. When he finally approached and saw just who it was, Eros was decidedly glad he had gotten the drink.

“I would not expect you to understand the appeal of frivolity, niece,” Eros remarked, shaking his head, “Eating alone is debatable, but drinking is best done among comrades.” He glanced at the glass in his hand. “I would offer to get you one, but I think that would be a useless gesture.” He did not mind the music of the band–it was rather catchy, actually–but Eros was much more concerned about why Nebula was there in the first place. “If the party is so distasteful to you, Nebula, why are you here? Have you come to simply be dour and try to ruin everyone’s fun? I certainly hope it is nothing more than that.”

Of course he was here. Her foolish, superficial uncle. Friends in every corner of the galaxy, and yet none seemed to recognize how weak he was. She could smell it on him, coming off in waves whenever they were in the same room together. It made her sick, even if their ‘relation’ was not by blood, merely association. 

“I do not bother drinking,” she muttered. “A new policy of mine. I attempted to try some of these ‘lick-ers’ Terrans are so infatuated with. It slowed my circuits and reduced my reaction time, far from enjoyable,” she said, shaking her head. “As for frivolity --” The word felt wrong in her mouth. “Any appeal is trivial. There seems very little point in attempting to understand it.”

She turned to him slowly, abandoning her observation of the party. “If this ‘fun’ is so fragile, it’s ruined simply by my scowl, then it deserves to be destroyed,” she replied. “My business is my own, uncle. I thought I made that clear last time we spoke.” 

[bluerobotbitch]

daemonlegacy:

“agreed.” the word tumbles from his lips before he even has a moment to ponder it, before he can even properly assess who it is who’s just spoken in his presence, breached the darkened atmosphere he shrouds himself with, her voice echoing through his eardrums with a familiar sneer, a distaste he recognizes inside himself, having been thinking almost the exact same thing. this is such a waste of time, a waste of materials, a waste of stars and nighttime shade, the cover he uses to move about the city freely ( because fuck your curfew, that’s why ), and even though he operates almost every evening, his quest unending, his vengeance relentless, the blood in his veins boiling every twilight for a new solidified surface to burn through like acid, he still feels that pull, that anxiety, that need to be elsewhere, to get to work.

he tilts his chin and glances over his shoulder towards the woman stepping past him, probably unaware that he’d even been able to hear her over the din and cacophony of this dreadful music, the dissonance and choppy lyrics grating against the insides of his skull, sandpaper and unruly wires. dark, heavy irises scan her momentarily, noting her unique appearance and just as quickly dismissing it, certain that there must be far stranger beings wandering about new york’s alleyways and avenues– although the opportunity to rub someone the wrong way is never something he’d so easily pass up on. “and what are you supposed to be? long lost member of the blue man group?” nevermind the fact that he hails from a city where men can be half-crocodile or half-bat, half-machine or whole psychopath, he’s sure she probably doesn’t know shit about that. being a psychopath though… we’ll see.

Nebula turned, towards the completely ordinary boy standing beside her. He seemed as human as anyone else in this room, but there was something different. The way he hovered around the edge of the party, the displeasure evident in his tone -- he was an outsider, too. Not as much or as obviously as she, of course, but an outsider all the same. “You’re much more efficient with your speech than most terrans,” she pointed out. “I don’t know whether or not that’s more surprising than the fact you agree with me.” 

But of course, he continued to speak, and his words now were typical Earthen ignorance. Nebula inhaled sharply as the annoyance surged through her veins, and she had to remind herself not to wipe the smug look off his face with a quick snap of his neck -- that wouldn’t do Doom’s party any good, now would it? “I am not lost, a man, or a member of any group,” she said harshly. “Your insult is baseless and confusing. I prefer to fight on my own. That way I can dispose of grievances --” She gave him a pointed look. “Before they become problems.”

[bluerobotbitch]

quakesjohnscn:

The language the woman spoke was unfamiliar in a way so foreign that Daisy knew it wasn’t an Earth-based language at all, but it was clear from her tone that whatever she was saying wasn’t a happy phrase. “It’s my office,” she pointed out, tense and ready for a fight. “You’re the one who’s not supposed to be here.” The woman didn’t seem in danger of underestimating Daisy, and while that gave her a hell of an ego boost, it might make the actual fight a little harder if it came down to one.

