#Bastions got all kinds of feelings

[eohpmdsteams]

Zhen@Bastion

The Ho-oh glances at Bluey before turning his attention to Bastion. "Say you like her, don't you? I know its rough hearing what she said then, I don't think its too late, Ya know. Give it a bit of time. Need a little convincin' you know?"

Bastion: Don't get me wrong I care for and love Bluey. We've known each other our whole lives. She was all I had for over a decade regarding companionship. Even though I do have feelings I care enough about Bluey to want her to be happy and find someone perfect for her even if it isn't me. But it's this guy she's into that I can't stand. Bastion: This guy has only taken her for granted. She's been doing everything right when it comes to Bisharp courtship and it's as if she was doing it at a brick wall. It's infuriating because Bluey goes out of her way for this guy and his little brother and never even asks for so much as a thank you. She's so kind, so caring, and genuinely is a good person despite it all, and I know this guy is just gonna treat her like garbage. Bluey deserves a good relationship. I just don't want a guy like that to make Bluey....stop being Bluey. Bastion: But then again maybe this guy really just is the world's densest Bisharp. Maybe all it takes is her literally spelling it out for him. If he makes her happy I want her to be happy. It stings yeah. But I am not gonna ruin what might make her happy, and give her the one thing she's wanted since we were kids, just for my own selfish feelings that I can't even tell if it's really romantic or platonic love in nature. It's just complicated....y'know.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

My thoughts about the Trump assassination attempt

After having a few hours to process this whole thing and see reactions from across the political spectrum, I'm having some thoughts and some feelings.

First off, as I said earlier, Trump is a fucking boss. Take anyone who ran for president in the last 20 years, put them in that exact situation, and I don't think a single one responds by raising his fist and snarling in defiance and righteous anger. They run. They cry. They keep their heads down and the first statement you h ear from them is hours later filtered through 20 different speech writers. Today proved to me that, whatever else he may be, Trump is a genuine bad ass. He's exactly the person I want at the end of a sword pointed the United States. Because he's going to have a sword of his own pointed right back, and he's not going to run and hide when it comes time to use it.

Second, the modern left is full of monsters. The amount of people screaming and crying because this assassination attempt failed actually sickens me. It's one thing to have fantasies about easy solutions to the things that scare you. Hell, I'm not innocent. I've thought about how much better things might be if this politician was no longer around or this activist group got axed. But one of the things I did today was think about how I would feel if the assassin succeeded. And then I thought about how I'd feel if someone took a shot at Biden and he didn't survive. Neither thought gave me any good feelings. Obviously I'd be more upset if Trump died, but today showed me that I don't want us to start down the path of shooting political leaders. But too many people on the left, people who should know better, at least enough to hide their true feelings, have no problem publicly wishing Trump was dead right now. That assassinating presidential candidates was a legitimate tactic--but only against the politicians they don't like, of course.

Fuck that.

Fuck them.

America is better than that. Americans are better than that. We're not some third world shithole like Mexico. We're the greatest country in the world. We're the last bastion of representative government. The last place in the world where freedom exists. And it's time we started acting like it.

Third, I ain't got no time for conspiracy theories. Sorry guys, but this wasn't staged and this wasn't a CIA hitman. Unless real, hard evidence comes out otherwise, you won't ever get me to believe any of the nonsense I've seen floated around. Don't be so lost in the true things the media has dismissed as "conspiracy theories" that you immediately jump to the most conspiratorial explanations first for everything that happens. It's lame and cringe and a lot of people I've seen seriously putting these theories forward should know better. I know we're in our emotions right now, but keep your heads.

Fourth, my heart breaks for the families of the people who were hit with the bullets meant for President Trump. But that's the kind of evil we're facing. Whoever did this decided that the idea of a Trump presidency was so awful that they were okay with shooting innocent people just to stop him. And this is after he was already president and none of the things the media is fear mongering about happened during his first term. Those people just wanted to see a man speak. To have some hope for the future. And some piece of shit shot them because he didn't like a presidential candidate. Or worse, because the TV made him scared.

Fifth, fuck the media. You think you hate them enough, but you don't. The media is the driving force behind our enemies, and there's no such thing as a good journopig. They're all lying propagandists. We just like some of them because their propaganda occasionally hits on the truth.

And that's all I got. None of this is organized, none of this is proofread. These are just the thoughts I've been wrestling with for the past few hours. This is the only place I can get them all down without being interrupted or feeling like I need to censor myself. Do with them what you will.

[lordofdestructionm]

Viktor and Elsa

A secret passion?

Viktor Vasko and Elsa Bastion (formerly Arbogast) clearly share a connection. This has been clear since the Defiance flashback

This perhaps shouldn't be that much of a surprise. They are both veterans of the Great War, they have both experienced and still bear the inner scars that come with the tragedy and brutality of war and the suffering it brings.

Elsa in her capacity as a nurse, who no doubt saw all manner of mangled and broken men, and Viktor the muddy, bloody, living hell that was the front line of the trenches. It only makes sense that such people would be able to understand each other in ways others wouldn't.

Elsa has no doubt spent plenty of time treating wounded soldiers and seen the emotional anguish, and so would be able to see through that sour intimidating facade that keeps most people at arms length. While Viktor could find reassurance in the company of a kind and compasionate woman like Elsa

But many fans have found themselves wondering if there could be more to it than that.

Viktor spent some time staying at the arbogast household, and it seems in that time Elsa got to know Viktor very well, learning more about his life than even Ivy, someone that can approach Viktor much easier than most as a stand in daughter to him, and even to the extent she knows Viktor would never have agreed to let her put herself in danger

Viktor for his part may also feel more than just friendly towards her, if the face he makes when she is finally able to get through to him by phone to inform him about Ivy putting herself in danger is anything to go by.

Having been in a pit of deep despair over the memory of his far away daughter, plus the poor state of his health with compromised knees and a hole in his chest, hearing from her seems to make that normally scowling face soften

But before we all jump on that bandwagon and "Viktor x Elsa" become our new Lackadaisy otp, we have to consider the jolly British elephant in the room.

Bobby Bastion

Bobby is another war veteran and it was though their service that they met just after the war and later married.

He appears to be a very jolly and affable chap (relative to most bootleggers anyway), which may well be what drew Elsa to him in the first place. Someone who could counter her melancholy from the dark times they went through

He seems to be very aware and considerate of his wife's relative melancholy, by Elsa's own admission leaving a very lucrative funeral trade in the big city to move too a small quiet community that offered little business but gave Elsa the peace and quiet she needed (like Viktor it seems she hates "noise, noise, noise" thanks to the war).

Their involvement in bootlegging in the first place it seems was to compensate for this and provide the income to sustain this relative isolation

But despite this, perhaps their diffent mindset has become more of a barrier between them rather than something that compliments each other?

As the family illustration suggests, Bobby is relatively content and able to smell the flowers, while Elsa remains haunted. Bobby's humour also seems to have little effect on Elas's mood

Could it be that Elsa would be drawn to someone like Viktor, someone who suffers from the same trauma as her and may be more willing to admit to the pain, than a husband who despite the best of intentions is trying to just smooth over the problem? Quite possible

But even with that strong connection and bond between them, even if there is a mutual spark, does that suggest an actual affair? That's the big question here.

While arguably not handling his wife's troubles in the best way, Bobby seems to be a loving husband doing his best for his wife who he cares for deeply. Is Elsa the type of person who would cheat on her kind husband for helping in the "wrong way"?

Plus Bobby not only shows no sign of concern about Viktor staying with them and being around his wife, but, (despite his brother in laws interuption) mentions that he was very grateful for Viktor's help and actually saw him as almost "part of the family"

Is this a case of "ignorance is bliss"? Does he simply blindly trust his wife so much that the possibility doesn't even occur to him, or does he know her well enough to be certain that infidelity is something she simply would not do?

But this is all speculation at this point. What do you think?

Is poor Bobby blind to what happened under his own roof? Is it a matter of two people feeling an attraction but tragically unable to act on it due to circumstances? Or is it just an innocent matter of two wounded souls with shells and screams still ringing in their ears recognizing the scars on each other and offering some understanding?

Thanks to @ursiday whose Viktor and Elsa art got my over analysing brain juices flowing again ;)

[dukeofankh]

Trying to find progressive masculine community is so exhausting.

I've flipped through local men's groups, trying to find places to explore masculinity in a chill, progressive setting. First of all, they mostly seem to be modelled after AA, and like, my gender isn't a debilitating addiction, it's part of my identity actually, but also, the invite and description of the event have maybe a short paragraph tops actually waving vaguely in the direction of what the purpose of the group is, and then ten to twenty paragraphs breaking down the rules. One spent longer talking about the hand signals he would use to direct conversation than he did describing what the conversation would be about. Another had a full paragraph explaining that if the group thought you were evading what they thought your "real" problem was, they'd probably "call you to take accountability". Like...I don't even know who these people are yet and they're already letting me know that they view it as their right, no, their duty, to bully me into seeing things their way. Like, this is in the invite.

...and this warning is there instead of any sort of breakdown of like, I dunno. Whether you should be a feminist to show up. Whether it was a safe space for queer men. What the hell they wanted to talk about. Joining a men's space is on some level inherently submitting yourself to the authority of the leaders of that group, and you don't usually get a particularly clear breakdown of what the values and goals of those leaders are, because on some level the answer is always going to be "whatever I want"

And like, unfortunately you do need to filter men to build a men's space. You do need to remove or chastise men who act in ways that are toxic or disruptive or misogynistic. If you don't things turn into an MRA chapter pretty quick. But the sort of emergency powers that leadership takes on as a result of that...just kind of naturally end up reproducing masculine heirarchies.

MensLib, the only online community of progressive dudes talking about masculinity that I'm aware of, is...on Reddit. So there is a moderator system. In theory, a moderator is there to...moderate. This is a space where people are going to be talking, and mods are there to make sure things don't get too toxic or off topic.

The issue is that, on some level, that is technically a leadership position. In a sub trying to rehabilitate masculinity. So you've got a bunch of folks who view themselves as the leaders of this bastion of goodness standing against the depredations of the misogynistic internet, guiding the hapless smooth-brain neophytes towards The True Way.

In practice, this looks like 95 percent of the posts submitted for the subreddit being rejected. That isn't hyperbole. On average, the sub has about one new post per day. Almost all posts directly relating a personal experience are deleted immediately, in favour of articles written about masculinity in traditional media publications, which are considered more trustworthy than the sus lived experiences of the guys in the sub. The post I wrote here about the effect of purity culture on male sexual shame that's sitting at about 15K notes was based on a 10K word post I wrote for Reddit that was deleted because "I didn't cite any sources to prove that there is a link between purity culture and male sexual shame, or that my experience was anything more than anecdotal". I get comments deleted on a regular basis, and after paragraphs of protesting in modmail that my comments are both fully in line with feminism and not against the rules, the mods have just finally told me that the rules don't actually drive their actions as a team. They delete anything they feel leads the conversation in a direction they personally feel is unproductive. The rule cited at the time of deletion is really just the broad category of why they decided to hit the button that says nobody is allowed to read what I wrote.

The issue is kind of twofold. First of all, progressive men do not trust other men. A good dude knows that he, individually, is a good person, but literally any other man external to him is on thin ice. Do you really want to tie your wagon to that guy? Do you trust him, really? How do you tell the difference between a guy criticizing an article because it's factually incorrect and criticising it because a woman wrote it? Probably best to play it safe and delete it. Weight of the odds, he's probably a misogynist, right? This is the internet.

And thats the other half of it. If you view yourself as part of the leadership of The Good Guys, and you're getting hatemail from incels and facists all day, you get to the point where most of the time people challenge your authority it's because they're a terrible person. It is very, very easy to get to the point where someone challenging you is seen as evidence that they are a bad person. And now someone is challenging you (and therefore bad), in an environment where you are in charge, and you have a "make your opponent disappear" button.

I know. A Reddit mod was rude to me and now I'm butthurt. It's petty and stupid. I'm just feeling like there's nowhere else to really go, and I'm pretty despondent that literally every space I've seen that even looks like it might be for progressive men has the same deeply hierarchical structure and constant status-oriented squabbling as patriarchal spaces.

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 4

I finished it!! It will have 8 chapters. I'm excited for you guys to see where this goes! I'm still working on Sweet Home Indiana and will be focusing on that until ITS done. Then we'll be back our regularly schedule WIPs.

We have Eddie's big plan and Steve gets his flirt on.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

Steve slipped into the kitchen and there in his mother’s neat handwriting was a note telling him that there were leftovers in the fridge and that they would be home again next Friday.

He sighed and opened the fridge. He immediately closed it when he saw what the leftovers were.

Boiled cabbage with chopped bacon and carrots. It wasn’t bad if it was made correctly, but his mother boiled any flavor and nutrients out of the poor vegetables and then tossed in cooked bacon to hide its sins.

