#pendles

What's your favourite type of character you like reading / watching? What's your favourite type of arc / development and write?

@bloodlessheirbyjacques (:

@bloodlessheirbyjacques

There's a range I love to consume:

Clever idiots with hearts of gold, morally grey assassins that enjoy their job too much to be good, sales people who either succeed or utterly fail (but are entirely charming), dads with major divorced energy, those in power willing to sacrifice everything in order to save their own (even if it loses them everything), absolutely and fantastically depraved monsters, and big grumps with smooshy centers. (There's more)

((writing prompts from @dropkickwritersblock))

It was the fifth tray of cookies Maxima had made in the five hours his charge and boss(?) had left for a mission. He normally wouldn’t worry like this; they could both take care of themselves respectively, but ever since they’d come to the Detritus Ring to reunite mother and son together, something just didn’t sit right with him every time they went out together. Maybe it was the worry that one or neither of them would come back. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be replaced. K’ and Reyna had been spending more time together to make up for the lost years, and although Maxima tried not to hold that against either of them, it made him feel... a little left out. He’d found the kid as just a skinny scrapper fighting his way, tooth and nail, through everything in his path. And Maxima had been at his side through it all. He’d come to admire the kid’s tenacity despite the odds, and he saw that too in Reyna. As well as their shared proclivity for throwing caution to the wind. It made them equally reckless, and that was a recipe for disaster if they didn’t have a grounding force to voice their dissent. Chocolate chips this time. He was already running out of sugar. He was pretty sure he saw a bottle of maple syrup in the fridge too. “What the f**k are you doing to my kitchen!?” The old clone barged in, staring in awe at the hefty number of trays covering all the counter space. Damn. Maxima had forgotten this wasn’t his space nor his groceries. “Eh heh, next paycheck I get, I’ll restock you. Promise.” He pulled the flour-covered apron from over his head, almost snapping the string in half with the width of his neck. “You, uh, hungry?” Whiskey Foxtrot fumed at just how much of his ingredients had been used to make so many cookies but he wasn’t one to turn down free food. Especially the kind that was made from scratch. He took one of the still-warm ones and popped it into his mouth. “Hnngh. Not bad. Too much sugar, though. Some nuts would’ve canceled that out.” Nuts! Why hadn’t he thought of that? “I know stress baking when I see it.” The old clone was already reaching for another one. He might as well help himself before Orendi caught wind and devoured the whole lot. “You worried about the boss and the kid?” “You could say that.” Maxima turned the oven off for now. He was already caught red-handed and he didn’t want a second pair of eyes looking over his shoulder while he baked. That was just too much pressure. “You don’t?” “What, worry about ‘em?” “Stress bake.” “Pbth, no!” Down went the second cookie. “He’s a liar, mate. I’ve seen Whiskey make fifty sandwiches one time, I thought he was going to slather butter on everything he could get his hands on at that point,” a mysterious voice said from one of the corners. “Shut up, Pendles! Making sandwiches isn’t baking, anyhow!” Whiskey whirled around to yell at the empty corner. “Potato, tomato. Anyhow, you worry about her too. We all do. Now we’ve got two of ‘em to worry about.” Pendles appeared in a puff of green smoke, his hood thrown back. He wrinkled his large snout at the trays of cookies. Why couldn’t it have been steaks? “Like mother, like son.” Maxima started scooping the cookies off the trays into large plastic containers to store for later. The kid was never fond of sweet things, but maybe he’d try at least one. For him. At least baking was one thing he had over Reyna. She couldn’t make anything that didn’t require boiling water. “Iiiiii smell coooookies!” a yell came from down the hallway. It was the Valkyrie, and her good spirit meant everything had gone well. “In here,” the three Rogues chimed in together, a little relieved that their boss had come back to them in one piece.

pendles: [Throws brick at window]

“Who’s the mark?”   – Pendles