#Fury is plotting

[raileurta]

I need someone knowledge about IDW characters because I want to make a one shot about Miko for whatever reason getting transported in the middle of Megatron's trial in the apex armor and immediately trying to throw hands.

Ultra Magnus is in the middle of reading Megatron's war crimes or something then out of nowhere Miko comes crashing in and breaks the podium. Everyone is immediately on edge and ready to fight but once the dust clears they are all very confused.

Who or what is that!???

She gets up and sees Megatron and this weird place so she assumes he has something to do with it. So the situation plays out like:

Miko: Ugh, where a- YOU!!! 🫵

Megatron confused: Me??

Miko: What the frag is going on and who are all these people? Magnus?

Ultra Magnus: Identify yourself creature.

Miko: You don't remember me? Dude it's me!

Ultra Magnus: I do not know who you are.

Miko: What's going on?! Why does everyone look so different???

Miko to Megatron: WHAT DID YOU DO?!

Megatron: I didn't do anything?????

Miko: You might look different but you're the same old buckethead who tried taking over Earth!

Megatron: W-hat?? What's Earth?

Miko then punches Megatron in the face and tries to destroy him. She's torn off by multiple bots. Then idk I don't know what happens next. I don't know how these characters would react or what they do.

[fistfuloflightning]

When even a Fury’s strength may wane

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

The scene Minato walks into tonight when he returns home is a cozy one. Amada sits beside Sanada on the couch facing the television, and Aragaki sprawls sideways in the armchair, one leg draped over the arm. Koromaru sits on his other foot, and it looks like he’s watching whatever’s on the screen just as attentively as the other three.

It really is nice to see them getting along the way they are these days. Minato has no idea how he would fare in Amada’s situation, but he can’t imagine it’s easy.

He’s proud.

The sound effects coming from the TV are considerably less cozy than the atmosphere in the lounge. There’s a lot of roaring and screaming, and– crunching noises? Not exactly the kind of movie he expected Amada to be into.

Sanada seems to be having some regrets about their choice of viewing material, wincing dubiously at the screen as another particularly fearful shriek is cut off halfway through by a flurry of snarling and chomping.

Aragaki is the first to notice Minato. He waves, prompting the others to glance in his direction as well. Koromaru immediately stands up and trots over to him, and Minato crouches to return the greeting by mushing Koromaru’s face gently between his palms.

Technically there’s an assignment for Ekoda’s class that he really should finish before they leave for Kyoto, so he isn’t stuck doing it tired out from the return trip, but– it’d be nice to hang out with Amada for a bit before he has to spend four days alone. Something tells him that Sanada and Aragaki had the same motive when they’d sat down.

Plus, the movie does look interesting.

Koromaru happily settles back into his spot atop Aragaki’s foot as Minato takes a seat. Making eye contact with Amada from behind Sanada’s head, Minato raises his eyebrows a little. Amada nods slightly in return as he struggles mightily to keep a straight face.

[silverjurors]

MCD except the Divine Warriors are Actual Gods(TM) and are looking down from their little divine perches and occasionally go "what the actual fuck guys" to their champions/decendants

[lazanhaazeda]

Httyd is so wrong to me in many ways, like how much they changed Toothless behavior, or additing a girl dragon only to make his separation with Hiccup make more sense, or the villain being "The One" slayed all the night furies, or the fact they didn’t needed for the dragons to be gone, like, at all.

The dragons from the start were a metaphor for prejudice, how knowing the other allows you to live better with them and THAT takes time, takes patience, takes adaptation, this is shown not only in the first movie, but in the series too, so its very weird for them to throw it all away because "the world isn't ready for them"?

Hiccup already fought with SO MANY antagonists who had the ideas of hunting/ dominating dragons, he fought so many for the coexistence, only for the dragons to have to hide in the end? Like the world wasn't meant for both humans and dragons at all?

Hiccup would make the whole world understand if he needed, he would make the world for the dragons.

And I ain't talking abt "Oh no I wanted Toothless and Hiccup to still be together in the end", im talking abt how this doesn't make sense and feels like throwing things away for the sake of the easiest ending.

[i-only-see-daylight]

Rhysand: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine! 

Nesta: How can you still say that? 

Rhysand: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

[arctophyllax]

Raphael x Human Tav

Thinking about Raphael not knowing how to love healthily, Raphael who becomes obsessed with Tav. Human Tav. Becomes obsessed with them in the most twisted and corrupted way.

Not quite knowing what it is that he feels,

But absolutely hating whatever it is.

