Beil: Bring his prey back to da crow nest to feed his babies in megacrows natural habitat of gotham city. Feeds mostly on riddles but also pengies.
Bones: Dont forget the hatters~ he likes those too~
Bones: His mating call is hroo hraa…. and his wounded sound is HRAIIIIIOOOOOOOO
Beil: and his mating dance are those ravecrow gifs Bones: hgsdhjgfdjkfhgkjdsfg Beil: He needs his own documentary on discovery channel Bones: Beil we need to put on our stupid ass explorer hats and film dis bitch Bones: A documentary brought 2 u by beil and bones thornberry Beil: BLARGHGAGGH Bones: Smashing Beil: Smashing
Beil: Wild megacrow has appeared. Threw a rock at wild megacrow. Bones: Its not very effective…. Croc get out. Beil: Batman used arkham asylum…. it doesn’t effect wild megacrow! Bones: Someone use flamethrower dear god. Beil: Megacrow the grass/dark type. His moves are poison gas, flail, hroohraa, and magical herb. Beil: Except cilliancrow is kind of a pyro he likes setting everything on fire. Bones: Ap ap… Magicalherb420… and omg he would be a grass/dark type lmao Beil: God I wish I had that option, best wizard
[AU Scar didn’t survive, cont.] He never did visit, even when civil wars erupted throughout Amestris, though they still regarded him as a close family friend. “If you’re ever in need, come to us and we promise it won’t cost an arm and a leg,” they’d joke good-naturedly. He would smile sincerely and tip his hat in the photograph replies. Funny, how a small phrase could bloom into such a beautiful friendship. They would even offer to ship him paints and canvases, bless their ignorant hearts.
[AU Scar didn't survive.] "Allow me to assist." With such sleek, polished words, unfailingly polite, the Rockbells and the Crimson Lotus Alchemist became fast friends. Through wartimes and peacetimes, they were regular correspondences. He got to see pictures of little Winry and her petulant friends; They, in turn, received surreptitious little slips of paper. A date. A place. And they would hush the children, pack their bags, and leave the countryside until it was safe to return. (cont.)
“Haven’t fled to your little bird for solace? I wonder-- would you be disgusted to feel a killer’s gentle caress, or would it be the other way around?” Kimblee’s breath barely hitched when gloved hands slowly constricted his neck. He could feel the calluses through the ignition fabric and the soft, but testy pressure of a thumb slowly sliding to the jugular. Tracing. Warning. He saw the futility in Mustang’s jaded eyes. What would be murder to him would merely be a sick thrill for Kimblee.