#and his atomic breath??? HOLY SHIT????????????????

[defness]

JUST WATCHED MINUS ONE. SOBBING SO LOUDLY AND CLAPPING AND EHERHRHRHRRH

[msmodesto1]

My headcanons about mercs' cooking skills and food preferences because I want + I can

TW cringe

MeDiC

Medic cooks just fine. Not good, not bad, fine. BUT! He knows how to make awesome pastries, and once you taste his cupcakes, cookies, and you are already addicted to flour drugs of his production.

DeMoMaN

Demo doesn't have time to cook his own food, and sometimes he just doesn't have the strength to do it. He eats fast food or whatever his grandma makes for him. He also likes fish. I think he really likes sea fish.

EnGiNeEr

Meat, meat, meat, and meat, as well as meat and of course MEAT. He eats and cooks a lot of meat, and he's a master at it. Everything that can be fried or grilled, he cooks very, very tasty. But it's not always healthy food, and maybe you'll have heartburn after eating it, but it was delicious and you don't regret anything.

SoLdIeR

Soldier cooks hellish dishes. The recipe is averaged, as there can be a lot of options. Soldier takes the soup, but does not heat it. The microwave is for wimps. Soldier pours the soup into the pan and starts frying it. He adds a LOT of garlic, onion, black and red pepper, flour for viscosity, and a lot of sriracha. He frying it until it starts to smoke black. Soldier never cools it down, he immediately pours mayonnaise into the pan and starts eating it. He eats from the pan, loudly scraping on the pan with a spoon. He eats, sweat stands out on his forehead. Soldier eats and mumbles "holy shit" under his breath. He often offers it to his friends, but they kindly refuse.

ScOuT

This son of a bitch has a secret spell called "fast metabolism." He can eat everything in his fridge, in your fridge, the whole KFC menu, a herd of cows, a third of the state of Virginia, and half of the US strategic reserve in case of an atomic war, and he will still remain thin as a stick, after he can still say something like "oh, dude I think I've lost some weight." He mostly eats what his mom cooks for him. But he often eats fast food.

HeAvY

Of course he knows how to cook, and he cooks very tasty. But everything he can cook is very fatty and high in calories and, not surprisingly, he eats a lot. Do you know how much he eats? If you are lucky (or unlucky) to get into his house for lunch, then you will barely finish the first course, and you will already have thoughts that you will crawl out from behind the table because you will not have the strength to get to your feet. And this is only the first course! There's also a second course, a third course, a couple of salads, dessert, and then Heavy will make you drink tea with him. Do you know how they drink tea in Russia? It's like a separate meal, only all the food is sweet. Do you think this food will last for a week? Huh, it's a regular lunch at Heavy's house.

SnIpEr

He has no taste in food. A steak with black caviar from a five-star restaurant and the fried sole of his shoe are the same thing for him. Seriously, he doesn't see the difference between a masterpiece dish and what Soldier can cook. Because of this, his food tastes either ok (if you're lucky) or disgusting. Well, yes, he put too much salt in his food. Well, yes, he confused salt with sugar. Well, yes, perhaps the entire periodic table happened to be in his breakfast. He didn't even feel it.

SpY

He loves to eat delicious food and has great taste in food, but he will NEVER cook something. He hates cooking. If he has the choice of either cooking something for himself or starving to death, he will go in search of a pen to write a will.

PyRo

Pyro can cook... They think so. In fact, their food is disgusting in appearance and taste and always has a burnt taste. It's some kind of curse, but they burn all their food. Even if they pour water into the pan, it will still start to burn.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Alright hi sorry I'm feeling emotional today and I have to talk about my absolute favorite song for kraken era Ed ever

So it's this song used in Shin Godzilla (I know that's not where you were expecting me to go, be patient, just let me cook okay). Shin Godzilla, to give you context, is a 2016 Godzilla movie and its basic premise acts as a critique of Japanese governmental bureaucracy and inefficient response to imminent threats (it's usually considered a response to the Fukushima disaster). The Godzilla in this film's gimmick is it evolves rapidly in response to its situation, especially as it's threatened by the people trying to stop it. It starts out a silly little fish guy and by the end it's huge and shooting atomic beams out of its back and bleeding all over the place (yeah, it's like SUPER sad).

So this Godzilla is always responding to threats, like it only shoots atomic beams out of its back because it had bombs dropped on it, and it's in horrible pain basically the entire time.You can probably see where I'm going here

And the song I'm talking about is "Who Will Know (Tragedy)," and it's a song from Godzilla's perspective with two overlapping voices. One voice is just this overwhelming sadness about what's happening to it (the title comes from a line about how no one will ever know it as anything other than this rampaging monster), and the second voice is this desperate cry for basic self-preservation.

Yeah. Yeah. Literally if I hadn't seen this movie and someone told me this song was written specifically for Kraken era Ed I would not bat a fucking eye.

And because this is already long enough, I'm putting me screaming about all the lyrics under the cut.

Voice 1 in italics and voice 2 in bold!

If I die in this world

But I must carry on

Who will know something of me?

Nothing worse can befall

I am lost, no one knows

All my fears, all my tears

There's no trace of my yearning

Tell my heart there's a hole

I wear a void

As long as breath comes from my mouth

Not even hope

I may yet stand the slightest chance

A downward slope

A shaft of light is all I need

Is all I see

To cease the darkness killing me

Like???? It's just so easy to apply this to Ed holy shit. The fear that if he dies now, no one will remember Ed as he really was? Feeling that he's so lost and no one knows anything of his love? Wearing a void, like dressing himself up in that big black duster version of his outfit and putting on black makeup? And then the second voice, feeling like he has to keep stumbling forward because at least nothing worse can happen to him, just longing for a single shaft of light (holy shit??) to help him pull through?

[slocumjoe]

What's a compliment you would give each companion if you were to meet them IRL?

theres a few different ways to answer this. One of them being something personal and related to their character growth. No. That would be deep and philosophical. I'm answering this literally. How would I, a normal person, compliment them, presuming them to also be normal people?

Cait; would be wearing the kind of stompers I'd kill for. Just the chunkiest leather boots that would make me salivate. It'd be the boots, or when she'd walk away, I'd whisper to the person standing next to me, "holy shit, did you see how buff she was???"

Curie; would dress professional, but still fun and cute, so think pencil skirts and maybe a fun blouse. So, I'd probably end up blurting out how cute her outfit was. Complimenting her nails (short but a shiny, glittery color) or her jewelry (novelty stuff earrings, like atoms or chemical beakers) is also on the table.

Danse; id look at him and stop breathing. I would crane my neck up and my mouth would warp into the stupidest grin, incapable of speaking without a choking giggle. My face would go red as a tomato. I physically would not be able to compliment him. I would have to sit down for 15 minutes and remember how to breathe.

Deacon; knowing Deacon, he'd show up wearing the same hawaiian shirt as me

Gage; id follow his lizard Instagram and be completely obsessed with it. I would not approach him in person but I will absolutely leave comments fawning over his pet iguana

Hancock; I imagine he dresses Like That everywhere. Given my reaction when my butch manger showed up dressed as a medieval king, with a crown and embroidered dress coat and boots (i stopped breathing and stared at her for five minutes, jaw on the floor), I would probably react the same to Hancock's manner of dress. I wouldn't need to say anything. He'd get it.

MacCready; he'd make make an impressive trash can shot. Meaning, he'd throw something from yards away and still get it in the garbage. What else can you do but bow before the glory of a college kids dunk skills

Nick; *five seconds after he leaves* "that was the nicest, kindest man I've ever met and I think my daddy issues are cured"

Piper; id follow her tumblr and Twitter for the Chaos. Is that a compliment? Idk but you look at me and tell me that this woman would not EAT any discourse she got into. Even if she was wrong she would still somehow win. I hate her. We should kiss under the moonlight

Preston; *five seconds after he leaves* "that was the nicest, kindest man I've ever met and I think I should chase him down and give him my number?"

X6; I would open my mouth to compliment his jacket and he'd look down at me through his sunglasses with the most digusted grimace, before opening his palm in expectation of money before he would EVER suffer my voice

[hrodvitnon]

Just got out of my first viewing (spoilers so tag accordingly)

Yeah that was the most ridiculous shit ive ever seen and i had a blast lmfao.

--

To get the few negatives out of the way: Syclla and Tiamat got COOKED. That's crazy. Especially Tiamat. I had no idea she was in the movie and like choked on popcorn when they said her name. First onscreen appearance and she dies in like 3 seconds... sucks to be her. But honestly... this is probably one of those moments where Fan Content messes with the perception of a canon thing, at least for me. It hurts a lot more because of the emotional attachment from stuff like Ozymandias's story, Shamhat, and other adjacent stuff. If I had never seen those and watched her die I'd probably think "oh she had a cool design, but whatever". But yeah, my only serious complaint is her being shafted and I don't even really think I can call it objective because there was definitely an attachment there.

Ok besides that this might be my new personal favorite Monsterverse. Could be recency bias but I don't think so. Every human is at the very least entertaining. Everything Trapper did in this movie made me crack up, hearing Bernie say the words 'Discord chat' and 'Ghidorahstan64' (i stg this was a callout of some kind) onscreen gave me terminal whiplash, and although Jia and Andrew's story was sorta surface level, it was still endearing. I'd rather have a good human storyline, sure, but if we can't have that I'll settle for entertaining.

Here I thought Suko was gonna be an annoying marketing ploy to sell toys... I physically snorted in the theatre when Kong slammed him into that one ape. MVP of the film lmao. Mothra was... also there. Yeah, it really shows that she was a last minute addition. But DAMN she sent Godzilla ROLLING with a single attack. Speaking of, I don't think the Tia-Zilla form was as underutilized as I've heard people say it was. Especially that new Atomic Breath effect. Holy eargasm.

Oh man though, Shimo and Skar are fantastic. Skar hits the same beat as like a Celestial Dragon or Vladimir Harkonnen with way more grace than I would've expected from a big monkey. They go shockingly dark with his treatment of the ape-slaves and Shimo... especially with that female ape insinuation.

Holy shit poor Shimo, man. I honestly thought the Skar controlling her aspect would be kinda downplayed and just regular mind control, not genuine torture of some kind. I love that they let her have characterization by resisting him at every chance she gets, and that the pain control isn't always active (i'm assuming that's the insinuation of keeping her all chained and behind magma, it depowers and restrains her when Skar's not actively using her), further insinuating she gets merciful breaks from hellish enslavement only to be yanked back into it whenever Skar needs something turned into a popsicle. I think my favorite moment in the film is right after Suko shatters the crystal and the light blue luminescence fades to reveal her actual eyes for the first time. Eyes are used throughout the film to show subtle humanizing features, like Godzilla falling asleep in Rome, Kong's wide eyes when he sees his kin, and shock when Shimo realizes she's free. Having her eyes glowing the whole film makes her seem way more monstrous and inhuman, so when that suddenly goes away she starts getting framed as just an animal. Also her eyes are pretty. Also, I lied, that wasn't my favorite part of the film. My favorite part was Kong giving her chin scratches and that cute half-hug. This needs to be normalized. He needs to hug Godzilla next film. I will pay someone a king's ransom for this to happen. Final little detail, I like that Kong doesn't do his final roar from on her back but standing next to her, on the same level as all the other apes. He doesn't look to elevate himself over her or everyone else like Skar did, which is a great touch.

Also also also: Think it's time for a Doug solo film where he tries to steal all the Titans' food. Make it happen Legendary.

Much agreement here! I'd love for a solo Mothra MonsterVerse film to really capitalize on her lore and give her stuff to do (without dying at the end preferably); maybe establish some connection between the Chen family and Jia. Also, I need a little shot of Mothra going to visit Godzilla while he's sleeping in the Colosseum and just cuddle up to the big lug.

Andrews and Jia were a welcome breath of fresh air after GvK reversed Mark's characterization and Madison became... that. There was still some slight tension between Jia not feeling like she belongs and Andrews wanting to do right by her, even if it means possibly giving her up, only for Jia to go "you're my mom, you're my home, stop being dramatic". You love to see it.

Adding to the Doug solo film idea... Shimo adopts him because he's cute and she thinks his shenanigans are hilarious. Let us have fun wholesome times!

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Fix You

Sam Winchester x Fem Singer Reader

Soulmate AU very loosely based on the Coldplay song ‘Fix You’.

‘Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones and I will try to fix you’

Sam Winchester x reader

Warnings - slight angst, soulless sam briefly, johns terrible parenting, mentions of death, fluff, my terrible writing/ editing.

Mainly fluff but some angst

Words- 2.2K

The term soulmate is used to describe an all consuming love, a love so deep it was created by God? Fate? When two souls are destined to be together, two halves of a whole. Who knows where they originated from, some say it’s when the universe was created with a big bang, every atom was split into two and spread miles apart, you are one of those broken atoms, trying to find your other half.

The idea has been romanticised by happy couples across the globe, who have been lucky enough to find their soulmates. But it’s not sunshine and daisies for everyone, some never find their soulmates, others don’t have a soulmate at all, and some very unlucky people lose their soulmates death pulling them apart.

At 18 years old you received your mark, a burning sensation carved into the skin above your heart, searing pain as his name branded into your skin. The day started like any other, you woke up early your Dad knocking on your door “wake up kiddo we’ve got a job” you dad calls through the door. “Yeah ok dad, give me five minutes and I’ll be down” you reply voice still laced with sleep. You made your way quickly to the bathroom to get ready, before grabbing your to go bag and heading through the front door. “What’s the monster of the week then dad?” You ask hopping into the passenger seat of your dads run down mustang. “Vamps we think, the Winchester's are meeting us there” he replied. You’ve known the winchesters since you were a small kid, practically growing up with the boys. They would stay over yours for weeks at a time while John was working a case, so naturally you were all close friends, you were especially close with Sam though who was only a year older than you. Together you shared a love of books, animals, watching the stars and annoying Dean.