Clearly, being called Kree wasn’t a compliment, but that didn’t make Daisy willing to sit back and let herself be threatened. “Try,” she corrected. “Before you try to ‘tear my tongue out of my skull.’ I promise you, you’re not even going to get close enough to touch me.” Daisy Johnson hadn’t been a victim in a long time, and she knew without question she’d never be one again. “Okay, look, it was an honest mistake. You’re blue, you’re an alien, I did the math. There’s no need for you to be this dramatic about it!” If asking a simple question lead to threats that dramatic, Daisy would hate to know what kind of shit this woman would say to someone who was actually rude to her. “Red Bull. It’s a — You know what? Never mind. I work here. What are you doing here?”

Head of the Panel and registered fully, Nebula had some inkling as to what this Johnson was capable of. She wasn’t eager to be on the receiving end of one of her ‘quakes,’ but she had a job to do. If Doom saw her as unreliable, he would consider her more disposable than he already did -- and easier to fool. Their relationship was already far too imbalanced for Nebula’s liking, though she was gritting her teeth and doing what was necessary for her larger goals to be achieved. “I am precisely where I need to be. You were meant to be long gone by now,” she murmured, eyes narrow. Had Johnson been tipped off? Or was this simply bad timing? 

Nebula didn’t believe in coincidence, or in fate (her idea was that destiny was something to be seized, something you earned by blood and suffering). “I happen to be very good at trying to accomplish that particular feat,” she whispered in a low voice, tinged with warning. Her dark eyes fixed on Johnson’s. “I am not here to kill you, even if you are irritatingly ignorant. I will do what is necessary to complete my task, but I would rather not have to get blood on my batons.” She inhaled sharply, irritation flashing through her, almost making her rethink the words. “The Kree are a spineless, hopeless, idiotic race and our skin color is the only similarity we share. I assume you would be just as dramatic, if I were to call you an insect, even if it’s a far closer comparison.” She still didn’t understand what the red bulls had to do with anything, or why they were important (perhaps it was a code word? some security measure?). “I am here on official business. It’s none of your concern,” she replied coldly. She was not used to having to explain herself -- or restrain herself. But Doom wanted no bloodshed, not if it could be traced back to him in anyway. She would have to find a way to talk her way out of this. 

[bluerobotbitch]

ncvarider:

“For once in your life you’ve said something I’m inclined to agree with.” Rich drawls, throws back the remnants of what’s in his champagne flute. He had caught sight of Nebula from the beginning, leaning against a wall and watching people with a scowl on her face as they moved past her, around her–had nearly choked on his drink and threatened to be sick before the party even really got started. What kind of world was it that Peter was dead and someone like Nebula, who’d only ever been interested in serving her own means no matter what the cost, was there scoffing at people stuffing their faces with what essentially amounted to a very simple and yet intricate tool of propaganda? It had taken him a minute and a hasty escape from the crowd to decide how to approach the situation, or if it even merited approaching at all. He could easily just–pretend that she didn’t exist, keep the fact that there was a Nova still alive from her purview until it was necessary to reveal it. 

Hunched over a sink in the bathroom he had decided it was equally advantageous that she knew that he was alive, that any threat she posed to the safety of the Earth would be met, like it always had been, by a Nova. It took most of a glass of champagne for him to actually work up the desire to do it, but here he was, leaning against the same wall and trying not to speak through clenched teeth. He wonders if she’s struck a deal with Doom yet, exactly how many minutes it took before she cast him as her replacement Ronin. “It’s an excuse to eat and to have crazy we’re not as close to death as we thought we were sex in a bathroom stall. If you’re nieve enough to believe that’s the case.” 

“Neither of those things appeal to you, so what I can’t figure out is why bother? Unless of course you’re planning to blow us all sky high or time on Earth is softening you.” 

