Sitting-Pyro

“Keith…”  Lance reaches across the couch they’re sitting on and holds his friend’s bare hand.  “Buddy, no.  You’ve got control.  You just showed me that.  What you don’t have is confidence in that control..”  He pauses and gets an idea.

     Lance smiles and pulls his hands back, cupping them similarly to how Keith had held his hands before.  He focuses and builds up an intricate sculpture of ice in the shape of a heart.  Once it’s made, Lance meets Keith’s confused look with a grin.  “Take your glove off.  Yes, don’t give me that look.  I know what I said.  Look.  This is really, really delicate and thin ice.  I made it that way on purpose.  I want you to hold it without melting it.”

     “Lance, I can’t do that,” Keith says, his gloves held in one hand.  He’d been following Lance’s instructions but now he looks like he’s going to argue.

     Lance doesn’t give him the chance.  He puts the sculpture in Keith’s open palms and watches as it sits there.

-Excerpt from Pyro- and Cryokinesis

More Skyhigh AU !! (by @ming-chan )

This time it’s fanart for a scene in this lovely fanfic by @klance-and-a-half 

It’s very very cute, only one chapter long, so go and read it!

Do not repost without permission

Monster Fortress headcanons: Secrets

Okay, this one will be really sad so heads up.

  • Over the years the team has had their share of secrets and dark moments but there are dark things that they never share with the team.
  • Scout wants to be fully human. Being half Gargoyle has proven to be difficult- both emotionally and mentally. The constant bullying and persecution he faced growing up from not only his brothers but other monsters and human children, Scout desperately wanted to be normal. Although his mother adored him, it wasn’t enough. And lacking the ability to fly didn’t help with his self-esteem. There are days where he’ll hide himself somewhere dark or high up and just imagine a life as a normal human. But there are times where he’s happy to be himself; it’s usually after Spy tells him his wings will one day grow strong enough to carry him or those nights when he can’t sleep so Spy tells him what it’s like fly and be in the air.
  • Engineer is dyslexic and it makes it hard to do things. It’s normally called “the Alchemist’s curse”. Although it helps him read other languages and interpret symbols, Dell finds days where it’s hard to do normal everyday things. He has trouble reading and sometimes mixes up left from right. He gets headaches often when he strains himself trying to read. He’s never told anyone on the team; although he’s sure Medic and Spy know, they’ve never mentioned it to him.
  • Demoman wants to go back home. He misses Scotland and his family so much there will be days he can’t sleep because he’s so homesick- some days he can’t stop sleeping because he misses home. He writes letters to his friends back home and writes down memories of his youth. But there are days where he just lays in bed and drinks, wishing he could retire from his job and go home to his mum and sister and half-brothers. Then he reminds himself there’s work to be done and people that need to be blown up. No matter how hard he tries, though, there’s always that nagging little feeling that longs to be home.
  • Soldier wishes, every now and then, that he was never brought back to life. He can’t remember his past life very well, only that he fought in World War 1 and died in combat. He wants to remember his family, his friends, the people he fought beside. He wants to know who he used to be so he can be a better man… er… zombie. But when he realizes that he might not ever remember his old life, Soldier gets upset and angry. There have been times he’s asked for Merasmus to send him back to death but the old Wizard refuses. And it still doesn’t settle right with him when he remembers that he was resurrected to be a servant. He wants to just be at peace some days, and that’s when he wishes he were dead again.
  • Pyro wants everyone dead. They never meant for it to pop into their head, it just did. That and their siblings were destroyed long ago which makes Pyro want revenge. Some nights Pyro will sit in their candle and just want to burn everyone and everything to the ground. But then they spend more time with the team and remember that not everyone is bad.
  • Sometimes Heavy’s mind goes fuzzy. He’s a Golem, he’s not supposed to have free will and emotions or a soul. He was made from clay and that’s all he’ll ever be is just a giant walking wad of clay… right? Well, that’s not how he sees it. He’s just as alive as Engineer or Spy or Scout. But then there are days where his mind just becomes mush and he can’t think or speak or do anything other than what he was programmed for. And then after a few seconds his memories will come back and he’s free to continue to do whatever it was he was doing before the relapse. It bothers him, though, because each time it happens he loses parts of his memories. He hasn’t mentioned it to Medic and won’t mention it because Heavy doesn’t want anyone to worry about him.
  • Sniper just wants to run away. He’s terrified that he’ll hurt someone during a transformation or he’ll lose control in his wolf form and kill someone. He could never forgive himself if that happened. He’s seen the carnage of his wolf form and is terrified to know a creature was capable of such violence. He’s even more terrified that he is the one who is capable of such violence. He just wants to leave the team so they’ll be safer, and head off into the forest where the only ones he can hurt are animals. He’s already halfway to being a wild animal, he might as well live like one. But then his transformations come and go and Sniper realizes he has more control over himself than he thinks. But the fear is still there, and he can’t help but question himself.
  • Spy doesn’t want Scout to know he has a half-sister in France. She was born before meeting Scout’s mother, but Spy hasn’t met her more than a few times. He’s afraid Scout will resent him for abandoning a second child. Spy has done everything he can, he’s tried to be a good father. He tries to be there for Scout, he tries to guide him the best he can. But he never did that with Scout’s sister. He never did that with his daughter. He left her and hasn’t seen her in years; ignored her attempts to contact him or the letters she’s sent. It hurts Spy to do this, it really does. He wants his children to be safe and he can’t put her in danger like that. He already has to keep an eye on Scout. He can’t worry about someone who’s half a world away. Especially when he can’t fly to see her. But at night, Spy will sit in his smoking room and read the letters she’s sent him.
  • Medic has an insatiable bloodlust at times. It’s not something he worries about too often, and it surely isn’t something he mentions to the team. But sometimes he craves blood so much that he can’t control himself. On more than one occasion he’s found himself in the bedroom of one of the mercs, standing over their bed with a knife or his bone-saw, craving to cut them open and feast on their blood. When this happens, he manages to snap himself out of the daze and lock himself in his lab until it’s over. He always locks away his doves when this occurs because God forbid something terrible happen to his precious doves. He theorizes this bloodlust has something to do with his father but never cares to ask his mother or siblings about it when he visits them. Heavy knows about the bloodlust, and he worries about Medic. He’s usually the one to bring Medic whatever he needs when the doctor has locked himself away. Heavy knows no fear of the doctor’s bloodlust but he fears for the team sometimes. Medic fears for the team’s safety as well, sometimes, but he just ignores the fear and continues on with his existence.
Happy Birthday, youmake-me-woozi!

