Murder Drones You Absolute Flaming Trainwreck Of A Series I Fucking Love You Sm

murder drones you absolute flaming trainwreck of a series i fucking love you sm <33

@zarnzarn i hate this and i hate them and i hate you

"Didn't there used to be a chandelier here?" Blitz blurts out. Stolas freezes where he'd been standing, fingers tightening on the bowls of food clutched in his hand as he looks into the doorway Blitz had abruptly stopped in front of.

Blitz throws his own towels onto a vase on the side and walks into the room eagerly. He doesn't remember any of the day they'd spent all those years ago as snot-nosed little shits like Stolas does, much as he's wracked his brains for it the best he can. But he does remember the chandelier, and he can feel the spark of memory connect to others, flickering like a dream falling out of reach, saturated with warmth and laughter and the blurry image of a distorted familiar face.

"There was, right?" He grins, looking up at the ceiling, where the golden rod foundations are still intact, now carved in and dripping with expensive diamonds. "We- we played here. Ah hell, I remember being fucking fascinated with that thing afterwards- I think Fizz tried to strangle me to get me to stop talking about it, heh."

He runs a claw over the metal, dust gathering on his fingertip. "Cause it was such a stupidly simple thing, y'know? Just glass and thread twisted together to make such a pretty piece. All those colors sparkling every time you moved. I wanted to make one of my own when I got older, to put in the office."

He tilts his head at the barely visible talon marks in the floor, seeing double as he watches them being made. "You- you tripped. Got entangled in the threads, didn't ya?" He laughs, overlaid with the cackling of ten-year old him and the sheepish laughter of the other kid as he helps Stolas out of the mess of knots. "Damn, that was funny. You were alright to hang out with. Don't remember the rest, but it was fun."

He stares up at the old thing for a moment longer, basking in the memory of a simpler time and two children chasing each other around a glass chandelier and laughing, unaware of how their lives would snag back onto each other later on. He smiles, feeling oddly sentimental. What were the odds, huh?

Then Blitz huffs amusedly. "I am remembering this correctly, right? There used to be a chandelier here? Fuck knows my shitty memory-"

He turns around and stops, smile fading off his face. He'd expected Stolas to be... happy or whatever, that Blitz had finally remembered fucking something of a meeting that had been so important to him. He's not expecting-

"Yes, there used to be," Stolas agrees, voice flat and mouth pinched and eyes glazed over. He grabs the towels and stalks away. "Stella broke it. It's not there anymore."

Blitz doesn't think he's talking about the chandelier.

listen say what you will about fundy's doomsday arc but his quotes go so fucking hard and i will not hear otherwise

How To (Maybe) Earn Forgiveness

Method what was it now 7 - peace offering.

Fundy had spent the past day or so working on a pie.

Knowledge from Niki, given freely however many moons ago. Ingredients from a variety of places, some acquired through more lawful means than others. Motivation from desperation.

Roll. Back and forth, up and down, side to side, repeat. He was already getting nervous. For all he knew, the avian didn't even like pie. Or sweets. Or berries. Or maybe he was allergic or some shit.

Press. He remembered the first time he'd done this. "Careful," Niki had warned, soft tone he'd never hear nowadays filling his ears. "You have to be gentle." Steady hand on his shoulder, voice calm and affectionate and not yet filled with familiar bitterness, because such harshness was foreign to Niki. "You can take your time." Was he rushing? Was this too much? Too little?

Pour. Make the filling. Once done, pour it in. Cut off what you can, use the remaining dough, make some strips, try and desperately cover over the innards with fancy designs. Had he covered it up too well?

Bake. Waiting. A lot of waiting. Had he waited too long? Not long enough?

Remove. Inspect the final product. Bubbly. Suitable color. But that didn't mean it was perfect. Only good enough. Would good enough be good enough?

Phil would be the judge of that, he supposed.

(It he wasn't good enough.)

(Try again.)

for the first month after nya's sacrifice, storms raged.

buildings were lightning rods. the sound of thunder was commonplace. dark clouds covered the sky as far as the eye could see. nobody died, thank god, but there were close calls.

tests were run. studies were conducted. professionals were called in. even then, nobody knew what was causing such freak weather.

all they knew was that the seas remained untouched.

allow me to take a few seconds of your time so i can talk about my fundy aging system

similar to irl canines (link thingy for science), fundy ages rapidly during the earliest years of his life, i.e. childhood and early teenage years. once he reaches around 14-15, things start to slow down a bit. by 19, he's aging at rates that line up pretty nicely with that of a normal human. at some point in his 20s, his age rate actually slows in comparison to that of a human's, and it just gets slower from there (what? an excuse to give fundy an extended lifespan? you're crazy). and none of this is even getting into the wild thing that is his brain chemistry, dna, mental age, how his heritage ties into all of this..