#makowrites

[makoredeyes]

@slavetomyheadcanon asked for Lodi & Archie with #11: in joy "So...this is our new Emissary of the Nine," Rasputin gave the man a scrutinizing once-over. He was significantly shorter than the Warmind, appeared to be Lightless, entirely human, and shockingly mortal. He possessed a visual acuity defect Rasputin hadn't seen evidence of in humanity in several epochs, and wore even rarer glass corrective lenses. He fought down a sneer. Clovis had enjoyed such accessories, even though with the Bray patriarch, they hadn't been strictly necessary. Rasputin really didn't like being reminded of the bastard and struggled with an instant dislike of this man as a result. 

Everything else about this Lodi person was different, however. Softer, more passive. And gallingly outgoing. 

"It's good to meet you, Mister Rasputin, Sir." He reached for a handshake but Rasputin kept his hands folded behind his back. Lodi dropped his hand quickly when the greeting was rebuked, and he crossed his arms over his chest almost as if hugging himself. Rasputin felt a little bad about snubbing him but didn't move.  "Ana tells me you are an anachronism in the truest sense of the word," Rasputin offered. He didn't feel like getting handsy but he wasn't that heartless.

"Yes, I - that's a good description of my situation," Lodi said, nearly stammering. His eyes were darting between Rasputin and his companion with unshielded awe and curiosity. "It's uh, been quite a shock. And a big adjustment. A really big adjustment." He fidgeted. "You know Ana," it wasn't a question. "She said you've been around for... nearly forever. That You remember most of the Golden Age...and the Collapse." Rasputin nodded. 

"And all that followed," he said.  "Do you... remember my time as well?" His hesitation told Rasputin he already knew the answer, but he was desperately hopeful.  "No one remembers your time," Rasputin said, not unkindly. "Not anymore." Lodi's shoulders fell. "I'm certain there are droves of Cryptarchs who would love to hear all that you know because of it," Rasputin added helpfully.  At his heel, Rasputin's companion for the day gave a crisp bark of agreement, and both Rasputin and Lodi looked down to the canine together. 

"Who's your buddy, here?" Lodi asked hesitantly. "I've never seen a robot dog before." " "Archangel is a canine Exo," Rasputin explained slowly. He understood that the word robot as Lodi used it was merely a gap between understanding and reality, but it rankled. "I created him as a therapy aide long ago, but assumed it lost until recently when a Guardian managed to recover  him. Like any Exo, he is born from a mind-imprint taken from an aging donor, but I took the liberty to artificially enhance his intelligence." Lodi blinked at him. "...Iiiis he friendly?" He asked. Rasputin resisted rolling his eyes. At his side, Archie gave an eager little shuffle where he sat, as though barely containing the urge to jump up.  "Yes, you may say hello," Rasputin told him.  With that, Archie sprang up with a happy yip and raced to Lodi, wiggling excitedly at his feet, composite fiber tail switching through the air as it wagged frantically.  Lodi let out a delighted coo and dropped to his knees, throwing his arms open in welcome.  "There you are!" Archie lunged into his arms, wiggling and letting out fast electronic whines and pants. "Oh you're such a good boy!" Lodi continued. "You're so good and patient! And you're so cute!" He laughed, tipping his head back as Archie pushed up, nuzzling at his face, digital tongue flickering. Lodi laughed, hugging the dog firmly around the neck, and began peppering his well-polished head in playful little smooches, only ramping up with the pet as they both seemed to wind up further and further. The fracas of love only broke off when Rasputin could no longer hold in a soft, snorting laugh. Lodi's head popped up from where he knelt with the dog, his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.  "That is..." He coughed. "I had a dog when I was a kid that this guy reminds me a little of. He was real sweet and crazy smart too." Archie gave a delighted yip, and Lodi looked him in the eye. "You're real smart," he observed. "He is," Rasputin said, a shade proudly. "Keep him for a while, if you want." Lodi's face lit up with excitement. "This is his purpose. To offer comfort and care when others are enduring hardship. I suspect you qualify. Lodi nodded. "Thank you sir. Thank you so much!" he gasped, turning to look at the dog again. "Hear that Archie? You're gonna come hang out with me! Yes you are!" Rasputin sighed. He hated the nickname, but the dog loved it.  "You're gonna come stay with me boy!" Lodi went on, the dog groveling excitedly. Rasputin turned away, shaking his head in awe. Lodi looked up again. "Hey! Mister Rasputin! What...what do I feed him?" Rasputin looked back. Nothing, he thought. "Love." 