He opened the cupboard and pulled out a small can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and made that. He was craving the sodium. Eddie’s beef was good to get his body to stop shaking, but he had sweat so much he needed to replenish the salt he’d lost.

Once Steve had eaten and drank another glass of water he went to go get a shower and get ready for bed. It was no use trying to get back to his homework now. He had managed to blow up his whole evening by getting lost.

He had no idea how he got to Forest Hills or even why his feet carried him there in the first place. He could feel the weariness seeping into his bones from running for so long.

He undressed and got under the scorching water, letting the heat carry away his pains. His mind ran through all the things that Munson had done for him. The guy had no reason to be nice to him, but he had been more than gracious.

Then it hit him. Munson had called him Stevie, and without thinking Steve had called him Eds.

Eds.

Where the fuck did that come from? They weren’t friends, they could barely be considered acquaintances. Was his brain reaching out to the guy subconsciously? Is that why he ended up at the trailer park? Everyone knew that’s where Munson lived. Who knew how many times the guy had been called trailer trash, but the older teen seemed to rise above the insult.

Steve shook his head, spraying water everywhere. Just because Munson picked up lost sheep, didn’t mean he’d be willing to taken in an injured wolf. Because that’s what he was, reformed or not, Steve would never be a sheep. He would always be a wolf. A predator.

But at least as a wolf he could protect those kids with everything he had. And he would, even if it killed him.

The water had long since turned cold by the time Steve stepped out of the shower. He completed his after shower routine mostly on autopilot as he kept going over his interactions with both Munson men. He didn’t really have good interactions with dads or in this case uncles. But Munson’s uncle Wayne treated him with kindness and he could see where the older boy got it from.

He dressed into his pajamas and slid under the covers. He rolled over on his back and tucked one arm under his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

Steve thought back to the apology. One Munson really didn’t have to give but did anyway. He thought about the other jocks that bragged about hurting his hand. He held it up and looked at the fading bruise. It wasn’t as though he was even basketball anymore. Hurting his hand wouldn’t do anything but make it hard to do his homework and all he had to do is show his teachers his hurt hand and he’d get extensions for that. Like he had for his concussion last November.

But then again Tommy H. never had reasons for the people he hurt either. He just liked the power he got seeing the person helpless.

He placed his hand over his heart and let himself drift off the sleep, brown eyes and dark curls haunting his dreams.

****

Eddie had originally bought the red heart for himself like he had told the two juniors. But staring at it now, he had a better plan for it. Because that last wall, that last bastion of defense crumbled to ashes when he realized that despite the fancy car, the big house, and the expensive clothes, Steve Harrington was more like Eddie than he thought possible.

Wayne’s approval of the boy cemented that for him. Because if he could take one look at Steve and decide he was worth saving, then Eddie raring to go full steam ahead for a rescue mission.

Eddie could tell that the hearts were made from simple construction paper, like the kind found just about anywhere. He knew it would be technically cheating to just simply make more instead of buying them, but he had no intention of contributing to a dance he was never going to go to because one, it wasn’t his year; two, the whole gay thing; and three, the one person he would want to go with if the gay thing wouldn’t get him hate crimed, wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Well, all right, that might have changed with the whole rescuing him from wandering alone in the dark thing.

He forgave Eddie about being a dumbass, so maybe there was hope for, at the very least, a vast decrease in hostility. And he was willing to take what he could get.

He decided to wait until tomorrow after school to get the construction paper and hope that the high school hadn’t bought up the town’s supply.

On his way out the next morning, Wayne stopped him.

“You don’t have to tell me, son,” he said gently, “but you got feelings for that boy?”

Eddie froze and turned slowly to face his uncle. “What gave you that idea?”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Boy, when you’d go on rants about the Harrington boy, you’d describe his floppy hair, his hazel eyes and how unfairly good looking the kid was. I didn’t say anything because it did sound like he’d been a bit of an ass. Only after last night I got to thinking and was wondering is all.”

Eddie closed his eyes and opened them slowly. He let out a long shuddering breath, his bottom lip quivering.

“I–I don’t...” he closed his eyes again. This wasn’t Al. He wasn’t going to get beat for admitting it, but still it was so hard to say. So he just nodded.

Wayne came up and wrapped his arms around his nephew. “It’s a hell of a lot tougher batting for the other team, but I trust your judgment. Just promise me that if he shows signs of liking you back, you take the chance to tell him how you feel because...”

“You miss one hundred percent of the chances you don’t take,” they said together.

Eddie dropped his bag to the floor and hugged him back. “I know, old man. But I promise if there is a chance, I’ll be brave enough to take it.”

“Get going,” Wayne said, voicing cracking with emotion.

He pulled back and nodded. He reshouldered his backpack and got in his van.

He had a lot to think about and that really wasn’t conducive to paying attention in class or to his friends as they talked about their upcoming D&D session.

Gareth kicked his shin causing him to yelp.

“What the fuck, dude?” Eddie hissed.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Gareth hissed back. “You’ve been going on and on about the mind flayer for weeks and now that it’s literally this weekend, and you’re off in some other realm.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment before his brain came back on. He shook his head to clear it.

“Yeah, sorry, man,” he said around a pretzel. “Weird night last night.”

“What happened?” Jeff asked, tilting his head to the side.

So Eddie told them. “He was like a ghost, guys. If Wayne hadn’t seen him too, I would have thought I was hitting Mary Jane a little too hard, you know?”

“I didn’t realize he was getting bullied,” Brian said, frowning. “I would have thought with Hargrove giving the dude a wide berth, that everyone else would have too.”

“Untouchable,” Jeff agreed. “The fact that jocks are now splintering into factions tells you what kind of control Steve actually had on them.”

Eddie rubbed his chin. “I don’t know how true this is, but if Harrington wasn’t lying, he’s a real sweetheart, too.”

Then he leaned forward and explained about the pink heart scheme.

“So,” Gareth said, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them, “you’re telling us is that we have been seriously remiss in our duties in collecting lost sheep.”

The older teen sighed and shook his head. “I’d like to collect him, but I’m afraid the wolves might decide to rip him apart before we got him to safety if we tried.”

Jeff winced. He knew what Eddie was talking about. Steve Harrington wasn’t the usual lost sheep. He might be bullied now, but as King, Harrington had run far too long with the wolves to think that they could protect him one hundred percent of the time.

“So what are we going to do?” Brian asked. “Because if we let this slide, we’re throwing our lot in with the bullies and that’s something I refuse to do.”

A grin spread out over Eddie’s face, closed lips and dimples entrenched into his cheeks. “We’re going to make the school think that he’s just as popular as he ever was.”

The other three boys looked at each other in confusion.

“So what have you got?” Gareth asked, his own grin starting to take over his face.

****

Eddie made sure to get to class early so he could see where Steve was going to sit. He tried to tell himself it was about the dude’s hand, but it wasn’t working. He wanted to see if the former Hawkins royalty would chose to sit with his old friends or by him again.

He didn’t have long to wait. Steve walked in not long after he did, just as the bell rang. He didn’t even look at his old desk near the front and beelined it for the chair he had sat in on Friday.

The teacher picked up on the change immediately and wrinkled her nose. “I am to suppose that you are taking up permanent residence in the back with Mr. Munson, Mr. Harrington?”

Steve half shrugged as he began to pull out his things for class. “I got more work done, Mrs. Dixon and I really want to graduate on time.”

Mrs. Dixon nodded. “Agreed and as long as you continue the level of attention from last week, you are permitted to stay there.”

About half way through class while Mrs. Dixon was grading papers, Tommy H. turned around and kicked Steve’s chair. “Suck up,” he hissed.

Steve puckered his lips and wagged his eyebrows. “Why? Do you want to be next?”

Tommy turned back around, his face bright red.

Eddie raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side as he considered everything about that interaction.

A little blossom of hope sprouted in his chest and he fought to keep it down. Steve had insinuated that other people were gay for years, but to Eddie’s highly trained gay ears, that sounded like Steve was offering to suck Tommy H.’s dick and that Tommy didn’t exactly turn him down.

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought tapping his lips thoughtfully. More research would have to be done.

He pulled out a different notebook, the one he used for campaign notes and song lyrics.

He wrote girls over one column and boys over the other and began tallying what he knew about the former King of Hawkins.

A shit ton went into the Steve liking girls column, but there was surprisingly more in the liking boys column then he would have thought possible. He looked up to catch Steve smirking at him.

Eddie quickly covered his notebook and stuck his tongue out at Steve.

The other boy shook his head and went back to doing the assignment. Eddie was more careful about what he left out in the open because he didn’t want Steve teased for it nor did he want him to see that Eddie was trying to figure him out.

The bell rang and the notebook was suddenly whisked off his desk.

“Hey!” Eddie cried, looking up to see Steve dancing away with the notebook teasingly. “Stevie!” He grabbed his bag and chased after the other boy. But the other boy was a jock and Eddie was wheezing for breath by the time he caught up with him at his locker.

“Give that back,” he huffed.

Steve gave him a bright smile and handed it back. “I just made a minor addition.”

Eddie frowned as he flipped through the pages but didn’t see anything. Steve took it back and turned to the correct page and leaned close so that only Eddie could hear.

“I trust you’ll keep my secret,” he whispered and then dropped to one knee to start getting into his locker.

Eddie gulped at the sight and turned to the paper to avoid saying something stupid. There in bold capital letters under his girls/guys columns was the word BOTH.

He looked up at Steve who had stood up. Steve winked at him and then walked away, leaving a shocked Eddie behind.

****

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual

@fullpoetrybread @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @moonshadows-13

@swimmingbirdrunningrock @croatoan-like-its-hot @lolawonsstuff @lololol-1234 @dotdot-wierdlife

@ravenfrog @dauntlessdiva @thelittleclare @steddieyourself @dam28lh

[h-worksrambles]

Sonic X Shadow Generations fascinates me. Because it feels like something I shouldn’t be excited for. And yet I absolutely am.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Sonic Generations. It’s my third favourite game in the series and my favourite 3D Sonic game (with Sonic Adventure 2 in a close second). I’m very happy to see it getting a re release to expose it to new audiences, and playing it in 4K60fps on my PS5 is a very enticing. Likewise, I really like Shadow as a character and I’m excited to play as him again.

And yet, his new bonus campaign promises to basically be a bunch of nostalgic pandering for Shadow the Hedgehog, a game which I consider to be, simply put, crap. It was boring, dull, colourless and embarrassing trend chasing. And pretty much everything I hated about it is on display in this trailer.

We’ve got gritty, grey cityscapes, we’ve got the rather blah alien villain, Black Doom returning, we’ve got the looming return of the series’…bafflingly executed lore. In a word, Shadow was a pretty much everything I didn’t want Sonic to be shoved into a blender. I’ve given my thoughts on revisiting past excesses and failures for the sake of nostalgia. I wrote a whole thing about Final Fantasy VII Rebirth and my fears that it would go overboard pandering to the 2000s spin offs (which I dislike a for lot of the same reasons as a lot of Sonic stuff from the mid 2000s). A faux attempt at maturity that sacrifices Sonic’s camp and colour, and lacks the writing competency to make its tone shift work is pretty much my worst case scenario for the series. And now we’re invoking that for nostalgia? Again, I should hate this.

So if I dislike Shadow the Hedgehog so much. If it really is so emblematic of Sonic’s worst excesses that I want it to leave behind in the 2000s…then why am I so damn hyped for this? Why am I not feeling the same dread as whenever VII Remake implicitly threatens to bring back Genesis?

I think it’s because of the specific relationship Sonic has had with its past for the last decade. So much of the stuff from that time period is material that Sega has seemed actively scared to touch again. Sometimes with good reason. But I think that’s why some material from that time has gained such a strong nostalgic cult following, and why they’re held up as such bastions of missed potential. There’s never been anything quite like Shadow or 06 since they came out with how safe Sega has subsequently played things. And in many respects, that’s a good thing. But I can see how it build a sense of mystique around them. It was kind of sad to see 2010s Sonic so…scared of itself. Terrified to invoke its own history but not really committed to a new direction either. And this is pretty much the exact opposite of that hesitancy.

Basically, the reason I react to seeing Westopolis or Black Doom with ‘holy shit let’s go!!!’ rather than ‘why, god, why?’ is because I genuinely never thought I would see them again after this long. It’s just exciting to see Sonic Team throw caution to the wind and embrace all the parts of their franchise. Even the parts I personally dislike. Plus, Sonic Generations is kind of the perfect game in which to reimagine that stuff and make it..actually good this time. This was the game that made Crisis City of all things into a banger level. The game that took Silver, one of the most notorious boss fights in the series, and gave him a kickass encounter.

If they can fix that, they can do anything.