The vamp case went well, the nest was extinguished and you were all back at your motel rooms. John and your dad were outside your rooms, sitting on the steps to the motel sharing a drink, while you and the boys were settling down for the night. While brushing your teeth in the bathroom it started, the burning across your chest. The pain was pretty unbearable and you toppled over into the shower space, sitting now on the damp floor of the shower you held your chest gasping.

After what felt like hours the pain sizzled down to a soreness, which felt very much like a sunburn. Giving yourself a second to gain composure you stood up and walked to the bathroom mirror, with a deep breath you pulled your oversized band tshirt over your shoulder and peered at your chest. And there in neat cursive writing was the name ‘Samuel Winchester’ “holy shit!!!” You gasped completely in shock. You braced yourself before running out the bathroom and out of your motel room, startling John and your dad as you banged on the room two doors up from you, Dean answered the door wearing an equally as shocked expression as you were, he stepped to the side allowing you access and there on the motel room floor was a very distressed Sam holding his chest still, “it’s you!” He exclaims, “your my person?” He questions, a quiet “Yeah” is all you can muster up at that moment, panicking that he’s annoyed or worse disappointed.

When Sam stands up and starts walking over to you, you really start to panic, but to your surprise he throws his arms around you, and pulls you in snug to his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck. ‘I always knew it was you, well I hoped anyway” he confesses a blush across his cheeks, “me too” you reply, smile gracing your lips and unshed tears in your eyes. “I’m so glad it’s you” you continue , before standing on your tiptoes and placing a small peck to his lips. All the while Deans still stood in the doorway with a vacant shocked expression on his face, before coming out with “damn it! Now we all have to put up with this chick flick mushy crap from you both”. Sam huffs out a laugh before turning to his brother and answering with a “yep, get used to it man’. After that your dads come in to see what’s going on, your dad congratulates you both, all while giving Sam the don’t you ever hurt her speech, John on the other hand looks anything but pleased, muttering something along the lines of ‘no good will come from this’.

That was nearly a decade ago now, and you have been through hell together since then, quite literally. You followed him to Stanford, starting a degree in literature and eventually sharing a dorm with him. Unlike his dad, your dad Bobby was supportive, happy you we’re both getting out and living life. You left Stanford and said degree with him to help find his dad, started travelling with him and Dean, and hunting again much to your dads despair. You held his hand through the whole psychic thing, with the yellow eyed demon, told him he wasn’t a freak and it wasn’t his fault. When he died your soul shattered with him, you held him sobbing into his hair while Dean took the deal to bring him back. You had to hold him again when Dean was taken to hell for making that deal. You both tried everything, read every book, asked every Demon, monster and hunter if there was any way to bring him back.

Lucifer was one of the biggest obstacles you faced together, with Dean safely back things were better for a while, only to be pulled into the lucifer and Michael war. Seeing him fall into that pit after your touch snapped Sam back into control of his body, was one of the worst pains you’d ever felt. Watching Dean and Cas fall into their lives and some normalcy was incredibly hard. “Will you be alright sweetheart?” Dean had asked, “Yeah I guess, I’ll probably head back to dad’s” you had replied, a complete lie obviously you were far from alight. You felt left behind, broken and alone, you couldn’t just move on when half of you was missing. But his name never left your chest, usually when a soulmate dies the other loses their mark. But not you, you’d later come to realise this was because not all of Sam was in lucifer’s cage.

Soulless Sam was one hell of a challenge at first you were just so glad to have him back, that you didn’t question how wrong he felt, you did every test on him and he smiled and allowed you to do so. But that pull to him, the warmth and unconditional feelings were gone. You’d felt awful, riddled with guilt. This was Sam your Sam, and he was home with you, safe and breathing! So why couldn’t you shake that feeling something was off? Especially when he kept telling you to not tell Dean he was alive and well.

Working with the Cambels was exhausting and you didn’t like his grandfather Samual at all! He was hiding things you knew that much, and he treated his so called family terribly. You eventually found some comfort when Dean was back with you guys, he was soo mad to start with why hadn’t no one told him. Then he also began to realise Sam wasn’t Sam, the first time he talked to you about it you had fallen apart, just sat there and sobbed on Dean. It had felt like such a relief to talk to someone about it, your dad had said it may just be Sam now, that Hell may have changed him. But you’d told Dean that you couldn’t feel that connection anymore, your couldn’t feel him! And that was enough for Dean. He had called your dad to explain further to him “Even y/n can tell somethings off Bobby! I’m tellin’ you when his soulmate says she can’t feel him in there, I’m inclined to believe her! My skins crawling just being with him Bobby please just ask around, find something!” Dean had yelled through the phone.

Cas had eventually come when Dean had called, and discovered what we had all thought, Sam’s soul was missing. Cas had said putting it back into him would be “ill advised” but neither of you could leave him like this, and the way he had been treating you saying he didn’t care, it was crushing your heart. “Death said he will go to hell and collect his soul, he’ll put up a sorta wall in his head sweetheart to block out Hell, it’s going to be ok. I promise I’ll get sammy back” Dean had explained to you before ‘playing death’ for 24 hours, a wager Death had set in order to place Sam’s soul back.

You felt it before you saw it, Sam’s soul was in that bag death was carrying, it called to you desperate to feel yours. That moment was all too much, the desperation to be near his soul again, the screams from Sam begging not to have it put back in, “don’t do it Dean please! It will kill me! You heard Cas!” Sam yelled, “I’m sorry Sammy we have too” Dean replied, emotion clutching at his voice. “Now Sam, I'm going to put up a barrier inside your mind... You might feel a little itchy. Do me a favour... don't scratch the wall. Because, trust me, you're not going to like what happens.” Death had explained, “Now y/n I’m going to need you to hold his hand, feel the energy connecting between your souls, you need to hold onto it. And when I push his soul in, use that energy to surround it, your connection will help to hold that barrier in place and heal his soul, it won’t fix it completely, but it will get Sam on his feet” Death further explained to you. You’d blindly followed his instructions, moving towards Sam on shakey legs. You sat on his cot with him trying to ignore his violent thrashing and took hold of his hand. As soon as death opened the bag your energy’s pulled together like magnets. It was in that moment you saw and felt the pure power of soulmates, blinding white light filled the room, Sam’s soul was forced back in place and you pushed your energy in too, healing, binding, connecting. And you knew it would be ok, you would be there to help him, to help fix what’s broken.

For a little while things were good again, Sam woke up not remembering the year of being soulless. Dean had refused to tell him but as always the truth outed, and Sam was left feeling guilt ridden, sad and for weeks now he could barely look at you.

You walked into your kitchen where Sam was sat staring aimlessly into his beer bottle, worry lines creasing in his forehead.

“Sam” you signed, walking over to stand beside him. Rubbing your hands over his shoulders you continued, “Hey look at me” you gently caressed his chin before bringing his face up to meet yours. “ you have to stop blaming yourself, you weren’t you and Dean and I forgave you the second you were you again, I don’t blame you for this ok!” You said sternly. “You can’t keep pushing me out ok? That’s what’s killing me here, not what you did last year” he looked up at you eyes laced with tears, “But everything I’ve done to you, Dean and your dad! I tried to kill him y/n I can’t just get past that!” He cries. “He has Sam, he’s passed it. No one blames you ok, it’s done and we can’t change it, but we can all move forward, don’t push away everyone who loves you, you need us and we need you! I need you…..” you reply desperation in your voice, tears slowly trailing down your cheeks. That seems to do it, he pulls you into his lap, his face in your neck and arms securely around your waist, hugging you close to him, and he lets it all out, you both do.

Dean silently stands against the doorframe small smile on his lips, while he watches you and his little brother cry it out, holding each other close. “Hopefully things can only go up from here” he thinks.

“I’ll be there for you Sam, that’s what a soulmate does, your stuck with me whether you like it or not Winchester” you smirk. Sam looks at you, brows pulled together small smile on his lips, before he pulls you in for the softest kiss, conveying all the love he feels for you. Once you part he whispers “I wouldn’t have it any other way, I love you”

“I love you too Sammy, always”

[atomic-crusader]

Godzilla Minus One thoughts (SPOILERS)

TLDW: Godzilla Minus One is easily one of the all time best films in the franchise so far. While it isn't my personal favorite, it absolutely deserves the praise fans and critics seem to be giving it. Outside from some personal nitpicks, I'd say this entry is worthy of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the best.

10/10

THOUGHTS AND SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!!! GO SEE IT!!!!!!

Boy does this movies come in swinging! Koichi setting up the main conflict of feeling like he is a coward (he's not, as the movie goes on to point out) and then the whiplash of GODZILLASAURUS

I know its just an unmutated Godzilla but HOLY FUCK the similarities are there and I love the design.

Personal nitpick #1: was hoping the movies would go more in depth with the origin of its Godzilla but the movies isn't really about what Godzilla is but rather what he does and represents to the story. As a result they don't really say what he is other than he is known to Odo Island's folklore. I like that, it gives him a mysterious vibe.

I gasped because I thought he ate a guy be then he yeeted him

Poor Koichi Can't Catch a Break the Movie

Noriko was great. It's clear she isn't used to being looked after and it shows.

Speaking of which, ALL the characters are wonderful. The Reiwa era looks like it is being defined by stronger human characters and stories and I am all here for that!

I'm actually surprised that the trailers (or at least the 2 I watched) didn't show to much Godzilla action. Or at least the final battle.

Godzilla REALLY has it out for folks in this movie. That lack of a clear origin helps actually. His attacks are sudden and brutal. He is REALLY visibly pissed off too.

SPEAKING OF BRUTAL HOLY FUCK!!! For as much damage Godzilla does to everyone, he gets FUCKED UP! Half his face blasted off! It's cool the see his regeneration ability realized in CG

Personal Nitpick #2: I do wish they had made Godzilla a more obviously tragic character. He is just as much a victim of war as he is a symbol of it. Again though, that isn't what this movie is about, and the ending does at least suggest a sequel isn't completely out of the question, so maybe we can still see why Godzilla decided that All Humans Are Bad.

His atomic breath is wild man. Creating mushroom clouds and massive creators is some nightmare fuel shit.

NORIKO NOOOOOOOOO :(

(dont worry she lives)

The plan to kill Godzilla was interesting. Explosive decompression is not really the first thing I would have thought up for a sea monster that brings up deep sea fish but the speed at which it happens is important.

KOICHI NOOOOOO (its okay he ejected)

Personal Nitpick #3:... I don't really like how they defeated Godzilla. I thought it was overkill. Like, yeah I get that Koichi needs to have is moment and all but blowing his head up I thought was a little much. and then he crumbles away? I guess he was frozen? Cool visual though. I imagine it was hell to convince Toho to have Godzilla die that way.

I heard Yamazaki was a big GMK fan, and the last scene really makes it obvious. I wonder if he isn't available for a sequel, Yamazaki would request Kaneko to direct...

Hey Noriko is alive!!!! Hey what's that on her neck? Why does it look like Godzilla's dorsal plate? Oh God Please Let Koichi Be Happy He Has Been Through Too Much.

The overall message of the movie is so goddamn moving, Live. That isn't a request, that's an order, a demand. Live, you should be happy to be alive. You may not think it, but people love you. People can forgive you. You don't deserve to die. Live and fight for the next generation so they don't make our mistakes. It is tough but you and people around you can make it better. You. Will. Live.

[rorimoon9597]

If he was known for anything, it would be his emotional maturity. Because when Pidge and Keith both floundered with refugees of all ages, Lance, Allura, Shiro, Coran and Hunk would be going around and offering comfort and a break, however small, from their troubles. It was something that came naturally to him from having such a big family.

So when Keith disappeared for two weeks without any trace after the Kral Zera, he freaked out. It was annoying for his friends, and only Coran was able to listen to his panicked rambling every single time.

Then Keith came back, and he didn't spare the details of his travelling, just that he ended up befriending a wolf that could teleport. They fought Lotor, and found out that Shiro was actually a clone and oh gods, his head hurt from all of that.

So now they were on a planet that Coran suggested they stopped on to recharge as much as possible and to relax. They were going to be heading back to Earth soon, which was exciting. Lance hadn't seen his family in so long. He wanted to introduce them to his boyfriend. He wanted to tell Adam that he finally got a boyfriend. Adam would be so proud!

But they needed to sort something out. Namely, why the hell didn't Keith call?

So Lance stood and stretched. eyes darted to him, including Shiro's eyes that had that fatherly look in them.

"Well, I'm tired. I'm going to go to bed now. Night," he said with a little wave. He walked to Red, who bent down to let him in. He could hear the others behind him, murmuring their goodnights except for Keith.

Lance went about his nightly routine, waiting for Keith to join him. It took a few minutes, in which he washed his face and changed into his pajamas, for the man to show up.

Keith was wearing his own pajamas, the wolf behind him. He walked up to Lance and wrapped his arms around him. The both of them relaxed, melting into each other. The wolf went to explore Red's interior, sniffing at things before moving on.

"I missed you," Keith whispered. His voice was deeper, and it sent shivers down Lance's spine.

"I missed you too... Why didn't you call?" He asked. He was prepared for a fight involving Keith being unable to talk at all.

"The quantum abyss didn't have reception," Keith said. Lance frowned.

"Quantum abyss?" He asked. He turned around to see Keith properly. "What is that?"