[makowrites]

Mal is incredibly protective of Vaz and his scar, which is just adorable. We see him ready to bite Dev’s head off because he thinks she’s staring at the start of Glasslands when they’re introduced to each other, like he’s some sort of guard dog.

Eventually that protectiveness extends to Naomi too. She sticks out wherever she goes (he says it himself - she’s a 6ft 7 blond, she doesn’t exactly blend in anywhere), even within the UNSC she’s a Spartan-II so she’s a bit of an oddity. He is ready to bark and snap at anyone he thinks is looking at her even remotely funny. Regular marines, ODSTs, even Spartan-IVs - he doesn’t care. Don’t look at his baby wrong or you’re in trouble!!! 😡 It embarrasses her a little at first - sure it makes her uncomfortable but she’s used to it at this stage, she just ensures it - but then she sees the care and love in the gesture and appreciates it. He knows she doesn’t like it, and he wont let her endure any discomfort that she doesn’t have to. He’s a great friend 💕 (We all know Vaz would be a protective boyfriend but it’s far more his style just to give them the “Russian Gangster Stare™️” instead of saying anything. Him and Mal are a very effective one-two combo on getting people to leave her alone.)

The problems only start arising when this protectiveness extends to Serin 👀 It’s completely fine and normal to complain about the higher-ups. Mal is guilty of it himself on many occasions. But once his feelings for her have grown past the point that he can control them, he just sees red whenever he hears anyone criticizing her. Especially when they make comments on her looks or her personality. “Got a crush on her or something?” his friends would tease him after an outburst, and he’d have to mumble something about how he just “respects” her so much to cover his ass.

Maybe to disperse the suspicion, he starts complaining about her too. He really lays into her one day in the Infinity canteen, calling her an inexperienced leader, that the only reason she got to where she is is nepotism, and even goes in on her looks, just to throw his friends off the scent. Maybe he picks a very bad time to do it, and she ends up overhearing him without him knowing 👀

It would sting for her, but at the same time, she’s not really surprised. It’s not like he really likes her or anything, they’re just using each other for mutual pleasure. And besides, it’s not like anything he says is wrong, is it? She is a very green leader, who did ultimately only get where she is thanks to Parangosky’s influence. And as for her looks, well, she knows she’s not winning any prizes anytime soon. Who would even actually want her? No one ever has, after all. Her own mother didn’t want her, then Halsey kicked her out of the Spartans as soon as she disappointed her. It’s purely physical between her and Mal anyway (she repeats this under her breath like a mantra in the solitude of her office. No those aren’t tears in her eyes, why would there be?).

next time he comes to visit for a rendezvous, she is cold and very perfunctory with him. She won’t kiss him, only offers her cheek to him when he leans in. She doesnt ask for her favourite foreplay and doesn’t seem all that into it when he tries it anyway, so he stops and asks her what’s wrong. She asks him why he cares, isn’t he just here to get his from her? This infuriates Mal - hasn’t he proved to her that he respects her and deeply cares about her? (He longs to say the stronger word, he really does, it’s a battle between his head and his heart to hold himself back)

She kind of scoffs a little, and tells him she has heard what he really thinks of her. His heart sinks - this was not meant to happen. He explains everything to her - how he was just trying to throw the others off the scent and protect her from any allegations, how he didn’t mean a single thing that he said, that he respects her as a leader and believes that no one is more deserving of her rank than she is, that she’s the single most beautiful woman in the entire universe and he loves her so so much that sometimes it hurts when he thinks about how they can’t be together, a deep, hollow ache in his chest but he’ll do the secrets and the lies, anything to protect her from scrutiny——

Silence falls in the room.

She asks him if he meant that last part. He does, he says.

She falls into his arms, and they just hold each other for a long time before she very softly, very quietly tells him that she loves him too.

[empresskadia]

hey gal ~ Just wanted 2 say it’s really lovely to hear about your OCs!💖 I read all the tags on your posts about them so I can get the Lore 😆 You seem to be having so much fun developing them, it’s great to see 💕

-Mako

I-

MAKO!!!

Thank you 💕💕

I dont even know how to express the feelings that I'm feeling, but I just want to cry because this makes me feel so validated.

I've been self-indulgeding lately with them, and I appreciate and thank you for reading about them 💕

[ariadnekurosaki]

hello Ari 💕 hope you’ve been well!

for the fanfic ask meme:

8. Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is this the year? Can you tell us about it?

