aerial maneuver

Padme feeding the twins vs. Anakin feeding the twins

Padme feeding Leia: Here comes the plane! *gently pushes spoon into baby’s mouth*

Anakin feeding Luke: Here comes the plane! *executes a series of outlandish aerial maneuvers with spoon before placing it in baby’s mouth*

Bonus: Obi-Wan feeds the twins

Obi-Wan: Here comes the plane!- at a reasonable speed, taking care to observe all laws and with its passengers securely fastened nod if you understand Luke *feeds baby after nod*

This started out as an ask because it seemed too amusing not to share and then kinda evolved into an almost proto-outline when I wasn’t looking so *drops on your doorstep and runs before it consumes my brain*

As an inversion of selkie!Tobirama, I’ve been thinking of Phoenix!Madara, whose flock nests in the forests not too far from the Senju compound. Madara meets Hashirama first when he tries to fly before his flight feathers have come in and falls out of the nest. Hashirama helps Madara back into the nest despite getting singed, and keeps coming back until Madara gives up trying to chase him off. Tobi eventually badgers Hashirama into taking him along (mainly to prove that Hashirama isn’t going to provoke the phoenix flock to descend in fury upon the Senju). Tobirama and Madara get off a bit on the wrong foot as Tobirama isn’t convinced Madara is an actual phoenix since he doesn’t have the majestic adult plumage yet and has his black-red juvenal plumage (including brand new flight feathers).

Madara attempts to prove himself a great and majestic phoenix through aerial maneuvers and promptly flies into a tree. Tobirama is unimpressed.

Fastforward a decade or two, and while Hashirama barely ever has time to visit the phoenix forest with his duties as clan head, Tobirama can be found there more often than not at the base of Madara’s tree with a book or jutsu scroll or mediating. Madara often brings Tobirama food because Tobirama never brings any with him, and occasionally shiny rocks or other objects Madara thinks Tobirama might find interesting (which includes pilfered books, katanas on two separate occasions, various scrolls, pieces of armor, a twig with cherry blossoms and silk). Madara also tends to engage in more aerial acrobatics when Tobirama’s around, even if Tobirama is never going to see Madara as particularly majestic (though he does privately acknowledge the beauty of Madara’s adult plumage in crimson, amber, and gold edged and spotted in places with black).

The entire flock watches and are either laughing or despairing over all of Madara’s courtship displays as they go right over Tobirama’s head.

Then Madara decides that his best chance of success in wooing Tobirama is to find a legendary gem rumored to have the power to turn a phoenix human. Madara spends years searching before giving up, and returning to his home forest. He stops by the Senju compound on the way, and finds that Tobirama has had the stone sitting in his office as a paperweight the entire time. (Tobirama never tells Madara the gem was one of the first treasures Madara ever gave him.)

Ancient Wisdom

“Oh, great wise Aphria, Queen of the Forest, tell us what thoughts percolate in your ancient mind!” the druids sang up into the treetops above.

The fairies and fireflies flew circles in the air, giving the forest an ethereal atmosphere as they danced about in complex aerial maneuvers, and their light illuminated the darkness of the deep forest. 

Their dance was interrupted as suddenly the ground shook, rumbling as though an earthquake has struck. The druids in their blue and green cloaks lost their balance and tripped as it seemed like the earth itself slipped from beneath their feet. The roots slithered and wriggled across the ground as suddenly, the largest and oldest tree in the center of the forest began to move.

Aphria, the last of the Great Tree Sages, opened her eyes. She looked down at her druid summoners. Her eyes were piercing blue and her face, though old with many eras, commanded respect and timelessness.

As she spoke, her soft voice carried with it gravitas and spirit that the druids have never heard before. “You have done well to summon me, young mortals. I shall impart with you my ancient wisdom of eras long gone.” and so she spoke to them for 3 days and 3 nights, and the druids wrote down every word.

When she was finally done, she closed her eyes. “And now, I fare thee well, mortals. I shall speak to your kind once again when the treetops line up with the heavens, two thousands and four hundred winters from now.” and thus she went back into the ground.

Many more eons have passed, and Aphria was ready to awaken and share her wisdom with the world once again. Though this time, she wasn’t awakened by the heavenly singing of a group of devoted druids, but by the ruckus and noise of thousands of news vans within and just outside of her forest.

“What is the matter of this, humans?” she woke up with a start, or as much of a start a tree can have. She pushed aside a few vans that were parked on top of her roots.

“Ms. Aphria, Ms. Aphria! What will you be voting in the upcoming election? Is it true you still haven’t applied for citizenship? What has been stopping you?” a barrage of thousands of questions blasted her ancient wooden ears.

“Silence!” she screamed, and her shout echoed through the forest and surrounding countryside. She looked down and with her branch pointed at a young reporter. “You, what do you want to know?”

The young reporter walked up the trunk of the great tree sage and pulled out a tablet. “What party will you be voting for in the upcoming national elections?”

“Excuse me?” Aphria seemed confused, none of this mayhem made any sense.

“What values do you stand for?”

“I am the last of my kind, I have been tasked with passing forward the knowledge of my ancient race so it may aid humanity.”

“So, would you say you believe in tradition? Should I write you down as a Traditionalist?”

“Well, I am quite fond of traditional rituals, so I guess so.”

With that, the ruckus erupted once again in the forest as thousands of reporters started laying down questions and accusations.

“Great Tree Sage is a traditionalist! Ms. Aphria how could you betray young citizens like that?! This is why they shouldn’t let entities over 6500 years old to vote!” they continued shouting and snapping photos.

Aphria grumbled. As the ruckus around her grew, she gently slipped back into the forest and shut out the world around her. She didn’t feel like sharing her wisdom with this generation of humanity. Maybe next time.

F-22 Raptor performs an aerial maneuver during the 2016 Heritage Flight Training and Certification Course at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Ariz.,

Roleplay Ramblings: Strange Materials part 3

Exotic Materials

So with the core set and mundane primitive materials out of the way, we can get to what new fare pathfinder offers us in its setting-neutral materials. These vary from exotic minerals, strange organic products, and the results of unique creation processes.

For example, some evil craftsfolk fashion leather armor from tanned angelskin, which provides a screen between the wearer and various goodly effects.

Another is blood crystal, a strange quartz that eagerly, possibly actively absorbs blood, making it useful for weapons as it compounds the harm of various bleed effects.

Compounding on the uses of darkwood, darkleaf cloth, which is made from weaving darkwood tree leaves and bark strips into a flexible material, which serves well for lighter armors while maintaining the impressively light weight associated with the tree.

Some even experiment with the hide of electric eels to make a naturally insulating armor that is also quite flexible.

For something a little more exotic, there is elysian bronze, forged from metals found in the upper planes and sometimes gifted to great mortal heroes, elysian bronze empowers the wielder against magical beasts and monstrous humanoids, proving all the more deadly against them in weapon form, and more resilient agains them in armor form.

Fire-Forged and Frost-Forged Steel are actually the same substance, but careful manipulation of this alloy changes the direction its unique properties flow, granting protection against fire or frost in armor form, and being able to absorb heat, or become extremely cold when exposed to said energies in weapon form, adding a little bit of mundane elemental power to their strikes for a short while.

Those with wooden weaponry who wish to avoid having to make repairs sometimes seek out greenwood, a rare substance made from taking living branches from a tree animated by a treant, and enchanted by the words of a dryad. If all goes well, the result is a wooden weapon that is truly alive, able to heal damage with water, sunlight, and fertile soil. However, such weapons and items cannot be bought, only made and given freely.

Though called Griffon Manes, light armor made this way can be made from the fur of any magical leonine beast. The breezy material actually makes aerial maneuvers easier, and enhances the power of any magical flight the wearer possesses.

Thematically similar to greenwood, living steel forms in knodules of certain hard-bodied trees, absorbed from minerals in the soil. Harvested and forged properly, these lumps of metal retain certain plant-like qualities, and heal themselves when their current form is damaged. Furthermore, armor made from living steel is especially resilient to the touch of most other metals, denting and blunting metal weapons.