Plus, the fact that the trailers already show all these trippy stage effects and anime af boss fights and set pieces tells me we’re not just gonna be running through the same drab washed out burning cities that made Shadow 2005 so boring. Again, there’s evidently an effort being made to rehabilitate and reimagine this stuff, not just repeat all the same mistakes. And that’s exciting.

So yeah, Sonic X Shadow Generations has somehow managed to get me genuinely excited for all the parts of the series I typically balk at. And that’s pretty impressive.

That said, if I see Mephiles again, I’m leaving.

[cosmictyto]

💛⚔️ Villain Ambrosius AU - Tarnished Gold ⚔️🖤

I’ve listened to Will Wood’s “Vampire Culture” one too many times while stuck in the Nimona hyperfixation pit + after seeing some villain Amb fanart floating around, so enjoy these sloppy, partially finished mad ramblings edited/stylized a bit to (try and) make them a little more interesting to read. Also, you're all more than welcome to add on/ask any questions! I'll get to them when I can.

Just a heads up, this is looooong. Simply because ya girl’s a wordy bitch.

Basically, the point of this AU can be boiled down to “What if Ambrosius knew Ballister was innocent AND Nimona got to him first?” Kinda a role swap, but kinda its own thing at the same time? Idfk.

On the night of the knighting ceremony, as they’re both suiting up, Ballister verbally mentions his sword feeling off to Ambrosius. But neither of them have time to investigate that further.

The knighting ceremony goes just as horribly as it did in the movie. The queen is dead, Ballister’s lost his arm, and though they couldn’t exactly find Ballister’s body, he’s presumed dead. Lambasted as a traitor to the kingdom, but also treated as a sort of boogeyman since no one REALLY knows if he’s dead in that "I heard he's dead!" "Well, I heard he's still alive!" kind of way.

Ambrosius, meanwhile, is left completely crushed. Simultaneously being praised by some for “disarming the traitor” and mocked by others for being so close to that same traitor. For not recognizing the signs earlier. For not stopping him before their queen was killed. And though the Director reassures him that he’s done well as Gloreth’s descendant and that this will all fade as nothing more than a bad memory… he knows. Ballister didn’t do it. He KNEW something was wrong with his sword. And deep down he knew that his boyfriend was innocent. So he confronts the squire, sees the footage, and leaves with his whole world rocked.

Needless to say, the proof of ACTUAL INTENTIONAL regicide, treason, and corruption within the system, the same one he’s a literal living symbol of, isn’t on his mind at the moment. Just what he did to Bal. So full of regret and guilt. (At best, he mutilated the love of his life out of instinct which is still horrible!!) Normally when he wanted time alone to think he’d go to the top of the Glorodome. But, that spot hurt too much right now. That's where he and Bal first became friends. So, that same night, he went to the next-best place, Gloreth’s statue.

It’s late at night (he hasn’t been able to sleep much lately anyway,) and he’s sitting at the edge of that massive golden sword. Legs dangling as he stares at the ground. He’s normally not much of a drinker, usually too risky. But tonight he makes an exception. Before, everything felt manageable. The inherent weight he bore being Gloreth’s descendant, the press and citizenry looking up to him to be this bastion of goodness and pure heroism, internal familial pressures over how he should act, look, and think… with Bal at his back, he could handle it. But that stability’s gone now. And the only other person he could possibly lean on, the Director, was responsible for his lover’s death. Now, more than ever, he feels like he’s on the verge of collapsing under the weight this kingdom’s placed on his shoulders…

And then someone happens to come along.

Even despite everything, despite all the hurt this one person’s been responsible for… Nimona still carries fondness for Gloreth. And some nights, when she can’t sleep and she feels like howling at the moon, she’ll go to her old friend’s statue… tonight was one of those nights. And who does she happen to find? Her great-great-great-great… however many more, great grandkid. And he’s not looking too hot. A part of her knows she’s got no real obligation to help him, she's never talked to any of the Golden-groin brats before. But... she's had plenty of moments where she wished she had someone talk her down from doing something stupid, and she's feeling kinda sentimental n' sappy... so she strikes up a conversation.

He’s (reasonably) startled by this teen who just showed up out of nowhere. On a statue that requires a hoverbike to get to, no less. But he’s also drunk enough that he’s not as concerned as he maybe should be. One thing leads to another, and he just lets loose. Like, completely vents everything stored in him. (And, yes, “Arm chopping is not a love language!!!” Is thrown in there.)

Nims is just kinda in shock. In all those stupid commercials and interviews he seems so calm and put-together. Perfect, even. But, he's actually kind of a wreck. And now he’s unraveling real fast and is a bit too wobbly to be up this high- So she talks him down a bit. Calms him. Eventually asks, “If you never had any of this stupid “Gloreth” stuff pushed on you, who would you be? What’d you want to do?”

That legitimately stumps and breaks him. He’s thought about how nice it’d be to have this pressure off of his back. Where he could be his own person and not “the descendant of Gloreth.” But he never ONCE considered what a world like that would really look like. All he’s ever known was THIS. Being a knight, being a symbol and not a real person… there’s really only one thing he could actually say.

“Um… My hair wouldn’t be blond..? Y’know, it’s funny, this isn’t even my natural color. They make me bleach it so that I… that I can look more like her…”

And it’s at that point that Nimona decides right then and there, if she couldn’t get the kingdom to change its mind, she’ll at least get through to Gloreth's heir. Break at least one cycle. (And totally not because she feels the teensiest bit regretful he's been put in this position, naaah, nothing like that.~) She coaxes him down from that statue, and the two of them proceed to do nothing but get into mischief…

“~Blood… didn’t they want your blood? So why apologize for being blue and cold?~”

Specifically, the kind that you don’t remember until well after you wake up. All Ambrosius knows is that he’s in some strange dim dreary place and someone’s cooking something. Oh, it’s just Bal. He usually handles any meals since he doesn’t burn them like he does… but, as he’s snuggling back into the couch, he realizes there’s the sound of a girl humming? What? He sits up. Aaaand she’s there? The girl from the statue? He tries to blow some of his unkempt hair out of his face, and-... he freezes. Grabs his phone, ignores the many, many missed calls and news notifications, opens his camera app, and… black. His hair is black. Why is it black?! It’s not supposed to be-! He NEEDS to be blond! And-!

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty!~ Not gonna lie, never knew a fancy-pants knight like yourself could cut loose like that... Hm? Oh! Right, the hair! You were telling me all about how much you hated bleaching it last night. Sooo, we dyed it! Eventually, you can cut all the dyed stuff off and just leave it your real color if you want. But, for now? Bye-bye, blondie! Like it?~”

No. No he does not. He’s basically having an anxiety attack over the unsanctioned change. Then he gets a notification on his phone and starts reading the news articles. All about HIM, a “mystery girl,” and several animals going wild throughout the kingdom.

“Dude, chill. What’s done is done. We got a little crazy, you saw some pink elephants, and we dyed your hair. So what?”

“So what?! What do you MEAN “So what?!?” I’m a DESCENDANT of GLORETH! I-I can’t be doing things like that! Or be seen like this, or-!”

“Woah WOAH! Hey, look at me. Breathe. You wanna really know why you asked me to dye your hair? YOU said it was so you could be free."

“Free..?”

“Yeah! From now on? You don’t have to live by their stupid rules and expectations. You don't have to be like her, you can be YOU! You can do whatever the hell you want, whenever you want! Wanna change your name? Do it! Wanna go break stuff? Hell yeah! Want a piercing or tattoo? I can give you some. I know how! You wanna make those bastards pay for what they did to you and your boyfriend? I'm more than happy bring the matches and help you burn that bitch to the ground!~"

From that point, things just click. His whole life, the Director… no, the whole INSTITUTE forged him into nothing more than a gilded sword. One that they turned on the person he loved most. The ONE thing in his life that he chose and stuck by… and the system he was supposed to symbolize MADE him kill the love of his life… and he didn’t have to play by their rules anymore. Thus starting his fall into "Villainy."

“~Blood, didn’t they want your blood? So don’t apologize for being blue and cold…~”

Slight time skip!~

Truth was? Ballister was still alive. Heavily wounded, dazed and confused at how everything went so wrong, but alive...

Ballister's story continues as it did in the movie. Months later after the knighting, he's being hunted by the law with Sir Thoddeus Sureblade as the captain of the guard. In the meantime, he's built himself an arm and is still aiming to prove his innocence... Except his attempts to find Ambrosius, or convince the Director that he was set up, are a complete failure. Like in the movie, he's arrested and thrown in the dungeon... Except with no one to break him out. According to whispered gossip from the guards who bring him food, Ambrosius has been missing for a while, now. A fact that would not be revealed to the public anytime soon...

"It's only culture! It's only CULTURE!! It's only- Culture's not your friend..!"

At least, not until an individual in scuffed black-and-rose-gold colored armor (?) shows up with... a bear, or a tiger, and a wolf, and horse, and... even a rhinoceros?! The two of them running through the halls. Breaking things, lighting stuff on fire, and spraying paint on the walls (along with the floor, ceiling, and any statues,) and scrapping with any knights they come across. They'd already uploaded that clip of the Director swapping those swords. This? This was a diversion to keep the Institute from possibly removing or censoring that clip before the public got to see it. And Ambrosius LOVED it! He got to be loud! To make a mess! He finally got to punch Todd in his stupid dude-bro face! When you've kept someone shackled their whole lives, and then take those harnesses and leashes off? The freedom's enough to make ‘em go a just a teensy bit crazy. More than anything, since everything that happened the night of their knighting? He felt alive.

"Hey, fuck your culture! I ain't got no culture! It's only culture and it's more afraid of you than you're of it!"

During the assault, just as things are starting to get dicey for Nims and Brose, they do something so that the power ends up cutting out. Freeing Ballister and giving him his chance to escape, and... for a moment Ballister sees him. His Rose, ebony-haired with cuffs and studs on his ears. Riding on the unsaddled back of a raspberry-pink horse. A can of neon spray-paint in one hand, a sword in the other, a whole squad of knights behind him… and for a moment they lock eyes. Ambrosius’ world just comes crashing down, trying to stop and turn Nims around (Who refuses. ‘Cause, y’know, the bunch of knights behind them?!) she shifts into an ostrich to get a boost of speed, and the two just ride off with Ambrosius staring wide-eyed… looking like he saw a ghost… meanwhile, Ballister’s wondering just what the hell’d happened since the ceremony, and just -what- his boyfriend’s been hanging out with.

From this point my plot-related notes are thinner/less thought out. But here they are anyway:

- Ballister’s still firmly stuck in the Institute’s brainwashing since he’s had absolutely no time hanging out with Nimona to influence that. He’s seen the footage, but still believes that the fault solely lies with the Director specifically. That the Institute as a concept can still be preserved. A part of him hopes that by capturing this pink monster he might be able to redeem himself in the eyes of the kingdom. Prove his loyalty as a knight. (And conveniently finally meet with his boyfriend who’s apparently lost his damn mind?! Or... or has been corrupted by this thing?) So, while on the run from Todd and the other knights, he’s also trying to track down Ambrosius + Nimona and stop them from inciting a rebellion. Because all he knows is that this isn’t the man he fell in love with. (I won't lie, the Ballister side of things feels pretty shaky. I need more time to sit and stew on it.)

- If we’re using D&D alignment charts as a reference, Ambrosius is basically going from lawful-good to chaotic-good. Identity crisis and shift to anarchy aside, he genuinely doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not the general populous. Yes, he happened to be raised to be a “hero of the realm” but, at his core, he’s still a good guy. Any acts of arson, destruction, or anything of the like are done with the knowledge that the spaces have been cleared out as best they can, first. And he doesn't even want to kill his fellow knights because he knows that, ultimately? They've all been forced through the same system. Children thrown into a mold to be forged into weapons. He’ll fight them. But, he doesn’t fight to kill… that being said, he doesn’t necessarily stray from violence, either.

- At some point I do see Ballister and Ambrosius getting into a fight. But, of course, Ballister’s the top of their class. No matter how hard they both sparred or competed against each other, Bal’d always managed to come out on top. In everything. So Rose is, of course, disarmed and thrown to the ground. A sword pointed at him as he looks up at the man he loves-.

“What, do you think this is some kind of a game?! You and that… that thing are tearing this kingdom apart! I… I don’t even recognize you anymore… what happened, Ambrosius?!”

“What happened? She set me free, Bal. And if you can’t see that this is who I really am, deep down..? Then you never really knew me at all…”

More miscellaneous/fun notes:

- It’s less boss/henchman in this AU. Instead, Rose and Nims 100% have a brother/sister dynamic. They bicker and tease when they’re together. But, the moment the other’s in trouble, it’s strict “No one messes with ‘em except me!” vibes. Who’s the older and who’s the younger sibling changes depending on the moment.