"It's where we found the planet that Lotor moved the Alteans to. If you're not careful, you can get pulled apart, atom by atom. It nearly happened to me once. Mom saved me from that." Lance gaped at Keith like a fish.

"You- what?"

"I know it sounds bad, but we were able to get to safety. There were these things that had their own ecosystem. They produced enough oxygen for humans to breathe, so Mom and I stayed on one of those while we were traveling," Keith explained. He rubbed circles into Lance's hips.

"What else happened?" Lance asked.

"There was a time dilation. So... Mom and I spent two years there." That truly made Lance's jaw drop. He looked at his boyfriend again, taking in how Keith's jaw was more defined, how his hair was longer and how he was taller now. He was taller than Lance, which meant that Keith was close to Hunk's height. That man was near six foot.

"Holy shit, you're- you aged two years while you were there?" He said.

"Yeah." Keith was watching him.

"You've changed," Lance observed, his voice soft. Keith's eyes grew... sad, almost.

"I have," he agreed. Lance smiled.

"I like these changes, you know," he said nonchalantly as he ran his hands up and down Keith's arms, feeling the newly developed muscles. They weren't like Shiro's, but they were definitely more prominent than before Keith left for the- what was it, quantum abyss?

"You do?" Keith asked. Lance swallowed. Keith's voice was going to be the death of him.

"I do," he replied. He rested his hands on Keith's chest, letting himself feel the faint thumping of Keith's heart. "You're taller than me, now, for one."

"So you like my height?"

"I like you, so I like everything about you," Lance replied, feeling satisfaction as Keith's skin colored just a bit. "Your voice is deeper as well, you know. It's hot." His arms moved to rest on Keith's shoulders, hand connecting behind black hair. Keith smirked and leaned in close.

"You like my voice, darling?" He asked. The Texas accent that Keith only spoke in when he wanted to came through, sounding better with the deeper voice.

"Shut up," Lance said. He pulled Keith into a kiss that he'd been waiting for since he first saw Keith on that screen. Keith hummed into it.

It was- it was the best kiss, for some reason. Perhaps it was because they hadn't seen each other in two weeks - at least, for Lance it was two weeks. For Keith it was two years.

"Why did you brush me off earlier? At the castle?" Lance asked when he pulled away. Keith's eyes were sad. Like, genuinely sad.

"I'm sorry, Lance. I had a mission, and I had complete the mission or else I probably would have decided to ignore it completely in favor of holding you. I... I knew that I'd do that, and I couldn't, because Allura needed to know and we needed to get revenge for all of those Alteans and stop Lotor," Keith said. Lance nodded, unable to say anything. He pressed another kiss to Keith's lips.

"I understand, cariño. It just threw me off a bit there, y'know?"

"Are you actually okay, Lance?" He paused at the question. Normally, it would take longer for Keith to ask that. Lance studied his boyfriend, ignoring the fact that they were both studying each other.

"I'm better now that you're here," he replied honestly. Keith studied him a bit longer, but eventually smiled.

"I'm glad. The past..."

"Two weeks," Lance supplied helpfully.

"It's only been two weeks for you guys?" Keith asked, surprised.

"Yes. Now, you were saying?" Keith smiled and shook his head.

"The past couple of weeks must have been hard for you, yeah?"

"The two years you spent with only your mom and your cosmic, teleporting wolf must have been hard for you. Hey, that's a good idea!"

"What is?"

"Kosmo!"

"Kos... mo..?" Lance pointed at the wolf, who tilted its head.

"Kosmo!" He said again. Keith blinked at Lance, then at the wolf. Then he turned to face Lance again.

"I guess. We'll have to see if he likes it, though." Lance turned to face the wolf.

"How's that sound, huh? Kosmo?" The wolf wagged its tail, then teleported over to them for pets.

"Alright... I guess his name is Kosmo now," Keith agreed. Lance grinned.

"Yep. And... I've been separated from you for far too long. So... what do you say cariño?" Lance asked, a grin on his face. Keith grinned back at him.

"Sure," he said. Red grumbled in the back of Lance's mind then retreated, leaving the two to their own devices. Kosmo, reading the air of the room, also disappeared.

________

"Do you want to know what I like the best about this newer version of you?" Lance asked. He traced patterns onto Keith's skin.

"What's your favourite thing?" Keith asked. Lance rested his head in the crook of Keith's neck, shivering slightly at the touch of his hand on his back.

"How you've grown emotionally," Lance replied. Keith hummed in response, encouraging Lance to keep going. "I like how you're able to talk about things much better now. The only reason why it took you so long to talk to me this time is because of the fighting, and Shiro too. But you didn't run from talking about things this time, and you apologized without me prompting."

"Mom helped me with that. We bonded a lot during our two years on that creature," Keith replied. Lance listened. He'd always liked the sound of Keith's voice, but he loved it now. The way it rumbled was comforting to Lance.

"I'm glad that you found her," Lance said.

"I'm glad that I found her, too," Keith agreed. "It was weird at first, y'know? How do you talk to a parent that's been absent for most of your life? But I learned about her story, how she met my dad and fell in love with him, how they found Blue and kept her as safe as possible. How Dad had to help Mom give birth which he had experience in. Did you know that he helped deliver babies when the mothers couldn't get to the hospital?"

"He did?"

"Yeah, so he knew what he was doing. Man, that would've been weird to explain. But Mom and I grew closer. We saw visions while we were there, in the quantum abyss."

"What did you see?"

"Us," Keith replied and oh, that was so sweet.

"Tell me," Lance said. And Keith indulged him, telling him of the things he saw. Shiro and Adam getting married and adopting two Altean children. Hunk and Shay getting together, them with a Galra child.

He told him of Matt's future wife and kids, how chaotic they were and how Pidge appeared to be a good aunt. He told Lance about Silvio becoming a cadet at the Garrison.

Then Keith told Lance about the two of them; the girl who looked like them combined that bought crystals that looked like fire and water, about her twin brother who looked like Keith more than Lance but cracked similar jokes to him. About the flying fox creature, about their wedding, how they would rebuild Keith's childhood home for the four of them and visitors.

And Lance listened, letting himself be lulled to sleep by Keith's voice.

When Keith noticed, he smiled. He pressed a kiss to Lance's hair.

"Goodnight, Lance. I love you, so, so much," he whispered.

[shoukiko]

NEVER EVER HEARD OF OR SEEN YOU BEFORE BUT PLEASE DO. I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT YA GOTTA SAY.

OH BOY AM I GLAD YOU ASKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love all the Godzilla movies, I've seen all of the modern ones made in America, when Minus one was released on streaming services, I raced to find a place to watch it on 😭 "

Godzilla: Minus One Review (SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!!)

I'm gonna do Pros and Cons, First the Pros

Godzilla's Design

Holy moly this design, I love all the Godzilla's with a few exceptions (Son of Godzilla), but this one is just WOW.

The way his dorsal plates can retract and also pop out of his skin was such a unique touch that I really appreciated. Also the way they animated him, very different from the other movies, He seems terrifying and just like an apex predator.

Plot line

Dude this movie had me on the edge of my seat. 5 minutes into the movie and we see Godzilla already??? Thank you so much??? I love you???? And we can even tell that it's a very small Godzilla, not fully evolved but still terrifying, I loved the idea of him being able to grow stronger and evolve.

It follows Shiki's story and his battle with PTSD and the guilt of those mens deaths and the guilt of being the only Kamikaze pilot that is alive.

The ending made me cry, but then that one scene where we find out Noriko is alive, which I thought was like INSANE!!!!!!!

10/10 Story, So fucking good, I will be rewatching this movie ( already have at the time of writing this)

Characters

Shiki himself is a great main character, but the side characters really bring me in tbh

Yuki Yamada being one of my favorite actors really sold the deal on Shiro's character for me, he is such a goofball and I can feel his passionate soul throught the screen lol.

Akiko and Noriko are genuinely lovely to watch, Noriko is a perfect mother despite the circumstances.

ALSO YOJI????? HELLO SAILOR!!!!!!

Sound Design

Holy shit it felt like I was THERE

The loud bangs followed by ear piercing silence that starts to come up to the surface but still somehow sound so far away, only for it to hit you like a punch in the face

Hearing one of the characters absolutely SCREAM his lungs out in pain while other noises begin to drown him out

I want to marry who directed the sound in this movie

Other things I'm too lazy to seperate into other categories

Very Anti-War which slayssss

End scene where Godzilla isn't actually dead, great twist

The atomic breath reveal (Chefs kiss man holy shit)

The CGI is one of the best I've seen, they were able to capture so many scenes perfectly. Also Godzilla's expressions, that shit made me so giddy.

OH YEA

ALSO

EVEN WITHOUT GODZILLA

THIS SHIT FUCKING EATS

IT WOULD BE SO GOOD

HE JUST ADDED SO MUCH MORE TO IT

Becuase in the others Godzilla has a purpose

He is driven by something and helps humanity

but in this one he's just an apex predator

Something that felt thratened and felt like he was losing his alpha status

like an actual animal

so he just destroys everything

mm mm mm yummers

CONS

It ended

I wanted to see more Dino like Godzilla

Okay rant over thank you!

[hazelnut-u-out]

here you go, @theresonlyzuul !!

HOLY SHIT- WAS THIS FUN TO WRITE... i feel like i keep getting carried away with these birdrick asks. thank you so much for the request!

again, please send in any requests you guys have for sfw rick and morty fics. these are helping my block so much and they're keeping my skills sharp, haha.

i hope you like it! <3 (i kinda leaned into the jealousy, but i made sure to throw in some internal angst monologues for you!!)

-birdrick; just a couple of widowed girldad bros w romantic tension ;)

-3566 words

-TW: brief mentions of suicide

_______________

Honestly, Rick was shocked that Birdperson had invited him over.

“I’ll see you when I see you,” didn’t exactly seem like the type of open-ended statement that would lead to a hangout session any time soon, but…

There Rick was.

The elderly man stood outside of his best friend’s front door- the wind a corporeal thing that attempted to sway him this way and that from the branch he stood on.

He’d always liked it up there, so far above the ground.

Rick had often thought of how he’d like to go out- frequently by his own decision- and this, he’d always thought, would be a nice place to jump from.

The sky glowed a husky orange, clouds whispering sweet nothings to one another in the distance. Their murmurings wrapped around Rick’s lithe form as he tried to decipher what they were saying.

Part of him envied those tangerine swirls. Their romance wasn’t ever forbidden or unrequited. The only bad thing that could happen was for them to eventually drift apart- tugged by different breeds of wind.

Even then, though, they were made of water. They adhered to the cycle of their elements, just like everything else. Their contents would spill upon the ground so that they could inevitably rise back into the atmosphere. That meant, after enough time had passed, they’d eventually get to be together again.

He took solace in that- in being made up of elements.  

Eventually, the atoms that he was comprised of would exist alongside everyone else’s he’d ever loved again.

It would take a hell of a lot of time, but… it would happen.

Rick stretched his arms out wide, leaning his head back and letting the wind breathe life into him. He needed to remember to breathe.

Sometimes, that was hard. It was always the remembering to do the silly little things about being human- like eating and breathing and sleeping- that seemed to evade his memory. He overthought every little thing.

He was a big-picture kind of guy, regularly more focused on how things would come together than what they would look like if you broke them down.

If you had broken his life down, he’d first point out the pain; the sorrow; the grief; the pointless war and apathy and inability to compromise; maybe even the booze.

If you gave him enough time though, truly a man of science, he’d get around to looking a little deeper. Underneath all of that, he’d assume, was just a seventy-year-long succession of breathing- of sleeping and eating.

He smiled, letting his arms fall back to his sides.

Maybe he’d even find a laugh in there. A touch that lingered too long. A silhouette in a hospital bed and a little hand wrapped around a finger.

He was shocked when he didn’t wince at the memories.

Rick was anxious, that torrent in his belly turning wildly and making the inside of his throat flutter. He could feel the hammering of his heart in the shell of his ears; in the tips of his fingers.

He’d been drinking, of course- as much was needed to keep him alive at this point- but not as much as he usually would.

He figured he wouldn’t have liked anyone raging drunk around Beth when she was a baby. In fact, he remembered that being a rule- no drinking in the house.

Beth…

He rubbed his left thumb over the handle of the paper giftbag clutched in his hand.

When he finally tamped down the butterflies threatening to swarm out of him, Rick reached a hand up and tapped gently on the door.

It was a lengthy moment before Birdperson answered. It was as if everything stilled and leaned in to see what would happen next. Even the clouds hushed their whisperings- the leaves of the trees pausing their dancing.

A soft squeak resounded through the bark of the tree, telling the forest it was once again acceptable to resume its festival of life, as the hinges opened.

To say that Rick’s best friend always took his breath away would have been an understatement.

Sure, he was always breathtaking, but Rick had never heard a single descriptor or turn of phrase that encapsulated the rugged beauty that stood before him. Not in four decades had any verbal illustration felt satisfactory.

It was an energy that he gave off- or one that he sucked in from the world around him. He demanded as much as he gave as he walked by, a warmth radiating off him that was tantalizing from its stance within the desolation that encompassed the universe.

It was less that Birdperson took Rick’s breath away and more like his essence reeled him in gently, then landed blow after blow to his ribs until it was a labor to breathe in the first place.

But BP smiled, and Rick breathed.

Rick had always thought, if he’d had enough time, Birdperson could have become his air- something he could come to expect, to crave and need, each time he opened his mouth. Funny that air could burn to inhale like this.

Rick couldn’t bring himself to return the grin. Instead, he fidgeted nervously with the bag- bringing it around to his front and loosely holding it with both hands.