Another green material, viridium, is much less benign, for the hard volcanic glass exudes some strange, poisonous property that can make flesh rot on those who are struck by a weapon carved from it, and slivers can even break off and cause lasting damage. However, carrying such a weapon risks exposure to the same foul energies (read: radiation).

Some cultures, namely the vanara, make weapons with hafts made from woven wooden fibers rather than a single straight piece of would, making them much more flexible and whippy, hence the name: whipwood. This flexibility comes in handy for avoiding having the weapon broken.

Finally, wyroot, a curious woody root, has the ability to absorb energies from those struck by such weapons, particularly on critical hits. From there, magi or monks can absorb this energy, converting it to arcane energy or ki respectively.

And that’s just the setting-neutral stuff. Tomorrow, we’ll be tackling some of the substances found specifically in the Golarion setting!

anonymous asked:

Oh oh I have a request! How about desperate, 'I thought I lost you' kisses when the reader returns from a mission several days late? Mccree, genji, tracer and maybe poly!reaper76 would be stellar but if that's too many, just do your favorites! <3


He’s trying to make himself a sandwich from the sparse contents of the fridge, going for a BLT but ending up with something that is mostly pickles, when Winston calls him up to the conference room. There’s been a complication and you have to lay low for a while, no radio contact at all while Talon searches for the thief that stole a truck full of supplies. He gives Jesse the tape of your last transmission, says there’s a personal message for him on there. He takes the tape and the sandwich and leaves, tries not to think about how what’s on that tape may well be the last words he’ll ever hear from you. The seagulls end up eating most of his lunch. He has lost his appetite.

A little over forty-eight hours pass and he still hasn’t listened to the tape. He’s not brave enough, can’t do this without fearing something has happened to you. He’d rather pretend nothing is wrong until the call comes that you’re safe on your way home. It comes, and the moment he has your location he is out of the door, going to meet you halfway, despite Winston’s urging that it’s still dangerous for him to be seen in public with the bounty on his head. It’s just a few hours, but Jesse can’t wait.
He smuggles himself on the hypertrain from Gibraltar to Spain and hitches a ride to the airport, using fake money to buy a plane ticket to London, where you are scheduled to switch flights just minutes after he lands.
The people around him curse and throw their hands up in rude gestures when he pushes past them, searching for your terminal and finding it with minor difficulty. You he could pick out in larger masses. He’s drawn to you, doesn’t need to search, knows when you’re close by like he’s a damn homing pigeon.

“Jesse, what are you-”
He doesn’t let you speak. All the worry, the hastily suppressed fear, bubbles to the surface and he can’t do anything but pull you into a crushing hug and kiss you like he’ll die if he doesn’t.

You recoil at the sudden onslaught but relax when you realise what this is about.

“I’m alright.” you say when you part briefly for air. He doesn’t answer, kisses you again. There are no words for the agony he went through at the thought of never seeing you again. Nothing to talk about that can’t be expressed with his lips on yours and so you hold him as tight as he holds you and kiss until your lips go numb.

Keep reading

paganinpurple  asked:

Also: Marichat 17. Crush swap

Love Square Prompts

It looked like a department store had exploded on Marinette’s bedroom floor.

Everywhere you turned, there were skirts and jeans and shorts. Dresses had been flung about with careless abandon. A T-shirt hung from the pennant that decorated the wall. And yet despite the overwhelming mess, still more outfits were flying from the closet where the small blue-eyed girl had been hiding ever since she’d placed the call to her partner about her scheme, forcing Tikki to preform some impressive aerial maneuvers to avoid shirts, skirts and sweaters as they were rejected one after another.

“No no no no NO!” Moaning in dismay, Marinette collapsed face first on top of a white hand-knit sweater dress. “It’s HOPELESS! I’ll never find anything in here that can impress Chat!”

“Marinette.” Tikki sighed, disapproval and sympathy warring in her tone. “You’re supposed to be focusing on capturing the akuma, not flirting with your partner.”

“Can’t I do both though?” Marinette asked in a small voice, looking up at her Kwami with big, hopeful eyes.

The glare Tikki shot her in return was far from impressed.

“Marinette…” Tikki began again.

“I know, I knoooow!” Marinette groaned, faceplanting into the dress once more. “It’s just… this is the first time I’m meeting Chat as me instead of Ladybug, and I’m really, REALLY nervous! I want him to like me!”

“I’m sure he’ll like you just fine, Marinette.” Tikki placated her charge. “But don’t forget that your duties as Ladybug comes before romance. People are counting on you, remember? Chat Noir is counting on you, too.”

“I know.” Marinette repeated, more solemnly this time. “You’re right, Tikki. I can’t let myself get distracted by silly things like this.”

“There’s my girl!” Tikki cheered, beaming up at Marinette in approval. Marinette smiled back, but then froze when a knock came from her trap door.

“Marinette, sweetie?” Her mother called up to her uncertainly. “Chat Noir is here to see you. Something about an akuma…?”

The high pitched shriek that Marinette emitted at that could be heard for miles. 

“What?! NO! I’m not ready yet! I haven’t even decided what I’m going to wear!” The girl panicked, diving back into her closet. Tikki gave a long suffering sigh as she watched her charge disappear and clothes were tossed out once more.

Well. She tried, anyways.

It was undeniable that Fareeha and Dr. Ziegler made a harmonious pair.

Satya sat by the cliffside, her legs swinging over the edge and her hands resting on the grey barrier. Her eyes were trained on two figures diving and swooping above the calm blue sea before her.

Normally a few other agents would be watching alongside the architect, but on this day she found herself completely alone. Not that it mattered anyway. She was always too enamored with the performance on show to talk to anyone.

This had slowly become a pattern in her day-to-day life in Gibraltar; to watch the two women soar across the sky during training. Practicing aerial maneuvers she’d catch glimpses of during missions while she was stationed at the point. It was always quite the spectacle for sure.

Fareeha would rise like a proud eagle leaving only a trail of smoke behind her. Her smile could be seen from miles away. An enduring smirk that invited you in as a friend. A signal that you were in the company of a good friend.

Dr. Ziegler would be right behind her, staff outstretched as a cool blue beam connected to the other pilot. Her wings would shimmer as she glided.

She made it look effortless. Like everything she did.

She was so beautiful, so intelligent, so brave, so funny. Of course Fareeha would be struck by her. Almost everyone at the base was. 

She was something Satya could never achieve; she was perfect.

Every so often they’d disappear around a rock or slip far out of her sight. Despite this she could always hear their laughter ringing in her ears. They’d call to one another. Let out rallying cries. Yelled support if the other needed it. They were complete opposites to one another and yet worked like a well oiled machine in combat.

So far their combo had not lost them a mission, even if things went awry. (Which they always did. No matter how hard she tried.)

Without realising it Satya’s fingers began pulling at the light fibers out of the palm of her prosthetic. Twisting and turning the blue absentmindedly. A memory tickled the back of her mind – seeing a flock of birds erupt from tall grass, enveloping her with the sounds of their flapping and screeching. She vaguely remembered racing home, but never could remember the path she took. What streets she traveled down. Nor the person who enveloped her in their arms, whispering songs into her ear as she buried her face within their neck.

Fareeha’s whoops of laughter would echo around her, making Satya sigh.

Within a few minutes of sculpting a blue bird sat in her hand – it’s wings would flicker as it flapped, trying to fly away from her palm. Satya found herself cupping it closer to her chest, trying to calm it.

Of course it could never reach the sky. It was nothing more than a projection. It wasn’t built to fly. Just like her.

Click on the link to read more.

I received this beautiful request from @yourozness a while ago and planned on writing a short little blurb about it but then something went horribly wrong and it’s now just over 3.5k words and I have no regrets. Whatsoever.

I’m not sure what genre this fits in, but hopefully it’s enough to soothe your little Klance shipper hearts.

Lance wasn’t sure if it was cool or creepy that, after spending so much time with their lions–bonding, as Shiro so loved to call it–the giant robots started acting like their paladins.