- Ambrosius always liked rock music. His parents and the Director always disapproved because it was “noise unbefitting of a Goldenloin” (ie. It wasn’t classical or opera therefore it was “wrong.”) but he always listened to it in private or with Ballister. So when Nims played some stuff and she caught Rose singing along to all the words? That earned instant respect points for him.

- These two also share one braincell between them at any given time. How they haven’t gotten caught is a damn miracle. Like, seriously, these two are goofballs. The moment he saw Nimona change into a shark? Oh, he totally stuck his head in her mouth. He never thought once about how “the wings” would be too noticeable. And when Nims brought up the plan to wreck the Institute? Eloquently putting it as: “We break-in, we break some stuff, smash some helmets, something-something-something, we win!~” He could only reply with a nod and, “Alright, sounds good!” And when they're playing a board game and she's going on some tangent? He's laughing his ass off. The only other person he's been this dorky around was Ballister.

- Once it clicked that he could swear?! And no one would get mad at him or clutch some pearls?! Nimona had to give him a crash-course because he was using it a bit too much. And it just kinda sounded ridiculous. Like giving a tween free rein to swear.

- He also went more crazy with his appearance. He was already used to the idea of makeup (Gloreth forbid her ancestors ever had *gasp* acne!!!) Eyes? Lined and smokey. Often with dark or fun colors. Nails? Painted. 24/7. Fingers adorned with a buncha rings. Lots of layered necklaces and bracelets. Plus silky black shirts with low necklines. And he did get his ears pierced. Both lobes, a couple in the helix of one ear, and one on an eyebrow. All of which was done courtesy of Nimona. (Needless to say, Ballister was shook the first time he got a good look at him.)

- He is still a Ballister Simp. Always gonna be his number one fan. At first, he tried to convince Ballister to join him and Nimona, but Bal wouldn’t listen. Their relationship doesn’t start to fracture until Ballister starts actively hunting them both down for the sake of capturing her. Because, while Ambrosius adores Ballister, and wants nothing more than to be with him… Nimona’s been the only one to help him see the truth. To help free him of all his expectations, she’s been there when he was at his lowest. She’s his friend. And he’s not willing to sacrifice her just so that he can go back to being the “Descendant of Gloreth” with Ballister. So, though it hurts, he still loves Bal. But he’s always waiting for the moment his lover admits he’s wrong about this.

- Speaking of Nimona’s and Ambrosius’ friendship… she’s in an awkward spot. Because, especially now with all those prissy-noble-layers stripped away… she sees so much of Gloreth in Ambrosius. In his smile, how confident every step is, that glimmer in his eye when he’s about to do something rebellious, even the way his eyes crinkle and his lips get tight when he’s mad. In so many ways he’s absolutely his own person… but it’s like she got her best friend back. And maybe that’s why she stayed and talked with him. Because she saw a chance to try again…

(Psst, you seriously read this far down? Thanks a ton! Have a cookie.~ 🍪 )

[monstersandmaw]

Male orc (Rhuarc) x female character - Part One (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Thank you to the two people who explicitly expressed interest in this story via my inbox. This one's for you. Here's Rhuarc the single dad orc and his girl, and how they met. I've even got some visuals in this one too!

Content: kidnapping, attempted human sacrifice, violence, some light gore, implied age gap, older male character, single father orc x small human female

Wordcount: 4344

Rhuarc tried not to resent the fact that the Jarl of Markarth’s crusty old steward had looked him up and down as he’d stood in front of the so-called Mournful Throne, and decided that the orc was either entirely expendable or utterly stupid enough to take on an entire Forsworn camp. By himself.

Apparently it was the latter though, because with his two adopted girls waiting for his return in Whiterun, Rhuarc was most certainly not expendable these days. Perhaps twenty years ago, he might have hurled himself at the nearest frothing lunatic disrupting trade routes and abducting travellers off the roads without much care for the damage he took — the fact that he’d lost the sight in his right eye before he’d turned nineteen was testament to that — but these days, his contracts required thought and planning.

Kill the leader of Hag’s End, an old Nordic tomb complex nestled away in the frozen mountains to the northeast of Markarth.

Easy.

By himself.

Less easy.

The place was huge, and crawling with more Forsworn than termites in a mound, and there was every chance he would encounter a hagraven there too. Fuck, he hated those things. Whatever unnatural magic was used to create those half-bird, half-women, he didn’t want any part of it.

His own magic was fairly rudimentary by the standards of the average mage: a few fireballs here, a few healing spells there, and he could make a pretty decent lance out of ice if he had to. After all, orcs were known primarily for how ferociously they could bludgeon something into Oblivion, but magicka did coil its way through some of them too, and his mother had been both an alchemist and a mage.

Now though, as Rhuarc crept up behind the Briarheart warrior who led this bunch of rabid lunatics, and slipped his arm around the man’s throat to hold him still while he ripped the strange replacement heart out of the half-undead creature’s chest, he wondered exactly what kind of magic these people used that let them replace an otherwise healthy man’s beating heart with the poisoned seed of a Briarheart tree. And what special kind of lunacy allowed someone to undergo it willingly. Perhaps it wasn’t willing though? What did he know about these people?

As the orc’s fingers curled around the prickly seed that was about the size of an apple, the magic of it felt at once too cold and too hot; the way white hot metal feels in that moment of pure shock if you touch it by accident before the pain kicks in. He released the disgusting ‘heart’ and it fell with a splatter of gore onto the snowy carpet covering the cosy little platform, from where the man ruled over his clan of Forsworn. Rhuarc would have to find a scrap of cloth to wrap it in so that it didn’t leak everywhere between there and the city of Markarth, but he was looking forward to depositing it directly into the stuffy old steward’s lap as proof of the kill and the contract fulfilled.

The Briarheart warrior went instantly limp in his arms and Rhuarc laid him down silently on the frozen ground, already starting to plan his next move. A shout went up a second later from somewhere to his right — his blind side — and an arrow pinged off the bastion wall beside him. With a curse, he rolled and ducked behind the hide wall of the leader’s large tent, breathing hard. Of course he’d missed one of them, and if she alerted anyone else, or that lurking hagraven, Rhuarc was fucked. He was tired. And cold. His joints weren’t quite what they had once been, and his muscles were seizing with the cold and from crouching in dark doorways and corners on the long and winding way up to reach this part of the secret redoubt.

With a careful peek around the support structure of the leader’s tent, he realised that this new Forsworn hadn’t actually spotted him properly yet, and he hefted the haft of his war axe in his hand. Throwing a weapon away was never a great idea, but he didn’t have a bow on him, and if he called magicka to his hands, a hagraven would certainly sense it. Not a chance he wanted to take, and given that the place was called Hag’s End, he thought it pretty fucking likely that there was one of the bird-legged, psychotic matriarchs of the Forsworn roosting up at the top of the complex on that balcony almost directly above him.

So, he drew back his arm and sent the blade of his war axe whirling away to bite into the breastbone of the Forsworn before she could spot him or cry out again. She fell with the clatter and rattle of bone and fur armour, her silly antlered headdress skittering away behind her, and he was off running immediately to release the weapon from her corpse and seek a new hiding place in case the commotion had drawn others.

As it was, Rhuarc crouched for a long few minutes behind the gruesomely-displayed corpse of an elk that had been partly taxidermied by the cold and stuck on a stake, with his breath billowing all around him, and the stillness of snow in the air. Had he got them all? He was spattered all up one side of his body with blood and even had a red streak in his otherwise white hair that he’d shaved close to his skull above his ears and left long enough to tie back into a ponytail on top. What a mess. Still, it would be worth the groaning bag of coin he was going to get for clearing the whole bloody encampment and making The Reach a little bit safer for travellers.

Just as he’d begun to relax, half thinking of getting the girls each a new dress with his earnings, a scream like nothing he’d ever heard before tore the silence in two and his blood went cold.

It had come from the balcony above him where a spar of stonework jutted out into the winter sky like the bowsprit of a ship, and it hadn’t been the harsh shriek of a hagraven. The scream had come from a woman in blind, abject terror, and the sound of it shocked him back to his feet before he’d even realised it.

Rhuarc thundered up the stone stairs behind him and shouldered open the carved doors of the inner sanctum of the tomb, plunging into the relative darkness without stopping to think.

Not thinking was a sure way to get himself killed, and by some miracle of the fates, he skidded to a halt just in time to avoid a pressure plate in the floor that would no doubt have unleashed some kind of magical or poisoned trap on him. Whoever lived here clearly didn’t let just anyone inside, and blundering around like a panicked mammoth wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Think, you thick-skulled orc,” he growled at himself, chest heaving and heart pounding in his ears like a war-drum. He was only a few heartbeats away from slipping into that infamous, orcish berserker rage, and he never ever wanted to find himself on the far end of a state of mind like that again. Caked in blood and viscera and surrounded by an array of corpses with no memory of how they had been felled… He shuddered and forced himself to steady his breathing before moving on.

What he confronted as he wound his way carefully and methodically through the dark, blood-stained hallways of the upper Nordic tomb proved to be as great a test of his prowess with blade and his magic as any he’d ever faced in his forty-six years.

Savage witches clad in long, magicka-laced, black robes hurled spells and curses at him that he only just dodged or warded in time to sink his axe into their skulls, but what made his skin crawl the most was the hagraven who seemed to be taunting him, letting him get one or two shots in before a swirl of purple and black magic enveloped her and she vanished to somewhere else in the complex.

Was she an illusion? Had he lost his mind or, worse, accidentally imbibed some poison from one of his victims that was making him hallucinate? He’d spotted enough deadly mushrooms growing in the dank corners of the dungeon that the suspicion remained, even as he ploughed on through the coven of crazed witches towards the woman who had let out that heart-rending scream.

Just as he sensed he was gaining the top of the tower, the hagraven disappeared amid a final storm of eerie, flickering magicka, leaving him alone in an echoing chamber at the top of a staircase lined with mortuary shelves.

Over to his left, an arcane enchanting table crackled with residual magicka from a recent use, the blueish runes on its onyx surface glowing in the dim light, and on his right, an ancient monument reared up like a tombstone, carved with a script he couldn’t read. He had no time for any of that, and paused just long enough with his hand on the last door to gather his breath and the last ragged remains of his strength, before shoving all his weight into swinging them open and stepping out onto the snowy balcony beyond.

A blast of freezing air hit him full in the face, but it wasn’t the cold that stole his breath and his senses.

There on a low, wide, stone altar, a Nord woman had been bound hand and foot, stretched out and completely naked, and she was thrashing weakly despite the wounds at her wrists and ankles from the ropes. Tears tracked pale lines through the dirt on her face and her bare chest heaved with broken, choking sobs as she arched her back in futile protest.

Over her prone figure loomed the emaciated figure of a hagraven with a glinting, black dagger raised in her taloned hands.

Rhuarc didn’t think.

He hurled a bolt of ice at the creature, and might have been surprised to find that it had actually struck her right in the stomach if he hadn’t already been concentrating on drawing the ambient moisture into his hand to freeze into another shard of ice as thick as a tree limb. The hagraven let out a shriek that should have made his ears bleed, and hurled a fireball at him for the indignity of him getting a hit in first.

Searing flames exploded all around him and he smelled singeing, though he wasn’t sure if it was his fur armour or his own skin, and he didn’t care. He leapt forwards, diving into a roll in the snow to douse any lingering flames, and as he came up he launched a second spike of ice directly at the hagraven’s weathered, distorted face. Her black, beady eyes narrowed and she bared rotten teeth with a snarl as she clenched her clawed hand and prepared to fling a second fireball at him.

Rhuarc had closed the distance between them in a few powerful strides though, and before she’d finished the spell, he grabbed her by her flimsy arm and felt the snap of it breaking in his grip as he yanked her away from the altar. Before she could even muster a screech, he lopped her head off with his axe. He didn’t stop to watch her abandoned carcass slide over the edge of the parapet, down into the void of snow and cooling corpses below, and turned instead to the woman laid out on the table.

The dagger had fallen from the hagraven’s claws to land beside her right hand and she was reaching frostbitten fingers for it.

“Easy,” Rhuarc said, holstering his messy axe at the loop on his belt and realising he probably looked as frightening as the hagraven had. Six foot six and broad as a barn door at the shoulder, Rhuarc now had blood all up his face from one of the witches, a nasty burn on his shoulder that was only just now making itself known, and a long cut on his abdomen that was oozing blood down his solid paunch. As he’d got older, he’d lost the iron definition he’d had in his youth, but he was probably the strongest now that he’d ever been in his life.

No wonder the woman was staring wild-eyed at him like he was some animal barbarian, but his heart physically hurt in his chest when he saw the welts and bruises standing out starkly on her pale, Nordic complexion. Her long, midnight black hair was loose and lank and greasy, her lip was split and swollen, and there was a vibrant, purple bruise all around her left eye socket. Those dark brown eyes glared up at him with fierce defiance though, and her fingers found the hilt of the knife.

