Fusiondancespork - Spork

can’t believe i have to study “music theory” and “basics”. what do you mean i can’t just 🎵🎶🎵🎵🎶🎵

Me if I were a rambunctious mobile phone

ah yes, another near trip to the emergency room. my author’s note grows exponentially longer and my draft gains a thousand more words.

if a lumpfish and a lumpsucker were in the same room do you think they...no, i shan't say...

going to be thinking about those gay little robots while i work. i hope they explode. going to microwave them when i get home.

blehh. i know i need to write to finally return from my hiatus but i can’t just post unfinished slop on ao3. luckily, this place exists!!

Beware of the story that lay ahead!

warnings: pretty bloody and gore-y(?), perhaps a little gay. non-graphic depictions of violence!

summary: gabriel and v1 at the end of a fight, the robot does just a little thinking.

Staring up at Gabriel with a large yellow optic was the damned machine, cast down from Earth into the bowels of Hell. Blood and dents and cuts rended open with clawed gauntlets littered their chassis, whatever odd mixture of oil and biological matter they had in there leaking out pathetically onto the floor below.

Justice and Splendor framed their head, the regal blades stained with essence both angelic and inanimate. Angels were supposed to bleed ichor, and yet here he was, a distinct red drip-dripping down from the chin of his helmet.

V1 would laugh were the blood enough to heal. But it landed against their plating uselessly, drying and clotting easily in Hell’s heat. They both panted, or at least would if either of them had the lungs for it. Gabriel’s side had long since been blasted open with a clever hit of buckshot, and V1 was severed into pieces like a cheap toy.

Each fight had been like a dance. The first was wide evasion, dashing and running and pushing and pulling. Each hit and miss was the rock of a boat, swaying their world back and forth with displays of rage and power. The second — this one — had been close and personal. Grappling hands and clinging nails, feet stubbornly dug into the floor and weapons all but forgotten in the proximity.

And they were beautiful. Together, in their blood and weapons, stuttering fans and coughs, fists and bullets and blades. Separate in V1’s precise design and Gabriel’s empty aura that dared brush up against their being, bringing them back together once again. It was all V1 could think as Gabriel joined them with the plunge of Splendor through their chest: they were beautiful.

DELTARUNE TOMORROW

if war soldier ena theory, then genie perchance resembles the glorified promises of war/the nationalist dream? because the genie offers to grant wishes and despite ena’s “sins” (crimes committed in war) she offers a wish to ena anyways, but per capitalism of course ena can’t get money/happiness/not even punishment for her crimes or transgressions because in the eyes of society she just did her job, and all she can do with the payment for it (the wish) is to further the way the society is headed (get rid of the smoke to complete “find boss” job)

that’s it. i’m putting sailor moon in ultrakill.

was sitting at my desk, blatantly avoiding homework, when i thought: “what if gabriel and v1 fought with fists instead of guns”

so here you go. not that good imo but i need to get back into writing

Beware the story you are about to read!

Warnings: blood, gore, standard ultrakill stuff.

and barely veiled gayness

Summary: gabriel and v1 fight with fists. v1 uses gabriel as a personal juice packet. gabriel is too unconscious to fight back.

An arm around his throat, his heels scraped against the floor as V1 dragged Gabriel away from the center of the room. Unlike the machine, he had a windpipe that should go unobstructed; his gauntlets clawed uselessly against the metallic arm. Coughs and choked sounds escaped the angel, letting air out but not allowing it back in.

V1’s grip left his neck. He was able to suck in a quick breath. His head was slammed against the wall.

With a loud shout that was more akin to a groan, Gabriel wheels around towards the machine once more, fists clenching before throwing a blow towards the smug bastard’s optic. They dodged to the side, but their movement was too swift; V1 clattered to the floor and Gabriel was on them before they could get up.

Knees pinning V1’s legs and a hand restraining the machine’s by the wrists, his one free arm begins to beat them into a bloody pulp. A dent on the side of their head, a scrape down their chassis — every blow inflicted a new mark.

He punched until his knuckles hurt. V1 struggled. He punched until his arm hurt. V1 writhed. He punched until his lungs screamed for air and his own armor was ragged.

They both breathed, just for a moment. Motes of dust floated through the air. Gabriel’s ruffled feathers shifted somewhat in what little breeze there was.

Gabriel didn’t know his grip had loosened until a fist connected with his jaw, sending both right back into a tussle. Movements were sluggish and uncoordinated on both sides. Mechanics malfunctioned and flesh tired and bruised. Their fighting became wrestling, and that became more so grappling, until both of them were on their knees and still trying to win.

Head falling against Gabriel’s chest, V1 claws at his side. They can feel Gabriel’s nails digging into their shoulders, but that pain is nothing compared to them diving their fingers into a barely-healed gash.

A cry of pain escapes him, no longer muffled by hisses of gospel or mutterings of verses. V1’s fingers force the flesh apart, palm pressing against the widened wound, sucking in the blood Gabriel had to offer. The angel slumped against the machine, trying to push away, but both were too worn out to move or be moved.

Ragged breaths and whirring fans filled the room. It wouldn’t be wrong to say they were still fighting; V1 kept moving from one slash to the next, prying them open and pressing whatever body part was closest into the gore. But there wasn’t exactly resistance on either part. The host had finally succumbed to the parasite, wings drooping until they eventually landed in the puddles of mess on the floor, feathers dirtying surprisingly easy.

Gabriel fell still, save for the faint rise and fall of his chest. V1 let him as they both sank to the floor, tying themself up in his limbs, drinking in the blood.