It wasn’t like the green lion started programming computers or the yellow lion turned strange alien plants into a three course meal. No, it was more subtle than that. The black lion became more prone to polarized action, almost like it was feeling Shiro’s PTSD along with him and either fought like mad or couldn’t move at all. Keith’s lion grew impulsive, and when Lance was in his lion she felt more enthusiastic about making flashy maneuvers than she used to. In the few times the lions had ever moved without their pilots, they ended up together in positions so characteristic of the paladins, it was uncanny. The yellow sprawled across the ground, the black curled protectively around the green, and the red and blue poised to fight at a moment’s notice.

Okay, so it was pretty cool.

Keep reading

How come no one talks about the fact that both Rey and Poe are considered to be crack pilots in the new Star Wars? Can you imagine the shenanigans they would get into? I would bet my entire arm that Rey would try to pilot an X-wing one night when she figured no one would notice just because she wants to see if she can. 

She takes BB-8 with her because she’s going to need a copilot, but of course Poe is going to notice that someone ran off with his droid (or rather his droid ran off with them.) Poe catches her and she’s sure that he’s going to turn her in, but instead he says “You definitely don’t want to take that ship. Jessika will skin you alive. Take mine instead.” And she’s just over the moon because sharing is not a concept she’s used to. 

Poe expects her to take it slow, so he’s totally not expecting it when she starts pulling off these sick aerial maneuvers that he’d never expect from a noob and he’s just down on the ground gobsmacked while Rey’s freaking out about how smooth the controls are and how quickly it turns. She earns his respect very quickly after that. 

She and Poe, realizing that they’re both very good pilots, start getting competitive and start having races in his fighter and the Falcon. Rey keeps working on the Falcon to try and make it faster so she can beat him, and the old girl’s in need of some maintenance anyway so why not? Eventually she realizes that even though the Falcon is fast and she’s good, she’s going to need a copilot to save on time. 

Finn turns out to be hopeless at it and Chewie isn’t hot on the idea of all these reckless races around the base because Rey I’m supposed to be looking out for you what are you doing. He does agree to help her upgrade the Falcon, though. After all, it’s still his baby and if he can make it a little safer, why not? Rey is going to do this stuff anyway. 

Rey starts thinking she’ll have to build some weird contraption in the cockpit to let her hit the far away buttons by herself, but then she finds someone who will be her copilot: R2-D2. 

This old, foul-mouthed droid hasn’t done any real, proper flying since the Empire days, and boy is he ready to wreck someone’s shit. Sure it’s just Poe’s pride, but that doesn’t matter. R2 is READY. He and Rey really start perfecting their technique and bonding over flying. Sometimes (all the time) R2 likes to tell Rey daring stories about all the wars he’s been in and how many times he’s almost died. Rey wouldn’t believe him if he were human, but being a droid, R2 has all kinds of recordings and the like to back it up. 

The moment they started flying together, poor Poe didn’t stand a CHANCE. 

So, this one is kinda late. That’s partly because I was a little lazy about writing yesterday since I was celebrating my birthday. Sorry to delay this! Major shout outs to @hiqhwarlockbane
@imadjobsessedbandaddict and @greyyjoys
for giving me the inspiration for this, and @sailingmeships @subject-to-feels and @ein-teufel-im-engelskreis for being awesome and encouraging me so much!

This was inspired by a discussion on Kurt grooming Warren’s wings for him and Warren messing them up (totally on purpose) the next day so that he’d do it again. It kind of just went from there and turned into this. Enjoy!
Warren’s eyes slipped closed as he hummed, practically purring in pleasure.

“You’re good at this….” He murmured quietly. Kurt giggled softly.

“Danke, Varren!” Kurt bit his lip, concentrating on gently cleaning and straightening out the feathers of Warren’s wings.

The blue mutant had noticed them getting messy over the past few days. Ever since he’d been cleared for training with Kurt and the other new X-Men, Warren had taken to using his newly regrown wings increasingly often, spending hours of free time just wheeling about the grounds of the Institute.

The increased use had also meant that they needed additional grooming, something Warren simply didn’t always have the time or energy for. So Kurt had offered to groom them for him. That was how Warren found himself melting down into his bed as Kurt moved around him, expertly running his fingers through the soft feathers.

He forced his eyes open, turning his head slightly towards Kurt.

“You know you don’t have to do all of them, right?” He asked. If he were a better person, he’d have gotten up already, let Kurt get back to doing things that were much more productive than grooming Warren’s wings, especially since the were jut as likely to get messed up again in a few days’ time. But he wasn’t as good a person as Kurt believed him to be so here he remained, going from sitting to laying facedown on his bed, luxuriating in the feeling of someone grooming his wings.

“Unsinn,” Kurt replied easily, not even pausing in his work. “An engel’s wings should always be clean and beautiful.”

“They’re just gonna get messed up again anyway, with the way training has been going. If I sat down to do this every time they got dirty, I’d never leave my room outside of training or eating,” Warren grumbled, but his protests were belied by the pleased ruffling of his feathers as Kurt carefully moved from his left wing to his right one.

“Maybe so. But it wouldn’t hurt to spend a little extra time taking care of them. Especially since it clearly feels nice,” the blue mutant pointed out reasonably.

“Shut up.” There was no heat to Warren’s response. He wouldn’t even bother trying to deny how nice it felt. “Sensitive wings. Who knew?”

Kurt chuckled, finally pulling away from him. Warren bit down on his lip hard to prevent a sound of protest escaping his lips. He had not almost whimpered. He hadn’t!

“I am glad to help if you ever have trouble reaching spots.”

“Definitely won’t hear any complaints from me,” Warren replied, sitting up and shooting a smirk over his shoulder at the younger mutant. Kurt returned it with a beaming smile of his own, which definitely didn’t do anything to Warren’s chest.

And when Warren wandered casually into the kitchen with his wings once again an absolute mess, he’d swear it had nothing to do with how much he’d enjoyed the feeling of Kurt’s hands in his feathers. Kurt took him in and shook his head, taking the first chance he got to pull Warren back up to his room to spend another hour or two grooming them back into a proper appearance.

“I do not understand how you get them so dirty!” He commented offhandedly, laser-focused on his task as he picked twigs out from between the feathers and brushed dirt away, straightening the feathers back into neat lines.

“I like buzzing the trees, ok? And the aerial maneuvers they have me working on aren’t exactly leisurely loop de loops either,” Warren grumbled in response. Even he could feel how the excuse was slightly flimsy. He did indeed enjoy buzzing the buildings and trees, but he was skilled enough to easily avoid them without doing so much damage to his wings. Especially since at high speeds, they stuck closer to his body for a more streamlined, aerodynamic posture.

Kurt hummed, blessedly not calling him on the excuse. “Alright, that should feel better.” Warren smiled as he turned to face Kurt, stretching his wings out.

“It does. Thanks, Kurt,” he replied with a smile. Kurt ducked his head but not before Warren caught the start of a purple flush covering his face and the small smile it earned him. His own smile turned into a pleased smirk at the sight.

“You are velcome Varren.”
The two were hanging out in Kurt’s room the next day when Warren nearly jumped out of his skin at the professor’s voice in his head.

[X-Men, meet me down in Cerebro. We have important matters to discuss.]

“….did you just hear-?”

“The professor? Yes. It appears he has need of us down below.”

“God, it’s fucking weird when he starts talkin’ in our heads like that….”
“Cerebro has identified a potential new student for the Xavier Institute. Shiro Yoshida’s mutation makes him incredibly volatile. He must be retrieved and brought to the Institute for training to learn control, but before that happens, we need someone who can arrive ahead of Hank and the X-copter to help assure him we are not seeking to lock him away or pick him apart in a lab.”

“Wait, wait! On a scale of one to Australia, how dangerous are we talkin’ here?” Peter asked.

“Definitely Australia,” Hank replied. “His powers are incredibly volatile, and essentially make him a walking nuclear reactor. It’s imperative he understand that he is not being attacked, kidnapped, threatened or forced in any way when we make contact.”

“Will we be able to communicate with him?”

“He speaks decent English, so communication will not be an issue. The problem is getting someone who can get there soon enough. He lives in Japan, a very long flight for jets, copter can’t fly very fast, and in his current state he is a danger to himself and others.”