“Rick!” Birdperson bellowed, stepping forward and slamming an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “How have you been?”

“You mean, since-“ Rick cut himself off. No- today wasn’t about him. “I… I’ve been good, Pers.”

Rick looked up to meet his friend’s gaze and finally offered up a tentative smile.

He tried to ignore the warmth of BP’s arm that was sinking through the fabric of his clothing and into his skin; tried to ignore how it was the perfect weight to sit atop his shoulders. Not too heavy, but enough to keep him grounded.

Birdperson smiled back as he guided Rick into the foyer of his home.

“That is good to hear, my friend,” BP responded, stepping away. Rick felt the absence of his friend’s touch seep into his core. “I know that we have had our differences as of late, but when I met her… Well, Rick. You are the two most important things in my life. You and my nestling are all I have left, and… I’d like you to meet her, too.”

Her.

A bit of Rick’s heart swelled, aching in dull absence. This was a feeling he knew well.

“You…” Rick’s voice trailed off. He studied his friends face from his stance a few paces away as BP closed the door. It was obvious he hadn’t been sleeping well- dark purple shadows painted the skin beneath eyes and his stubble had grown out enough to shade the lower half of his face. Rick chewed his lip, clearing his throat before continuing. “You had- she’s a girl?”

Rick fought against the tightness in his chest, but he couldn’t help the wavering of his voice.

A girl.

Rick watched as his companion’s eyes expanded into pools of twinkling starlight, his smile broadening.

“Yes.”

Rick sighed, a strange emotion commandeering him now. He shot a quick glance down to his hands- the bag hanging there from his fingers.

“I guess- that’s perfect, then!” He finally answered. He extended one arm into the space between them, making a quick gesture with his chin towards the offering. “Some, uh… some of Beth’s old stuff I took from the house when I-“ his voice broke. He swallowed to find some resolve, urging himself onward. “when I left… Uh-uhm, it-it’s just a couple of little nighties, some stuffed animals- shit like that. I-I figured- thought you’d get more use out of it. I altered the clothes to make room for the wings, but, uhhh… I couldn’t- couldn’t, ya know… part with all of it.”

The other man tenderly reached out, unhurriedly taking the bag from Rick’s hand. “Thank you, Rick. I know that could not have been easy. She will love them.”

“You- ya know, you could’ve called me to help put her down. Watch her while ya got some sl-sleep or whatever.” Rick offered, uncomfortable with the vulnerability filling the space between them and desperate to fill the silence. “I-I spent a while figuring all that shit out and-and… well, I didn’t get to use all the tricks I learned as much as I would’ve wanted.”

“Oh, well,” Birdperson started. “Actually, that brings me to-“

“Hush now, little one,” A soft, feminine voice reverberated from around the corner, cutting the other man off.

What. The. Fuck.

Rick’s heart sank, plummeting into the depths of his stomach, and he sucked on his teeth to avoid saying anything.

Had… Had he…

“Pers, uhhh… did-did you… meet someone?”

So soon? Rick fought against the lump in his throat. Today was not about him. Today was not ab-

Birperson laughed- a hearty laugh that Rick did not join in on. Honestly, he was struggling to find the humor in the situation.

“No,” BP finally answered. “Of course not.” His smile faltered. “I… Tamantha was… well…” The other man let his voice taper off, pausing for a moment before smiling again- this one not meeting his eyes- and continued. “She is my nanny.”

Rick felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted from his shoulders, loosing a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

“Hmm? Someone called?” That same delicate voice crooned, a figure coming around the corner.

She was a plump woman with a kind face and rosy cheeks that accentuated her elegant smile. Her wings were tucked away, the plumage on her head slightly longer than BP’s, and she stood a couple of feet shorter than both of the older men standing in the foyer.

Rick immediately gave into that part of him that sought out his criticisms of others. She looked… too warm, too cozy. Comfortability was something that he did not trust anymore, and this woman radiated a grounded, downy feel.

It was what was cradled in her arms, though, that immediately drew Rick’s interest.

Rick had been petrified at what he would feel since his friend had muttered the word “her.”

Being a father is an instinct that never leaves you- and that was what Rick was. Deep down in his bones, he still thrummed with the deprivation of all those years. Beth was so little, so tiny, when he had failed to protect her. He knew that, no matter what he did or how he did it, the gaping hole within him would never be filled.

There was a silhouette cut out of his center, as if the man who had severed the very extension of his existence from him had used a cookie-cutter to gut him. The silhouette of a little girl- and it was a raw, bloody wound; infected and fatal.

That’s why he took himself by surprise when he leaned down, craning his neck to get a better look at her.

The tiny girl before him was probably the only thing that stopped Rick from shooting a half-thought-out witty bite at the nanny. He knew that the two bird people before him were talking about something, but he couldn’t hear them.

All of his senses were trained on her.

She was small- so small- and so… precious.

She looked like Tammy, yes- but there was something about her… so uniquely him…

Rick was never one to hide the softness he harbored for little girls. Some deep part of him was engineered to nurture them- and it had been far- far- too long since he’d had one to nurture.

Her little cheeks were warm with a sleepy glow, her eyelids shut, her lashes gently fluttering with a dream. Little puffs of air darted out from her parted lips here and there as she stirred. Her tiny wings were draped over the crook of the nanny’s arms, and Rick extended a hand to ghost a finger down the edge of one of the silky feathered appendages.

He had hated Tammy, and here… there was nothing- nothing- in this little girl he could bring himself to hate.

Nothing sharp or jagged- nothing broken or battered to her yet. This was so foreign, yet so excruciatingly familiar. She had never been hurt, never failed, never hollowed; chewed up and spit out.

If you were to place her beneath a microscope… there was nothing but breathing, sleeping, and eating; laughter and, he was sure, a bit of murderous rage- if she was anything like her mother, but…

Breathtaking.

“Rick?... Rick?”

Birdperson’s words finally cut through his haze, and he pulled his hand back. He looked up to meet the nanny’s stare and mustered up some semblance of a bland smile for her. He didn’t care if it looked fake.

“This is my nanny,” Birdperson continued quietly, waving a hand in the direction of the pudgy woman in front of them. “As you know, my culture does not believe in naming, but she takes clients of many backgrounds. As such, you can refer to her as ‘Sparrow.’” Birdperson turned to face Sparrow. “Sparrow, this is my best friend, Rick Sanchez. The path we have walked together is soaked with the blood of both friends and enemies. Please be kind to him.”

“…May I?” Rick asked, careening his hands outward gently, wanting very much to feel the comfortable weight of a child in his arms- if only just for a moment- but Sparrow swiftly turned, stepping away.

“Ohhhh, I think not,” she whispered. “The little one is tired- and she has quite the angry fits when awake, if you know what I mean.”

Rick’s tongue went sour in his mouth and his limbs tensed. Carefully, he said flatly, “She’s the daughter of a mega bi… violent woman-“ he shot a mindful glance at his friend. “and an intergalactic terrorist. I’m pretty sure I have enough experience to handle a psy-psycho kid, Sparrow.” Rick narrowed his eyes as he spat her name.

“All the same,” Sparrow crooned. “You needn’t worry, Mr. Sanchez. I’ve got it all taken care of. You boys have fun, now.”

The nanny turned on her heel and walked back around the corner.

Now, there was something Rick could find in himself to hate.

He turned back to BP who was nearly swooning with exhaustion, one palm pressed to his forehead.

“Would you be interested in watching a movie?”

Birdperson’s home was one of the only contented places in the universe to Rick- one of the only sites he had learned to trust.

The downy fabric of the couch was a reminder of what a safe haven this had once been to him; the heady coating of the coffee they sipped on his tongue an assuring modicum of normalcy.

The two men sat and chuckled; chatted; caught up- and Rick smiled all the while. The thrum of the television speakers in the background a fitting underlay.

Birdperson’s home was an embodiment of all of Rick’s domestic visions.

That being said, the longer Rick spent in Birdperson’s home, the more irritated he became.

First, came the screaming.

The small girl had awoken from her nap, and that insolent nanny had let her run amuck.

Well, his use of the descriptor “let” was a loose fit. It was more like this “nanny” had no concept of how to deal with such behavior.

Rick found the corner of his lip twitching upwards every time the little one had managed to garner an upper hand on the young woman. If he was picking a horse in this race, he’d have been rooting for her.

Rick was able to keep his opinions to himself- to sit with his friend and mask enjoyment of the quaint atmosphere.

Gradually, BP nodded off to sleep- and Rick knew better than to wake him.

Poor guy. This was probably the nanny’s first day. He must have been exhausted. Rick remembered that adjustment phase.

He laughed lowly now at thinking he could’ve never handled it. He thought, if he woke up tomorrow with his little girl in his arms again, and this had all been some horrible dream, he wouldn’t be the slightest bit rusty at being a dad.

Soon enough, against his own volition, Rick drifted off as well.

Rick didn’t know what time it was when he finally stirred from his slumber, blushing when he realized he’d been resting atop Birdperson’s chest. He could hear his friend’s heartbeat resounding beneath his ear and he tenderly brought a hand up to rest there, next to his head.

It was dark in the house, and he closed his eyes again.

A muted cry roused him again. A father’s instincts never leave. At first, he chose to ignore it- Sparrow would tend to the baby.

Birdperson’s breaths were still deep and even beneath him, and he began to wonder where the nanny had gone as the cry went unchecked for a few more long moments.

At last, Rick decided to go check on her himself- untangling himself from the mess of limbs upon the couch as carefully as he could and stretching.

The night was a void not too-dark here. The soft glow of small lights in the upper corners of he home illuminated the house just enough to get around.

Good. Rick didn’t like the dark.

He thinks that’s part of why he liked it here so much.

He followed the sound of the cries through the home, finding a note as he passed the fridge.

Nestling is sleeping.

Let myself out and locked the doors.

Stayed a few extra hours after my shift.

You seemed tired.

-Sparrow

Rick scoffed, crumpling up the paper and tossing it into the bin.

Finally, he found himself in the corridor, an open door to his left emanating a subdued whimpering.

He rubbed his eyes, taking note of the small nest-like cradle, and shuffled his way over to where he could see two tiny hands wriggling in the low light of the room.

Once close enough to see her, he crouched down- taking a moment to study her once again.

She was so tiny- fragile, even, for something he had heard was so dangerous.

She lay on her back, face tear-stricken, nose snotty and crinkled. She was…

She was wearing one of Beth’s pink onsies. “Pumpkin,” it read in hand-sewn font. He remembered making it.

Beautiful.

A small part of Rick could have sworn he’d just been stabbed in the gut- something scraping along the edges of that silhouette of a wound. Tears pricked his own eyes and he sighed, shaking the weight of the grief to the floor.

“Ohhhh, my sweet girl. C-come here, niñita,” he cooed gently, wrapping his willowy arms around the nestling and pulling her tight to him; secure.

He brought a calloused thumb up to wipe at her tears- her cheeks a sticky mess- as his own settled atop her russet hair. She began to quiet down.

He continued to breathe comforting little words into her hair, bringing his hand to instead clasp her head and hold it to his lips.

Rick wasn’t sure how long he spent sitting in the floor of that nursery with his friend’s child in his lap. The floor was sharp and hard, cutting into his bottom, but he didn’t mind when his legs began to hum with pins and needles. A cool flame lapped at the inside of his ribs all the while.

Still, he found himself warming up in a gentle sort of way.

Once she had calmed down, she had gotten squirmy and restless.

Rick pulled her back, singing to her. Not once did she try to scream or kick or shout.

He showed her how to play pat-a-cake, and she awed and cooed. His shoulders relaxed as a smile snaked its way along her lips, her wings occasionally shooting up and bumping against his lashes or bits of her plume getting stuck in his stubble.

All the while, he whispered encouragements to her as she babbled.

“Qué niña más buena!”

“Good job, niñita.”

At some point, she looked up at him in… understanding? Her little lips parted in a smile, and she whispered back as she brought her hands up to cup his face “Niñita.”

His heart shattered, and he pulled her tight to his chest. His tears cascaded freely down his aging face and over his lips, salty on his tongue as he opened his mouth.

“Silly girl. You’re ‘niñita’. I’m… I’m Rick.”

That’s when he realized.

He was sober.

Early in the morning, the sky making way for dawn, he placed the tiny sleeping body back into the bassinet.

He made his way out of the house, his back sore and his heart aching.

He made sure to call BP as soon as he was on the flight home. He wanted to make sure he was up to hear her if she needed him.

Later that day, his phone buzzed.

He glanced down, letting out a noiseless chuckle and going back to the task at hand.

PERS

Is “niñita” an Earthling phrase?

[snkts]

THE GOOD FIGHT PT. 2 - DJ’S FIRST SET

“What is it this time, Chuck?” Logan asked, strolling down the catwalk. Sometimes he would wonder why there were no guard rails in here. That seemed like a liability. Not for him, he’d be fine, but someone might sue. 

Or die. 

Either or. 

“How do you feel about concerts?” Charles glanced over his shoulder at him. Logan arched his brow. 

“Depends. What kind of concert?” He asked. Charles turned his attention back to the keyboard and typed a few quick prompts. The hologram was populated by pictures and video clips. School photos, small-town news articles… 

A much more important-looking broadcast.

“A school talent show.” Charles explains. Logan blinks, squints, rests a hand on Charles’ chair and leans closer to the hologram as he studies the images. 

“That’s a school?” He asks incredulously, face twisted to match the emotion in his voice. Charles nods. 

“The gymnasium, to be precise.” 

“Holy shit.” Logan squints a bit harder, then stands up straight, though leaves his hand on Charles’ chair. “Looks like a bomb went off. What the hell happened?” Charles typed a new command, and some of the photos enlarged. 