He smiled. “I know I look a sight,” he said in a low, quiet rumble, holding both hands up, bloody palms towards her. “I’m gonna help you though. Let’s get you healed up and out of here. I’m not sure what you can wear though…”

“My… My clothes are in… were in… a chest… in there,” she croaked, twitching her head slightly towards the chamber he’d just left. The swelling in her lip clearly made talking painful, and she sounded like she hadn’t had any water for days. That, or the thick, raw, red line around her throat was responsible, flanked by distinct, finger-sized bruises the colour of a ripe plum. It made his orc blood boil to see marks like that on a person’s body, but he made himself focus on the more immediate task of helping her.

“Alright. I’ll untie you — may I use that dagger?”

She nodded and reluctantly let her fingers go loose again. With the rope lashed so tightly around her wrist, she didn’t have enough purchase to lift her hand free of the hilt, so Rhuarc carefully slid his bloody fingers underneath hers and he eased the blade out.

Concentrating, he sawed steadily through the thick rope, and she hissed as she flexed her fingers when the rope finally sheared and one arm came free. The raw chafing showed him just how hard she’d fought her captors, and he found the warmth of pride glowing in the pit of his stomach for this stranger and her resilience. Methodically, Rhuarc moved his way around the table to free her ankles next before finally cutting the ropes binding her left arm to the cold table, and all the while keeping his eyes off her naked body as best he could.

“We need to get you somewhere sheltered. Can you sit up?”

She tried valiantly when he asked, but her strength failed her in a rush and she slumped back down with a gasp.

Rhuarc dropped the knife to the stone at his feet and stuck his right hand under her head just in time to stop her cracking her skull on the stone platform of the altar, and he cradled her lolling head in the palm of his hand. His already-bruised knuckles clunked against the altar under the full weight of her head as she surrendered at last, spent.  

“Easy,” he said. “I’ve got some magic. I’m going to heal you, alright? Keep steady, then we’ll find you some clothes and get you out of here.”

Her dark eyes rolled as the golden light of healing magic washed around her, and she slumped at last into unconsciousness.

Rhuarc picked her up with detached efficiency and carried her out of the biting wind and back into the tower that formed the top part of the tomb’s inner sanctum, marvelling at the Nord’s resilience to the cold. He knew that her people were tougher than most humans in these conditions, but still, with everything she’d been through, she probably should be dead.

Her small body was soft where many Nords were made of hard muscle, and he suspected that she had not been raised to be a fighter. That the Forsworn would snatch her away from whatever battle-free life she’d led before and defile her like this made his blood sing all over again and his hands itched to sink his axe into a nice, crunchy, Forsworn skull. He let the thought go with a growl around his thick tusks and shouldered the doors open.

With her pressed against his bare chest, he felt the tingle of magic in her blood too, and he recalled the way her body had drunk his own restoration magic down like water poured onto dry sand. Perhaps the fact that she was probably a mage had been why the hagraven had been about to sacrifice her in that unholy ritual.

Inside the echoing, stone room with the enchanting table, Rhuarc found the chest she’d mentioned, and he crouched down awkwardly in front of it with her half-draped across his lap, her naked body propped up by his right arm. He really didn’t want to have to use one of the beds in the tower that the witches had clearly slept in, but if the woman needed to rest, then he would stay with her and see that she was safe.

Just as he was fiddling one-handed with the catch of the chest, which luckily wasn’t locked, she drew in a deeper breath and came-to with a mewling sob of discomfort. Her bare legs were touching the floor and the room wasn’t much warmer than the air outside because of a huge hole in the ceiling, but at least they were out of the wind.

“I know,” he said without looking at her. “I’m going to find you something to wear. Just give me a second.”

“Thank you,” she rasped, and the sound became a sob as she squirmed in his arms, trying to curl inwards on herself. Whether that was to cover her naked body better or simply because she was hurting in every way humanly possible, he wasn’t sure. “Thank you. I thought that was it, when… when she… she —”

“Shh,” he said, briefly tightening his hold around her shoulders with a slight curl of his right arm, worried that if she grew too distressed, he might drop her. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

“Thank you,” she said again, and then added with a little sniffle, “My name is Syl, by the way.”

“Rhuarc,” he grunted, finally lifting the lid of the chest. “This your stuff?”

She peered forward and nodded. An undyed linen shirt and brown trousers had been roughly stuffed into the wooden chest, along with a pair of softly-worn, fur-lined boots, a thick, fur-lined jacket, and a small alchemist’s pouch that fitted on a belt around the hips. He had something similar himself for the road, choosing to forgo the usual traveller’s pack with a bedroll and cooking pot. He hunted or foraged for what he needed and cooked it over an open fire and slept under the stars when he absolutely had to, but mostly, he actually planned his journeys to halt at an inn for the night these days, because he was too damned old now to be sleeping out of doors in the grass like a bloody wild boar. He also thought he glimpsed some linen underwear and wrappings in the chest too, but he didn’t let his gaze linger.

“You… need a hand?” he asked quietly, but she shook her head.

“I can just kneel here for a moment. I’ll be alright,” she said in a steady, if rough voice. “Thank you.”

He nodded once. “I’ll be over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his thumb over his left shoulder.

He helped her slide off his lap where he’d crouched beside the chest, and steadied her briefly with a hand at the small of her spine to stop her tipping backwards. Her flesh was still cold from lying out there on the table, but she couldn’t have been out there for too long before he’d found her, or she’d have died of exposure. Even a Nord couldn’t survive naked in the snow for very long.

Only then, with his rough palm pressed against the pale softness of her skin, did it strike him that it had actually been a very long time since he’d seen another naked body, and the feel of her skin beneath the calluses of his palm distantly stirred the cold embers of desire in him that had lain dormant and out of mind for longer than he cared to remember. Even for an orc, he wasn’t exactly short of people showing interest, but it just… hadn’t been something he’d wanted. Then of course, he’d found himself the adoptive father of a pair of ten and eleven year old girls, and all thoughts of romance and the so-called ‘Dibellan arts’ had evaporated completely from his life like autumn mist.

With a sigh, he banished the faint and inappropriate sensation and levered himself stiffly to his feet. As he did, he felt the cut in his lower belly pull with a sharp prick of pain and when he looked down at it, he found it already suppurating. His thick, naturally green, orcish skin had turned a nasty, angry red around the slash and something was oozing out of it that wasn’t blood. Poison. Fuck.

Glancing around the room, he wondered if there were any ingredients stashed way that the witches would have used, but he was in the wrong part of their stronghold for that and anyway, who knows what they might have been brewing in there? Thinking about what limited stocks he kept in the emergency pouch on his belt, he drew out two carefully-sealed glass bottles and tipped their contents into the cupped palm of his left hand. It was hardly ideal, but it would do for now, and he smeared it onto the open wound.

The flash of pain made him grunt, but with a soft fizzing, the powders got to work and nullified the festering poison before it could spread.

“Rhuarc?”

When he turned around at the sound of her voice, he found Syl looking at him from where she was still kneeling in front of the wooden chest.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a frown.

Her alto was still hoarse and rasping, and he wondered if she was still in pain. “I’m fine. Are you? Did I heal you enough?”

At his question, she smiled, and something in his chest slipped sideways when he saw it.

How could a woman who’d just been through the torment she had experienced still find the grace to smile like that? And at an orc of all creatures.

“Yes,” she said, and, now that she was dressed, she stood slowly; cautiously.

She wasn’t very tall for a human, perhaps five foot five at most, and her body seemed somehow even smaller in her loose-fitting, practical clothes. He could clearly see the swell of her hips though, and the definite curve of her breasts, and her dark eyes looked very large as she regarded him. In an attempt to tidy herself up, she had tied her lank, black hair back off her face in a low ponytail, but she still looked like she’d taken one hell of a battering, despite the healing magic.

And yet, there she was on her own two feet, and her resilience was suddenly as devastatingly attractive to him as were her natural good looks. Rhuarc swallowed thickly, utterly floored by what he was feeling for the first time in decades.

“You’re hurt,” she said, eyeing the wound in his stomach.

He felt her open herself up to start channelling magicka, and his own mismatching eyes went wide. “No, don’t!” he gasped, taking an involuntary step towards her and holding out both hands in a kind of warding gesture. “Please, you need to conserve your energy. I’ll heal myself in a moment. I was just waiting for the poison to work its way out first.” No point sealing up the cut with all the vileness still inside, after all.

Syl walked slowly towards him, moving like a black cat along a wall, with her gaze focused on his bare paunch.

Rhuarc’s breath caught and he froze. He couldn’t have moved so much as a muscle then, even if an army of hagravens had descended on him.

When Syl came to a halt in front of him, she brought her fingertips up to touch the fevered flesh around the wound. Very carefully, she let a tiny thread of golden magic seep into him, and he honestly did not mean to let out the noise that left his lips. He hadn’t even known he was still capable of making a sound like that.

Pleasure curled deep and visceral in his gut, both from the whisper-light contact of her fingertips against the trail of hair on his stomach, and from the way her magic coiled and twisted inside him, stitching him up from the inside out and cleansing the last of the poison’s putrefaction in the same deft stroke. She wasn’t just some hedge witch with a little magic: Syl had to be a master of the school of restoration with a healing that skilled.

“There,” she breathed. “Just looks a bit of a mess now,” she added, eyeing the blood that still covered him in a series of spatters and smears.

He couldn’t catch his breath for a moment, but he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Not much different from usual then,” he said a beat too late and painfully aware that his gruff bass sounded far more winded than when he had fought his way through the entire complex to reach her. “Thank you.”

With a long inhale, she let her hand fall back against her side and turned her big, dark eyes up to regard him. “So… what happens now?”

I hope you enjoyed this one? I'm fairly certain most people aren't going to read down to this point, so if you did, please consider reblogging it to help it find more of an audience, and give Rhuarc and Syl some love?

And if you want to learn more about how they fall in love on their journey away from Hag's End, be sure to leave me an ask or a comment! Otherwise I'll assume there's no interest and won't keep sharing it. :)

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[allykakamatsu]

Twisted Hearts Bios: Diasomnia

(Left, BBS + 0.2 look. Right, KH3 (post realm of darkness)+MelMem look)

Name: Lilia Vanrouge

Age: 700 (BBS->KH3 (no aging in the realm of darkness)), 701 (MelMem)

Starting World: Enchanted Dominion

Keyblade: Guardian Soul (gotten during 0.2)

Description: A seemingly mischievous and trouble making young man, in actuality he's a retired war general and father of two who does his best to look out for his kids while still having fun and making sure his kids don't see his struggles. After turning on Maleficent due to her putting a sleeping curse on Silver, one that won't be broken until the Keybearer is found, Lilia teams up with Aqua to find Malleus and Sebek, and in the process he gains another kid he'll go to hell and back for, figuratively and literally.

(Left, BBS, KH1, CoM+Days look. Right, KH2->MelMem look)

Name: Sebek Zigvolt

Age: 16 (BBS->Days (got trapped for 10 years in BBS so no aging)), 17 (KH2->KH3), 18 (MelMem)

Starting World: Enchanted Dominion (BBS), Hollow Bastion (KH1)

Keyblade: Hidden Dragon (gotten during KH3)

Description: A prideful and extremely loud half fae who's dedicated himself entirely to helping 'Waka-sama', but once you get past the interesting first impression he's the loyalist friend you could have and is always trying his hardest. While looking for Silver he ended up getting trapped by Maleficent as further fuel for her magic, a living hell that it took a good ten years to get out of. Once he is finally out though he has to juggle getting therapy for that mess while also helping Malleus who's also very much going through it, a situation that only doesn't end in disaster due to Silver (who's also going through it but to a slightly lesser degree) and the first years.

(Left, BBS, CoM+Days look (in KH1 and most of CoM he's in his Overblot form). Right, KH2->MelMem look)

Name: Malleus Draconia

Age: 108 (BBS), 118 (KH1->Days), 119 (KH2->KH3), 120 (MelMem)

Starting World: Enchanted Dominion (BBS), Hollow Bastion (KH1)

Keyblade: Pain of Solitude (technically gotten during KH1, doesn't use until KH2)

Description: A seemingly quiet and mysterious young man (young by fae standards anyway) with an intimidating aura, but is actually quite friendly and wants to make friends but doesn't know how, often leaving him feeling quite lonely. Gets taken in by his Great Aunt Maleficent, and after she lies to him about Lilia and Sebek being dead, Malleus Overblots and goes all in on the Princess of Heart plan to try save Silver as Maleficent told him that opening Kingdom Hearts is the only way to wake him up. Is eventually snapped out of it by Silver and the rest of the party and does his best to make up for his past actions, especially with Riku who he very much acted like an overprotective stalker around while Overblotted.