“I could run there,” Peter suggested. “I’d easily get there faster than the copter would.”

“Peter, you’re offering to run nearly 7,000 miles. Even with your enhanced endurance, you would need to constantly be resting, and there would be almost no opportunities to do so once you started running over the ocean.”

“Could Kurt try teleporting his way there?” Everyone paused to look at Scott like he was a moron. “Not all at once, obviously! I know he can’t do that! It’s as far as he can see, right? He could go in little stretches like that. Once he reaches the ocean he could potentially go pretty far. You can see w long way out there.”

Kurt tilted his head, opening his mouth to reply, but before he could, Warren spoke.

“You must be an idiot if you think that would work.” His voice was hard and cold. All eyes turned to him. Scott scowled at him.


“For one thing, it’d be quicker to let Peter try to run there. For another, we’ve already established that doing a string of long teleportations strains Kurt. He’d need to sleep fairly often in order to not push himself to hard. And once he got out over the ocean that’d be next to impossible to do. There’s no way you can sanely ask him to push himself like that.”

Scott flushed angrily, which Warren took as a victory. “And what are you, his defender now?”

“If you assholes plan on asking him to go on a mission like this where it could and would KILL him, when you know he won’t outright refuse if you push him, yeah I am!” Warren growled.

“Yeah? That’s not how it started is it? You tried to kill him multiple times, and now you’re trying to protect him?” At that, Warren’s face shuttered closed, his face completely neutral. Even Scott knew that it was a low blow, and that he definitely shouldn’t have said it, before any of the others could call him on it.

“Because you took such good care of him and totally didn’t just use him as a glorified taxi!” He snarled back. Chagrined, Scott backed down.

“Well, I don’t suppose YOU have any ideas, then?”

“I do actually. And before you ask, it doesn’t involve putting anyone at risk of drowning somewhere in the Pacific, or just leaving this Shiro guy to his devices,” Warren snapped.

“Varren….” Kurt laid a soothing hand on his arm. Warren shook it off, refusing to meet Kurt’s eyes.

“I’ll go. I can fly out ahead easily enough.” Scott scowled a little.

“How is that not just putting yourself at risk of drowning?”

“Because I won’t be flying right above the ocean, dumbass! I’ll be up in the jet streams, where I will be easily out of reach of the waves!” He ground out, his jaw clenching.

“But Varren, vill you be able to make it that far?”

Warren released a breath, still mostly avoiding Kurt’s gaze. “I flew across the Atlantic on my own when I was 10. And we’ve been testing my endurance. I can fly across the U.S. with no problems, find someplace in California to eat, get some sleep, and then have one last meal, and then head out. I should be ok, but if I need to I can stop at a couple of the islands on the way for a few hours of rest.” He turned to face the professor. “I can do this,” he insisted. Xavier steepled his fingers, considering him for a long moment.

“I believe you Warren. Hank and I will set about making further preparations. You had best begin resting up for your journey. You’ll leave tomorrow. All of your are dismissed.” Warren nodded, turning to leave. He was halfway down the hall when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He tensed, resisting the impulse to grab the offending ligament and throw them into the wall.

“Warren listen….I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“Save it, Summers,” he interrupted coldly. “You made your point clear. I get it.” With that, he shook Scott’s hand off and strode away.

He didn’t see Kurt coming up to stand beside Scott and scowl at him.

“You need to fix this! You have upset Varren!” He told him.

“I know! I tried! He just brushed me off!” Scott replied, frustrated. Kurt shook his head.

“You know he is too stubborn and proud to simply accept that. You must try harder!” And with that, he disappeared in a flash of smoke, doubtlessly going after Warren.
Warren was pacing his room, his wings fluttering agitatedly, when Kurt popped in.

“You are supposed to be resting,” he said softly, “not making holes in the floor vith your pacing.” Warren turned to face him in surprise, before looking away. He moved to sit on his bed, looking down at his feet. Kurt hesitantly moved to sit next to him. “Scott should not have said those things to you.” Warren shrugged.

“Why not? Not like it wasn’t true.”

“You are a part of our team. Ve have long since moved past that. To be bring it up like that was uncalled for. Ororo is furious with him for saying that, as she should be.” Kurt placed a hand on his shoulder. Warren let out a deep breath, but didn’t shake it off. “Varren….please tell me….that you did not volunteer yourself for this mission because you wished to prove that?”

“Of course I didn’t!” Warren exclaimed, finally looking up to meet Kurt’s eyes. “I was the best option. I can actually make the journey across the Pacific without putting myself at risk. If you or Peter got tired while attempting that, you’d be screwed. I can just ride the winds over there and at least reach a couple of the islands to rest for a few hours before heading out again.”

“…..very vell. I still vish you hadn’t spoken up so against my going….” Suddenly Warren looked guilty.

“Kurt….I didn’t say that because I doubt your abilities. I know you’re tough. But I’ve seen how tired you are after some of the longer exercises where you have to constantly teleport. And the ocean? That’s a whole lot more risky than the Danger Room. Out there, there’s no turning it off if something goes wrong. I wasn’t about to let them seriously consider sending you out on a mission like that with no backup.”

“And what about you? You have no problem sending yourself out with no backup!”

“I’ll be fine! The winds and air are much more reliable and predictable than the ocean!”

“You still should not be out alone! Vhat if you get off course, or something happens and ve can’t reach you, or this mutant attacks you before Hank and the professor arrive?”

“That won’t happen-”

“But how do you know that?!” Warren stared in shock as Kurt shook, his fists clenched and staring down as he took deep breaths to get ahold of himself. “I understand that you believe you would be put at less risk than Peter or I in undertaking this. But YOU must try to understand that if something were to happen to you on this mission, if we lost you, I….I would be very upset, Varren.”

Warren was at a loss for words. He struggled to speak around the lump in his throat, reaching out to touch him gently.

“Kurt, I can’t promise that everything will go exactly to plan. But you have to know I’ll do everything in my power to make sure nothing does. I’ll be careful. I don’t like the idea of not having backup out there any more than you do.”

“Then bring me with you! I can help! We can watch out for each other and when one gets tired on the way over the other can take over for a while!” Warren blew out a deep breath.

“Kurt, you know that won’t work. I won’t be able to carry you with me for long enough, it’d take too much of my energy. I may be strong, but my bones are light and you’re no paperweight. It’d be too risky, especially over the open ocean. Plus, you’re not adapted for high altitudes. My mutation and Apocalypse’s….‘upgrades’ make me built to withstand and survive the harsh conditions up there, but you would have no protection, no built-in immunities, unless you’ve got some avian mutation that I don’t know about, in which case you’ve been holding out on us.”

Kurt looked down, clearly unhappy with this, but he didn’t argue.

“I….I do not want you to be out there alone. Vhat if something happens that we won’t know about? If you get hurt….”

“Hey, Kurt, look at me,” Warren spoke gently, gently tilting the blue mutant’s head up so he’d meet his eyes. “I promise you I will be as careful as possible. Like I said, I can’t promise nothing will go wrong, but you gotta believe I’ll do my damnedest to make it back in one piece. And if it’ll make you feel better, I can go talk to the professor and Hank about a way to communicate with you guys?” Kurt sucked in a deep breath, and slowly nodded.

“Yes, it vould make me feel much better. But you vill get some rest now. I vill go talk to them about it. You need all your strength for this mission.” He stood to leave.

“….alright, Kurt. Thanks.”

“You are velcome, Engel. I vill see you in the morning.”

“Yeah. See ya.” With that, Kurt teleported out of the room.
The next morning, Warren was being suited up for the mission with various equipment and supplies. There was a new suit designed to help ensure his body temperature remained in a healthy range at the high altitudes he’d be flying at, as well as help him easily cut through the air; a built in stash that was packed with nutrient rich snacks meant to give him energy on one arm, and one with caffeine pills (“For absolute necessity only,” Hank had warned him sternly) on the other; and strapped to his forearm was a GPS device to help make sure he hit his route correctly to reach Japan as quickly as possible, and could easily reach any of the islands scattered throughout the Pacific for a rest; finally, Hank had outfitted him with a radio comm.

