a-modern-prometheus:

bobby-drake:

a-modern-prometheus:

[[ It has been brought to my attention that my ask box is being a royal pain. I apologize! If I haven’t replied to a message, like as not I never received it. I would try again. Or send a fan mail. Sinister does so love his fans. ]]

//I sent you a message. I really super duper want a thread with you like… Now. Hi!

[[ I replied to a message from you! I would not be surprised if tumblr ate it to keep me from my fun. I would love a thread! Have you anything in mind? ]]

(( Psst. Me too. ))

Psychobitches skyping

Raven: Cuz she's a total optimist after all.
Raven: ... I still laugh when I remember her and Raven just idle chit-chatting about nomenclature while Sabes fucks up ALL the things in the background. XD
Regan: She is an optimist. It's hilarious how positive she can think about everything, even if she doesn't actually sound positive, lol.
Regan: And yes, that's still my favorite part of that whole thing.
Regan: Perfectly sums up their life and the circle they belong to.
Raven: Y E S
Regan: Raven's attack kitty just slices into the guards like he's having the time of his life... and the girls just chat.
Raven: "Raven's attack kitty"
Raven: I'm using this henceforth to refer to Sabertooth.
Regan: Same with the bank robbery... Regan's got explosions going in the background, guards are screaming and trying to avoid Sabes... and Regan's just talking about going shopping. XD
Regan: Give me credit, and have at it. XD
Raven: Deal!
Regan: Good, cuz Regan's using it, too.
Regan: Though she has a higher probably of getting cut for it.
Raven: Raven is okay with this.
Raven: If he tries to cut her for it she'll be like.
Raven: "Down boy."
Regan: Lmfao.
Regan: "Be a good kitty or no catnip for you."
Raven: ^ That
Raven: It's a widely believed fact that all Sabertooth kitties are cowed by Ravennip
Regan: Regan is very inclined to believe that fact
Regan: Especially since he behaves so well for her... some of the time
Raven: He wants her V.
Regan: Wants it bad~
Raven: So bad.
Regan: And now I suddenly imagine him rubbing up against Raven's leg, purring and trying to act like a cute little kitten.
Regan: Fanartists need to make that happen if they haven't already.
Raven: y e s
Regan: And Raven will be petting his head going, "That's a good kitty, you kill those men with the guns and I'll give you a fish."
Raven: And it shall be titled:
Raven: Raven's Attack Kitty

“Forge, there’s more computing power in a singing birthday card than existed on the entire planet fifty years ago. And fifty years ago, I was still the deadliest woman alive. Trust me, I don’t need gadgets to rescue some kid.”

slunchy:

Hey lovely people!! My friend Kelton is starting a funding campaign to raise money for his top surgery - he really needs it and can’t afford it by himself!

So I’ll be giving away five digital paintings to whoever can grab them on the campaign page first, and you get a whole ton of other awesome stuff with it!!

The info on all the prize packages and everything is right here, and you can see more examples of my art here!

Please consider donating, and you can contact me or Kelton for more sweet deets. If you don’t currently have the funds, then it would be super rad of you to reblog this post and spread the word!!!

Thanks a bunch and stay awesome guys!

Encounter the Countess.

theoriginalbloodcountess:

“Mystique, how old do you fare yourself to be, for it seems if you state tis difficult to locate your history, it may be difficult to place an age upon your form.” Her features, while painted in the blue with scales, brought to mind she was a woman of her thirties, early, may hap appearing in the same manner as herself. 

“Ahh, now that…”, Mystique begins, languidly examining her slender, sapphire digits as she speaks, almost as if the subject bores her. When she continues, a set of hollow, featureless eyes look up from her fingers, and lock onto those of the countess.

The way her eyes burn… It’s almost as if they have a fierce, merciless quality to them. One she is clearly making no effort to hide.

“… is a hard question to answer. The simple response is… I was neither born in this century, nor the last. I’m afraid I couldn’t exactly give you an exact figure, but really… To what extent do you actually need one, mm?”