(Left, BBS->Days + DDD look. Right, KH2-> KH3 look)

Name: Silver/Silver Vanrouge

Age: 17 (BBS->Days (got hit with a sleeping curse again during BBS so no aging)), 18 (KH2->KH3), 19 (MelMem)

Starting World: Enchanted Dominion (BBS), Traverse Town (KH1)

Keyblade: Fairy Stars (gotten during KH1)

Description: Lilia's adoptive son, he's seemingly a stoic and no nonsense type of young man, but he is actually very kind and considerate, especially to his family, friends and animals, but just has a hard time expressing himself. Has some insecurities about feeling like he doesn't belong but he's working on it. After a good deed gone wrong lands him in another sleeping curse, he's eventually woken up by Sora gaining the Kingdom Key during Destiny Island's fall. While Silver is royally confused by all of this, not helped by him somehow having a Keyblade as well plus him apparently looking and sounding just like Riku, he and Sora team up to find their missing loved ones.

Masterpost

Buy me a Coffee

Commission Prices

[dreamsy990]

(video essayist voice) kingdom hearts is-

so, kh1. its been. a little while since i played. so forgive me if the game isnt exactly fresh in my mind. theres maybe gonna be errors so please bear with me im trying my best.

this is probably the kh game i have the least thoughts on, which feels weird considering its the first game in the series, but i just dont have a lot of strong opinions on it. its a pretty solid game!

starting where i normally do, the gameplay is probably the worst aspect of the game. they really thought platforming would be a fun thing in this game, but its just. not. the physics are so bad oh my god. if i ever have to jump in kh1 again itll be too soon. the difficulty is also a little bit all over the place. i played on standard (like i do with pretty much every game) and i would randomly jump from breezing through the game to trying a hundred times to fight one boss. most of the time its not the fun kind of difficult, just frustrating. the only time i can remember the difficulty being fun is the last riku fight in hollow bastion. i wish more of the game was the fun kind of hard. strangely enough, i know a lot of people struggled with the riku race and fight in the tutorial, but honestly those were easy for me? i got the fight first try, and the race second. idk, get on my level nerds i guess?

the worlds here are hit or miss. some of them (mostly the original ones, hollow bastion and traverse town specifically) are just amazing and i love them. others are. uh. lets say getting rid of the tarzan world was the best thing to come out of copyright law. also, this game is the only one where i skipped an entire world (sorry atlantica, you fucking suck). so theres that. the disney worlds are probably my least favorite aspect of the game

the story is alright! i dont have much to say about it other than i think that its mostly pretty good when i know whats going on, although both me AND one of my friends were so confused at the ending that we had to go call someone else to ask what the fuck happened and honestly i still dont really know? what the fuck is a kingdom hearts you ask? the world may never know.

this game and 2 are the only ones where maleficent is good. i miss when she was like a fun villain. she was just super into the housing market and i love that. what the fuck is she even doing in ddd? getting into bitcoin????

rikus great, i dont think i need to say that. hes such a freak and i love him. soras pretty good, shoutout to haley joel osman for doing a great job for being uh. 12??? at the time???????? hes great. i know a lot of people really like ansem sod but i just dont get the appeal? he never did anything for me. like hes fine i just didnt care about him whatsoever and anyone who says hes a better villain than like. xemnas. is wrong.

0/10 where is axel. ok but seriously uhhhhhh i give it a 7.7/10. its a solid, enjoyable game! not my favorite, but thats not to say i dislike it at all.

[dullgecko]

One day, Jawbone is ill which almost never happens but when it does it’s no small thing. He’s doing his best to keep to himself because he often got very snappy and short-tempered when he’s feeling bad, and knowing the history of all of the kids in his house he didn’t want to upset any of them while he was ill.

Except Sandra Lynn was away for a couple of days taking Lydia to a physiotherapist in Bastion City and he’d ran out of supplies in his room so he had to drag himself down to the kitchen to get some more water and snacks. Kristen was in the kitchen at the time and she was being loud and Jawbone couldn’t deal with that right now. He wanted snacks and water and then more sleep. He didn’t want Kristen crowding around him offering healing. And if he had been feeling better he might have tried to redirect her or be more patient.

Instead he just snapped at her and told her that he didn’t need her and she had to get out of his way.

Kristen kind of froze for a second then went very quiet and left the room.

He knew it wasn’t the best phrasing and perhaps it had come out a little harsher than he meant, but he didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Right now he just wanted to sleep.

A couple of hours later Kristen showed up at Riz’s house having walked across town with her school bag and a bag of the main things she needed. She’d had practice at quickly leaving somewhere and she knew what documents were hardest to replace and what sentimental items she didn’t want to leave behind and what everyday essentials she would need before she had the chance to go and buy new things again. She knew how to compartmentalise and make light of this type of situation. She had known it would only been a matter of time before she got kicked out again.

Riz was out but Sklonda let Kristen in (equally confused and concerned) and got her set up on the sofa with a big blanket and a mug of very sweet tea. It took a while for Sklonda to fully figure out what had happened, and when she did she sent a message to Jawbone, partly to check in with him and find out how he was doing, but mostly to ask what he had actually said to Kristen. He obviously felt awful about making Kristen feel unwelcome in her home and sent her a message apologising for what he had said.

Kristen didn’t go back to Mordred Manor until Jawbone was better and had apologised again in person and reiterated that Mordred was her home as long as she wanted it to be. Even then she was still a little wary of him for a while after, getting a little quieter whenever he came into the room and being unusually obliging about her set chores (even the washing up which she usually despised and complained bitterly about every time it was her turn).

Oh lord imagine if Sklonda WASNT home and it was just Riz. Jawbone would have a new sleep paralysis demon on the form of an angry goblin.

He wakes up from a nap and Riz is just there, perched on his chest in the dark like a little demon. Jawbone didn't hear him come in and only woke up because he tapped him on the forehead.

'heeeeey Jawbone. Just asking, not super important, but did you kick Kristen out she's currently crying in my house?'

Jawbone is SO fast to apologise and makes a mental note to be really careful with phasing. He could have died. He's PRETTY sure Riz was holding a silver dagger. The threat was noted for the future.

[spaceorphan18]

X-Men 97 Episode 9 Thoughts

Ooff, I have some very complicated feelings about all of this. But unsurprisingly I have a lot to say about Rogue...

When I read that Beau DeMayo's favorite comic book was X-Men #25 I figured two things were going to happen -- that they'd get Magneto to pull out Wolverine's adamantium and that Rogue would play the Colossus role of going with Magneto.

And, the more I think about it -- this entire season was crafted to get to that moment - the moment of Magneto pulling out Wolverine's adamantium. It just feels like everything was written around one dude's past traumas. And I mean, while I'm not happy with the guy - I do get how you end up doing that with fiction.

Shame that X-Men #24 wasn't his favorite. We'd be having a whole different discussion...

I understand how we got here. I understand Rogue's grief and her in story decision making (mostly). I understand what the writers were going for. But, my god, it just sucks. It sucks that they did this to her. It sucks that this show needs to compress so much into so little time that there's no real time to let the show breathe and form organically. It sucks that they've isolated her as a character so that the grief would consume her so that we'd get to this point.

Rogue dreaming about feeling Remy and waking up only for Nightcrawler to tell her it isn't real broke me. Rogue in that trench coat broke me. Rogue deciding to go with Magneto so she could play the Colossus role -- and the fact that Remy died so she could get there - makes me angry.

It's not about love triangle shenanigans, I'm glad that that's really not a part of it. But they did the whole triangle for her to have it make /more/ sense that she'd do it. Because sans that, she wouldn't have. It was written purposely so she'd be in a mental state where it narratively does make (some) sense that she'd go with Magneto.

And I just... thanks, I hate it.

But also, I don't know where we go from here? The X-Men beat Bastion in the finale. Yay? At what cost? They've clearly set up Onslaught, which, yeah, okay, let's do that mess. But character wise... where do we go from here? What do you do with Rogue's character now?

I mean, there are some answers. I don't really love any of them for her.

X-Men, despite all the darkness, always was about hope. And I'm wondering where the hope in this series is. Because despite grand standing speeches from Xavier, I don't see it. If the finale can't give us any of that, then I don't see a reason to go on watching. Which really does break my heart :(

*sigh*

Some other things:

I do kind of love Rogue's non-reaction to the fact that Magneto is alive. it's just so glossed over. Due to the time compression, the writing of this show, while it has moments, isn't as even as people make it out to be.

I do kind of wonder if we'll get a scene with Rogue standing at Remy's grave, only for him to not be in it.

I'm glad Storm is back, she's the only character (along with Nightcrawler) that I really care about in this mess. (Obvs beyond Rogue)

I'm sad Storm didn't have any reaction to Remy's death though.

I did like the little Storm and Jean moment - such a good friendship, so sad that we only saw two minutes of it the entire season.

I feel like this show misses the mark on women... were there any in the writer's room??

...did they really just kill off Jean again? *sigh* (There's no body though...)

The blue and gold teams thing made me laugh for some reason. Oh, they're just pushing so hard to make things happen only for it to feel hollow.

Idk, I just feel meh about everything else, tbh.

[stoshasaurus]

i literally JUST discovered your ramv1 tag and I have to say I did not know I needed this and I am very obsessed. I am looking through the tag, and I'd really love to know where you got this idea and why you think they work, but my own speculation is because of how very different their stories feel, nearly opposites of each other. Ramattra wants Omnics to co-exist with humans, albeit probably away from them (as far as I remember, i have not read his lore in a hot second), while v1 is straight up slaughtering all life it comes across out of a need for fuel. So... very opposite from each other XD

either way, absolutely obsessed with this, no idea I needed this ship in my life

I love indoctrinating innocent bystanders into my cult.

Frankly, I have no idea how they came about. I like to claim that they came to me in a dream, or a strange divination, but the truth is just as vague because I literally don’t know. Even if I did know in the beginning, it’s been long enough that I don’t remember now.

I think it stems from them both being designed to kill. Granted, V1 comes from a world of machines that are built with the sole purpose of killing, while Ramattra comes from a world where his kind is really uniquely made for killing (yes, bastion and orisa units also existed, but there were tens, possibly hundreds of thousands, of completely docile brands of servant omnics. Ramattra and his brethren were merely a fraction of that population). So Ramattra feels like they share a bond in their purposes. Also, I think the ultrakill universe’s earth, albeit to a certain degree (he does have his limits for violence, unlike v1) kind of sounds like his ideal world. All humans dead? Robots rule? Sounds awesome (ignoring all of the other caveats).

It also probably stems from my religious need to ship my favorite characters together, and the often strange crackships that usually results in. That’s the more likely answer, to be honest.

My dynamic for them could potentially be one-sided, and sometimes is depending on how angsty I’m feeling. Ramattra is a mechanic, a man who designs his own null sector units, and probably admires the form and function of machines. My Ramattra is the biggest simp known to man in that he regards V1 as being the ultimate machine. A divinity, compared to him, one that moves quickly, self-repairs, and is one of the most efficient killers he’s ever seen. He loves it as a character but also as a machine, and worships it as its own deity, almost. In summary, he’d LOVEEE to stick his hands in there and see what makes it tick (in every imaginable way). Considering my V1 notably lacks personality (at least in my head. In art, that is very much not the case) it could be a very one-sided relationship. But because I am a sucker for sucrose in my ships, I imagine v1 regards ramattra as a beacon of safety, the armor that its lithe frame lacks, and a home that it can consistently return to and rely on when it is damaged or worn down. He helps it develop personality, and in turn becomes obsessed with what he regards as pretty much a god in mechanical flesh.

Does that make sense? God I hope so. These fuckers drive me crazy.

Anyway, if there’s anything else you’d like to know, PLEASE feel free to ask. Ramv1 drives me absolutely nuts since the moment it blessed my stupid little head and I will take any given opportunity to ramble about them. Or share your ideas!! I love hearing those too.

Thank you so much for this question.

[littlemissmanga]

The Bad Batch Finale - Thoughts and Thanks

Before I get into spoiler territory, I want to say the most sincere "thank you" I've ever mustered to this fandom.

I've been in fan spaces before, going back almost 15 years - most of that on Tumblr, to boot. I've been in inactive fandoms, small fandoms, big fandoms and "we're watching new episodes together in real time" fandoms ...

And none of them have ever given this sense of community and support. Ever.

There really is something special about The Clone Wars/Bad Batch fans, even within the Prequel lovers or Star Wars fans in general that breeds this kind of sentiment. It's truly unique and I found it at a time in my life when I was the most isolated physically from my support network and struggling to make new friends and connections IRL.

I cannot express in words just how much you all saved me with your validation and support.