The voice was familiar, but it couldn’t be true -- Nebula turned slowly towards him, eyes narrow. “Funny. I heard you were dead,” she said simply, gears clicking in her arm as she tensed for a fight. The Nova Corp and all who represented it had been a thorn in her side on more than one occasion, both while she worked for her father and against him. But this boy looked barely older than a child, how much of a threat could he truly be, even if all the stories were true?

“I’m not naive enough to believe anything,” she muttered in a low, dark voice. Doom’s words, even to her, were always steeped in half-truths, double-meanings. She followed him for power, not trust. He was the only person who could possibly get them out of this hell-hole, he was certainly more capable of it than the last remnant of an over-glorified galaxy policeman. “Eating is more enjoyable alone, and that... other part, sounds highly unsanitary, from what I understand of the process.” She’d never understood that particular biological desire. Perhaps she was too much machine to grasp the point of that either.

She gave him a long look, lip curled up in distaste. “The only thing my time on this insipid rock has done is infuriated me,” she hissed. “But no. I don’t have plans to destroy your little planet. Nor did I bring it to this dimension, in case you were wondering. After all, it isn’t be very good bait destroyed or displaced.” She sniffed and shook her head. “I am here because I was invited. Simple as that.” 

[bluerobotbitch]

Just as deadly as her sister Gamora, Nebula was last seen heading off to kill their father, Thanos, in Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Cybernetically enhanced from head to toe, Nebula received a few design modifications from the first film in the series to the second, the most notable being a new left hand to replace the one she tore off at the end of the first film.

Nebula and Gamora are sisters. Are there any design similarities between them?

“I designed Nebula after I had designed Gamora. Even though they are both daughters of Thanos, they’re certainly very different. They’re almost a yin-and-yang kind of relationship, so I intentionally didn’t want them to look the same. That’s why, even in some of the early paintings that I did of both Nebula and Gamora, I painted them together to kind of see how they played off of each other. I think just with them having different skin colors – green and blue – that already is a very cool visual to have. And obviously being bald and a lot more robotic, it lent to it being a very cool visual to see them together.” – Andy Park, Visual Development Supervisor (Art by Andy Park)

– The Road to Marvel’s Avengers: Infinity War - The Art of the Marvel Cinematic Universe

[bluerobotbitch]

Nebula was furious. This wasn’t a new feeling, obviously. She spent most of her life enraged, anger was all she knew. Rarely though, was it fueled by ignorance.

She did not understand how this party fit into Doom’s plans. What the point of it was. Truthfully, very few things the ‘present-dent’ did made sense to her. He had his armies, he had the entire city fooled, and yet he squandered his power on something like this -- without informing her as to any of it.

Perhaps he didn’t trust her. It was a wise decision. But he hadn’t chosen to kill her after she discovered his secrets -- what little there was to discover. He was a careful, fastidious man. Which meant nothing was done without a purpose, but she could fathom what purpose a party had.

Still, she came. She hovered around the edge, back against a wall, hiding in plain sight. The smell of food was tempting, but she kept herself very still, refusing to move. Her goal was to observe. Maybe if she watched long enough she would discover the meaning of something like this. 

After an hour, she let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s simply an excuse to eat,” she muttered. “And eating is more pleasant alone. Where there is no aggravating music constantly pounding in your ear,” she added, glaring at the band. 

[bluerobotbitch]

I've ended lives, I've ended worlds I guess I've done it all Fire, and ice, and rage inside How long 'til I fall?

[bluerobotbitch]

starfcx:

“In your case, it sounds like I am not,” Eros commented. Despite having left Thanos, Nebula seemed little changed in her ways. If the rest of his brother’s children were all continuing to act so harshly, he may not have been missing much, but that did not mean he should ignore any of them. They could still be potential threats, as she clearly was. No one could run from Thanos forever, and Eros would never have thought so. Yet trying to meet the Mad Titan head on was not exactly a better course of action. “I rather doubt you can prepare that thoroughly to meet him. I was raised with him, and I still do not think I can ever truly be prepared to face him.” Eros knew that the reckoning with his brother would come eventually. He did not anticipate it as Nebula did. He simply accepted it.