“Kurt suggested this. Figured it’d be a good idea to maintain radio communication with the copter, especially for when you’re out of Jean or Charles’s telepathic range,” Hank explained. “Check in every hour or so, or whenever you’re making a stop or something happens. That way if something goes wrong we have something to work with. Your suits got a waterproof GPS tracker in it as well so we’ll at least have a basic idea where you are if something happens.”

Warren’s eyes slid to the other blue mutant standing nearby as he nodded at Hank’s explanation of everything. The furry man pat him on the shoulder.

“Good luck. You’ll be fine, and we’ll be watching out for you. We’ll get there as soon as we can to help you if you need it.”

“Pfft. I got this. I won’t need any help from you, old man.”

“Alright, whatever you say, kid.” Hank rolled his eyes at Warren’s antics before walking away to continue prepping the copter. Warren turned his attention to Kurt.

“Check in every hour,” the younger boy instructed as he stepped in front of Warren, staring him in the eyes, “Don’t forget! And if anything happens, anything at all, use the radio. It isn’t shameful to ask for help. And it would at least be good to let us know.”

“Alright, Kurt. I will. I promise,” Warren replied, reaching out to take his hand. “And I promise I’ll make it back in one piece.”

“You’d better,” Kurt snarked, his voice catching a little and his eyes growing watery. “I’ll….I’ll never forgive you if you don’t.”

Warren’s answering chuckle was watery and filled with emotion. “Well, I can’t have that, now can I?”

The two teens stood there staring at each other for a minute longer, before Warren pulled Kurt into a long hug. When they pulled back, he leaned in to give Kurt a light peck on the lips.

“For luck,” he whispered.

Kurt stared at him a moment before leaning back in to kiss him back, firmly, yet chastely. When he pulled away, Warren graced him with a giddy smile.

“Do that again?”

Kurt huffed. “Make it back as you promised and then ve’ll see.” That earned a full laugh from the winged mutant, which in turn caused a smile to grace Kurt’s lips.

“Warren,” came Xavier’s voice. “It’s time to go.”

The two sobered immediately, pausing a moment before making their way over to the group, hand in hand. No one made any comment on the exchange between the two, but from how Jean and Ororo were beaming and smirking at them respectively, they’d definitely seen it. They made no efforts to hide how pleased they were with it.

One by one, the others came up to wish Warren luck, reassuring him that they’d all be behind him and helping to watch out for him. He felt his heart swell as Ororo embraced him, Peter slapped his back and gave him a high five, and Jean graced him with a smile. Finally, Scott approached. Kurt tensed beside Warren. The two stared at each warily a moment.

“….so. I just wanted to say that I know you’ll pull this off,” Scott said, mumbling awkwardly.

“Obviously,” Warren scoffed, a smirk tugging at his lips. This brought a slight smile to Scott’s face.

“And there’s the ego.” He deflated a moment later. “Look man, about what I said yesterday….I’m sorry. Really. That was a dick move, and I can’t believe it came out of my mouth. I shouldn’t have used that against you like that. You’ve earned your spot on this team and earned everyone’s trust, including mine. I just want you to know that.”

“…..Don’t do it again, but….you’re forgiven. And….thanks, Summers.” Scott nodded, and held his hand out. They shook hands briefly.

Finally, it was time to go. The hangar door opened to let him out. He moved over in front of it, followed by his friends. He turned back one last time, looking at each of his teammates and instructors in turn, before finally settling on Kurt.

“I’ll be back. Wait for me.” He called.

“Natürlich,” Kurt replied.

With one last grin, he extended his wings, and flew out, leaving the manor for the first time since his arrival.
“What the fuck, Warren?! What happened to-what the fuck?!”

Warren had Shiro Yoshida in a fireman’s carry around both his shoulders. The other mutant was out cold, and Warren himself was very singed-looking, a few holes burnt in his suit and a black eye and trickle of blood from his nose proof of a struggle that went down.

“He was being difficult,” he said, by way explanation as he laid the mutant down in the copter and climbed in. “Not to mention obnoxious and a pain in the ass. So I decided to just knock him out and bring him here to speed up the whole process of getting him in the copter and get us home, and save all of us from having to deal with his bullshit the whole trip back. You’re welcome.”

Hank sighed. “We have a no abduction policy, Warren! No mutant should ever be forced to come to the institute if they don’t want to! I thought we’d made that clear!”

“He wasn’t cooperating! I told him what was up, and he agreed to come with but then he started being a little punk about his powers! What’d you expect me to do?!”

Hank simply shook his head, deciding to pick his battles. “Whatever. Get some rest, you look like you need it. It’s going to be a long flight back.”

“Gladly,” Warren murmured, already curling up in one of the seats in the back.
“Vhat happened to you?! Are you alright?! Are you hurting?!”

Warren had barely set foot off the copter before he was being tackled by a very concerned Kurt.

“I’m fine, just a little singed. Shiro and I just had a little conflict that’s all. Explosive personalities, big clashes, no big deal,” he tried to reassure him.

Kurt simply sniffed. “Your vings are all dirty again! I’ll have to fix them after you get looked over for injuries,” he muttered. Warren grinned.

“Oh yeah?”

“Go have your wounds looked at, Varren.”



“I made it back in one piece.”


“Just like I promised.”

“So you did.”

“Do I get a reward now?”

A slow smile spread across Kurt’s face.

“I suppose a small one now vould be alright.”

And as he leaned in to meet his waiting lips, Warren couldn’t help but feel completely at peace with the world.
So this one took a lot longer than I thought it would. Partly because I kept struggling with whether I should make it a short (ish) little stand alone kind of thing or make it a full length 3rd part to the series, and if it was a full part, what the plot would be. I eventually ended up settling on something in between, before the plot took hold and we ended up with another 3700+ word installment. I am apparently incapable of writing anything short.

I feel like I should also add that Shiro is not my character, he belongs to Marvel. I’m not super familiar with Sunfire as a character, but I’m fairly certain he was Japanese. If I messed that up, let me know and I’ll fix it! I figured though that with the mixed up timeline that DoFP caused, I could take a couple liberties with him for this and mostly leave his character alone.

So they’ve officially kissed. I’m willing to call this the end of the first part of this series at least, but if I get more ideas/requests I’d be willing to return to it with more installments of these idiots. My askbox is always open to prompts of any kind too, so feel free to drop something in there.

i felt like i wasnt going to address it but i see more and more people taking other people down for not being “true” fans or for being “new fans”. i just wanted to take the time on here to really express that FOB has always tried to embrace an inclusive vibe- we are all part of this thing. all of us were new fans at some time- if you hung out with me in my pre-teen years i would have driven you insane with my ridiculous metaliica fan boying. even just yesterday i had a geeky fan moment with slash….

i think some of this speaks to an influx of new fans- people that may have found their way due to bands like one direction and 5sos- ive met both of these bands- both are full of hardworking, talented, but most importantly nice kids. everyone has to start somewhere- there was a time when our band was on TRL and i remember some of the backlash us and other bands got simply due to being on a video show that teenage america watched… but the most important part of this as it relates to FOB is that the more fans there are and the more bands that are being played on the radio the more we can tour around the world- it keeps the ecosystem that our band exists in thriving. think about that the next time you take a shot at someone for not knowing something or being a “big” enough fan.

that being said its a great and wonderful part of being a human being to have your own opinions- just remember to express them in empathetic ways- everyone has their own unique struggle.

i wanted to include some stuff we really built our stage show for monumentour around in case you are coming so you know some of the backstory to some of the elements.

there are many images of chicago (our hometown) and the idea that it doesnt matter how many times you fail as long as you keep getting up… the intro to our set is something weve been working on for awhile.

the floating stage is something that has been kicking around as an idea since the “black clouds” tour- but we finally were able to create a design that we felt was versatile enough to bring out on tour. it is all based upon pyramid design and shapes.

speaking of pyramids this was an updated idea of content for arms race. 

for stagewear we had our friend dr. romanelli create a lambskin jacket (andys is denim & vegan friendly). which we then had theresa sharpe from best ink tattoo with images from the youngblood chronicles. this process was pretty insane as they are not painted, they are actually tattooed on the leather.

