#andromedafought

[dirtyfilter]

"It's after Halloween. Which means I have the right to hang up Christmas lights." Marc says while noticing Ian's staring. "A huge plus is the red lights make you look like you're blushing and it's funny to think about that."

>>>Ian briefly considers dropping by the district’s only dollar store this coming weekend. Maybe he’ll be able to make some cheap finds that’ll leave him with enough for a succulent, white-breasted turkey that he couldn’t eat. “And the blue lights are going to make me look depressed and the green ones look sick.” Christmas meant nothing to him. The KN700 android wrinkles his nose disdainfully. A form of expression he knew aptly conveyed disapproval. So Lieutenant Andromeda’s that kind of person, but could he really blame him? If it was something he’d been looking forward to all year around, then he’ll let him enjoy the season, unwrap his presents. The man deserves a break. 

[dirtyfilter]

❛ I’ve been there, I’ve done this all before. ❜

Glass Animals Lyrical Starters / Accepting / @andromedafought is pretty handsome today (as always) !

It’s not a confession. Ian’s read about it all in the lieutenant’s files before. 

There’s a certain lugubriousness about it all; a man and his machine sit companionably on a worn couch, animals curled between them both. Saving Private Ryan— an iconic movie by 2039’s standards, plays on the TV set. “I’ll have a beer” morphs into two, three more, but it’s a Friday night so who’s to complain? While Ian would’ve thought Marc would’ve fallen asleep an hour into the movie, he catches him sitting up a little straighter at Capt. Miller’s death scene. 

Marcvelli De Grande may have worn the pride of his battalion on his sleeve, but he hadn’t escaped the war unscathed. It had taken away his lover, and in his place bequeathed him years of solitude. But no matter how much the veteran confides in him, Ian will never know war, never experience seasickness the way Miller’s men did, not feel the ricochet of his heartbeat as distant bombings shook the very walls around dilapidated bunkers. He could transfer Marc’s memories into his own hard-drive and it still wouldn’t even come close. So for this very reason, Ian stays silent until the end credits roll. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Ian says finally, and cracks another can of beer open for him. 

[ipsesclus]

marc ;)

Drop me a character name and I’ll reveal my muse’s heart | accepting even though its been 500 internet years

VISUAL ATTRACTIVENESS: 💗💗💗(purely aesthetic appreciation of looks)

FRIENDSHIP LEVEL: 💗💗(how close a friend they consider them)

SEXUAL DESIRE: 💗💗💗(wanting to have sex with them)

ROMANTIC INTENT: 💗(hoping for a romantic relationship)

[dirtyfilter]

℧℧

Send me ℧ for me to generate a scenario for our muses / @andromedafought​ 

Marc and Ian eating (Christmas) dinner together. 

So they’ve accomplished this much— a veritable spread of burnt mashed-and-instant-cheese potatoes, over-seasoned IKEA meatballs, the odd frozen fish and chip microwavable dinner and, the center piece of it all— a perfectly browned frozen turkey. And to top it all off, there’s actually even fucking parsley strewn around the table for budget decoration. The dogs have their own bowl of scraps; the cockatiels have frozen steamed vegetables. The classic archetype of the overdue Thanksgiving dinner in the De Grande household. 

Though Ian’s picking at his plateful with the appetite of a sick child— I can’t eat any of this, remember?, and in spite of finding out the other side of the turkey’s kinda burnt, Marc’s laughter bubbles out of him like the champagne he swirls faux-classily in a plastic flute. Ian hasn’t heard him laugh like this in a long time, and it’s assuring. He wouldn’t trade this for the world.

[fcrensis]

"Long time no see, huh?" Marc says as he approaches the scientist. "I was wondering where you were. I was beginning to miss our three A.M conversations. Speaking of which, I've always wondered. Are there specific elements that would interact with your prosthetic? Surely it's made out aluminium or steel. There's gotta be something that interacts with it right? Is there anything in the forensic field that can like, melt your arm or something?"

    ❝  Hm,  ❞

She needn’t say she’d missed them, too  ;  the delicate, easy curve of her lips spoke of comfort enough. Her gaze fell beyond him, to the bustle behind. Though the day was dying, still there was life there in the precinct —  life that required she be there, not delegating to the newbies from half-way across Detroit.

    ❝  Probably, but it’s worth a few thousand, so i’m not exactly eager to  test  it.  ❞

As foreign as it still felt, a detached from her body as still it seemed. Carbon fibre and compound was better than nothing, even  if  she was just a little curious what would happen if she put a few drops of nitric acid on it. Or  ...  dumped it in a vat. Which she wouldn’t. But still,  what if  ?

    ❝  Why  ?  You  planning  on melting it  ?  ❞

[dbh-positivi-tea]

The mun of @andromedafought and @passionfought has an unbelievable love for their muses! Incredible to see passion for muses. Logic's muses truly feel canon. It's so cool they've been writing their muses for eleven years!

[daggersandsparks]

@andromedafought​: cont from [here]:

‘ Mairwen— ‘ he said softly, a tender form of disappointment ringing out of his vocal chords.

His hands rested on top of a white folded gauze, putting pressure on her arm.

‘ I don’t like seeing you, let alone anyone, getting hurt. ‘

Marcvelli knew she’d probably respond saying: “This is not as bad as my others in the past,” or “This isn’t even that bad !” but Captain Andromeda didn’t care. Blood being spilled is still blood being spilled.

‘ I will actually kill whoever did this to you– and even if it means it was a Yaoi Gui or a Deathclaw— I’ll do it. ‘

Mairwen just frowned back at him as he patched up her arm, not giving much of a response to his scoldings. She shrugged with the opposite shoulder, not trying to move too much out of his touch-- and the gauze.

She cracked a grin at his threat against whoever had hurt her though, chuckling a little bit.

❝Ya can’t kill whatever’s dead, hon.❞ She teased, not letting the pain show through her words. ❝I’ve survived this long, not gonna die from a little cut.❞

[mortuaary]

◇ just wanted to say hi cherry ur the best and also ▲ im not sure how our muses would meet but i very much love your boy so much!

why aren’t we roleplaying? symbols | accepting

sajhajhda thank u ;3c idk how theyd meet either but noel just creeps around diamond city mostly, he doesnt like the wasteland its Icky and Dirty and gross and so is most of diamond city but at least it has guards, and is civilized and all that jazz, in his eyes. so... come on down to diamond city and find urself a local murder doc