June 16 - “Do you want to watch the stars?” Darcy/Piotr for @youmake-me-woozi

Written by @ozhawkauthor

Having the Avengers all in the lab was bad enough, but the X-Men were worse because there were so many more of them, and they all seemed to be talking at once. Feeling suffocated, Darcy sidled towards the back door and slipped out into the fresh air of the cool New Mexico night with a sigh of relief. She was definitely surplus to requirements in there right now.

And… she’d left the key to her trailer in her desk drawer with her phone, she realized, sticking her hand in her pocket and finding it empty. She’d have to go back in there to find it. One look through the door and she concluded that she’d rather not. Pyro was sitting in her office chair, feet on her desk, juggling fireballs.

“Ugh,” Darcy said aloud, considering her options. The fire escape curving up the side of the building caught her eye, and she was halfway up it in moments. She could hang out on the roof until their unexpected visitors cleared out.

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Miss Pauling's First Christmas

Her desk was buried in presents. There were only nine of them, but some of them were large. It was December 25th.

Miss Pauling wasn’t a stranger to extravagant gifts. Growing up, her family’s Christmas had always been a large, public affair, with extended aunts and uncles and cousins, and both sets of grandparents, crowded into her parents’ home. She only liked one set of grandparents. Papa Helton was her very favourite.

Her parents had always seemed to treat the occasion as a time to show off just how excessively they pampered their daughter. Porcelain dolls, a new bicycle, dresses of lace and silk and taffeta. Never mind that she’d asked for a chemistry set. Never mind that she wore an itchy, woolen school uniform for nine months of the year in a Catholic boarding school in upstate New York. Gifts that were always slightly babyish, for a little girl, long after she’d started to become a young woman.

She was alone in the office, and there was no need for decorum, no politely watching crowd of relatives to delicately unbox things for, exclaiming with exhausting, feigned delight each time. This was the first Christmas in years for which she had been genuinely, incredibly excited. And completely, totally surprised.

Miss Pauling was nothing if not meticulous, though, even in the throes of Christmas morning.

Well, this first one was just a crate of beetles. Like, a big crate. Tightly sealed, a screen stapled over the top when she’d found her crowbar and pried the lid off. There was a chunk of raw meat, rotting, still clinging to a chunk of bone. A lot of beetles. Okay. But there was a note, and it was a joint gift from Sniper and Demo. And she read it. And these were flesh eating beetles. And her face lit up. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever gotten a practical gift before.