A Crooked Olive Branch.

regan-wyngarde:

Regan couldn’t resist rolling her eyes at Raven’s ‘warning,’ knowing very well that her little sarcastic gesture wasn’t going to be something that set the other woman off, even if it did rub her the wrong way. As much as she had a knack for getting on everyone’s nerves whether or not she even tried, most were perfectly capable of overlooking it as long as she was still complying to their wishes. She did respect Raven enough, though, to give her a begrudging nod of understanding, figuring she could tone down the mockery a bit, even if it was purely in jest. If she had meant it to be insulting, then it would have been a whole lot worse.

“I’ll have you know that the majority of my more desperate searches for alcohol tended to come when I was younger and my father’s stock ran dry. Otherwise, I very much prefer the higher end liquor, particularly among Swedish vodkas.” She explained her tastes, setting down her half empty glass to do so. “While I may not be as particular as you are most of the time, I do have some discerning tastes.”

Regan raised an eyebrow at the file being tossed in her direction, her free hand moving to hold down the scattered photos before they could fall off the table. She sent the red-head a short glance, then turned her attention to the folder as she deftly began to flip over the pictures, both of her eyebrows raising in shock as her eyes went wide at the sight in front of her.

“So young.” She mumbled, mostly to herself, her eyes lingering on the picture of a teenage Jean Grey she held in her hand. Memories were flashing before her eyes, times with her father that were lost because of the infatuation he held for her after the events of Hellfire, and his subsequent death on Muir Island with Jean Grey giving him forgiveness he didn’t deserve.

Shaking herself out of her sudden reverie, one she usually kept for the odd visit to the old man’s grave, she turned her attention back up to Raven, a small grin forming on her lips. “I’m sure you can think of better uses, and I know I can find a few things I’d like to use it for.” Leaning over the table, appearing conspiratorial as she set aside the photo in her grasp and took hold of her glass once more, only to lazily fiddle with rim of it as she spoke. “So, Raven, what kind of plan you got cooking up in your head so we can get our hands on this shiny new toy?”

The look of sadness in Regan’s eyes is nothing new to Raven.

It’s a look of wistfulness, of longing for the past… Longing for things that are no longer possible. Raven knows that look, because it’s a look Raven has donned many times herself. The fact that she sees it upon her partners face…

Well. It’s nothing short of thoroughly pleasing.

“Oh can you?”, she responds to Regan’s statement that she herself could find better things to do with such a device. Naturally, she’s curious, but she won’t press the issue if Regan expresses reluctance. She respects the other mutant at least that much. Splaying out one of her palms, pointed upwards, Raven leans back in her seat, the leather that adorns her body cracking somewhat audibly in the process.

“Tell me, then. What would you use it for, Regan..?” Of course, Regan had asked the same question of her, but Raven chooses for the moment to ignore that question. There are so many possibilities, after all… So many of which involve Irene. Irene… Oh, Irene… Dearest of all to Mystique’s heart. There is no limit to what she would kill, maim, or slash aside to once again be able to speak to her beloved Destiny.

But she won’t mention any of that to Regan. Not yet.

After all, the other mutant had fairly callously knocked over a photo of her beloved, not so long ago in fact. Maybe it’s not wise to trust her with that vulnerability, yet.. And Raven is anything but unwise.

“I have many uses in mind, to be certain. But the way you look at those pictures… I dare say, you have a hidden fondness that you’re not telling me about. And I doubt it’s for a twelve-year old Scott Summers, because that would be both weird and creepy. As much as I’m still skeptical of your character and intentions, I don’t think you’d sink that low. So. Feel like sharing, dearest?”

Follow Lady Mastermind, the OG Psychotic Bitch!

Snapshot

aroguedeviation:

“Logan.”

It’s not a well kept secret anymore that Blindspot did a number on Rogue’s memory at Mystique’s request. But it was simply to remove and suppress the harsh reality of how Rogue came to live with her, not the life she had before. Rogue had learned the truth when she absorbed Mystique years and years later, filling in that strange gap of time between her last memories of her parents and living with Val and Irene. That had been the only dark spot, though. She tells Logan as much.