“She happened.” He folded his hands in his lap. A school photo of a girl, maybe thirteen, with chin-length, chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes, filled the screen, with a list of statistics beside it. 

“Harper Westwood?” Logan read the name with minor curiosity. Charles nods. 

“She’s a freshman at Calvinville Secondary School, near St. John’s.” Logan huffed a smirk and crossed his arms. 

“Well, would’ya look at that. Another Canuck.” He said, shifting his weight back on his heels. “Could use a trip up north. I miss the taste of real beer.” 

“I’m afraid it won't be much of a leisure trip. The authorities are already involved.” Charles shifted to look up at Logan, who rolled his eyes. 

“‘Course they are. I’m surprised the military ain’t sticking their noses in.” He said. Charles is silent. Logan sighs heavily and closes his eyes. “They’re there too, aren’t they?” Charles nods. 

“They were called almost instantaneously.” Logan nods, but says nothing, keeping his eyes shut for a few heartbeats longer. He can’t even pretend to be surprised. 

“They got the kid yet?” 

“No.” Charles says, and that, at least, is a relief. It means she has a chance. Sure, it also means nobody knows where she is, but… The government is the worst option. If she’s not with them, at least she’s free. Logan rocks back on his heels. 

“Alright. Fill me in on what happened.” He crossed his arms. Charles nodded and switched the display to the news broadcast. 

“This was the gymnasium as of yesterday afternoon.” Charles sat back as the image of a demolished gym filled the projection. Logan let out a low whistle. “Following the previously mentioned talent show.” 

“What was the talent?” Logan asked. “Splittin’ atoms?” 

“Music, actually.” Charles said. “Harper had started a band with some of her classmates. This was to be their first show. Unfortunately, Harper’s powers manifested in the middle of the performance.” 

“Any collateral?” Logan looked down at him. 

“Yes,” Charles nodded, “but no casualties.” 

“That's a miracle.” Logan says, letting out a quiet breath. “Makes it easier for me, too. Bit less messy.” 

“Indeed.” Charles removes his helmet and wheels back from the terminal. “Now, Logan? Given the… Circumstances, it may be better if you do not contact her parents before you locate her.”

“Ah.” Logan understood the message there. Mom and Dad didn’t approve of their kid’s situation. “We treating this as a full extraction?” 

“We may have to.” Charles says. “It depends on what she wants when you find her.” Logan nods.

“Right.” He interlocks his fingers and stretches his arms over his head as his knuckles crack. “Oh, and, uh… Just for clarification-” 

“Try not to hurt anybody, Logan.” Charles sighs. Logan rolls his eyes and snaps off a sarcastic salute. 

“Yes, sir.”

*********

Another easy jet flight. Logan vastly preferred the Blackbird to any commercial airlines. First off, no terminals. No metal detectors. Second, he could land wherever he wanted. That was a privilege he was gonna take advantage of. He kept his hands on the controls as he glanced out the windows eyeing the ground for a good place to land. Football field looked good. He set the Blackbird down and shut off the controls. 

“Just arrived.” 

“Very good.” Charles spoke through the commlink. “Keep me updated on your progress.” 

“Will do. Talk to ya soon, Chuck.” Logan clicked the commlink off. He descended the gangplank and stepped onto the well-manicured AstroTurf. Just ahead of him, the school still lay in ruins. The perimeter was criss-crossed by caution tape, and a few police officers who’d probably been bored before the jet landed were rapidly approaching. Logan struggled to keep the scowl off his face. Gotta behave. 

“Officers.” He says gruffly. They stop about two feet ahead of him. 

“Sir, we’re gonna have to ask you to, uh…” The first officer - stout guy, probably in his forties - begins, then stops. “Move your, uh… Jet.” He blinks from behind his sunglasses. 

“This area’s off limits to the public.” The younger one added. Aw, that was cute. They were trying so hard. 

“Ain't happenin’, bub.” Logan sniffed. The cops glanced at each other. Neither of them were paid enough for this. That was gonna work in his favour. 

“Why not?” The younger cop asked. There was no malice behind it. It was an automatic response. 

“Federal business.” Logan pulls a badge out of his jacket pocket. The badge was fake, but the claim technically wasn't - he was on at least one government payroll through the Avengers, and that had to count for something. Not that he gave a shit. The older cop leans in and furrows bushy eyebrows. 

“But I thought…” He began. He glanced over at his partner. “Didn’t the feds already…?” Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Different branch. Department K.” Logan said easily. The cops looked at each other again. 

“Department what?” The younger cop muttered. 

“You can call it in if you want.” Logan shrugged. “But the paperwork is on you.” That does it. The younger cop grimaces. 

“I’m not dealing with that, Chester.” He mutters. “I’ve got, like, eight reports on my desk, and I’ve started three.” The older cop, Chester, seems conflicted for a moment. Then he sighs and his shoulders sag. 

“Just keep your boys out of our investigation.” He muttered. “We have enough to deal with.” 

“Likewise.” Logan stepped past them without a second glance. So, the feds had already ran roughshod here, but not K. Interesting and good to know. Meant he was behind on the search, but he anticipated that - and the suits didn't know to anticipate him. At least he has that. 

He ducked under the police tape and picked his way through the rubble. It was worse than the images made it look. 

“Jesus.” He muttered to himself. He nudged at a fallen rafter with his boot. A chunk of it crumbled into ash. Logan wrinkled his nose and ventured a bit further. There were still a few evidence markers scattered here and there. A lot of them looked like they'd been knocked over in the wind. Off to the side, he heard radio chatter. Some other patrolling officers had noticed him and were asking if he was meant to be there. The exhausted response of yes, he is, leave him alone, was much appreciated. Saved him the breath of telling them to piss off. 

There were other objects scattered in the rubble. Some shoes, some water bottles, school flags, ruined sound equipment… … What the hell is that? He squints and crouches down, shifts some gravel out of the way. It’s a thin piece of wood. Cylindrical and mostly intact. Had some kind of logo printed on the side… He furrows his brow. It’s part of a drum stick. Logan stood and walked through more of the rubble. He kicked a few more rocks out of the way and found a flattened cymbal. Guess this is where the band had been playing. That would help. This place was flooded with different scents, and without being able to touch base with Harper’s family, picking hers out was going to take some sleuthing work. That was fine. It'd just add another minute onto his time. 

There were a bunch of scents that stood out as ‘fresher’. Scents that carried whiffs of gasoline, coffee, alcohol, cigarettes, and gun oil. The cops and the feds. Totally useless - and their scents weren't doing him any good, either. Logan stood up and sniffed the air properly. The scent of stale fear made his nose wrinkle. Bitter and acrid and musty with age. Eugh. Mixed into that was a plethora of other smells. A bunch of kids had been up there doing a bunch of different things. But there was something he was looking for, something… Something… He frowned. 

Yup. 

There it was. A scent that wasn’t accelerant, but did smell like burning. Like electricity, but to the left. Pure energy. Bingo. Sure, that didn’t guarantee a mutant, but he highly doubted anyone in the area would’ve had the technology to bust out something like that - especially at a high school. He hadn’t been in the country for a spell, but he was pretty sure public education wasn’t that well funded. 

The scent trailed off a ways away, but that was fine. He followed it out of the gym, stepping back through where the wall should’ve been and onto the grass. One of the patrolling cops noticed him. 

“Hey!” She calls. “Are just gonna leave your- uh- Jet there?” 

“Yeah.” He continues on his way. “You scratch it, you buy it.” And he tunes her out. The hunt is more important. 

The energy-scent is overlaid with fear, sweat, and adrenaline. Reeked of it. There are some subtle notes underneath it. The artificial cucumber-eucalyptus-wax of cheap deodorant, the chalky chemical smell of hair spray, the specific thick ammonia smell of drug store hair dye, artificial cherries, cut grass, lightly burnt rubber, seared flesh, nail polish, Sharpie, citrus, the oil and salt of french fries, some sort of fake marshmallow scent that was so cloying it itched his nose… yeah, definitely a kid. Her scent trailed off into the woods behind the school. He could bring his bike, but that terrain was better travelled on foot. Might as well leave the bike in the jet for now. A few paces into the woods, the energy smell faded. The other scents remained. 

“Hey, Chuck.” Logan said, flicking the commlink back on. 

“Hello, Logan.” Charles said pleasantly. 

“I got the scent. Kid panicked, can’t say I blame her, and ran into the woods. Some adults - teachers, I’d bet - followed after her, but didn’t get farther than the treeline. Couple scorch marks on some of the trees… Nothing bigger than my fist. No scent of blood, either, so she didn’t hit anyone. I dunno if that was the aftershocks of her powers from the first time or some kinda return fire. Pretty random pattern. Doesn't look like she knew what she was doing, but I can't tell if she meant it or not. And then she ran alone for a while…” He trails off as he walks deeper into the forest. 

“Was she followed by anyone else?” Charles asked. Logan hesitated. 

“She was.” He said, slowing his pace and sniffing the air. “Twice. Once not long after she ran through - a day, maybe, and they brought dogs - and then closer to now.” He frowns. “Shit.”

“I’m guessing we might be familiar with some of the people pursuing her?” Charles sounds like he’s frowning, too. Logan growls low in his throat and passes his fingers over a massive dent torn into the trunk of a pine tree. 

“Seems like it.” He took a few more steps forward and sniffed the air again. “Hold off on sending backup for now - I don't wanna spook the kid if it isn't necessary - but tell Cyclops and the others to be ready. I don't at least send a ping every five minutes, and they hotfoot it over here.” 

“Understood.” Charles agreed. “Stay safe, old friend.” 

“No promises.” Logan says. He turns the commlink off and circles the damaged tree, giving it a suspicious glance. “Now then - what the hell were you doing here?” He ran his fingers over the damaged wood again. It was relatively fresh - a day or two, tops. It didn’t look like it’d been in retaliation for anything, either. Just lashing out. Tempers must’ve flared. Logan couldn’t say that surprised him. Omega Red was never known for his level head. And that was definitely him - the smell confirmed it. Metallic and sharp, like ice. Leather and gun oil. Borscht and engine fuel. Blood and sweat. Burning skin. 

Yup. Definitely the Russian. 

He wasn’t alone, either. As far as Logan could scent, he was the only mutant, which was good. Humans were nothing to put down; throwing powers into the mix was when it got messy. The other scents were probably just soldiers. That gave him some theories as to how Red got here, at least - and fucking of course the government would be in on it. When were they not? 

“Ah, shit.” He mutters to himself. He’d have to work fast if he wanted to get the kid in one piece. 

He takes off in a sprint. The forest passes by in a blur. Branches whip off his skin and he ignores them. The welts heal instantly anyway. Every so often he stops and checks the scent. Her, afraid. Them, frustrated. Angry. That was a good thing. Meant that at least this far in, they hadn't found her. Every now and then, there were more scorch marks left behind. More random scatterings. It didn't look like a fight. No bullet casings, none of the right smells. Crossed a stream, around some undergrowth, and…

He stopped.

Oh, no. 

There were the bullets. He approached cautiously, even as every nerve in his body screamed. Be careful. Be alert. Be ready. The entire clearing reeked of fear and anger and triumph. The smell of a successful hunt. 

And blood. Lots and lots of blood. Thankfully, it didn't all smell like her. She’d taken a few down with her. 

“Charles.” Logan said into the commlink. 

“I’m here.” The response is immediate. 

“They found her.” Logan stalks around the scene, ducking low to run his fingers over the grass.

“What?” Charles asked. “You’re certain?” 

“Wouldn’t call ya’ if I wasn’t.” Logan frowned. He rubbed some of the dirt between his fingers and let it fall. It left a rusty residue on his skin. Fuck. “Looks like she put up a hell of a fight.” 

“Is she injured?” Logan can hear typing on Charles’ end. 

“Yeah.” Logan sighs. “But she was alive when they took her. They wouldn’t’ve put in so much effort just to bump her off.”

“I hope you’re right.” Charles sighed. 

“I know I am.” Logan grunts. “You at Cerebreaux?” 

“Yes. I’m running scans as we speak.” Charles says. If she’s been taken captive, we may yet be able to catch her using her powers.” 

“You read my mind.” Logan quipped. In spite of the situation, Charles chuckled. 

“If only it were so easy.” He retorted. “What else can you tell me?” 

“They mostly used rubber bullets.” Logan said. “A few canisters that look like they might’ve been tranqs. Like I said - they wanted her alive. Mostly human soldiers…”

“Mostly?” Charles asked. Logan nodded, even if Charles couldn’t see. 

“They got Omega Red on their side.” 

“... You think it might be Hydra?” The typing on Charles's end stopped. 

“Suits their M.O.” Logan said. “And they’ve hired him before. … If it's just him, I can handle it. But get everyone ready. Might be calling you again real soon.” 

“Understood.” Charles said. “If I pick anything up, I’ll let you know.”

“Right.” Logan shut the commlink off again. Back to work. Back to hunting. He didn’t bother being careful with his steps anymore. He had the trail. The kid was in danger. The only thing left to do was find her.

*****

This wasn’t good. It wasn’t a surprise, but it wasn’t good. 

The forest had broken, leading to a highway. They’d gotten into a truck of some kind here. He’d followed it down a ways and really was starting to wish he’d brought his bike. The scent took a turn and so did he. Another, and another. Off the main roads, into side roads. Then off roads altogether. Trails and paths until he came to what looked like an encampment. Logan held back and shrank behind a bush. Watching and waiting. There were people there. Soldiers. Not a lot of them, just enough to finish putting the camp away. A skeleton crew. That suited him just fine. It means it’d probably only take him a minute to get through them all. 

