Can either of your Wallys--Human or puppet, sense if someone is afraid? 'Cause I'm terrified...of them both, I mean.
I'm 5'0", only two feet taller; and feel like they could still dropkick my dumbass. Gonna have to jump onto Howdy's shoulders like a scared cat to get out of range. (I love your art btw!)
I like to believe that Wally can just s m e l l fear, absolutely thrives in power knowing that nobody can really do anything about it as he basically plays them all in ruses of complete ignorance- although he too is a victim, he cannot help toying amongst the prey
I say as I draw him also being completely “no thoughts head literally empty” HDHDHDJDJ
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two-thirds of our weaverdice villain team: the dynamic duo Pitch and Tempo, played by me and @stealthypeacock (powers under the cut!)
Cape name: Pitch
Civilian name: Vanta Black
PRT classification: Breaker/mover
When exposed to shadow, activation of her breaker state melts her body down into a viscous fluid that sinks into the surrounding darkness. She can then reconstitute her body in any patch of shadow in her line of sight, so long as the shadow is of great enough area to cover her human form. Smearing the pitch onto people and objects allows her to teleport them between shadow at will. With repeated use of her breaker state, she becomes increasingly sluggish to reconstitute and is temporarily weakened after transformation.
Cape name: Tempo
Civilian name: Phil D. Gruve
PRT Classification: Thinker
Short term combat precognition tied to ambient music. By taking a moment to find the right song Tempo’s shard will cue him to the actions of friend and foe alike allowing him to capitalize on key moments in the fight.
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Okay, follow up to Gaz and Ghost razzing Soap over comms and he can’t respond:
This time, it’s Gaz’s turn. Soap determines it’s payback time and Ghost goes along with it. (Because let’s face it, he would.)
Gemma I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this prompt out. My brain went off in a million different directions before finally settling on this one. It's not my best work but it did make me laugh, hopefully it makes you smile too!
459 words of silliness (again). Also, I'm sorry for the earworm.
“Ohhhhhh an’ I would walk 500 miles an’ I would walk 500 hunner mair jus’ tae be. the. man. watin’ at yer doooooooooor!”
Kyle feels his left eye twitch in response to Soap’s godawful crooning. It’s been hours of the same fucking line sung over and over with different inflections and Kyle is seriously contemplating finding Soap’s overwatch position and beating him into a bloody pulp if he has to be subjected to the Proclaimers for even another second. Op be fucking damned.
“Johnny.” Ghost snaps down the comms, and Kyle feels his shoulders drop in relief.
Finally.
“Those aren’t the words.”
Kyle grimaces.
Here we fucking go.
“What’re ye on about Lt., of course those are the words!” Soap sounds delighted that he finally got a response out of the stoic Manc, which, in Kyle’s opinion, is the completely incorrect response to have.
“No.”
“How no?” Soap shoots back, not deterred by Ghost’s blunt reply.
“English Mactavish.” Christ, Ghost sounds downright fond of the prick. Kyle fights back the urge to make a disgusted retching noise in response.
“Sorry, sir.” A pause, then “g’wan then. Give us a tune.”
“Not a chance, sergeant.”
If it wouldn’t give away his position, Kyle would beat himself into unconsciousness. Listening to Soap butcher “I’m Gonna Be” is less painful than having to witness the way he flirts like a teenager with Ghost.
There’s another brief silence before Soap starts humming again.
Fucking hell.
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(Bonus scene I just couldn't scrap, even though it doesn't quite fit)
“Gentlemen. I expect you know why you’re here.” Kate’s voice is smooth and controlled, not a hint of emotion bleeding through. Her body language gives away just as much as her voice, that is to say, absolutely nothing. Beside her Price is the picture of barely tempered fury. In any other circumstances Kyle would quietly marvel at the way she holds court in the small conference room, would probably shoot her a friendly grin to reassert himself as her favourite troublemaker.
As it stands (at parade rest no less, wedged between the ever fidgeting Scottish menace on his right and the breadth of his Lieutenant on his other side), Kyle doesn’t dare to even move his eyes from the point he’s chosen on the wall behind Station Chief Laswell and Captain Price.
The silence stretches on and Kyle notices the faint tink tink tink of the ancient steel radiator as it blasts wave after wave of scorching heat into the room before his ears catch the sound of slightly off-key humming coming from his left.
There’s a brief moment of near silence before Soap’s composure crumbles, clutching at his stomach as he bursts into only slightly hysterical sounding giggles.
In his periphery Kyle watches a vein throb on Price’s forehead.
Oh, they are all completely and utterly fucked.
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