The Shades of Blue series was the first fanfic I actually felt comfortable leaving a comment for on Tumblr, and the amazing @the-rain-on-kamino's kind and loving reaction gave me the courage to start writing fanfiction again. Not only that, but actually sharing it for the first time in years.

And after that, everyone else came in one at a time. From @deejadabbles and @sev-on-kamino's delightful, rabid and enabling reactions to my unhinged thots, to @wings-and-beskar supporting my unhealthy Wrecker obsession, to @l-lend being an absolute example of how to engage and interact in fan spaces to make room for everyone, to @wild-karrde, our bastion of supportive engagement and creative celebration (and a kickass writer in her own right) ... you all helped me come out of my shell in ways I can't express in words besides thank you.

@dystopicjumpsuit, @freesia-writes. @anxiouspineapple99, @dickarchivist, @wizardofrozz @523rdrebel

@starrylothcat @starqueensthings @the-bad-batch-baroness @multi-fan-dom-madnessand @moonlightwarriorqueen

You all have listened to my rambles, thoughts, and vent sessions - whether about fandom stuff or not - and I hope I've been able to return a fraction of that support.

@daimyosprincess, girl you get a whole special shoutout for the levels of depravity you encourage my thots to get to :D

And there are so many more!! People I may not talk to frequently (cause sending DMs gives me anxiety), but I see you commenting, liking, reblogging when I post and posting your own amazing writing or art for me to moon over.

@cyarbika, @madameminor, @spacemagicandlaserswords @merkitty49 @vodika-vibes

@kimiheartblade @nika6q @arcsimper5

@soaringthroughthegalaxy @sunshinesdaydream @sinfulsalutations and so so many more.

THANK YOU ALL FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART

I'll still be around simping after our favorite clones. I hope you'll keep joining me.

Now, on to the spoilers!

I have to say overall, I like this conclusion. It's the happy ending we wanted, but if feels earned. I love that the boys got to grow old in peace with Omega. I love that their dedication to one another is reaffirmed and upheld as the strength it is, rather than - as Hemlock saw it - a weakness to exploit. And I loved that last little scene. It felt like a fanfic and I say that lovingly. It felt like the writers and animators put together the fic we all know would have happened if they left the ending on that fadeout of the Batch next to the tree on Pabu. And that felt like a kiss on the forehead as a fan.

Now here's what I didn't like.

I didn't like that they clearly rushed the end. Pacing wise, there were so many moments that were slowed down so you can feel the emotional impact ... but the editing of the scenes around them made this slower pace a mistake to me.

Like when Echo and Omega are sending Emerie and the kids away ... they all hug and take time to talk about their plan. BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TIME. We know Hemlock has the others. We know Tarkin is on his way. YOU DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS SCENE TO HAPPEN HERE and Echo of all people would be on that, moving everyone along as he is trained to do. It feels artificial because we go from high intensity and fast paced to slow and dragging when nothing from the fast paced scene had been resolved. I think this could have been different if the scene with the kids in the hanger came before the Batch gets in to the hanger and knocked out. It would be a break from the fast pace of the Zillo escape, but without the immediate urgency of a rescue weighing over them (and us! I was having heart palpitations!). It also would then match the tone and sentiment of the scene between Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair in the woods ("Omega needs all of us.").

These pacing issues are editing issues, and I think we're really seeing how post-production was truncated to get this out on time (or possible pre-production and storyboarding was truncated). I hate that production studios are making this practice more common to cut costs. We will wait longer for better quality storytelling.

My final example of this is Crosshair's story resolution. It doesn't happen. He still thinks he deserves to die on Tantiss (the sentiment from S3 Ep1) and even though Hunter and Wrecker tell him otherwise, we don't know if he internalizes that. And his climax is about trusting Omega to know what to do to take the shot. But Crosshair has (in this season) shown he always trusts Omega. It would have been better if his hand was still shaking and Hunter said "Omega trusts you. You'll make this shot." so that the external conflict for Crosshair is resolved by resolving his internal conflict and trusting himself as his family does. And it would leave Hunter's climax the same - trusting Omega as an competent member of the team.

It just feels rushed. Or like an abstract painting that almost looks like a real object, but just a little blurry. They almost stuck a perfect landing, but just missed the mark a bit.

I also hate how this means Wrecker gets fuck all resolution. The entire last episode was a really intriguing challenge for him. He knows Cross is off his game and Hunter is getting desperate and reckless again ... just as he is almost entirely knocked out of the fight from an injury. Him, the strong one. That should have been a great moment of growth for him. That he doesn't keep going because he always can -- which is very much how he comes across in TCW S7 and TBB S1 -- but that he actively makes himself the strong one, the supportive one, because that's what his family needs.

But no, we didn't get that. We didn't get any insight into Wrecker at all, despite him being the one to free his brothers enough for them to save Omega (and he saved Echo, too!). And then he doesn't speak again, though we see how banged up he is. I get it was less of a focus throughout the series, but man they didn't need to sideline my husband like that.

And finally, Tech.

Look, I may be delulu, but contextually, there was plenty of evidence that CX-2 was Tech. From speech and mannerisms to his blatant disregard for orders, to the seemingly personal level he took his missions.

But it's more than that - why show us this big tense moment of him breaking onto Phee's ship, which the focus being on Phee sensing him near? Why not just have that in the dialog with Hemlock the way Cid's confession was? That would have saved so much time that could have been put elsewhere. Why have such a focus on him in the marketing?

I'm not mad that Tech is dead. Let me make that clear. The showrunners said from the start they killed Tech to prove there are real, lasting consequences to characters' decisions. And I can respect that. And I can understand and appreciate the interpretation that CX-2 wasn't meant to rep Tech, but rather what the Empire can turn clones into, a threat to them all not just in the danger CX-2 poses, but the danger if they get caught.

And that's fair ... but then it could (and should have) been any and every CX trooper to fit that bill. There was no need to waste time and attention on one in particular.

And to be, that also ignores the clear wall of contextual and subtextual evidence that a reveal was planned. The posters are a great example.

Here is the Batch in the final poster:

And here is CX-2

He's standing at Crosshair's right, just out of frame. The lighting matches and he's even looking up to the right just like the rest of his brothers. The line of light cutting his left side even matches the one cutting above Crosshair's right side.

All the other posters showing Bad Batch adversaries has them lit more darkly or in shadow and has unique posing and positioning that do not reflect our heroes.

Why are we styling a brainwashed clone like one of the Batchers artistically? That's a weird choice.

I think the some big wigs wanted him back and others didn't want to water down the impact of his death and we're seeing that confusion and conflict on screen, when we really shouldn't. IDK if Disney was pushing it or the showrunners but either way, going halfsies and changing your mind (and impacting the resolutions we got because of it) is not a good look, especially from a studio like Disney/Lucasfilm. I'm not blaming Dave or Jen wholly, but we the audience should never be able to see the writer's room when we watch, and that's all I was able to see with this.

(My own husband was like "we are supposed to think that's Tech, right?" and he's not really a Bad Batch fan, he just indulges me.)

Alright, that's all I got. I'm happy with how my comfort show ended, I'll write fanfic to cover the pieces I don't agree with personally, and I'll remain ever grateful and supportive of the community who gave me this most precious gift.

I love you all.

And may the force be with you.

[raguonmynieceandnephew]

I fucking love Shadowlands and I am tired of being silent

This is probably gonna be long. TL;DR at the end.

Look, Shadowlands is the second worst expansion this game has ever shipped, besides WoD. I know this is a WILD opening sentence for a defense argument, but I am a romantic, not fucking delusional. This is a fact. Point blank period. The content drought was absurd, the legendary system was completely fucked, the maw in general, the lore reduced Arthas and Garrosh quite literally to dust, The Jailer as the main villain and FUCKING THORGAST, the overall alt unfriendliness, borrowed power cranked to a million, and I have expressed how much of a fucking joke I think putting Pelagos as the new Arbriter was.

It was bad.

This has been stablished, not just by me, but by the entirety of the wow community.

But even though I agree, all these things made the game worse, I still enjoyed my experience, and I have a positive outlook on the expansion overall, which seems to be the greatest sin a World of Warcraft player can commit: I liked Shadowlands. I dare to say I liked it more than I did Dragonflight, if I think really hard about it.

You simply cannot say you liked Shadowlands in the any circle of the WoW community online, from what I have seen. I remember Kraken Latte put it in first place in a rank she made of all expansions and got shit on for days on twitter, with people failing to see what she saw in the game.

Now, I feel like I have pointlessly yapping till now, so without further ado, here are some of the Shadowlands features i like the most:

1 - THREADS OF FATE

I am a simple man, who likes to do 2 things in wow: Mythic+ and leveling. That is pretty much it. I don't PvP, I rarely raid and I occasionally indulge in RPing as a Tidesage on Moonguard. And let me tell you, this baby right here was lifechanging.

Threads of Fate is by far, the single best feature (before Warbands, lol) in my entire World of Warcraft experience. I loved it. I loved it dearly. I don't think I have ever had so much fun leveling 60-70 through Revendreth and Ardenweald with ToF. I still have the route I took memorized, it was SO good. So many bonus objectives back to back to back, world quests and that goddamn gorgeous blue forest had the FATTEST questing hubs in the game.

I was so excited to play this combined with Chromie Time, like IT WAS ON BETA, until it was ruthlessly taken away from me for no goddamn reason AT ALL. Like, what the actual fuck blizzard. Y'all don't understand how delightful it would have been to level like that in ardenweald in the mid thirty levels, right after clearing Loch Modan (or the Silverspine and Hillsbrad, for horde). I barely touched SL since it got removed.

BRING IT BACK BLIZZARD, I AM BEGGING YOU, JUST DO THIS ONE SOLID FOR ME.

2 - COVENANT CALLINGS

Speaking of features I thoroughly enjoyed that were pried from my hands, we have the best iteration of daily quests this game has ever had. They actually worked as good dailies that gave actual gold, was a good reliable source of reputation and was amazing for anima and cosmetics.

This + the recent nerfs to the Dragonracing WQs make me feel like blizzard doesn't like when players make their gold independently, like, jesus christ not all of us have time to be profession moguls.

3 - THE 4 ZONES

What inspired this post was the fact that SL raids are now on legacy loot (if you didn't know, now you do) and I had to go to Bastion to buy the weapons with the thingy that drops from Nathria and...look at this. Just look at this.

This place is one of the most beautiful things this game has to offer. Like, the entire zone is gorgeous byt seeing this for the first time since DF came out legit moved me bro, LOOK AT IT.

And while the covenants were kind of a shit show gameplay-wise, in EVERY SINGLE OTHER ASPECT, it was a 10/10 feature, argue with your mom. Aesthetics, themes, everything, simply gorgeous. Also, it got bonus points from me bcs i really do not like to use training dummies in current expansions because of the sheer amount of people blasting them at any given time, so each covenant having their own Dummy Room, was a ++++ for me.

4 - THE NECROLORDS OF MALDRAXXUS

The Necrolords were the best covenant, their campaign was the best and their characters were the best. Like, come on now.

Draka? Mother. Vashj? Mother. Emeni? Mother. Sin'dane? Mother Stradama? Grandmother. Like, are you kidding me? I know lore was one of the Weakest points of SL overall, but you are insane if you include anything involving these guys. Even the Korthia campaign was enjoyable when they had the spotlight. And I only listed the female characters lmao, don't forget The Primus, Krexus's meme death, the five houses, Morgraine, Grahmal, Marileth, like C'MON!

5 - THE DUNGEONS

Except for the Theater of Pain, and arguably the De Other Side (I personaly love it), Shadowlands has the best overall roster of dungeons in the entire game.

Sanguine Dephts is, in my opinion the second best dungeon in WoW, period, behind only Freehold, Tazavesh is the best Mega Dungeon they ever made. Mists is a banger, Plaguefall is a banger except for the tentacles, Halls of Atonement, Spires (controversial take, ik), Necrotic Wake is amazing, like, you can say whatever you want about SL, but you cannot talk shit about its dungeon design.

Except ToP.

Fuck ToP.

Now, it's getting late so imma speedrun the rest of the items:

6 - COSMETICS

SL changed the transmog game, and all cosmetics from it (all the mounts and sets from all sources) look phenomenal, and if you disagree you are simply lying to yourself.

7 - ZERETH MORTIS

The zone was good and had tons of stuff to do and collect, plus, the introduction to the Catalysts was a plus.

also, nothing will be funnier than Taelia fucking Fordragon being the talking quest bubble for WQs in THE REALM OF ULTRA DEATH

8 - RAIDS

CN: Vibes? Immaculate. SoD: Horrible systems, cool mechanics SoFO: Cool systems, mid mechanics overall a positive for me

9 - CHARACTERS

Already mentioned a lot of characters from Maldraxxus, here are my other faves: Lady Moonberry, the gay unicorm, Denathrius, Theothar, basically ever steward, The Accuser, Kael'thas, General Draven, Remornia and many more.