the phoenix always had a fighter pilot vibe to me… the content reflects that everything from cockpit to aerial maneuvers.

just one yesterday was written with this scene from the modern romeo and juliet in mind so it seemed kind of fitting to fix it into the background of the song live.

and finally the encore stage design is a nod to one of our favorite fantasy movies of all time the labyrinth. 

we hope you come out to a show and have a blast. keep an open mind and heart… 



so the other thing i try not to think about a lot is darkest hour. (i try not to think about it a lot.) but when i do think about it, i wind up thinking about the autobots and the decepticons, all standing around the omega lock

well, the autobots aren’t. they’ve been herded off to the side, stripped of their weapons and surrounded by vehicons. optimus has planted the star saber in the ground, a final act of defiance - he will not hand it over. they will not take it from him. only he (and megatron, still wearing the arm of a dead prime) can pick it up again

(and it’s an act of some strategy, too - it keeps the weapon close at hand)

but now the decepticons have the keys, and they have the lock

and this is why megatron allowed starscream back, this is why megatron has kept him around - this is why megatron let starscream live. because where megatron thinks straight as fusion cannon fire, starscream’s thoughts are as twisty as aerial maneuvers. because while megatron thinks of ways to win a fight, starscream finds ways not to fight at all

and so it’s megatron, then, who ends up with the keys in hand, standing in front of the omega lock. it’s megatron, then, who gets to choose - earth or cybertron?

megatron wants cybertron back. megatron wants cybertron so he can conquer it. he readily admits as much to ratchet - megatron wants cybertron back so he can take it for himself

and whichever side restores cybertron gains significant political advantage in the war. “in all likelyhood, the leader of the decepticons will portray himself as our planet’s saviors and brand all autobots as war criminals.” and the war would continue. cybertron’s restoration would not end it.megatron admits that much to ratchet as well

(and underneath all of this, deeply, achingly - cybertron is the decepticons’ home, too, and they want it back just as badly as the autobots do

well, almost all of them. all of them but one)

because earth is there, too. just a spacebridge away

and megatron knows optimus - he knows optimus better than anyone. and he know how to hurt him

because optimus blames himself for the destruction of cybertron. if only he had been faster or stronger or - or better, somehow, he could have prevented it. it wouldn’t have happened. and when he thinks he’s failed again - when starscream has taken the keys and he thinks them lost to megatron, lost forever - he loses control. he cries out

and if it was just him, if it was just himself he had to give, he would sacrifice himself, sacrifice himself without hesitation or regret - and he does. he will. but he will not allow cybertron’s restoration to come at the cost of another world’s destruction

so to watch that planet, that world, be destroyed - a planet he brought the war to, a planet he failed to protect -

and megatron chooses earth. he chooses earth first.

and he has to know. he has to know what optimus will do. he knows optimus better than anyone - he fought beside him and against him and beside him again - and even if he doesn’t, even if he didn’t know optimus at all, if optimus will give up the keys for the lives of three humans, what would he do for an entire planetful?

there’s only one reason to target earth first, and that’s to see the pain in optimus’ optics as he watches, helpless -

(and megatron could have turned the lock on cybertron instead, restored their world and gained the advantage and let them go home, and if he wanted to target earth next, the loss of the omega lock would have meant - not nothing, but so much less

megatron could have restored cybertron - and i don’t know for sure, can never know for certain, but i don’t believe optimus would have stopped him)

but megatron didn’t. because he wants to watch optimus prime suffer and he wants to laugh

and that’s worth more to him than cybertron itself

(thanks to xarciel for being stronger than i am the gifs)


The Great Soviet Propaganda Plane,

At the time it was the largest and most advanced airplane in history.  Designed by Andrei Tupolev, the ANT-20 was a Soviet airplane that pushed the boundaries of aviation.  It wingspan was similar to that of a modern day Boeing 747.  To power such a massive plane, the ANT-20 utilized eight 900 horsepower engines.  It was also the largest airplane made of corrugated sheet metal. Finally it was the first airplane to use both alternating current (AC) and direct current (DC).

Named after Maxim Gorky, a popular Soviet writer and founder of the Socialist realism art movement, the ANT-20’s purpose was to spread Stalinist propaganda across the Soviet Union and Europe.  To do this, the ANT-20 was equipped with a radio station whose transmitter (called the “voice from the sky”) could override all but the most powerful local radio stations, a printing press that could distribute propaganda leaflets from the air, a library, a photography lab, and a film projector with sound to show movies to the plane’s 75 passengers.  It was Stalin’s plan that a whole fleet of such airplanes were to be built, which were to cruise the world’s skies while spreading communist propaganda across the globe.

On May 18th, 1935 the Maxim Gorky made it’s first demonstration flight over Moscow escorted by two I-5 fighters.  While the ANT-20 flew over Moscow spreading Soviet propaganda, the two fighters were to perform a series of dazzling aerial maneuvers around the massive plane.  Unfortunately the two planes simultaneously crashed into the Maxim Gorky, sending it plummeting to the ground where it crashed in a residential district near the present day Sokol Metro Station.  The crash killed 45 people, including two pilots, all 33 passengers, and ten people who were family members of the airplane’s designers.

After the devastating crash, the Soviet government made a scapegoat of the deceased pilot Blagin, claiming that he had made a reckless maneuver causing the crash and that he had a “cocky disregard of authority.”  A year after the fatal crash, a replacement airplane, called the ANT-20bis went into production.  It was similar to the Maxim Gorky, but with more powerful engines.  In 1942 it likewise crashed when the pilot allowed a passenger to take his seat momentarily and the passenger apparently disengaged the automatic pilot, sending the airplane into a nosedive from an altitude of 1,500 ft and killing all 36 on board. 

Stalin’s grand scheme of building a massive fleet of gigantic propaganda planes was scrapped in 1939 after several purges of the Soviet aviation industry resulted in a shortage of qualified engineers.

Announcer: “What a surprise! Wally Gator has sailed over the finish line in a surprise aerial maneuver!”

Me: “…really? Well, you might want to tell that to the animation team, ‘cause they decided to have him hit the sign and bounce back.”


anonymous asked:

Jasico, walk in the park

“A park." 

"I came here a lot when I was younger. Destroyed a lot of trees trying to figure out how to fly. Fauns tell me I’m the reason why Naiads hate my guts.” Jason chuckled warmly and shook his head when he saw Nico’s tired eyes squint in disbelief. “You got a problem with that?" 

Keep reading

Alright, so here’s part 2 to the monstrous Warren-centric thing I posted earlier. I promise I tried to have a bit more of him and Kurt actually interacting this time. We’ll see how that turns out.

Thanks again to Becca for helping me find the prompt to start this. This time, we ended up with “How about you step away from the weapon of mass destruction and we settle this like gentlemen?” “How about no?”
“Get down from there!”

“Come up here and make me!”


It had been almost 6 months since Warren had first found the feathers growing back in between the blades and pieces of metal on his back. 6 months since Kurt had apologized for injuring his wings in the first place. 6 months since the boys had started to really become friends.

Being friends with Kurt was surprisingly easy. He didn’t push Warren to talk about his issues like some of the other teens and adults did. He let Warren come to him in his own time. And he did his best to keep him distracted from the pain that came with his wings growing back. When Kurt suggested going to the professor to get something for the pain, Warren had balked at first, but eventually conceded. The pain meds he’d been given helped ease the symptoms, but not by much. He was still plagued by muscle cramps and pains anytime he stretched his back or torso.

It had been Hank that suggested that they finally start tearing away the metal and scraps to let his wings grow in easier. He warned that it’s be a painful process, but it might let them grow back faster healthier than if they had to weave their way between the crushed metal monstrosities he’d been stuck with since Apocalypse found him. Warren had immediately told him to do it, ignoring the professor’s half-hearted reservations.

The operation had indeed been painful. They couldn’t put him completely under, and the anesthesia seemed to wear off ridiculously quickly. They’d called Eric back to help them bend the metal away and keep it from slicing Warren up too much in the process, but they’d had to practically rip pieces of it out of his back, and Warren himself had been surprised to find that even just cutting away at the frame and twisted “feathers” hurt. Hank theorized that they were still, on some level, organic compounds that were connected to his nervous system. Apocalypse had truly outdone himself when he’d created them.