Raphael whose human side is stronger than he would ever dare to admit, especially when it comes to feelings.

For roughly two thousand years he had been lonely—yes, he had a personal incubus, he had servants, souls, and warlocks. But he didn’t have Tav.

Tav who seems to enjoy the conversations they have, Tav who looks at him without fear, and with no intention of asking for his favour like every other mortal did before. They weren’t easy, weren’t stupid, weren’t blindly naive.

Raphael was lonely, deep inside, walls put up high to keep possible vulnerabilities from getting to him, to keep himself safe, to control his environment without any weak spots.

Yet there they were.

A weak spot.

A mortal. A mortal that made him feel less alone, no matter how short lived and rushed their conversations had been so far.

A mortal that he found himself thinking of and protecting from afar, a mortal he was slowly becoming more and more obsessed with.

A mortal.

A mortal that would die one day, no matter how safe he managed to keep them.

A mortal who was so vulnerable to the passing of time.

A human lifetime was but a moment to him.

He would be lonely again, would still think of them.

They would weaken him just to leave him.

And it would drive him insane.

Unless… unless he robbed them of their mortality,

Made them stay

Forever.

»Nothing is immune to Time. Not even eternity.«

[velidewrites]

Feyre: When I first met you, I thought you were weird and annoying

Rhys:

Rhys: And?

Feyre: And you are

[darkdemeter]

READER AND DEATH "BEING PARENTS" FOR 1.3K WORDS

Death x (GN/)Female Reader

Uhm what do I say about this piece? Idfk. Figured I should stop writing it where it was before it got outta hand. Teacher this is my assignment. (Dunno if I'm gonna continue writing this idea or delete it and watch it burn in a dumpster fire while I sip coffee).

WARNINGS...?

AAAAAAHAHAHA! I intended it to be a cute, fluffy and funny drabble thing but I don't even know at this point.

“No.”

“Yes,” Death answers simply. 

You heave up with a grunt, the weight shocking you given how Fury is the size of a toddler, her features shrunken except the eyes that remain as large, milky white orbs. Her lips screw into something of a pout. You see her fiery temper is trapped inside her tinier body. Placing her down and gasping, you reach for Strife who’s hands clench and open, a grumbling whine escaping him.

 No way this happened. 

“How?” you ask, mouth agape and contorted into a troubled, confused frown. “Strife, say something! Anything!” He only babbles something between an infant’s prattle and some otherworldly language. Your features smoothen out into an unamused purse of your lips. Your eyes fixate on Death who harbours the third of his siblings, who for a raging machine of pain and chaos, is surprisingly subdued while sat atop the eldest Horseman’s shoulders, hands clasping ahold of Death’s raven locks. 

As it turns out, Vulgrim the Soul Eater possesses a variety of interesting artefacts. Death’s account is that said powerful manifestation which the Horsemen were tasked in retrieving for the demon trader, the gem had combusted after misuse and his three younger siblings were incidentally turned into… Well, babies. 

You set Strife back to ground level, your mind too far gone into a spiral to notice the pitter-patter of footprints rush off. Death bends down to do the same for War. “I thought you would have some clue as to what to do with them, since humans have a child-rearing nature.”

“Me? You’re older than me by millions of years. Really you’d have a better idea!” you hiss back, tempting fate as you jab a finger at the pale rider’s chest. 

Death’s comeback comes as a sharpened growl, “I never sired any offspring!”

Unsure whether the flush that invades your system belongs to your bafflement to such a confession, or that fact that you teeter to-and-fro on the fine line between a school girl crush and pure hearted love for the rider before you. 

With a defeated huff, you turn on your heel and Death steps forward, his arm just barely grazing against yours as you both now set your attention to the other three riders who now have free roam of your home. 

“Do we know how long it’ll last?” you ask the eldest nephilim as you scratch at the back of your head. He gives a low and long sigh, his shoulders falling and his posture pushing forward that little bit more, but continues to tower over you quite a bit. 

“I’m not sure…”

Before you is the second apocalypse in the making, with three little terrors to pin the crime on. The little rascals were tearing your lounge room apart by the minute and all you could do was watch, and all Death could do was obviously let your nurturing instincts take over. After all, he didn’t have children of his own back in his day. So of course it was a battle of shifting the responsibility onto each other as you both danced around, keeping the rambunctious three out of trouble and from destroying everything in their wake. 

“No Strife, you can’t eat that,” you scold firmly and endure a game of tug-of-war that you refuse to admit losing, with Strife even as the size of a toddler but the age of a year old baby, he is still overwhelmingly strong. 