She got her second one, in short order, from Soldier. A field shovel. Neat, handsome. Collapsible. All words she liked the sound of. And a lovely shade of drab olive green, with a leather sheath buckled over the blade, with the words “MISS PAULING” wood burned into the handle. Crudely, but lovingly. It was heavy and comforting, She had never hugged a shovel before.

Scout, just a box of candy. A big box. A big box of candy, from the very particular candy store in upstate New York, where the nuns had forbidden their students to go, but where she went anyway and spent all her money. Her favourite things, treasure after treasure, things she hadn’t seen or thought of or tasted in years. How had he remembered that, the name of an artisan candy store on the other side of the country? How had they even got to talking about it, she didn’t remember. Candy was sinful. God, was it ever. She should share, but it would be difficult.

Pyro, kerosene and matches. Her favourite brand of kerosene, and she’d always loved matches. The first time she had gotten scolded on the job, it had been for sitting with Pyro on her lunchbreak, the pair of them just taking turns lighting long, candle matches, enjoying the flare of light, the smoke, the smell. She would need to find him so they could split this box, too.

From Heavy, with a tag about it’s neck that said “Matroyshka” in his dark, Cyrillic handwriting. A wolf, carved from a piece of bone. Delicate, lovely. Wholly impractical, like holding a piece of poetry. She turned it over in her hands, a little teary. There was something about the strength of the lines, the shape of it. She had no doubt he had carved it himself.

Miss Pauling had to take a moment, to sniffle quietly.

Spy, a bottle of incredible looking wine and a pair of French silk stockings. Engie, a little toolkit for the back of her truck, a quart of the right kind of motor oil, and backup batteries for her radio. Medic, an antique German anatomy textbook, bristling with handwritten notes about dismemberment in his heavy, neat tectonic script.

Now she had to sit down in her chair and have a proper cry. How were nine bloodthirsty mercenaries also the sweetest men alive?

The Administrator cleared her throat from the doorway. “Miss Pauling, please attempt to compose yourself.”

Miss Pauling had gotten her “composing herself” skills down to nine seconds flat. A big, dramatic sniffle. “Sorry, ma’am. Christmas. First Christmas away from home.”

“Bah, humbug,” Dryly. Only somewhat sarcastic. “MIss Pauling, please draft a memo that informs the mercs of your home address—or more wisely, a post office box—so we don’t have to repeat the occasion of this much clutter when they find out about your birthday.”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am, I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

“No, clearly not.” The Administrator paused. “I left you a little something, on the top right corner of your desk. Just small, a trinket. Merry Christmas, Miss Pauling.”

She burst into tears again. The Administrator sighed and left the room.

It took her another ten minutes to stop crying, to pick up the smallest box, wrapped with what was apparently the absolute bare minimum of effort demanded by the season. Purple wrapping paper. A severe, utilitarian bow.

And a lovely watch, gold-toned, squarish. Tiny, delicate hands. Not a woman’s watch, but still charming. Old. With a simple note, Merry Christmas, Miss Pauling.

Well, I apparently have missed the first HUNDRED of you who liked this, but that’s my bad. Anyway, thank you so very much for reading and liking it! I don’t know where you all got a hold of this. If you enjoyed this piece, you may also like some of my other short stories about Miss Pauling.

Day 244: With a Gentle Hand

A fic for @quaviver​, who asked for some Texas Toast, with Engie being patient about Pyro being comfortable showing themselves.


When he was a boy, Dell spent his summers on his uncle’s farm. It was a good place for a boy to while away the days, far away from the city. Bee Cave wasn’t like Houston or Dallas by any means, but it gave him a chance to “get his head back in the real world,” as his mama used to say.  A week after school let out he would be dropped off at the bus terminal with his suitcase in hand, and given explicit instructions about not thinking too hard.

His favorite part of those visits had always been helping with the horses. Dell had always loved horses, their bodies beautiful examples of the elegant designs nature could come up with. He would watch them for hours as their powerful muscles moved effortlessly under sleek coats as they galloped through the fields.

