Storm_Brisingr
Recent bookmarks
-
Tags
Summary
Agent Stone was the at the top of the ranks. Top in intelligence and in strength, he was a myth around G.U.N. "I hear he looks like an absolute monster," "I heard he's not even real, just something to motivate agents," "I heard he's not like a human at all," they'd say.
He was known by higher ups for his efficiency, and his pristine record with no failures.
That is, until he takes things into his own hands for once on a mission, and he is suddenly removed temporarily from field work and assigned to Doctor Ivo Robotnik.
Or:
Stone is a badass agent who gets too badass and gets assigned to madman genius guy
Bookmarked by Storm_Brisingr
01 May 2026
-
- Words:
- 118,255
- Works:
- 1
- Bookmarks:
- 14
Bookmarked by Storm_Brisingr
01 May 2026
-
Tags
Summary
Perhaps it was the Zood Switcheroo, reaching back through the Calefactory Biangle and befrumpled time. Perhaps it was another inexplicable phenomenon that, if they had known of it, they would have given an equally inexplicable name.
As it is, Torse (a step out of time since birth, a warrior in a family of alleged gentlemen, a lonely soul with not much to lose) pushes through the doors of Ramansu temple with the Wind Riders at his heels.
Among the chaos and eviscerated bankers, they find another one made of clockwork, a clue tucked in the recesses of his metal mind.
If the trail of Comfrey MacLeod is made of stolen memory cards and impending financial ruin, then they are honour-bound to follow it. And if there is more to Max than meets the eye, then Torse is all too eager to heed the call to adventure.Bookmarked by Storm_Brisingr
30 Apr 2026
-
- Words:
- 13,545
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 10
Bookmarked by Storm_Brisingr
30 Apr 2026
-
Tags
Summary
Maxwell wakes after maybe an hour, Torse next to him on the meagre mattress. His body stings, pleasantly reminding him of the experience they had shared. Less pleasantly, it reminds him that he should probably disinfect the marks Torse had given him. There is a bruise, darkened to purple, on the swell of his left pectoral.
He digs a thumb into it. Pain sings.
Then he casts an eye over Torse, who is still, curled up in the bed with him, catlike. Smears of blood dot his surface, and Maxwell almost panics before he remembers exactly whose blood it is, exactly how it had ended up there.
It's his. Torse had put it there, with his own hands, his own knives.
(direct continuation from pulling the body to twist)
Bookmarked by Storm_Brisingr
30 Apr 2026