The results, however, had been well worth the pain. They’d removed everything that was damaged beyond repair, and most of the frame for them. The metal at the very base of his wings was too deeply embedded to be safely removed, so they’d simply split it open around the regrowing bones of his real wings. Seeing how much his true wings had regrown had brought tears to Warren’s eyes. They were weak, and had a long way to go, but they were there, growing on both sides. Kurt had appeared at his side what seemed like seconds after the entire thing was finished, and had stared at them in awe, reaching out to stroke them gently. Warren would forever deny the shivers that sent through his body.

Once they had been given space to freely grow back in without having to grow between the metal remains of the other ones or push them out, they’d started returning quickly. But that, of course, brought more pain. So Kurt and Ororo had rallied the others with a plan that essentially consisted of Keep Warren Occupied with Something at All Times. Trips to the mall were frequent, as were ice cream binges (Kurt had let slip Warren’s deep and undying love for the creamy treat, and the others had leapt on it). Jean and Jubilee would often commandeer the kitchen and have him help whip up huge sundaes or milkshakes with all manners of toppings. Warren had forced himself to admit how grateful he was for their efforts, and had promptly been on the receiving end of 3 hugs from Ororo, Kurt and Jubilee, an awkward clap on the back Scott, a sweet smile from Jean, and a thumbs up and smirk from Peter.

Ororo had been the one to suggest helping him stretch his wings and get them back in shape so he could start flying sooner and maybe start joining them in training as X-Men as well. After pestering him into agreement, he’d often find himself lifted rather unceremoniously into the air by either Ororo or Jean (via her telekinesis) and sternly ordered to spread his wings and pretend he was doing the flying while they carried him through the air, or would make him flap his wigs as if he were keeping himself in the air as they helped him hover a foot or two off the ground.

Once they deemed him strong enough to start flying mostly on his own, Peter had started grabbing him and giving him a running start to get him off the ground, or Kurt would pop up behind him and drop him from high enough that he’d have enough time to extend his wings so he could at least glide to the ground on his own. Jean and Ororo, like the mother-hens they were, were always nearby ready to catch him, just in case. Luckily, they never had to. He wasn’t sure if his pride would have been able to take it if they had. Scott and Jube were often standing nearby watching, Scott standing awkwardly, usually by Jean, while Jubilee would occasionally send out encouraging fireworks for him, especially whenever he reached some accomplishment, like staying in the air on his own for a certain amount of time, or pulling off a simple aerial maneuver for the first time in what felt like years.

Finally, one day, Kurt asked if he wanted to try taking off and flying completely under his own power. They’d had him flying essentially on his own for about a month, and he’d started occasionally using his wings to lift himself a foot or two off the ground or give his jumps a little boost for a little more than that. But he had yet to completely lift himself off the ground and into flight on his own power. Kurt had mostly stopped popping up and dropping him from various heights, except to mess with him, but Peter, Jean or Ororo would usually help give him a boost to get off the ground.

Warren had sucked in a deep breath before nodding. The group had quietly followed him down to a spot where he could get a good running start to help get himself off the ground. Ororo had laid an encouraging hand on his arm, and Jean had reminded him that they’d be right there if he needed them, before everyone stepped back to give him space, lining his path like lights on an airplane runway. Kurt had beamed at him before teleporting to stand across from Jubilee at the end of the two lines they’d formed. Warren took another deep breath, nodded to himself, and started to run.

He passed Jean and Ororo, Scott and Peter, and as he passed Kurt and Jubilee, he slowly spread his wings, reveling in the stretch that the movement brought now rather than the ache from before. He jumped, and slowly started to give strong, steady flaps, lifting himself further and further into the air. He could feel the exertion the actions took, but he also felt himself rising steadily, easily clearing the treeline he’d been running towards.

And as he wheeled around gracefully in the air and saw his friends below him, Jubilee shooting off colorful fireworks as they all celebrated, it hit him: he was flying again! He was flying after nearly a year of being grounded, with his own wings back. He let out a whoop and put on a burst of speed, ignoring the mental caution Jean sent him to be careful not to exert himself too much. He couldn’t care less what strain he put on his wings, not while he was finally flying freely, truly freely, for the first time….for the first time ever. He did lazy laps around the grounds, flying over the mansion itself, passing by the windows, and buzzing the trees. When his wings finally began to tire of keeping him aloft on their own, he returned to where his friends were waiting.

He stumbled a little as he touched down, falling to his knees as he shook, tears leaking steadily from his eyes. Peter and Kurt were the first to reach his side, Ororo and the others not far behind them. He waved away their concern, not able to find the words to express that for the first time in his life, they weren’t all tears from pain or sadness. Jean understood, and soothed their concerns while he pulled himself together. When he straightened, his smile was met with cheers and and a group hug that even Scott took part in.

That had been almost a month ago. Now, he was back at almost full-strength. Hank and Raven had finally given the go-ahead for him to finally join the others in training in the newly-dubbed Danger Room (Scott was the one who thought up the name; he may have been excelling as a leader in simulations, but he wouldn’t win any awards for creativity. The only reason the name stuck was because of how on-the-nose it was). It was tough sometimes. He’d had to relearn how to fight and had begun testing the limits of the abilities and enhancements that his mutation offered; he no longer had the blades in his wings to use for offense, but the clawed tips of his wings served as functional weapons, and his time in the cage had drilled good hand-to-hand skills into him. Raven had also suggested saving a few of the remaining blades that he had shed and keeping them on hand to use. He was getting better and better, and was easily keeping pace with the others and proving to be an asset in the various situations they had them run.

For the current exercise, they’d been split into two teams: Warren, Ororo and Scott, and Jean, Peter and Kurt. The objective was simple: work as a team to make it through the maze of deadly traps and obstacles that the danger room threw at them in the sim it generated and claim the flash-drive in the center. “Interfering” with the other team’s progress was technically allowed, but blocking one another from progressing was not recommended. They’d also been informed that there was a lesson and specific outcome that they were expected to get out of this particular exercise. Warren had immediately pointed out that Peter’s team had a distinctly unfair advantage, since the speedster could easily just be in and out before the rest of them had even started the course. Their instructors had shared a secret smile and insisted that both teams had equal odds of completing the objective. Once they got inside the simulation, Warren was inclined to agree.

Peter had, as Warren predicted, dashed in ahead. But when the others entered, they found him ensnared in a gravity trap that forced him into slow-motion until he ran out of its range. And thus began the run of the most intense obstacle course Warren had ever experienced. All the other mutants seemed to agree with him. The adults had taken great pains to make this as brutal and challenging as possible, taking into account each of their abilities. Peter often triggered traps that froze him or forced him into slow-motion for a period of time; Kurt’s teleportation was pushed to the limit, as anytime he teleported away from one trap, he often ended up appearing in another, and several had been designed specifically to keep him from simply teleporting his way through the course, either zapping him the opposite direction he wanted to go when he teleported, freezing him, or sticking to him so it was brought with when he teleported; Jean had her hands full keeping away from the psionic blasts that were being sent out, and trying to keep control of some of the objects flying about haphazardly; while Ororo’s lightning was useful for shorting out some traps and devices, there were just as many zipping about that were meant to absorb electricity, and whenever she used it in range of their sensors, they’d often sip in out of nowhere to siphon her powers away from whatever she was attempting to zap; Scott was almost constantly engaged in duels with laser cannons as he tried to blast through whatever they sent out with varying results; and flying above the ground was hazardous, as Warren had quickly discovered that the upper part of the room was lined with nearly invisible nets and traps meant to hinder anyone attempting to fly out of reach of the ground obstacles.

Neither team had made much headway as far as Warren could tell. He’d managed to fly up to take control of one of the cannons, somehow unsurprised to find a spot that allowed manual control. He’d been about to take aim at the thing sending blasts of pink energy at Ororo when Kurt had appeared below him.

“Get your own cannon! I got here first!”