11. Would you like to try any new fanfic genres or tropes this year?

12. Will you change anything about the way you edit or rewrite this year?

Thanks and take care!

8. There's the concubine fic, I suppose, which I started but set aside during iihwe22 because a. it quickly became clear that I would need to make it a multichapter and b. I wasn't sure I could take it to the darker places it needs to go.

Will this be the year? We'll see. After my collab fic is complete Of Queens, Horses, and Red Strings needs to take priority.

11. I'm not quite sure it qualifies, but it's a new setting, anyway: I want to write a Victorian AU this year - I have one in mind already.

12. I'd like to work a bit more with a beta or even an alpha reader this year, I think.

[makoredeyes]

I'VE FINALLY FINISHED THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF HOUSEFIRE https://archiveofourown.org/works/83452326

[makoredeyes]

Two Pictures

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Aspen-3 belongs to @ slavetomyheadcanon ; Damien-14 is mine: Please do not use these characters in any way without prior permission.

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An Exo sat on a sizable lump of ice, his lofty, layered coat collars pulled up as high as they would go around his ears (-Audials? Audio sensors? Head? Sometimes he hated how human he still was) against the stinging cold Europan wind, fumbling to keep a guttering cigarette lit. At his back, the brightly painted outer walls of the long-abandoned Bray Exoscience facility caked in rapidly gathering snow, sheltering him just enough to keep the thing lit if he sheltered the ember with one hand.

Although the hollowed, empty sides of his mechanical jaws didn't do shit for creating suction, he'd found if he pulled air into his artificial lungs with enough force, he could gain a tenuous draw anyway. The taste and smell of smoke and a particularly pungent brand of tobacco filled his throat and assaulted his olfactory sensors, and while the chemical buzz would never reach him, the smell of it was just as soothing. 

Or close enough at least, if he didn't think too hard on it. 

He wondered if he'd sat here for a smoke before. 

He looked down into his lap at the treasures he held gathered up into a half-folded trench coat draped over his knees. Unconventional, and mostly worthless to most, to him they meant everything.

The remains of a crumpled, half-spent pack of cigarettes. Pain relief gel. The most beautiful hand-cannon he'd ever seen, the sight of its aged but nearly immaculate glossed black and gold enamel making his chest tighten.

A set of Bray Exoscience Employee ID tags. They both read SECURITY. He snorted softly. He knew what that meant. 

One badge had the face of a human he didn't recognize at all. His face was pallid, dark eyes shadowed and tight. He looked angry. He looked like he hurt. He hated the sight of him. 

The other, by contrast, was alarmingly familiar. 

His own amber eyes stared bitterly from the shade of a low-hung cranial ornament, its goldenrod paint standing starkly against his obsidian black chassis. He was a bit scuffed up now, and he was a long way from the "-5" iteration of the Exo named on the tag, but there was no doubting his own visage. Especially when he was wearing his favorite coat. Especially when he thought he could remember the day that photo was taken. 

Both IDs had the same name as him: Damien. 

Damien-14 took another hard drag on the cigarette, smoke billowing from the gaps in his face, and he hunkered down with his prizes against the wind with a grumble. 

He hadn't wanted to come to Europa, but once they had, it'd been all too easy to retrace footsteps centuries forgotten back to the innermost hallways of the facility behind him, straight to his locker and the bunk he'd sometimes slept in. 

He figured that Damien Blake guy on the other ID had used it a fair bit more, but he couldn't remember that for sure. What he did remember was enough to make him grateful he didn't recall more. 

"Eew. Cigarettes? Where did you find those?" 

Damien looked up when the puff and gust of the wind broke suddenly, blocked by another body standing over him. Damien grunted and quickly swept the rest of the pack, along with the unnoticed ID cards into an inner pocket of his coat. He stood, tucking the hand cannon into a belt and pocketing the pain gel, then finally turned to fully face his companion. 

"Locker," he said, plucking the nearly-spent smoke from his jaws and chucking it into the snow, snuffing it with a boot heel. 

Aspen-3, the other Exo accompanying him, shivered visibly in the cold as he eyed Damien. 

Damien didn't like Aspen much.

No.

That wasn't true. He did like him. More than most people, though he didn't like people in general very much at all. It was just that Aspen was bright and energetic and bubbled over with enthusiasm and an appetite for life that Damien simply could not wrap his head around. Too much time with Aspen felt like trying to stare into the sun. Neural receptors started to feel like they were cooking. 