He had said he could not really know what Thanos had put her through, and Eros hardly wished to start any sort of argument over which of them had been more wronged by Thanos. Everyone who had felt the Mad Titan’s wrath had an equal right to see him brought to justice. Eros was very sorry for his brother’s cruel actions towards Nebula. Her planet was one of many Thanos had destroyed, and he had done her no favors by taking her under his wing and doing whatever he had done to her. “I am sorry, Nebula, for everything he has done. Not just to you, but to all the beings across the cosmos who have ran afoul of him. Knowing that he has done so much wrong, and thinking that perhaps I could have helped to stop it, weighs heavily upon me.” Her menacing demeanor did not frighten him, nor was he insulted to hear her call him weak. She was hardly alone in thinking him so, and Eros was glad for that. He often used that to his advantage, perfectly content to allow enemies to underestimate him. 

“Perhaps he deserves no pity, but I still will not hesitate to give it. We shall simply agree to disagree on that point, my dear niece.” Despite the seeming friendliness of the epithet, Eros’ voice was firm, with more than a hint of a warning of his own in it. He did not wish to fight Nebula, but he was not afraid of her either. “Well, at least you are giving me a warning. Your father would not even do that, so perhaps you are better than him after all. Yet I still wish you would truly prove that by moving beyond the path he set you upon.” He knew that was a forlorn hope, but Eros was nothing if not optimistic.

“In my case,” Nebula repeated in a low voice. Nebula’s entire body tensed, and she felt the familiar flash of jealousy course through her veins and circuits. “You suppose Gamora is different?” she pressed, taking a step closer, jaw clenched tightly. “You suppose she is different, that she is better than me? She is a coward,” Nebula hissed, throwing her arm out wide. “Perhaps that is why you prefer her, even now, Uncle. You are both weak, pathetic, would rather run than face a fight head on. Your emotions get the best of you,” she spat. “But I will be prepared the day my father comes. To do what I must, to take what is owed me.” 

She was not in the mood to try and convince her uncle of his stupidity, to compare horror stories of her father, to continue this foolish debate. But she would’ve preferred that to the next words that left his lips. “I do not want your apologies,” she muttered, gaze faltering for the first time since she saw him. She stared down at the concrete below their feet. “I do not care about your regrets or the people he’s hurt. None of it matters to me, you understand?” At her sides, her hands clenched into fists, and her old resolve returned. “All that matters is my revenge. I will have it. It’s mine. I will make him suffer ten times what I have suffered, and I will deeply enjoy every second of the experience. And then -- then I kill him.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. In an flash, she had a baton drawn, and held out, pointed directly at his throat. “I am no one’s dear anything,” she said. “My father saw to that, when he made me like this. If you stand against me, uncle, you will see firsthand what his training and surgeries have wrought.” Moving beyond the path Thanos set her on? She scoffed loudly. There was no moving beyond that. Thanos had shaped her from birth, had re-built her cell by cell, there was no part of her that he had not affected. How could she be anything but what he had made her? “Your wish is wasted,” she spat. “I am precisely where I want to be on this path, and I move for no one. Not anymore.” 

[bluerobotbitch]

diamondfrcst:

Students, at least the prospective ones, lingered outside the gates for longer than most would realise or even be able to guess at. Stepping past the gate was like stepping into another world, one where you were forced to confront what you were, and where chances were you would never again leave. Most of the students that arrived were estranged from their families, and once they found people they loved within the school’s walls, they saw no other reason to return to those that had birthed and hated them. It took time for people to comprehend that, which meant it took time for them to take the plunge. Emma appreciated that, accepted it for what it was. She was a bitch, but she was far from a monster. She knew what it was like to feel small, insignificant, and discriminated against.

This potential recruit - no, student - was just extending it for no reason. Either that, or they were a potential threat, coming to watch the school and watch out for a hole that they could slip into. Emma was fiercely protective of very few things outside of her own person, but the school was one of them, which was why her dealings with Magneto strictly related to the outside world, rather than fighting back against the X-Men. Her students were in there, after all.

