xfdeath

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b i o t i c a l

     “Only two guards?” Abraham lowers the binoculars from his face, frowning. “Maybe one of them’s taking a shit?”      Ichabod’s eye twitches slightly as he double checks the mission brief on his omni-tool.       “They never told us how many to expect,” he says, “but knowing Batarians...”      “One of them’s probably taking a shit,” Abraham repeats. “We should move in.”      “Absolutely not!” Ichabod snaps, eyes narrowing. “Not yet, unless you want to cause an intergalactic incident....again.” Abraham’s eyes flash.       “All right, first of all,” he hisses, holding up a finger, “that got scrubbed! Second of all, he started it!”      “Why were you taking leave on Omega while still an active member of the Alliance Military in the first place?” Ichabod questions.       “Aria’s got a nice ass, sue me,” Abraham answers, raising the binoculars again.       “Says the gay man,” Ichabod mumbles.       “Asari are monogendered, doesn’t count,” Abraham counters. Ichabod rolls his eyes.       “I’m sorry, I forgot the whole point of this mission was to discuss semantics,” he says.       “No, the whole point of the mission is to see what the dirty bastards are hiding and get it back to the Alliance-”      “-without causing an intergalactic incident,” Ichabod interrupts. “They’ve been too quiet, I don’t like it. We wait.” He can hear the sound of Abraham’s annoyed snort, and makes a point to feign interest in his omni-tool.      “We have been here...for six hours,” Abraham says.       “Yes,” Ichabod agrees, “and we will be here six hours more if that is what it takes to achieve the right timing for optimum stealth and information gathering. Which is precisely why I was assigned lead on this, or do you know a different infiltrator better than me that isn’t a known criminal?”         “Criminals are more fun.” Abraham says flatly, tossing the binoculars aside and pushing himself to a kneeling position. A breeze kicks up, whipping the edges of his coat. “And I’m done waiting.” 

     Before Ichabod can react, Abraham leaps. The resounding boom of his biotic enhanced landing on the canyon floor below echoes for a good half mile, effectively rendering their stealth mission moot.       “Abra-- god damn it,” Ichabod hisses, scanning the area and plotting the best course down the rocky cliff face. By the time he hits the bottom, Abraham has turned the initial two guards into nothing but pulpy messes, the bodies held together only by the armor they’re wearing. He lets out an audible sigh when he finds his friend and comrade looting the corpses. “Really?”       “What?” Abraham asks, standing and slipping a credit chit into his pocket. “I can’t very well spend Alliance funding at Omega, now can I?” His shit-eating grin does nothing to make up for his behavior.       “Let me at least see if I can open the door,” Ichabod says. Abraham holds out an arm, and then jerks him into cover behind a support strut.       “Don’t bother,” he says. “They’re going to be good little Batarians and open it for us.”       As if on cue, the door to the pirate base opens, with half a dozen armed guards pouring through. Before anything can be said, Abraham leaps from cover, a glowing fist sending a schockwave rolling through the soil. It slams four of the batarians through the door they just exited, leaving a sparking and hissing hole in the metal wall. He’s grinning, and focusing so much on one of the stragglers, he doesn’t notice the heavy weapon being primed.       Ichabod, on the other hand, does. Although he considers, briefly, letting Abraham get hit just to see how his shields and barriers hold up in the hopes of teaching him a lesson, he has the Batarian heavy disarmed with a stun grenade before anything can be fired.       “Hey Ichabod,” Abraham says, pulling a bloody fist from the chest of the Batarian he’d hyper-focused on, “you know another way to avoid intergalactic incidents?”       Ichabod sighs. “Do I want to?” he asks, attempting to scan the inside of the building. So far, the schematics match the mission brief.       “Don’t leave any witnesses.” Ichabod looks up just as Abraham presses a glowing armored boot to the neck of the stunned Batarian. He grinds his foot with enough force to implode the armor and nearly behead the alien. Flashing a grin, the blue hue from his biotics lighting up his eyes gives it a sinister look that causes Ichabod to look away.       He enjoys this too much, he muses, taking point and stepping over his friend’s carnage and into the base. An internal alarm is blaring, and there’s countless red dots moving in on his motion tracker.       “This is a bloody mess,” he says. Abraham shrugs, reaching for the modified Avenger on his back.       “They’re pirates,” he says. 

     And so the rest of the mission goes. Abraham interferes before Ichabod gets the chance, leaving nothing but destruction and mutilated bodies in his wake, while Ichabod covers his ass from all the things he misses. He manages to miss two different security turret stations, and takes a through-and-through to his shoulder before Ichabod gets them disabled.       Really, the only good thing Ichabod can say about Abraham’s fighting is that the Batarians hardly seem to notice the infiltrator, leaving him time enough to almost leisurely go through their systems and files. When his scanner pings the data they came for, he motions for Abraham to fall back and prep for evac.       Of course, it’s another ten minutes before he does, making sure to stay true to his word about no survivors. They watch from the windows of their pick-up shuttle as the pirate base explodes into nothing, and Ichabod glares at him.       “And how am I supposed to explain that in my report?” he asks. Abraham shrugs, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes.       “They were getting overwhelmed and tried to take us out along with their own base, case closed,” he says matter-of-factly.       Ichabod says nothing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and and wishes the shuttle would go faster. There’s a headache creeping up the back of his neck he’d very much like to deal with before anything else. 