“Are— all— Nephilim babies this— strong?” you heavily pant between each yank and stretch shared between you and Strife who laughs at your expense. You feel the muscles in your arms tire already but eventually you manage to snatch the stool from him, the legs marked with deeply embedded teeth marks. 

“Quite so.”

So there was some form of child rearing with their race. Death has never been that forward with the history of his people, and you didn’t feel it was your place to push. But it brought an interesting thought to the forefront.

Before the spike-haired nephilim can start a tantrum, you take Strife up and into your arms, his hands immediately seeking out to grab your hair. Meanwhile, Death holds a very temperamental Fury by the scruff of her neck, his amber eyes narrowed thinly as he rasps a curt, deep-noted, “No.”

Her small fists punch and swing no to avail, babbling something in a tongue you can barely comprehend and pure infant prattle. 

Death remains largely unphased as War thunders towards him in a short sprint, head and shoulders arched forward and rutting his head into his brother’s leg with a shrieking battle cry. With his other hand he does the same to War, holding the siblings that now enact their annoyance onto each other, what with the lack of Death’s engagement to their fight. 

You’re struggling to even balance upright with Strife attempting to crawl over your shoulder, his overbearing weight threatens to crush you where you stand. 

“Not so easy to deal with now, is he?”

“Shush, let me think.”

Death only chuckles in reply, the sound a crawling timbre you avoid paying any further attention to unless you wish to cave to your feelings right there and then. 

You tap a finger to your chin as you ponder the next several steps, in which Death sparingly sneaks glances of your focused gaze, you put Strife down and sternly tell him to stay put before moving away to some hidden portion of the house to come back with a something the pale nephilim can only assume to be a torture device. 

And he thought you were incapable of sheer cruelty up to this point. 

“I used to take care of puppy litters for friends. This,” you pause as you set up the makeshift area, “will keep them in one place.” 

Turning towards Death, you can only assume he’s raising a brow at the contraption. “A cage?”

“Sorta… it’s just somewhere we usually place pets – or misbehaving children!”

Your tone rises louder as you make direct eye contact with Fury and Strife, who attempt to fight one another, with War merely dangingling in Death’s grip. How he carries them with no sweat to his brow, you hardly understand. You chalk it up to his inhuman strength. 

Now to get the three into the playpen. Death was secure in his role, easily dropping War and Fury in with no problem. It’s you who suffered with Strife making a beeline out of the lounge. For a baby of superhuman strength, he also possessed his supernatural speed as well. 

And so, Death was treated to the sight of you chasing around an infant, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilting every so often in the direction that followed you both. 

But his entertainment had to be brought to its conclusion, seeing that you’re faring unwell, he conducts his mannerism with a touch of sympathy and snatches Strife as he makes to sprint past. The young thing is spiteful for this betrayal, hissing like some beast cub and babbling again in that foreign tongue, Death casts Strife into the playpen with his siblings. 

“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” you bitterly scowl with a glare, approaching the pen with waning breath. 

Death’s large shoulders move up into a shrug. “Think of it as a debt repaid for all the times we were chasing you around.”

Your bottom lip sinks inwards, your teeth biting down upon the lump of flesh. The amount of times you inherently wandered and ran off while under their care had indeed written a long overdue receipt. 

“Humans are curious and all that,” you mumble more to yourself as if it would serve as some form of justification but Death can only scoff at your so-called reasoning, no doubt rolling his eyes. 

“So what now?”

“I guess we have to wait it out.”

[g-on-ef]

Plot bunny prt 3

Maya Sokolov story

Goddess of Loneliness

Summary: Maya Sokolov the sister everyone either hated or tolerated the sister that betrayed her own.

It's been 2 months since the truth was discovered and nothing has been the same.

Mia hates her, Killian is always looking for an opportunity to remind her that she's a good for nothing back stabbing bitch, Niko is avoiding her like the plague, her parents have cut her off and Illya...her only saving grace broke up with her in the worst possible ways.

No one wants to hear her side of the story or more precisely no one cared to hear it feeling more alone than ever Maya decides she has over stayed her welcome in her family's lives and decides to escape somewhere where no one knows her, her story, and more importantly her family.

As she takes this journey of self discovery and healing she'll see that family doesn't always end in blood and that there is such as thing as a second and greater love

[theautumnfox]

Just thinking about Feyre and Rhysand with their baby and just doing life stuff. Eating, sleeping, being up for the late-night feeds, the baby's nursery, Rhys doting on Feyre and making her comfy as possible, making sure Feyre is eating enough as breast feeding uses so much energy, nap times, doing High Lord and Lady duties in Velaris with the wee baby in tow, getting into a bath book bedtime routine with the little one at night time, idk it just makes me smile we were truly robbed.