"Does it...work?" Aspen asked, violet eyes flickering and moving to track the descent and demise of the cigarette before darting back up to Damien's face.

Damien stared back blandly, then raised one hand. It took little more than a thought to gather a little globe of pure Solar Light in his palm, and not much more effort to bump it gently into the air to drift over to the other Warlock. Aspen's eyes brightened in delight, and he raised his hands, cupping the all-too-welcome source of heat against himself with a soft coo of relief. 

"It's... Nostalgic," Damien offered. "Otherwise..." He shrugged. He didn't want to say they were useless. He couldn't face acknowledging that. It was too itchy to think about his mechanical body that hard. 

He remembered. He knew he'd wanted this Exoframe. Knew it was different than Aspen's. Better, as promised. He knew he'd...worked... hard for it. But there were just some things the human psyche wasn't meant to face, and the complete separation of one's mind and the meat suit it had piloted was one of them. 

Most of the time it didn't bother him so much, but today he felt uncomfortably close to the Damien of the flesh he'd once been. 

Aspen was nodding at him. Perhaps he didn't understand entirely, but he still got what Damien meant. Got that it wasn't a topic they should poke at. All Exos knew the dance. DER was a spooky enough thing that even Guardians dreaded it. 

"Are we done here?" Damien asked, before the other could try and strike up a conversation. Aspen's eyes flickered again as if he'd just remembered where they were. Yep, he'd interrupted him just in the nick of time. They could talk on the ship. This miserable place was cold, and creepy...and haunted by their pasts. 

"Err- Yeah. Yes. Yeah." 

Damien held in a snort and turned, beginning to trudge off through the snow and the gradually intensifying wind. 

"Good. Let's go." 

He'd spent more than enough time here in his last life. He wasn't interested in lingering any longer. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[makoredeyes]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The plan had been remarkably ill-conceived, but Timur was a get it done yourself kind of man.

Our favorite Stormcaller is left unsupervised.

Part 37 of On Like A Housefire is up!

[makoredeyes]

Failsafe and Rasputin starting as opposites, going through big traumatic change, and coming out with still completely opposite character growth will forever be funny dichotomy to me. Let's make em kiss

11, 13, or 30 if any brain squirrels like any of those

OOPS I know what you wanted but instead ANGST happened. Husband helpfully acted to randomly select a number for me. You get #30 - a kiss as comfort

Fear filled the network. Something was out there. Something was Out There and it was wiping out everything, tearing across the Outer Giants toward Earth, one colony after another going dark and staying dark...but not before the screaming started only to end abruptly. Above the clamoring and terror, AIs from all across Sol buzzed worriedly to one another, frantically swapping intel, calling out reports in encoded bursts before vanishing, each more desperate than the last to find something that could help. At the heard of it all, The Tyrant set nestled in a thick wreath of data, still from forced serenity as he labored at the peak of his capabilities to keep everything coordinated, fighting his hardest to strike back at invisible invaders, to guide his Subminds as well as the last of the fleeing Exodus ships.  Failsafe sat alone in an island of silence through it all, able to listen but with no way to respond to a single transmission. All she could do was wait patiently for Armageddon to arrive. She'd already been lost for a century, her crew long-gone, and not a single ship passing by to find her. Nobody had come looking, not even once.  And now, as all around her, the world collapsed like sand castles, she once again found herself forgotten. She was ready, braced but resigned for the Black Fleet to come to her little planetoid next, but they never came.  One by one, the voices int he network dwindled, until only a few remained. Rasputin's crisp commands faded, his attention turning away from his brothers and sisters to the threat and nothing else.  Failsafe had never felt so alone...which was really saying something.  She couldn't help. She couldn't run. She couldn't even die like the rest of her family.  A few of the Subminds shut down deliberately. She couldn't tell from where she was if it was death or defense. She couldn't think about it too much.  Suddenly, it was very, very quiet.  The world hung by a thread, quivering.  Then, one last signal: delayed from the distance, but warm like sunlight, a single aurora impulse crackling through time and space in a single, final transmission. It will be alright. We will fight again.  A hard shiver passed through Failsafe's systems, the last words of the now silent Warmind made to comfort and reassure any of his brothers and sisters who remained. A flare of warmth and comfort like a kiss on the forehead, both the brightest joy of Failsafe's long existence, and one of the sharpest stings.  No. She didn't think it would be alright...but she appreciated the effort all the same.