“Yes, mutant,” Emma repeated, frowning once more. She would definitely need more Botox after this. “Is that a problem, or are you too dumb to understand the word? This is a school for mutants. If you’re not a mutant, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. If I have to ask again, I won’t be kind about it.” Not that she was particularly kind now, but they would’ve sent Kitty if they had wanted that. “Since this morning,” Emma retorted. “I can hear the thoughts of anyone in the general area, no matter how much you try to mask them from me.”

Nebula’s eyes narrowed down at this stone woman. She scoffed. “You call me dumb, but you’re the ones who gather yourselves into tidy little nests. Easy to pick off. I spent the day observing your routines, your classes, your ‘combat.’ I can think of a thousand different ways to lay siege to this facility, a thousand flaws in your security, and you think I am the dumb one?” 

She leapt down from the tree, landing hard in front of this woman. She studied her carefully. The stone skin was interesting, but irrelevant. Brute force would still crack through that casing, she was sure of it, it couldn’t have been more than a few inches thick. “You are not asking. You are commanding, and I do not take orders from you,” she hissed. She smirked at the woman, seeing another flaw right in front of her. “If you could hear my thoughts, you would know what I am, and why I am here,” she pointed out. “Evidently, I do not need to shield myself from you.” Her technology was far superior than anything on Earth, including, it seemed, the powers of the enhanced. 

[bluerobotbitch]

quakesjohnscn:

‘Workaholic’ had never been a term applied to Daisy. In high school, she’d barely squeaked by until dropping out completely, and she’d never bothered to continue on with college or anything of the sort after that. The Rising Tide was the first time she threw herself into something completely, the numbers and lines of code making far more sense to her than anything else ever had. Her desperation to belong had driven her to hack her way into various organizations, and she’d found that losing yourself in your work was easy when the work was something you enjoyed.

That was what found her in her office long after everyone else had left the building, what kept her behind her desk after the lights in the hall went out. It was easy to get into a rhythm with hacking, but hard to break out of it. There were no ‘stopping points’ no easy way to pause and pick up where you’d left off in the morning. Hacking Doom’s system was going to take days of small, experimentally untraceable hacks like the one Daisy was running now, and when those hacks were interrupted by a blue alien breaking into her office… Well, it wasn’t ideal. “Oh, shit,” she said eloquently, scrambling to her feet and holding her hands out in a threatening manner, ready to quake. “You’re — Are you Kree? I mean, okay, probably not the best thing to ask and I get that, but it’s, like, three in the morning and I’m running on Red Bull right now, so.”

Nebula cursed in an alien language under her breath. “You were not supposed to be here,” she hissed, tensing up when the woman raised her hands. Johnson held no weapon, but Nebula wasn’t stupid. She knew the woman had powers, was one of the enhanced, and so she dropped into a defensive stance, staring right back at her. 

Her eyes narrowed at the question, and a look of disgust crossed her face. “Watch your tongue,” she snapped. “Before I tear it out of your skull.” She had never been so insulted before, even by Thanos himself. “I am not one of those weak, pathetic Kree morons,” she said, shaking her head. “And I don’t understand what red cows have to do with anything. What are you doing here? This building is meant to be empty at this hour.” 

[bluerobotbitch]

@quakesjohnscn

Doom had a ‘working’ relationship with the Panel -- his terms, not her own. She couldn’t help but think it wasn’t all that functional if he still required her to go and gather information. It occurred to her, as she easily broke into the building, that her skills were being wasted. She wasn’t even supposed to kill anyone on this jaunt, just find out if any of these supposed allies were up to anything.

She deliberately broke in during the middle of the night, when no one should’ve been around. The first few desks she looked in yielded very little, so she made her way towards an official looking door. The nameplate read ‘Daisy Johnson,’ a name she remembered from the public files. Quake was her other name, one of the leaders of the Panel. If there was anything to find, surely it’d be in here. Nebula pushed the door open, and froze immediately. She hadn’t expected Johnson to be sitting at her desk, staring right back at her.