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fuck it since i’m here i might as well work on that mass effect au piece 

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my computer is a piece of shit and google smartlock is WORTHLESS

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also anyway 

you bet your asses i did 

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hello i am still here 

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Send me one pro and one con you could see with having sex with my character.

(anons welcome)

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Send me a symbol and I will tell you…

🌸 = my roleplay petpeeve 🌹 = my opinion on your character 🌻 = a character I wish to write with 🍀 = a ship I wish to write 🌼 = a song I identify with your character 🌷 = a song I identify with my character 🌱 = a plot I want to write with you 🌲 = if I ship our characters together 🌴 = a favorite canon character in my fandom 🌵 = a disliked canon character in my fandom 🌾 = my opinion on OCs 🍁 = my opinion on multimuse blogs 🍄 = my opinion on crossovers 🎄 = my opinion on AUs 💐 = my favorite part about the fandom 🌿 = my least favorite part about the fandom

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fortressofself:

i am so about walking around museums and holding hands

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lovezdarestevez4ever:

xfdeath:

Abraham. 

He pauses before sliding the page back over, if only because it seems as if it’s been such a long time since anyone cared to even ask his name. 

Part of him is still human. It may not be a big part, but it’s enough that Abraham knows it’s there, and he knows how pained it is by what he’s become and how others treat him because of it. 

He slides the page across the table. 

Matt looks over the name. He nods, noting that both of them have Biblical names, though Matt hasn’t believed in any kind of deity in almost 30 years. “Good to meet you, Abraham. Sorry it had to be under these circumstances. Though we probably wouldn’t’ve met at all since we were born hundreds of years apart.” He paused. “I live in the big city. Used to be a cop a long time ago. I’m guessing you used to be a soldier based on your uniform.” He passed the paper back to Abraham. He made a mental note to bring paper and pens with him if Abraham allowed him to visit again.

Spy, he writes. He never really considered himself a soldier, after all he didn’t have to join the army to get passage to America, so he didn’t. Abraham never was, in his past life, one for expending energy that wasn’t absolutely necessary. He only ended up embroiled in the revolution because of his grandiose ideas of heroism and infamy, and well. 

One sees how that worked out for him. 

Upon second thought, he scratches out the word spy, instead writing below it it is complicated.  

❝ there is suffering too terrible to name. ❞

Yes, there is. Abraham knows all too well what that kind of suffering entails, though even if he could speak, it’s not something he’d go into detail about. 

He’s curious what the reasoning this person has for mentioning such a thing. 

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“I was trying to keep a low profile,” he says. “I ended up in one of the quarantine zones, which went fine until someone forgot to shut a gate or something and it got overrun.” 

He shrugs, momentarily forgetting about the scissors so close to his head.

“I ended up getting bitten in the confusion, and the military didn’t like it much. They liked it less when I didn’t die after they shot me the first few times.” 

old friends

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You  &  I … 

                   We’re not so different. 

We’re both a little guarded.    A little   s c r e w e d   u p. 

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“I see my red head, messed bed, tear shed, queen bee, my squeeze The stage it smells, tells, hells bells, misspells, knocks me on my knees It didn’t hurt, flirt, blood squirt, stuffed shirt, hang me on a tree  After I count down, three rounds, In hell I’ll be in good company”

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                                    you don’t know what it’s like,

                                                    having everything ʀɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀᴡᴀʏ like that.

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2.

Tbh I’m not sure if I have any since the SH fandom p much agrees everything past season 2 was a fucking nightmare lmao. 

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Munday Asks: Salt Edition

1. How salty are you feeling right now?

2. What are your unpopular opinion(s) of the fandom you’re rping in?

3. What rp trends are you so over and can’t wait for it to die?

4. Have you ever made a call out post or wanted to?

5. A ship everyone in the fandom you’re in loves, but you can’t stand?

6. Have you ever sent something to one of those burn book blogs?

7. Has someone made you unfollow/block them without a second thought because of a petty reason?

8. Are you good at dealing with personal problems?

9. What’s your opinion on duplicates?

10. Any fandom(s) you don’t want to rp in or crossover to?

11. Are you for or not for purple prosing?

12. Has someone in the rp community ever made you upset/cry?

13. Ever told someone not to follow/rp with a particular person because something that happened to you in the past? 

14. Ever knew someone that everyone loves but you can’t stand?

15. Have you ever done something out of spite?

16. What would you say to the one who hurt you in the past?

17. What are your opinions when someone makes negative posts constantly on their rp blog?

18. Do you hold grudges for long?

19. Wild card: ask the mun any type of salty asks.

20. If you’re feeling salty right now, this ask gives you a free reign to pour out your frustration.

[xfdeath]

i’ve got abe’s mixtape mostly done but i’m too lazy 2 make a cover 

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Send 📎 and an AU you'd like to see my muse in, and I'll say if I'd do it!