“Hey, Charles.” He said into the commlink, keeping his voice low. “I’m about to get in some trouble.” 

“What kind of trouble?” Charles asked sceptically. 

“The kind where I’m gonna need ya’ to remote-activate the jet’s auto-pilot.” Logan said. “If you can, get it here in five, ten minutes.” 

“Do I want to know what you’re doing?” Logan could almost hear the raised eyebrow in the question. He grinned. 

“What I do best.” He turned the commlink off and lunged. They were caught off guard. There were only eleven of them. And he was fucking pissed. They didn’t stand a chance. His claws extended. Voices shouted. Bullets flew. Ricocheted off his claws. More shouting. Bloodshed. 

Humans were so soft. Course, these ones had kevlar vests and body armour, but that was nothing against adamantium. The trick was getting them before they got to their radios. There were a lot of severed hands on the ground. And in the middle of the wreckage was the sole survivor. One of the older ones - that made sense to Logan. More likely to have access to the intel than the younger soldiers. 

“What the fuck…” The soldier muttered. “They told me about you. Didn’t believe you were real.” Logan grunted. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, stepping closer. His claws gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. “You believe it now?” 

“Weapon X.” The soldier said. Logan bared his teeth in a humourless grin. 

“Pleasure’s all yours, bub.” He plants his boot on the soldier’s chest. “Now, I got some questions for you about a girl. If you can be a good boy and answer ‘em, I can let you walk away.” A lie, and they both knew it. As soon as Logan saw that first Hydra insignia, they were all doomed. But sometimes, they felt better pretending. Made ‘em want to talk more. 

“Fuck you.” The soldier spat. … Or not. Logan clicked his tongue. 

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged. He dropped his knee onto the soldier’s chest and snatched up his hand. “Y’know the funny thing about fingers?” He presses down on the soldier’s palm until the bones creak. “You don’t need ‘em to talk.” He holds his claws under the soldier’s nose. “Let’s see how many I cut through before you tell me where  the girl went.”

The answer, as it turned out, was four and a half. 

“There’s- There’s coordinates!” The soldier finally gasped as Logan’s claw nicked bone. “I’ll tell you! God, just stop it-!” 

“Good choice.” Logan sat back. He reached up to his ear to turn the commlink on again. “Talk.”

“They're-” The soldier sniffed. “They're… Latitude: 62.35114, Longitude: -25.12543.” 

“Got that?” Logan asked, tilting his head.

“Yes. It's off the coast of Iceland.” Charles said. “I’ll be dispatching the others there as well.” Logan nodded. 

“Sounds good.” He said. He clicked the commlink off again. He stood all the way up, taking a few steps back from the soldier, who clutched his mangled hand and tried to regain some composure. Probably would’ve worked better if he wasn't pale, bloody, shaky, and teary-eyed. Not exactly an intimidating sight. 

“So, let me guess.” The soldier spat. “Now you're going to kill me?” Logan snorted. 

“Easy, hotshot. I’m not gonna kill ya’.” He crossed his arms. The soldier looked at him with confusion that slowly morphed into dread. Logan heard the Blackbird approaching - right on time. “Way I see it, I broke all your radios. I’m about to blow up the only transport you have left. You’re not gonna rat me out in enough time for it to matter. It is gonna be just enough time for the Hydra head honchos to know you squealed.” If it was possible for the soldier to lose any more colour, he did so. Logan crouched down to be closer to his eye level. “And whatever they’re gonna do to you, it’ll be a million times worse than me slicin’ ya to ribbons.” And he grinned, all teeth. “Have fun.” 

“Wait.” The soldier gasped. “Wait, no.” Logan stood up. “Don’t go.” He turned towards the jet. “Come back.” Logan doesn't even glance behind him. “Please-!” 

The gangplank closes. 

The sound of the engines starting up and lifting off don’t quite mask the single gunshot.

*****

Thankfully, it's not a long flight. The Blackbird makes quick work of it. Logan didn't let the trip go to waste, either. As soon as the jet cleared the treeline, he turned on the autopilot. Went to the back of the jet and rummaged around, and- Yep, there they were. Emergency kits. Small bags packed with the sort of supplies you’d need out in the wild, just in case missions went south. Logan rarely, if ever, used them - but it’d be good to have one out now. He had no idea what kind of state the kid would be in when he found her. Power bars, water, a survival blanket, and a basic first aid kit would help deal with however she was feeling - hopefully long enough to get her to the mansion. (And if Hydra was THIS after her, it was gonna be an express trip.) He debated, briefly, reclining one of the seats back, then decided against it. That's a call he’d make later. 

“This is Wolverine,” he said over the radio. “You there?” 

“Wolverine, this is Cyclops.” The voice came back loud and clear. “What’s your status?” 

“Hey there, Slim.” Logan leaned both hands onto the control panel. “ETA in roughly ten minutes. What about you?” 

“About the same.” Scott replied. “Maybe a few minutes behind.” 

“Good.” Logan nodded. He buckled back into the pilot seat. There was a moment of silence as he fiddled with the stealth controls. 

“Wolverine?” Scott’s voice crackled over the speakers again. 

“Mnh?” Logan was only half paying attention.

“What happened to the Hydra agent you interrogated?” There was a slight pause, and Logan glanced at the speaker. He knew what kind of frown would be on Scott’s face. 

“I didn’t kill him.” Logan said. He heard Scott sigh. 

“Alright. Don’t ask.” He muttered. “We’ll see you there.” 

“Right. Over and out.” Logan switched off the autopilot and took the controls. Slowly, the clouds parted and revealed what looked like an aircraft carrier. 

A floating, mobile base.

Smart.

Of course, that gave him the new problem of how the fuck he was going to land without detection. There was space for it, sure, and the cloaking worked… But he wanted as much of the element of surprise as possible. Reason one, the longer it took for them to realise they were under attack, the longer it would take for them to panic and try to move or hurt the kid. Second, the element of surprise never hurt in a fight. 

“Wolverine to X-Jet.” He said over the radio. “You close?” 

“Coming up to the ship now.” Scott responded. “What do you need?” 

“Just got thinkin’.” Logan said. “Even with the stealth systems on, we’re gonna make some noise and some wind comin’ down. Is Storm with ya’?” 

“I’m here.” That’s her voice, alright. Even just hearing her settles his nerves. Nobody better to have his back in a fight. “Leave it to me.” Logan grinned and gripped the controls tighter. 

“Take it away, ‘Ro.” 

The sky darkened. Clouds gathered. The wind picked up. A loud rumble, and the sudden rain was torrential. 

“Damn.” Logan said over the radio. “That’ll do ‘er.” He grinned when Storm laughed. 

“I’m not known for doing things halfway. Jean and I will see you gentlemen down there.” 

“Be safe.” Scott said. 

“See you on the ship.” Logan adds. Out of the side of the windshield, he sees two blurs appear out of nowhere: one black and white, one green and red. There they went. Alright, then. 

Time to head in for a landing. 

He steered the jet in a careful arc and set it down on the far end of the carrier. The whole ship rocked. Logan cursed under his breath, even as he chuckled to himself.

“Way to put on a show, ladies.” He said. He pulled his cowl down and dropped the gangplank. He hits the deck running. 

“I’m goin’ for the girl.” He says into his commlink. “Think you can keep ‘em busy?” 

“We’re on it.” Scott replied. To punctuate that, there was the sound of an unseen jet passing overhead, and a powerful red beam carved through the sky and slammed into the deck, scattering some of the Hydra soldiers that scrambled like ants to handle the sudden barrage. A few more fell prey to a vicious blast of wind, and an unseen force picked up one of the jets and threw it into the ocean. 

“She’s on the lower decks.” Jean’s voice over the commlink as she lifted another jet. “She’s alive and conscious, but scared. Good luck, Wolverine.” He didn’t take a second glance. He jumped over the side of the ship.

His claws bit into the hull. The sounds of chaos above almost drowned out the screech of metal-on-metal as his descent slowed. Almost… Almost…

There. He swung back and drove both feet into the porthole glass. It shattered. He landed in a hallway just as discordant as the upper decks. The alarm blared. Emergency lights painted everything in a pulsating red. Shouts echoed. Footsteps thudded. Doors rattled. 

There were signs on the otherwise undecorated walls. Arrows guiding crew to this room or that. 

Logan ignores them. He doesn't need them. He can hear her. Yelling, pounding on the door. Jean was right. The poor kid’s terrified. Not like Logan can blame her for it. 

“What’s going on?!” She was saying. “What's happening?! Lemme go!” It was hard to discern the noises, but Logan was pretty sure she was pounding on the door of whatever room she was in. He rounded every sharp corner with increasing speed. The soldiers were barely bumps in the road. Teeth bared, claws flashing. Bullets whizzed past. Bodies fell. Logan didn’t bother keeping track of what blood was whose. It didn’t matter. This was a speed mission. Get the girl before they do anything to her. Just run. Just go. 

He had a gun in his hand - stolen from a soldier out of spite - when a new scent caught his attention. He whipped around.

Fired. 

The bullet ricocheted off Omega Red’s arm. 

“Wolverine.” He said, straightening. “Sticking your nose once again where it does not belong.” 

“At least I’m not shovin’ it up Hydra’s ass.” Logan spits back. “Goin’ after kids now? That’s low, even for you.” Red just snorts. 

“A job is a job.” He mutters. He didn’t seem too happy about that. Not Logan’s problem. Logan lunged. So did Red. They collided with a furious crash. Logan roared. Red shouted. Tendrils shot out. Logan darted back. The tendrils ripped through the wall. Metal screeched. Red yanked his hand free just as Logan grabbed his wrist. Logan used that momentum to surge forward and slam his shoulder into Red’s chest. The impact takes them both to the floor. Logan goes down swinging. He manages a couple hits before Red gets a knee between them and kicks Logan off. Logan’s back slams into the wall. He grunts. Staggers, blinks. The air shifts in time to warn him of another tendril. He dodges. The wall behind him cracks. Red spits a curse. Logan snarls back. He swings- feints- swings again. Connects. Grins. 

Gotcha. 

He follows up with one, two, grabs on the third. Torques and throws. Red hits the ground hard. Logan doesn’t wait. His claws carve through the hinges of a door. He rips it free. Smacks Red with it for good measure. He jams it crosswise in the hallway and stamps down. The edges screech against the walls. It comes to a halt pressing into Red’s chest. It wasn’t much, but it’d keep him down for a little bit, once he woke up. It was all Logan had time for. He had to get to the kid. 

“Sweet dreams, bub.” He growls. He turns and once again takes off down the hall. As he runs, he mutters to himself, “Hold on, kid. ‘M almost there.” Her voice was growing louder. ETA: Thirty seconds. The boat pitched violently, and Logan caught his balance against the wall. He swore loudly. 

“Sorry! Sorry.” Jean’s voice over the commlink. “They thought they could get away using anti-aircraft missiles on us.”

“Cute.” Logan grit out between his teeth. ETA: Ten seconds. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s really adorable.” Scott muttered. “What’s your status?” 

“I found the door she’s locked behind.” Logan said. “Keep ‘em distracted a bit longer, but be ready to move.” 

“Understood.” Storm’s voice. “Be safe, Wolverine.” He was about to say something back, but an almost deafening thunderclap stole the words from his throat. Yeah, she’d be fine. He decided not to respond. He just extended his claws and carved the door open. He threw it out of the way and the clanging noises mingled with the kid’s startled shriek. 

“It’s alright.” He said, holding his hands up and retracting his claws. “I’m here to get you out.” The kid stared back at him. She was wide-eyed, pale, and shaking. The room was filled with the scent of fear and misery. A bit of blood, too. She had some scrapes and bruises, but her knuckles looked ruined. There’s sweat stains mingling with the dirt and grime on her T-Shirt, smeared across the screen-printed logo of some band Logan didn’t recognize, and not all of the rips in her jeans were intentional. Yeah, she’s been through it, alright. Logan keeps his hands up and avoids moving closer. Don’t wanna spook her.

“I’m-” 

“You’re Wolverine.” She gasped. “I have your action figure.” Logan blinked, then smirked. Shock was a hell of a drug. 

“Yeah?” He asked, holding his hand out to her. “Tell ya’ what. We get out of here, I’ll autograph it for ya’.” She said nothing, just nodded and accepted his hand. He pulled her to her feet. 

“Can you walk?” He lets go of her hand. She nods again. Her eyes, big and hazel and watery, stare at nothing. “Good, kid. That's good. How about running?” She nods again. 

“Nah, I need to hear words, darlin’. Can you run?” 

“Y-yeah.” She said, then blinked again. “Yeah. I can run.” He nods back. 

“Atta girl. Let’s go.” He puts his hand on her shoulder and turns. They make it about five steps before she stops, and he has to be careful not to knock her over. 

“They took my guitar.” She says. She doesn’t move. 

“What?” Logan debated throwing her over his shoulder. 

“My… My guitar. They took my guitar.” She sniffled. “My folks are gonna be mad. It was- Really expensive-!” Yeah, still out of it.  Logan sighed. 

“Don’t think they'll care, li'l lady. We gotta move.” He said. She stumbled forwards a few more steps, then stopped again. She cast her eyes back up to Logan. 

“If you see it-” She started. He nodded. 

“I’ll keep an eye out.” He promises. She nods one more time and finally starts moving. Thank god. 

“X-Men, this is Wolverine.” Logan said into the commlink. “I got the kid.” 

“Glad to hear it.” Scott said. “Are you on the way out?” 

“Yeah.” Logan rounded a corner. “Making our way up now.”