“Get out of the veapon of mass destruction and participate with good-ah, vhat’s the vord? Gentlemanly!”

“How about no. And the word you’re looking for is sportsmanship, Nightcrawler.”

“Ve are not supposed to hamper each other!”

“I’m not going to hamper anyone! I’m trying to get rid of the thing that’s after Storm!” Warren focused his attention on his target, taking aim and firing. He whooped when he took it out. He glanced around and saw Peter being thrashed about by a tentacle like obstacle that had gotten a hold of him. “Kurt, get Peter out of there!”

“On it!” Kurt disappeared before reappearing with Peter a second later. Warren continued covering Ororo, Scott and Jean as they slowly caught up.

“Ok. Clearly going at it separated isn’t working. We need a new plan. I think if we team up and work together we should be able to blast through this easily.”

“But Varren, they separated us for-”

“They split us up but told us not to hamper each other! They never said not to work together. At this point, I don’t care who gets that stupid flash drive, the faster we get through this, the better. And we can get through it faster if we work together. You know, how we actually would if we were really in a situation like this? Haven’t they been trying to drill teamwork into our heads this entire time?”

The others exchanged glances.

“It does seem counterproductive to be competing against each other when we’re supposed to be a team….” Jean admitted.

“And we definitely haven’t been making any progress separated like this,” Ororo agreed.

“If it means we stop moving through this at a snail’s pace? I’m in favor of teamwork.”

“Alright, so we’re doing this?” Scott looked around and everyone nodded. “Ok. What are our options?”

They put together a hasty strategy. Storm would focus on shorting out as many things as she could, particularly the laser cannons and psionic beam emitters, while Jean kept the electricity absorbers away from her. Scott was to focus on blasting apart the gravity and teleportation traps, while Kurt and Peter played interference and kept people as much out of harms way as possible. Jean had also agreed to shift the nets and air traps out of the way so that Warren could fly with his newly acquired cannon and play aerial support. With their plan solidified, they threw themselves back into the fray.

Warren watched from above with pride as they began tearing through every obstacle thrown their way. He blasted any goodies that Scott and Ororo were too busy to see or missed, calling out warnings of things that were ahead to those below (thanks enhanced vision). He had to occasionally perform evasive maneuvers when missiles locked on him, but his teammates always had his back.

They’d almost reached the end. Warren could see where the prize was being held. He was eyeballing the distance to it, trying to work out what the odds were that once someone had it, the entire thing would shut down and whether he could fly fast enough to get it without leaving his teammates exposed. He was about to go for it when he heard Kurt shout a warning at him. He turned to see one of the orbs from earlier in the course flying at him, gearing up to blast him out of the air. He took aim with his cannon but it dodged his blast easily. Warren braced for impact when he heard the telltale sound of Kurt teleporting, felt a tail wrap around his waist, and suddenly found himself on the ground across the room.

He stared at Kurt for a second in shock before snapping out of it as he saw the orb approaching rapidly behind him.

“Kurt, look out!” He grabbed the blue mutant and leapt into the air, pulling him with him. They barely managed to get out of the way before the thing crashed into the wall behind them, the force of it knocking them out of the air again. Warren winced as he felt the muscles around his back and wings twinge a little. He’d probably just strained something. He could deal with it later.


“Don’t mention it. You saved my ass first so….we’re even I guess. Now c'mon! We’re almost there! The flash drive is just ahead!”

They battled forward, and soon enough it was within view.

“Kurt, go!” Warren shouted, and in an instant Nightcrawler had vanished. The next moment, all the weapons of the danger room shut down, including Warren’s cannon, and the simulation disappeared around them. Kurt reappeared beside him, holding the flash drive triumphantly. Raven and Hank entered and walked towards them, pleased looks on their faces.

“Well done. You managed to pull that off remarkably well!” Hank praised them.

“Even though we teamed up?”

Raven shook her head. “Assuming we’d done our jobs correctly in placing all the obstacles, there shouldn’t have feasibly been a way for one group to finish without some assistance from the other.”

“The point of this exercise was to show you that you’re more effective working as one team, and that when one of you succeeds, you all do. You’re not competing for glory here. Remember that,” Hank added. “Alright, I think that was enough training for the day. Go get yourselves cleaned up.”

They all shuffled out past the two instructors, high-fiving and talking cheerfully amongst themselves. Kurt passed the flash drive to Raven, who accepted it with a gentle smile, before running to catch up with the others.

“That vent vell,” Kurt remarked, walking beside Warren.

“Yeah it did. This whole team thing is kinda working out.”

Kurt hummed his agreement. “Celebration ice cream?”

“Hell yeah!”

Kurt laughed, his tail wrapping around Warren’s arm and bamfing them into the kitchen. This had become a tradition of theirs. Every so often, they’d go to the kitchen, just the two of them, a split an entire carton of ice cream, just like they had that first day when Warren had told Kurt that his wings were returning. They’d talk about anything that came to mind, but we’re also content to simply spend time in each other’s company.

“What flavor shall ve have this time?” Kurt asked.

“Let’s try the caramel crunch! I haven’t had it yet.”

They sat down beside each other, a spoon for each of them in the carton between them. Warren immediately began digging in.

“You’ve been doing very vell in training,” Kurt noted. “You are flying longer every time it seems.”

“All thanks to you guys. If you hadn’t pushed me to start trying to get my wing strength back after the operation, I probably wouldn’t be anywhere near this shape now.” Warren stopped for a minute. “Sometimes I wonder if I even deserve to be able to fly again….”

“Varren….you shouldn’t-”

“I’ve done horrible things, Kurt. I fought and hurt mutants in the cage, probably killed a few. And I didn’t regret it. Would’ve tried to do the same to you if I had been given half the chance. I helped….I tried to destroy everything. I helped try to kill all of you. And you still rescued me. I thought that….after everything, losing my wings, having those metal things crushed beyond repair, that was the price is have to pay for that. I had to live with him marking me, and I would never be able to fly for myself. But you, the professor, everyone….you’ve all just….given me that back….more than I can ever repay.”

“Engel….” Kurt reached out to place his hand gently on top of Warren’s. “You’ve earned this. You’ve vorked hard for this, gained our trust. And before that, you did vhat you could to survive. And now, you are vorking to fix vhat you did. You may have been misguided, but you have found the light again. You are flying again because YOU vorked for it. Ve did not simply give flight back to you. Ve simply helped you along the way. It’s vhat friends are for.”

“Heh….you know sometimes I think you see more good in people….in ME than there actually is.”

Kurt shook his head, twining his tail gently around Warren’s ankle and leg as he scooted closer. “No. You just don’t see enough of it. You told me you could not be an engel. And yet here you are, training beside us to help people. You belong here just as much as the rest of us do, Varren.”

There were still days where Warren woke from nightmares where his wings were still twisted beyond belief. Where Apocalypse had been successful, and the world he’d come to know, the people he’d come to call friends, we’re all gone. Where he was still stuck in the cage, fighting battles that he knew no one ever truly won. He was still angry and sometimes rude and antisocial. He still had a long way to go before he could become the person the others saw in him. But sitting pressed against Kurt, his wings spread out behind him to engulf them both while Kurt’s tail twined around him, eating ice cream and enjoying each other’s company, Warren knew it wasn’t a journey he’d be making on his own.
Ok so somehow this managed to be even longer than part 1 at over 3700 words….the ending bit is more what I intended to have in part 1, but I’m glad that I decided to hold off until this part. I’m fairly pleased with this, although I’m not entirely sure about some of the pacing….oh well, I guess we’re going with it.

If anyone is interested, I could write little snippets of things that happened in this, such as Warren’s wing physical therapy stuff or the ice cream binges. Or I could try to continue this and do another part. Or both! Let me know! Whatever you guys are interested in!

This is for @ein-teufel-im-engelskreis @imadjobsessedbandaddict @sailingmeships @subject-to-feels and @fangirl–of-everything for being so supportive of part 1 and specifically asking that I continue it. I may not have done this without that. Also shoutout to @owl-in-the-tardis for again helping me find a good prompt that fit these two so well. Hope you enjoyed!