Then there were the foals, with their spindly legs and doe eyes, awkwardly trotting along behind their dams. They were all knock knees and energy, playful little things who had no problem poking their muzzles into a jacked just in case an apple or carrot had managed to find its way inside. Summer was after foaling season, so he always arrived just as they were starting to get trained. Not carrying any weight - they were far too young for that - but little things. Wearing a halter, for example, or not being skittish when a man walked up to them. Or being touched. Early on he’d learned that you had to take it slow. One step at a time, earning their trust before going on to the next step.

Pyro was like a foal in that way.

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Kings of Leon’s Caleb Followill shares stories behind the band’s biggest hits.         
From broken shoulders and true-crime documentaries to front-porch jams and tour reflection, here’s how KOL’s major hits came to be.

As Kings of Leon return with their seventh LP, WALLS, out now, the 34-year-old frontman, Caleb Followill is sharing never-before-told tales of what inspired his band’s biggest hits — from “Molly’s Chambers” and “Wasted Time” off the group’s 2003 debut to the Grammy-winners “Sex on Fire” and “Use Somebody” off 2008’s Only by the Night, and more.

“Molly’s Chambers,” Youth & Young Manhood (2003)

“I was a big fan of Thin Lizzy’s ‘Whiskey in the Jar.’ It’s not actually their song, it’s an old Irish song, but he says, [sings] ‘I went to Molly’s chambers…’ We wrote around that, making it about this girl who had this secret power that would take you over. I remember playing it for my little brother [Jared, Kings of Leon’s bassist], who was 13, and being like, ‘Do you think kids at your school would think this was cool?’”

“Wasted Time,” Youth & Young Manhood (2003)

“ ‘Wasted Time’ was just a little barnburner. We were in this headspace that was like, ‘Let’s play music really fast!’ And obviously our country-side came out, so it was this country-punk music that no one else was doing. I’m proud that people enjoyed it, because I feel like it was something that had never been done before. [For the record] I went back and redid the vocal and I regret it. I feel like the vocal on the EP [Holy Roller Novocaine] was better. It sounded really tiny and doinky and it was cool that it sounded like that.” 

“The Bucket,” Aha Shake Heartbreak (2005)

“We got back from this tour in the U.K., where we were massive. Everyone had grown their hair like us. But coming home, no one knew who the hell we were. Our mom was at the airport with her sign, like, ‘Welcome home, boys!’ Every day we would go to the store and get some Miller High Life, some beef jerky, and some chocolate snacks, and write. ‘The Bucket’ was one of the first ones everyone liked. It was about me being famous for the first time and about the girls I had finally experienced.[Laughs]” 

“On Call,” Because of the Times (2007)

“When we were making Because of the Times, we had just bought land in Tennessee with this old farmhouse. We would set up our amps on the front porch, so there were these wide, open spaces. From that, we started to play with reverb and more grandiose sounds. It’s the simplest song we’ve ever written; I [sing] the same thing over and over. If you listen to our previous albums, I’m definitely a fan of good lyrics. Maybe at that point I was just exhausted. [Laughs] But I still think I’m saying something nice. It was a pleasant thing to say.”

“Sex on Fire,” Only by the Night (2008)

“I had shoulder surgery [in 2008] and my doctor said, ‘You can’t play guitar for eight weeks.’ He gave me a bunch of pills, and then I took my sling off that night. I could barely move my arm, so I could only play high up on the neck, and the first thing I did was that opening riff. I don’t remember exactly when I said [the lyric] ‘sex on fire,’ but I know that I was joking. I remember the guys going, ‘That’s it!’ I was like, ‘Oh boy…’ But I have more pride in that song now than ever. I play that first part and the place goes f—ing nuts! You don’t know how many of those moments you’re gonna get.” 

“Use Somebody,” Only by the Night (2008)

“[This song also] came out from when I was healing from [my] shoulder injury…and away from everything out at my farmhouse. In that moment, I became more honest with myself and allowed myself to be vulnerable in my writing. No longer trying to be a tough guy and admitting I need the people around me — mainly referring to Lily [Aldridge, Followill’s wife] — to get through it all. I wrote it in one sitting, very late.

“Pyro,” Come Around Sundown (2010)

“I watch a lot of TV shows about people that have f—ed-up situations. This one was a pretty famous deal [known as Ruby Ridge] where the FBI came to this family’s house to raid it and the family locked themselves inside. When [the authorities] killed their dog, it turned into this huge gunfight. There was something about when the son had gotten killed that I was thinking, ‘What if he had lived?’ I started writing from that mentality. It turned into burning a city down.”