“How is she?” Jean asked. Logan glanced at the kid - at Harper - in the flashing red light of the alarm. She still looked like hell, but she was up and moving. … It was something. 

“Gonna need a blanket.” He said. “But she’ll live. Think you can get to our location, Red?” Through another doorway. The siren was still blaring. 

“I think I sense her already.” Jean said. “On my way.* 

“Thanks. See you soon.” Logan ended the communication. The tricky part of this was going to be navigating the kid through the ship without her seeing anything that would upset her - or risk taking her near where Red had been knocked out. It was possible, but it’d be a pain in the ass. And sure, he could take her straight through - but the kid had been through enough. Everyone had a threshold; her seeing his ‘handiwork’ might end up being too much. More footsteps. These ones are from behind and getting closer. The growing fresh scent of gun oil. Shouting.

Shit. 

“Get in front of me, kid!” He barked. She does. He turns and pops his claws and is already moving when the soldiers round the corner. They don't hesitate either. They open fire. Logan moves. Can’t just take the bullets - one might pass through soft tissue and hit the kid. Better to deflect them. Means he also has to stay close to the kid to watch the ricochets– Wait for an opening and there-! They’re not fast enough. Nobody is. Their guns fall in pieces to the floor. He can’t cut the people up too - the kid might see it. But he can still put ‘em down. It’s a lot of closed fists and elbows. A lot of cracked visors. It only takes a minute before they’re down. Just a minute. 

But even that’s too long. He turns. Hears the steps. The voices. Sees the barrel of the gun emerge around the corner. 

The gun fires at the same time as Logan lunges.

“No-!” He yells it at the same time as the kid does. He reaches out. So does she. The soldiers go flying. Four strong bursts of concussive force pin them against the far wall Logan stops. He has to catch his balance, and he stares for just a second. The kid stares at her hands and then scrambles back and ends up cowering behind Logan. Logan glances back at her, and would make a comment - but there’s a familiar voice on the other side of the wall. 

“Stand back.” He says over his shoulder. His claws extended again and he sliced an X through the hull. The metal screeched, groaned, and peeled outward to reveal Jean, suspended in the air. Logan grinned. 

“Welcome to the party.” 

“Sorry I’m late.” Jean brushed herself off. “Must’ve lost my invitation in the mail.” Logan chuckles.

“Sure.” He said. “Jean, this is Harper. Kid, meet Jean.” Jean smiled and offered a small wave. 

“Nice to meet you.” She said. Harper blinked and stammered out something that might have been ‘hello’. Logan put his hand between her shoulder blades and nudged her forward. 

“Go on, it's alright.” 

She hesitates a moment, then agrees. Jean takes her hand and Harper is floating in the air beside her, her face just a shade off of Jean’s hair. Jean politely ignored that and held her other hand out to Logan. 

“Need a lift?” She asked. Logan stepped back and shook his head. 

“Nah. I got business to take care of. There’s an emerge kit in the Blackbird for her - I’ll catch up.” He turned to leave just in time to catch Jean rolling her eyes. 

“Don’t take too long.” She said. Neither of them waited for him to respond. She took off and he ran. Cursed himself for being stupid with every step. This was a risk. It was a stupid risk. And if he fucked up, he was going to end up in the ocean for however long it took for the others to find him in the wreckage and extract him. Yeah. This was so fucking stupid. But he was already here, so it was too late to back out now. 

The good news was, the ship had gotten real quiet. Most of the crew had probably bailed. The ones that hadn’t would either be on their way out, or weren’t ever leaving the ship. Made it easier. The bad news was, Logan had never been on this model of ship before. He didn’t know the layout. He could guess, sure, but even if it was educated, it was a guess. He had to hope luck was on his side. Just this once. 

As he thought that, the ship pitched wildly. Logan slammed against the wall and cursed loudly. 

“Motherfucker-!” He snarls. He pushes off the wall and keeps going. He doesn’t have time to waste. This hunk of junk was going down. Question was, was he going down with it? 

No.

Not this time. Just gotta be fast. Down this hall.The ship pitches again. Around this corner. The ship rocks again. He braces this time and it sort of helps. 

“C’mon… Where the hell are ya’?” He mutters. A locked door turned into splinters under his claws. He sniffed the air. Everything smelled like fear and gun oil and sea-brine and sweat and metal and blood. And underneath… 

There. Through the vent. Logan looked up. That’s definitely where the scent was coming from. Just had to figure out how to get up there. The ship pitched yet again and Logan had to roll out of the way of a chair. This had to have been some sort of medical station - a nurse’s office or infirmary. There’s a cot bolted to the far wall. That’ll do. As long as he doesn’t fall off it-

“Wolverine!” Storm’s voice over the commlink. Logan hops up onto the cot and braces his hand against the wall to stabilise himself. 

“What?” He asked. He popped his claws and studied the ceiling again. Sure hope he wasn’t under anything important. 

“You have to get out of there. Now!” Storm sounded nervous. That wasn’t good - she was pretty unshakable. 

“Ya’ don’t say?” Logan says, reaching up to swipe at the ceiling. “I was thinking of building a-” He grunted as he cut through and tossed aside a section of metal, “summer home.” 

“HYDRA is going to blow the ship!” She wasn’t entertaining his snark at all. 

“What-?!” He started, then let his shoulders slump and rolled his eyes. “That figures.” He jumped up into the room above and grinned.

Jackpot. 

“I’m on my way out.” He says. There’s a wall of lockers that he’s focused on. They’re sealed, but nothing his claws can’t handle. “You with the kid?” 

“Yes. We’re in the Blackbird.” Storm confirms. 

“Good. Keep an eye out for me.” He cut off the padlock and let it clatter to the ground. There’s a parcel wrapped in burlap that smells right. “Cause I’m about to jump.” Three voices sighed in tandem, and it was funny enough to Logan that he didn't mind getting jostled when the ship rocked again. He snatches the parcel up. “Heading out starboard, somewhere near the top.”

“You will be the death of me.” Storm deadpanned, and the line clicked off. Logan laughed. Funny as that was, he didn’t have a lot of time. The ship was rocking even more violently. It’d be going down soon. He didn’t think his payload would survive a swim. So he runs. Crashes through doors. There’s a porthole - not big enough. Fuck. He slings the payload over his shoulder and extends his claws. 

“Incoming!” He shouts into the commlink. The ship tilts again. An explosion. Logan slams into the wall. He snarls. Looks up - the wall he’d clawed was overhead. Shit. This was going to be a timing thing. Alright. Three. The ship turns. Two. Little more- One. Logan coils against the wall and launches. His shoulders collide with the exit wound. 

The wall ruptures.

And he

is 

falling.

And there is nothing. 

And the water is rushing up at him. 

And there is nothing. 

And he clutches the payload to his chest. 

And the air screams. 

And Logan lands in the Blackbird with a grunt. 

“Ah, fuck-!” He squints his eyes against the bruises that bloom and fade along his shoulderblades. Sure, they’re gone in an instant, but what an instant it is. 

“Hello to you, too.” Storm says from the front of the jet. He can hear the smile in her voice, and it's contagious when he peeks open one eye to look at her. 

“Nice catch.” He grins. She laughs. 

“I’ve had practice.” That makes him chuckle, too, and he looks towards the back of the plane. Harper was safely strapped into a seat, bundling herself up in the survival blanket as much as the seatbelt allowed. Logan stood with a grunt, taking the payload with him. 

“Hey, Jukebox.” He said as he moved to stand beside her chair. She scrunched up her face and blinked at him. She still had bruises and scrapes, and she'd need to be looked over by the medical staff when they got back to the Institute, but at least she was safe. 

“Jukebox?” 

“Jukebox.” He repeated. “Think this is yours.” He held the parcel out to her. She stared for a moment, then gasped, eyes wide. 

“Did you-? Is that-?!” She tripped over her own words, but there was finally some life back in her face. She takes the parcel and pulls the cloth wrap off. There’s a guitar, battered but intact, and what looks like a small amp. “You found it!” 

“Should still work alright.” Logan shrugged, resting his hands on his hips. “If not, we’ve got a guy who can fix anything. He should get it up and-” 

Logan doesn’t finish that sentence. Harper’s undone her seatbelt and surged forward to hug him, burying her face in his chest as she sobs. Logan tenses for just a second, then sighs and returns the hug with a squeeze. 

“You’re gonna be okay, kid. We won’t let ‘em hurt you again.” He holds her a bit longer, then gives her back a gentle pat. She pulls away, sniffles, and scrubs at her face with the back of her wrist. 

“Sorry.” She hiccuped. “That was weird, I- Sorry. Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Logan turns to join Ororo at the front. “Get buckled in, kid. It’s a long flight back to New York.” He’s got the feeling she’s only half listening, but she does strap herself in to her seat, clutching the guitar like a teddy bear. 

Logan wipes his hand down his face and walks over to the co-pilot’s seat, where he sits heavily before fastening the harness and glancing over the controls to see what Storm had set up. 

“That’s what you went back for?” Storm asked, though she had a smile on her face. Logan shrugged. 

“Sometimes you just need a reminder you’re a person.” He says. Storm doesn’t say anything.

She just reaches over and puts her hand on his shoulder.

**********

“Morning, Jukebox.” Logan said, leaning back in the seat. Harper blinked, scrunched her face. 

“Where am I?” She asked. Her cot creaked when she sat up. 

“Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. This is the infirmary.” Logan glances around, then looks back to her. “Y’took one hell of a beating. How’re you feeling?” 

“Sore.” She groaned and rubbed her eyes. After a second, she peeked out. “... Do my parents know I’m here?”

“No.” He said, and it sparked something vicious in the back of Logan’s chest when that made her relax. “Not yet. The authorities know you’re safe, but we wanted to check in with you before we clued your folks in.”

“Thank you.” She says softly. It’s quiet for a few moments before Logan speaks again.

“Your folks not like mutants?” He asked. She shook her head. “... But you had my action figure.” … Her face flushed.

“I, um, bought it myself. I had yours, and Nightcrawler’s, and Storm’s and Jean’s and Rogue’s. I wanted the whole set, but, paper route.” She shrugged. “So I had to get the singles, or whatever was in second hand stores. I hid them in a shoebox so nobody could find them - I would’ve gotten in so much trouble.” Harper breathed a half-hysterical laugh and pushed her hands through her hair. “I just- I dunno. I never got it. And I thought it was so cool, the way you’re all different, and you don’t CARE that you’re different - and you guys help everyone else, even if things suck, and that’s like- It’s just, that’s the most punk shit I ever-” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I, uh. Am I allowed to swear?” Logan laughed.

“I sure fuckin’ hope so, or I’m in it deep.” He said, and behind her hand, Harper laughed too. She took another breath, slow and steady, and dropped her hands to her lap. 

“So… How long do I have to stay in this bed?” She asked. Logan shrugged.

“Not too much longer.” He scratched at his jaw. “Professor Xavier and one of our doctors are gonna come talk to ya’, let you know how you’re doing injury-wise and the next steps, and then we’re gonna want to get a read on your powers-”

“Right. My powers…” Harper trailed off and worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t even know what they are.”

“According to what we got from HYDRA, energy transformation.” Logan said, crossing his arms again. “One form of energy hits you, sound, light, heat, whatever, you can turn it into something else.” That got her excited.

“Oh, shit!” She squeaked, bouncing. “That’s so cool- ow-!” She winced and doubled over, clutching her ribs. Logan placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Easy, kid. Focus on getting better first. Beast can wait-”

“I get to meet Beast?!” She looked up again. Logan sighed and shook his head.

“Least you won’t need to drain our coffee supplies.”

[burning-fcols]

For some unknown reason, Alastor is completely wasted. Maybe he just needed a night of unwinding, to forget everything. Well, he certainly did, having him winding up wherever the hell he is now. Cheeks are flushed & he's clearly not seeing straight. His suit is a bit off his shoulder as he stumbles forward, muttering nonsense under his breath as he gets comfortable on whoever's bed this is, holy shit it was comfy. He's ignoring protests, probably? Alastor isn't sure, but he's determined to sleep this off. ( Have a drunk off his ass Al, for whichever muse! Surprise me! ) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴᴀʙʟᴇᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Vox is too tired for this shit.

After an exhausting day, the LAST thing he needed was to walk into his room and see the Radio Demon inside it. Let alone passed out on his fucking bed. Initial reaction had been the expected shock outrage. Vox fervently interrogating Alastor over what possessed him to invade V Tower. He hasn't been back since he turned down Vox's offer years ago. Mainly rhetorical questions along the lines of ❛ What the FUCK, asshole? ❜ and ❛ Why are you here?? ❜ . He hadn't expected any satisfying answers, but Vox had assumed he'd at least get a reaction.

But Alastor is apparently too atomized drunk off his ass.

Exasperation dying into begrudging acceptance, Vox figures he has a few options... the easiest of which would be letting the prick use his bed for the night. Hopefully when morning comes and Alastor is contending with what will no doubt be a MASSIVE hangover— Vox can smell liquor reeking from him —wounded pride will encourage a hasty exit. If he knows Alastor ( and he likes to think he does ) the other wouldn't want to delve too deeply into specifics about whatever... this was.

Standing beside his bed, judgmentally glaring down at the dozing man, he wonders how— out of everywhere Alastor could have gone, ANYONE he could have bothered —he was unlucky enough for the deer to trot his tail into his room. Shaking his head with a growl, Vox hastily shrugs off any further wonderings. A stroke of misfortune, that's all. A mind fogged by booze making an unintentional decision. As random as it could possibly be... If he lets himself humor thoughts of Alastor subconsciously WANTING to be here, he'll drive himself insane.