[roguerambles]

Tekken 8 looks like it's got some great plot so far.

Some good, good, good plot--

[whiteladyofithilien]

I think my main reason for shipping Caranthir and Haleth is because we need at least one inter-race Tolkien couple where the human is a woman. Like all three canon human-elven pairings it's always the fabulous fae elven beauty and the heroic dude and I'm like... What about a mighty elf-lord and his badass human lady? Hmm? I need this to be a thing and Haleth/Caranthir is the only ship I know of that has that dynamic going for it plus of the middle three sons of Feanor Caranthir is the only one NOT part of the attacks on Luthien... therefore he's the best of those 3

[escapism-from-the-real-world]

I had a power ranger RPM thought:

So, the bad guys in power rangers have been pretty good for the most part. Venjix from RPM is genuinely terrifying simply for the fact that he’s killed the majority of the planet, Zander from samurai is a really good bad for bad sake kind of bad guy and he’s a chronic migraine icon, and Jarrod/Dai Shi and Camile from Jungle Fury are my favorite bad guys ever and they are so much fun and all the villains in this show are giving off toxic family drama vibes and sometimes have more interesting plot lines than the heroes.

Lothor from Ninja Storm and Mesagog from Dino Thunder have been alright. They have interesting concepts that I feel like needed a little bit more oomph to be on par with everyone else I’ve seen/remember so far. Mesagog has an amazing character design tho.

ANYWAY, most of the villains have reasons for why they are failing to destroy the rangers despite their best efforts (Zander suffers from constant debilitating migraines that stop him from leading well, Lothor is purposefully losing for later plot reasons, Dai Shi is being held back by Jarrod, Mesagog is being held back by Trent’s dad) but I didn’t really see this kind of reasoning for RPM.

Which is weird because RPM is like, the best power rangers ever and has some really fun interactions/dynamics with villains and heroes, but didn’t have the same “we’re failing because there is X holding us back”

And then I remembered Venjix’s origin story.

He’s a computer program meant to infiltrate and disarm security programs, maybe even destroy them. He’s a computer program made by Dr. K, his direct enemy. Computer programs are only as smart as they are programmed to be.

Venjix can easily get into Corinth, that’s basically his whole programming, but can’t beat the “security team” (aka the rangers) because they are “programmed” beyond what he was designed to destroy.

He keeps losing because he is a computer program with set limitations already in place for him. All his biggest schemes and plans that had the greatest success were thought up by Tenaya in combination with his other generals.

It is a human mind that is progressing his advancements and even then it is held back by his preference for his machines.

Like, that’s really cool. And maybe that wasn’t what they were going for but it works and it’s wonderfully consistent with what we are give about how Venjix works.

I love this show so much.

[raithwithwings57]

Avengers and X-Men crossover fic with time travel

(let me say this is movie versions because no one needs crossovers from the comics they literally all live in the same world. Mostly.) This is part of my giant crossover fic that is both a Stucky fic and a Cherik fic. It's got lots and lots of lore though so due to it's ambitious scope it's been a minute since I worked on it. However even without the context i think this part is fun so here, take my unfinished draft.

“We found him. One Charles Frances Xavier. He’s dead, Director. Died 1963, killed by the Winter Soldier. Headshot, body identified by multiple people. Worked briefly with the CIA in 1962. Classified files claimed he was a telepath, but this was never confirmed. Quite frankly sir, we’ve found him, but how does a man who’s been dead for sixty years turn up alive, and having barely aged?”

Fury paused. “He was a target given to Barnes by Hydra?”

“No sir.” Said Coulson. “Wrong place wrong time.”

Fury snorted in disdain. “Sounds like our official story on his death is getting a bit rusty. Wrong place wrong time sounds like he got in the way of something. Where did he die?” Fury continued walking down the hallway, leaving Coulson to trail along behind him.

“November 22, 1963, Dallas, Texas.”

Fury stopped walking abruptly. “Hell.”

“The assassination of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy.”

“Why the hell did this guy get offed by Barnes on his way to JFK? I want you to find me answers, stat. All the files we have on him.”

“Yes sir.”

[figureitoutinthemorning]

Anyway, considering how many Greek mythology-inspired musicals there are (and I think there should always be more), I’m kind of surprised no one’s done the Oresteia yet. With every passing moment I get this much closer to just writing it myself.