“Supersoaker,” Mechanical Bull (2013)

“I started working on [Mechanical Bull] quickly after I got home [from tour in 2011, where, after a disastrous Dallas gig, the band canceled the remaining dates and went on hiatus.] I went out to my farm and I didn’t know if it was going to be Kings of Leon or something else, but I got very inspired. I remember coming up with the guitar part and it feeling throwback, like something off of Aha Shake Heartbreak. So I started writing about those times, about one person in particular from another band and how they lost their inspiration.”

“Walls,” WALLS (2016)

“I found that melody on the road, and when I played it during sound check, everyone jumped on, immediately. I had, [sings] “When the walls come down…,” but for the rest I would just mumble. When we got in the studio, I opened my mouth and it just poured out. It’s like a gift from the gods. I was in the right place at the right time and said something that now, I mean, I’m getting texts from everyone like, ‘Man, that song really touched me,’ from big football players to my mom.”


- via Entertainment Weekly. (Thanks anon!)

dude what if pyro is sitting around on a sunday ceasefire afternoon and engie’s not around so he patiently waits for engineer and then when engie comes back and is like hey i got you something and pyro’s like “what.” and engie grins and is like “hold on” and he goes out to his truck and enters the room with this. really tiny cactus in a tiny pot and pyro is like “…IS THAT..IS THAT A CACTUS” and he squeals and holds it really excitedly because its a tiny cactus and he’s just happily jumping around and engineer just blushes and smiles and is like “i figured you’d like it”  and pyro gives him a lil kiss on the cheek and asks him where he found it and engineer wont tell him so pyro just wanders off and shows it to everyone 

Day 291: Is It Okay?

Pyro is a little nervous about something.


There wasn’t much that could beat a shower at the end of a long day. Especially a nice cold shower on what had been an absolute scorcher of a New Mexico summer day. With the dust and grime flowing down the drain, he grabbed his towel and made his way back to his room.

The good mood that he’d been riding came to a sudden, wary halt as he stepped in. Sitting on his bed, mask lifted just enough to expose the lower part of their face, was Pyro. Pyro sitting in that way they had that meant there was something on their mind and, had it been anyone else, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But it took something big to drag Pyro out of their lollipop and fire filled world to have a heart to heart.

“Scout?”

Hanging his towel on the back of the door, Scout ran through every possible scenario that could have lead to this. He hadn’t done or said anything that Pyro could have taken the wrong way, at least not that he could think of. The team had been doing well in their recent run of matches against RED, and even Spy had been complimentary of the new tactics that they’d been working on in their off time.

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dantethewerewolfdog  asked:

💗 (werewolf-cordon-blu)

Medic woke up in a less-than-stellar mood. He got up grumpy, and didn’t even bother getting dressed before shuffling into the kitchen to make some tea. He boiled the water and poured it into a mug, and put the tea bag in. Then, he realized that he had to go to the bathroom. “It needs to cool down anyway…” he mumbled. When he came back, Pyro was sitting at the table. They looked at him and waved, saying what sounded like good morning. “Good morning.” he grumbled, and took a sip of his tea. Cool enough to drink. He sipped it again, noticing that it tasted different. He checked the box he used, but it was the same kind of tea he normally drank. He shrugged, and poured a bunch of honey into the tea, and drank it as normal. About ten minutes later, while he was eating a stack of pancakes that she had made, he looked at her, and then his face felt hot. He had no idea what it was at first, because even though he had seen her naked for checkups before, she was currently masked and suited up, reading the paper. He didn’t know what to associate the feeling with at that moment. “Oh, I feel…strange.” he said to Pyro. “My face just flushed, and my heart rate increased.” He knew what the feeling meant normally, but he just didn’t know what to connect it to.

annablosssom  asked:

Imagine the mercs playing Truth or Dare. Some were forced into it (Spy, Medic, Sniper), some thought it would be fun (Scout, Pyro), some said it was for team bonding (Soldier, Engineer, Heavy), and some were just too drunk to even care.

Spy does the worst dares. As in the best, they’re just so good no one wants to do them. 

And Sniper is so shy, he just keeps picking Spy, which isn’t a good idea, because it pisses Spy off.

Medic and Heavy just keep daring each other to do stupid things until Engie and Medic start asking truths to each other that are more just nerd trivia battles.

Scout starts thinking he’s such a genius with his questions, but most of them the Mercs answer in a heartbeat. They have no shame. 

Pyro just sits there through the whole thing until Soldier dares them to dance and it turns into a dance party.