“Ah remember mah parents. Mystique didn’t wipe meh blank, just took out a chunk.” She takes the photo back, holding it nearly up to his nose. “Logan, you know people. Lookit that baby. Look real hard.” She sighs with a small shrug.

“Tell meh it’s not meh. You met meh ‘fore Ah took up Carol.” Rogue lost the height and and muscle mass when Ms Marvel was expunged, but there’s still a ghost of her in Rogue’s face. She’s a melting pot of all the people’s she held on to. Her hair was never this thick until Logan. The white in her has moved and become greater because of Magneto. “Tell meh you don’t see meh.”

Logan huffs a deep sigh out of his chest, in the manner of a coal-miner huffing six pounds of coal out of his lungs, for how hacking and laboured it sounds. After crossing a wrist over his mouth, he looks once again towards Rogue, his eyes narrowing into a critical scowl.

Rogue’s right.

She has an irritating habit of doing that at the worst possible times.

With a more gentle-sounding sigh escaping his lips, he leans back into his chair, downs the rest of beer number one, and effortlessly hurls the bottle over his shoulder. Even though he wasn’t looking at where it was thrown, the thing somehow manages to land perfectly in a green recyclables bin, a dozen or so feet behind himself.

“Alright,” he begins, sparing another glance towards the picture. He may be terrible with children, but… He’d be hard-pressed to say he didn’t have considerable skills when it came to identifying a likeness in a photograph, and all things considered… This baby does look an awful lot like Rogue. Albeit a much younger version of her.

“Maybe it is. I gotta admit, there’s a similarity. But hey, look at me.” The hissing sound of beer number two echoes through the kitchen as Logan pops the cap off, and lets it flip listlessly onto the counter. The downward motion of his free hand indicates the tattered state of his uniform, and his numerous bullet wounds. “Ain’t really in the mood to get into this with you now. Tell you what.”

A brief pause, as Logan swills down the rest of the beer with minimal effort. In under three seconds, he’s slamming the now empty bottle onto the counter, with a satisfied ‘ahhh.’

“… Goin’ on recon in an hour. Why don’t you meet me down in the hangar, and we’ll discuss all this proper? Sorry I can’t be much help right now, kid.”

You Kids Today…

The crisp Manhattan air is nothing new to Raven Darkholme.

In fact, it’s so old at this point, as to be practically commonplace. New York is such a busy place, full of so many shuffling bodies and minds, all mindlessly hustling their way towards one dead-end job or another. It’s enough to make Raven’s stomach turn, though she makes a concerted effort to keep herself from vomiting. 

Oof!

.A smack of one suit-clad shoulder against her own gives her pause, and forces the shifted mutant to offer him a passing glare as she strides down the street. The businessman responsible for the unintended contact barely seems to pay any attention at all, his attention still fixed upon the cell phone glued to the side of his head.

Pathetic, really.

A mindless conversation, about nothing.

A bluer Raven would no doubt paste him one for that, but she’s trying to remain incognito. And so far, she’s doing a very good job. She’s passed through block after block undetected (undetected yes, but also severely annoyed), her shoulders carefully weaving through the foul-smelling sea of humanity. It’s not long before she’s at her destination…

The recently-restored Avengers Mansion would be an impressive sight, for most people. But Raven looks at it… And feels nothing but disdain. Her dislike of the Avengers aside, she can’t even say she cares much for the decor. So tacky, so thick, so Romanesque… Definitely not the way she would have done things. 

In more ways than one.

Thankfully, it’s not long before she spots what she came here for.

With a smile spreading across her dark lips, the shape-shifted mutant hurdles herself atop the nearest stonewall, in the stealthiest way possible. She is both quick, and quiet… Most people wouldn’t notice her until she thought to open her mouth. Something she does right about now, directly towards the back of the bench-sitting mutant seated about ten feet in front of the low stone-wall she’s just perched herself upon.

“Well, well, look who it is. Given any thought to what we talked about?”, she begins, sans introduction. She doesn’t need one, anyway… This form is one Scott would recognize. Ribbed white tank top, dark skin, darker hair… Yeah. He’ll definitely get what she means.