Spinning on his heel, he straightens his coat with a sharp tug of his hands. Sparing a glance over his shoulder at the bane of his existence, he snarkily mutters, ❝ Guess I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight. ❞ He can't exactly leave Alastor unattended when in such a state. For the other's benefit as well as his own peace of mind. Who KNOWS what kinds of problems may arise if the deer was disturbed? Best to remain in the room and pray this is settled quietly. 「 ☆ 」

[c-53]

fuckkkkk man. i cant keep getting attached to webcomics that tumblr reccomends me im 2/2 rn now if youll excuse me i need caps to properly like. express myself. HOLY SHIT I FUCKING LOVE ATOMIC ROBO LITERALLY A LIFE CHANGER AND NOBODY ELSE GETS IT MY NEURONS ARE ABOUT TO FUCKING MELT I LOVE HIS LIL CAT EAR THINGIES i need to take a breath i might actually give myself a heart attack anyways i owe u the world for introducing atomic robo into my life now i will spend irresponsible amounts of money on anything Atomic Robo related

YEAH YEAH YEAH, GOT YOU WITH MY INTEREST SHARING ATTACK. But fr, the dude’s my bestie, absolutely obsessed with him. One of the robots of all time, he’s so fun, AAAAND he has tiny kitty ears. What a dude.

[liroyalty]

This is what she wanted to see right? The real him? How much anger was stored in such a human body, one that swung a metal rod at anything that could break in the junk yard. A broken down car that hadn’t been seen in years? Now the windshield was shattered, then the headlights. “Son of a! Cock sucking! Whore!” Yea, he was pissed off and he was pissed off that he was pissed off.

“I come down here to get AWAY from all the SHIT I deal with on a day to day!” Opening the car door he’d kick it as far as it would go until a harsh scrape of metal could be heard, hinges scraping and shredding before finally giving way and falling to the ground.

Atom was far from done, it really did seem like Sue’s words struck a chord within him which only made him angrier. He could only guess how she was judging him. Seeing the ‘cool uncaring’ punk give a shit about something for once and feeling such heavy and harsh feelings.

“I can’t stand it!” Another swing of that rod, clashing against steel, vibrations running down the pole and into his hand. It hurt like hell, but fuck he didn’t care. He would continue this rampage until finally, his human body couldn’t keep up anymore. He tossed the weapon he had away, turned and slumped on the now badly damaged junk car he had made a poor target out of and just…. Breathed.

Sue had a friend named Denis. Well, 'friend' was a strong word, but she got to know him when she would sneak into this junkyard as a kid to smash things. He could of had her arrested, but must have took pity on her, saw all the things she was going through, & decided to cut her a deal. For twenty bunks, she's allowed to come in here & smash whatever the fuck she wanted until she exhausted herself. It's a scrapyard after all, most of the stuff here is going to end up smashed, & it's worth it for twenty bucks.

She paid forty to get Atom in here, after grilling him in knowing that he was just pretending to act like the chill rocker guy. She's always been good at reading people, even as a kid she could read adults very well, & though she didn't know what he was hiding inside, she knew something was there. It's only after he was getting as angry as he was that day that she figured he needed somewhere to air it out. So to Denis's yard it was.

Well... she knew he was definitely bottling something up, but now she wondered for how long. You don't go for the door like that unless you've been holding something in for a long time. She would know, she's done it herself. But really? It was kind of refreshing to see this wacky motherfucker be... anything but wacky & chill all the time.

She didn't say much, aside from a few mumbles of 'damn' or 'holy shit', but never anything directly to him. She knew better, now was not a good time to say anything unless she wants to be next on the target board. It was better to just let him get it all out. Let Atom be as violent as he needs to be before he eventually tires himself out.

"..." She didn't know who looked worse, Atom or that fucking car, cause they both look like they had the shit beaten out of them. But that was a good thing... well... in Atom's case. He'd be easier to talk to now, but... first things first. If she wants to talk to him straight, she needs to vent out the built up resentment of the bullshittary he's put her through, as well as some other things that's been happening.

Sue was wearing a hoodie, & she provided to take it off & tie the arms around her waist, showing the crop top underneath. What followed was her picking up some randomly discarded lengthy piece of metal on the ground that could serve as a replacement for a baseball bat & saying a singular word-

"Move."

-before smashing that makeshift metal bat into the roof of that already very beat up car. Putting a dent in it deep enough it could actually be seen from the inside, & making such an ugly sound in the process. And she did that again... & again... & again. Pounding down on the roof of this trashed car until you couldn't even call it a roof anymore, more of those ugly sounds being made & the metal she used at a bat cutting into her hands, but like hell that stopped her. She just kept... going & going, smashing parts of this junked machine that had already been dented & broken to shit, & making it so much worse, even beating one of the other doors that it just fell off of it's own accord.

She didn't even seem to care he could obviously watching. If Atom though Sue was angry before... those times don't have shit on this. Seriously... why was this dainty looking woman so rageful & so strong?

Eventually, she started slowing down, her swing less frequent & losing strength, until she just let out the last, big & final swing with loud roar of just held in frustration. Leaving Sue to just stand their a while... before chucking that piece of metal she'd been using off into the sky to land somewhere else in the scrapyard... & then falling back onto her ass on the ground.

"..."

She clearly needed that.

[greenfiredragonfly]

The thought makes him sick and suddenly the sun that had for so long burned in place of his heart begins imploding. It’s slow at first, the complete opposite of the nightmare sequence that’s playing rapid fire in his head. But, with every new thought he descends into a darker place until the star between his ribcage collapses into a black hole that’s sucking the breath from his lungs. It’s changing the effects of gravity, pulling viciously at his organs until he’s certain he’ll die from it. He’ll die, he’ll die, he’ll die, he’ll die.

The black hole in his chest is pulling at every quark within his body, latching onto every atom with an inescapable drag of gravity. He watches the letter to see if it will be pulled in as well, but it stays where it is, resting innocently between his hands like it hadn’t caused the implosion of his heart.

I just started this fic, and read this description and,,, yeah. God, that is spot on. That feeling... Holy shit

(tfw you suddenly get really bad news that carves you out and ruins you)

[whitedragoncoranth]

Rocket Raccoon Comforted

Crossposted from Ao3

Chapter 5

As Vim and the rest of his crew mutinied against him - as the High Evolutionary opened his mouth to scream - David calmly stepped out of the darkness and intervened. With rapier reforged by Rocket, this man - this ordinary, unenhanced human lunged, thrust... and then - "Gauukkh...!" - "Holy flarkin' SHIT...!" - the utterly lethal blade went through the flesh of Herbert Wyndham's neck, his spine and brainstem and exited his opened mouth, stopping inches from Rocket's nose! David, the Caretaker of the affectionately named "Menagerie" - consisting of his beloved Rocket Raccoon, Lylla Otter, and Space Dog Cosmo - deliberately wrenched the blade free, causing yet more irreparable damage to the High Evolutionary as the man released his Principal, Rocket, and then fell himself, clutching his ruined throat.

As the man unthinkingly inhaled, choking on his own blood... as David carefully wiped the blood from his weapon before returning it to its sheath... as Vim relaxed and the Controller waited for new orders... and as David gently helped a battered Rocket to his feet... the final sight the High Evolutionary saw... was the deathly snarling visage of a Golden Retriever. The final thing he heard was a telepathic voice - English with Russian accent - speak a single word. "Die..." And then... Herbert Edgar Wyndham - the High Evolutionary, Creator of Counter Earth - died, his body disintegrating under Cosmo's dreadful power, until not even atoms remained. David, worn and weary, gathered Rocket into his arms then sat down upon the throne chair once used by the High Evolutionary.

As the room grew quiet and still - as all was ended - the rest of the Guardians looked on in shock as the Cybernetic Controller stoically rolled up beside him to resume her duties; then Cosmo moved to sit beside him with head on his knee. Cradling Rocket gently like a babe, as David closed his eyes, wanting to doze, to his surprise, Recorder Vim gently placed a hand on his shoulder, waking him. David turned to the female Mowtian, his expression stern, yet kind. "Am I to expect trouble for myself, my Animal Companion Principals, and my Guests, the Guardians from the Madame, and Crew for, well...?" the human asked, gesturing to where the former High Evolutionary had been. To everyone's surprise, Recorder Vim shook her head, before answering, "We Mowtians serve the High Evolutionary."

David's brow furrowed for a moment, then gently stroking Rocket's headfur, between his ears, he stated, "I... I don't understand, Madame. Clarify, please." Without any hesitation, Recorder Vim nodded, and then what she said next left everyone floored, mouths open in shock. "The High Evolutionary had no heirs. Thus... by Old Law - by right of conquest - all that was his is now yours, including his Title. You... are the next High Evolutionary now. We Mowtians serve the High Evolutionary." There came the clatter of Peter Quill's blasters as he dropped them, shocked. Then, "Whoa, dude..." he breathed, awed. "Unbelievable...!" Drax uttered quietly. David thought for a moment as Recorder Vim waited for his reply. Then, at last, the human spoke quietly to Vim - to spread the word to all on the Vessel, to put the Guardians up in suitable Quarters with whatever food and drink could be found, and of course, to begin effecting repairs needed for the mighty research vessel no matter the cost.

Nebula soon grew incensed, the rest of the Guardians uneasy. "So--that's it?!" the cyborg growled. "You're the next High Evolutionary, and--what? You're going to continue his work?!" Gently stroking a now loudly purring Rocket, the sound resounding throughout the bridge, David shook his head and answered, "No, Lady Nebula. There will be many changes coming here - most notably to the Mission - but explanations can wait until the morning. I do believe that The Menagerie and I are due for quite the vacation--and we all, including Master Rocket if he desires to stay here aboard, will be indisposed for the foreseeable future. Now: to quarters with you all; may you rest well!" As Peter, Drax, Gamora, Mantis and Nebula were gently led away, David turned his attention to Recorder Vim, whispering to her--he told her of Recorder Theel and his incredible cruelty towards the former High Evolutionary's Subjects - most notably Rocket - and then he discreetly said, "As Recorder Theel goes about his business, do make sure to inform him to stay away from the damaged sections of the vessel, won't you Madame? If one too damaged for repair was to be jettisoned whilst he was within, well, that would be... a most unfortunate accident."

Carefully smothering a grin of sheer delight Recorder Vim nodded. "As you wish, Evolutionary David," she replied, then silently communicated to the Controller--who lost her stoicism for a moment, the mole rat humanimal's eyes widening before she resumed her work. Before she could begin, however, David looked the mole rat in the eyes and asked, "Controller Connie," (the mole rat humanimal, who had had no name until now, inhaled sharply and teared up at this), "are... you in any pain? Do you need anything at all?" She would serve the new High Evolutionary forever for this! Snuffling back a sob, the mole rat shook her head; David frowned at her for this, but let it go; he would give her whatever she needed soon enough. "Very good," the human stated gently; then returned his attention to Rocket. Then, Recorder Vim, Connie nee. the Controller, and the rest of the Arete Laboratories Crew were taken aback as the new High Evolutionary began to sing low and soft to Subject 89P13; the mole rat "accidentally" tapping a button to broadcast to the whole ship.

"Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby // Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay // And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow // Bless you with love for the road that you go // May you sail far to the far fields of fortune // With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet // And may you need never to banish misfortune // May you find kindness in all that you meet..." Connie and Recorder Vim wept silently, and the men of the crew paused in reflection; life under this man would be very different indeed. Down below, in the awful cells and cages that were soon to be no more - as the Star Children, the thousands of animals, and the cybernetic Hellspawn were lulled into gentle sleep by the song and the sound of Rocket's purring - they all felt something no one had felt for a long time: Hope.

When Rocket awoke the next morning - to find that his wounds had been expertly tended to, and that he was in bed within the luxurious quarters of the High Evolutionary and not on the Milano - he blinked, not quite registering where he was. Friend David was here. Mama Cosmo was here. Love Lylla was here, and yet... The little raccoon grew tense, nudged his humie with his cold, wet nose. David blinked, yawned - ruffled Rocket's headfur and scratched behind his ears (oh, flarkin'... mmmh...!) - then softly said, "Good Morning, young Master. I'll get up to make us all breakfast shortly, provided I can find the Kitchen aboard this vessel." The little raccoon nodded, muzzle opening in a tongue-curling yawn, and then he asked, "What... What the flarkin' hell happened, last night, Dave? Last thing I remember was you stabbin' the High Asshole and then...?"

David nodded, and answered, "Well, young Master, since last night's victorious battle, there has been... quite the major development..." David laid it all down--and the more he told, the more incredulous the raccoon's expression became. The fight with the High Evolutionary. Cosmo's disintegration of his body. And... the fact that David, his humie was now the Inheritor of everything the man owned, including his flarkin' TITLE?! There was only one response the flummoxed raccoon could give. "Y-you - *snerkt!* - y-you're the - bwah-hah-hah! - the f-flarkin' - aah-hah-hah! - High Evolutionary, now?!" When David nodded ruefully, Rocket lost it, howling with laughter, laughing so hard his sides ached, laughing so loud he woke Lylla and Cosmo! "OH, FLARKIN' HELL! - AH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH! AH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH! HEY ALL, GET THIS: OUR HUMIE - OUR FLARKIN' HUMIE IS... TH-THE NEW... HIGH EVOLUTIONARY...! TH-THE NEW... HIGH ASSHOLE...! BAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH...! OH, FLARK, I CAN'T... I JUST CAN'T...!" At this, David snorted with mirth and joined Rocket in his laughter, until the raccoon's laughter slowed, and he flopped down on his humie's chest, his head next to Lylla's.