There are probably more reasons to list to justify my love for SL despite all the bad it has in it, but I simply do not have the mental fuel to keep going rn, i need sleep.

TL;DR: I like Shadowlands despite it being bad and would appreciate it if ppl didn't throw a fit everytime someone talks about it in any sort of positive light. I then listed Threads of Fate, Callings, the first 4 zones, dungeon design, the fuckton of collectibles, characters and the beginning of the shift in game philosophy as positive and valid reasons to be a SL enjoyer.

[thescarletnargacuga]

UNSEEN FRAGMENTS

PART 3 OF THE UNSEEN SERIES: A HARLEQUIN AU FANFICTION

Harlequin AU credit: @tadc-harlequin-au @iamespecter

Shadowblade is my OC and is NOT CANON

WARNING: intense violence, mechanical gore, swearing, long read

~~~

"Fascinating, aren't they?" Thousands of small neon green-yellow butterflies swarmed the manor forest. Kingr was covered in the fluttering friends, looking like someone took a highlighter and dotted all over him. "They're migrating south, and since this is the only bastion of green for quite a ways, they all flock here for a respite. We're so fortunate the manor grounds is on their marching order." He held his butterfly covered hand close to his face.

Shadowblade laid on the grassy ground next to him, taking in the nature around them. They watched the tiny specs of color flying around in the cooling breeze. The seasons were changing, it's the first they ever noticed. Has the world done this before? They could feel the crisp air against their armor, sending a chill through their body, making the metal creak.

Shadowblade listened to Kingr as still and as quiet as possible, not wanting to scare the precious insects. Many landed on them, their butterfly light touches adding to the new experience. Shadowblade went crosseyed trying to see the ones that landed on their snoot. To see such small delicate lives exist beyond the war torn past was... comforting.

Kingr took his attention away from his hand to see Shadowblade being so attentive and a smile reached his eyes. He gently shook the butterflies from his hand and gave Shadowblade a pat on the head. "You may be a war machine, but that doesn't define who you are. Trust me, I would know."

Shadowblade rumbled against his touch, lowly vibrating the ground. It was nice to experience so many kind hands. Not just from Kingr, but Caine and even Pomni. They loved the positive attention, it made them feel...it made them feel.

"Sorry, to interrupt..." Caine joined them on the edge of the forest. "But could I borrow Shadowblade? I have something new to show them." Excitement laced his voice. His white shirt was covered in grease and smoke stains.

Kingr got one last pat in before Shadowblade stood, scattering the butterflies. Shadowblade followed Caine, who had a bit of a skip in his step, to the barn. "You're going to love this! I've been working on a few redesigns for you! You're already spectacular but there's always room for improvement! Your wings for example..." He uprighted an apparatus on the barn floor. "How would you like to be capable of actual flight!? It would mean removing all the blades except your outermost, and making some adjustments to your armor weight, but it's possible!"

Shadowblade examines the wing apparatus curiously. It was huge, they flexed their current wing-like blades in comparison.

"I know, it'll take some getting used to, but it'll be worth it! And don't worry about the amount of noise on landing, I have some improvement ideas for your paw pads too. A genius like me doesn't just think of one thing at once." He chuckled and wiped his stained glove against his shirt. "Anywho, this will take awhile, so get comfortable."

Shadowblade settled and quietly powered down. As much as they felt like they needed to see Caine work, if this was going to be as invasive as it seemed, they didn't want to be awake. They'd experience plenty of positive touch today and Caine was trustworthy, so they finally decided to take a nap instead of endure the pain.

Caine did a double take when he heard Shadowblade's systems powering down. They'd always stayed awake, no matter what sort of repairs had ever been done. He grinned and spoke softly. "You're in good hands. Rest well."

He got work right away, disassembling and rebuilding Shadowblade's entire wing structure. As he was installing the right wing, he had to take off part of the side of Shadowblade's chest. The molten gold core shined before him like a beacon, beckoning to be studied. Caine leaned over to see Shadowblade still completely off, fast asleep.

"One little peak wouldn't hurt." He carefully reached inside and felt the core for opening points. There were cracks all over the core's protective case, years of wear and tear evident of a long hard existence. His fingers found a latch and the core opened. Shattered remains of something fell out and he cursed to himself as he caught them. He checked Shadowblade again, still asleep.

Inside the core was a glowing, amber gold crystal. Fluid pumped into a chamber the crystal covered and flowed out to the body. He leaned in as close as he could, squinting to see black spidering cracks spread across the crystal. Being this close, he could feel a soft radiant hum emanating from the epicenter of the core.

"Beautiful. A crystalline core with energized fluid distribution. I've always theorized this was possible, but never seen it done practically. How was your crystal charged? How has it stayed charged?" He, very carefully, took a scraper from his pocket and shaved off a micro sample of the crystal. Shadowblade didn't even twitch, much to his relief. He closed the core's case and backed out of Shadowblade's chest to examine the bits that fell out.

Three crumbled purple stone pieces with strange markings sat in his palm. He immediately recognized them as parts of what was once a charm. He turned them over to examine all the markings, he recognized only a few. His own charm knowledge was not as extensive as Ragatha's, and would have to get her to look this over more thoroughly. He paused when he saw markings that weren't runic in nature, they were english letters. SB

"Huh...never seen someone sign their work this way. Maybe..." He trailed off and pocketed the charm shards. He could think on it later. He resumed his work on the upgrades.

~

"Hey, have you seen Caine?" Pomni inquired to Gangle as they passed in the hall.

"No, Miss Pomni. I have not seen him all day. I assume he is in his workshop?" Gangle answered in a soft voice, lowering her gaze submissively despite being much taller than the Harlequin.

"I just came from there. Fucker's probably out. Why didn't he think to take me with him? I'm bored as hell!" Pomni crossed her arms in a disappointed huff.

"I'm sure he had his reasons. Maybe it would've been dangerous and he didn't want you to get hurt."

"Bitch, please. I eat danger for breakfast. Then I top my salmon burger with it for lunch. THEN I-"

BOOM!!

The whole mansion shook. Pomni unsheathed her sword and rushed to a window. She saw no immediate threat, her eyes landing on Shadowblade. The beast leapt into the air, flapped huge wings and landed back down with another heavy boom. Caine was outside waving his arms and dancing around.

Pomni threw open the window, jumped out and put her sword away. "What the fuck is going on out here!?"

"Pomni!! You're just in time! Shadowblade has wings now! Look!! They can really fly!!" He held his hands out towards Shadowblade with pride.

Shadowblade tried to take off again, awkwardly flapped like a baby bird and fell back to earth. They vented air hard, their systems not used to the strain on their front limbs. They flexed their new wings at Pomni, Caine's excitement was infectious.

Pomni blinked, trying to process what was happening. "...uh-"

"BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING! It will take some time for Shadowblade to get the hang of it, as flying was never part of their original design, and I have no idea how to program the directive. Honestly, I would be hesitant to even try. So this will be a learning experience for the both of you. Machine learning at it's finest. Oh! And look!!" Caine pulled at one of Shadowblade's front paws, signaling them to lift. "I improved their pads too!" He squished his face against the paw the size of his torso. "They're thicker! Should help soften the landing a bit and be a bonus for stealth."

"....still shook the whole house."

"Well, yeah. We're right next to it, and Shadowblade easily weighs several tons. They're never going to be perfectly silent, but it's an improvement! So, what do you think?" He let go of Shadowblade's paw and clasped his filthy hands together.

"Uh, neat, I guess. Not super thrilled about the idea of being high off the ground."

"But you've been doing so well, I was starting to think your acrophobia-"

"IT WAS NEVER A PHOBIA!" Pomni exploded unexpectedly. She looked away and spoke quieter. "But yeah, I've been handling heights better lately."

"Progress. That's what's important." Caine sighed. "I should get cleaned up. You and Shadowblade can experiment with the wings, if you want." Before he could walk away, he felt Shadowblade's maw against his back. He pet Shadowblade as they pressed against him and rumbled their low mechanical purr. He smiled a little. "Nice to know someone around here appreciates what I do." He didn't look at Pomni as he left.

Pomni watched Caine leave without a word. Her insides twisted a bit with guilt. A chuff from Shadowblade got her attention. The beast lowered themself to the ground, offering the saddle to her. The crystal charm on her right hand glowed softly. "Yeah, I could use some fresh air." She mounted up and they took off out of the city.

~

The shower was more of a phycologcal need than a physical one, sometimes it felt good to literally wash the day off. Caine stood under the hot stream, trying to relax his mind. "Why can't anything I do just be enough?" He let his mind wander. A dangerous thing, but it needed the freedom to process his thoughts before he stamped the emotions back in place. He stayed until the hot water ran out, shots of icy water bringing him back to reality.

He wrapped himself in a towel and went through the pockets of his dirty pants before he forgot what was in there. He didn't want his tools going through the laundry again by mistake. He found the pieces of the charm he discovered inside Shadowblade as well as the core sample. "Hm...I've had suspicions since day one that Shadowblade isn't a true marionette. Maybe this is my answer." He closed his fist around the pieces and got dressed to see Ragatha.

~

Shadowblade stood on a high rocky outcropping, judging the distance to the ground and feeling the direction of the wind. They could feel Pomni's nerves through the connection. This was dangerous. Maybe, just a tiny bit, TOO dangerous. Maybe they should climb back down. Maybe they should hop along the ground some more. Maybe....they should just go for it.

Shadowblade looked over their shoulder to Pomni. "Don't look at me, I'll never be ready. Jump when you want." Her grip on the saddle left permanent indents in the leather.

Shadowblade adjusted their stance and unfolded their wings. The wind caught enough that they could stand on their hind legs. For what it was worth, the view was rather nice. They flapped and lifted from the rock. The strong wind carried them up and away. They steadied themselves in the draft, they could feel Pomni's heart racing.

"Okay, okay, okay, this is okay. We're in the air. Oh my fucking god, we're in the air." Pomni refused to look down.

Shadowblade tried to send reassuring vibes back, but they were too nervous themselves. They've never been this high up.

Then, the draft died. Shadowblade lost altitude rapidly. They tried flapping, it wasn't helping much, just made the turbulent descent all the more bumpy.

BAM!!

Shadowblade bellyflopped to the ground. They moaned as Pomni slid off and puked. She braced herself on her knees and horked up everything her system. "Ugh...this isn't going to be a fun learning curve."

Shadowblade groaned back.

~

"So, what do you think?" Caine sipped a glass of brandy as he poured over books and old maps in the library.

Ragatha cross references symbols on the charm pieces with ones in her book. "Well, I can tell you for certain that it is some sort of suppression charm. The stone itself is fluorite based, which isn't local to our area. As for the writing, I don't know. I've never seen a charm with english letters. I'm surprised doing that wouldn't interfere with the charms purpose. Unless it's part of it, but I don't know of any ritual that would use initials."

"Suppression..." Caine muttered to himself, looking at the charm around Ragatha's neck. "Why would a marionette need suppressing?"

"They wouldn't. They have no emotions or will to suppress. ...are you thinking what I am?"

"Yes, and I don't like it. I had my entire head inside their core. I didn't see a D.I.E. It doesn't make sense. They're powered by some crystal. I have to run more tests, but if I find presence of a soul... I don't even know what to think." Caine set his drink down.

"We don't know for certain. We shouldn't jump to conclusions. I said it was a type of suppression charm, it doesn't necessarily mean that it was being used to suppress free will. It could have been used to suppress the amount of power in the core. Maybe Shadowblade was too strong and... needed to be tamed."

"I'm willing to bet my last bottle that the charm broke when pomni shot Shadowblade in the chest when they first encountered each other. That's when I met them. That's when they were acting weird. That's what gave me the suspicions that they weren't normal. I should have seen it when I first gave Shadowblade the choice to stay."

"Maybe the crystal itself is a D.I.E?"

"If it is, It's the most unusual way to contain a soul."

"I mean, think about how big they are. Could a single puppet soul pilot an entire war machine without help?"

"Maybe? Maybe not? Take Z, for example. Many her size required the use of multiple souls. A lot of constructor puppets suffered that fate." Caine looks over the map on the table. "You said the stone has fluorite in it?"

"Yes, It's what gives it it's purple color."

"I think I have an idea where it came from." He pointed to a spot far east of the City of Circuits. "The City of Gears was one of the largest industrial cities in the world during the war. Fluorite is used in smelting."

"I don't think I've ever been there."

"The only thing your missing out on is a marionette infestation and bad investments."

"What..?"

"Nevermind. Pomni and Shadowblade could check it out but I want them to take backup."

"I'm not going anywhere near that place."

"I wasn't going to suggest it, I need you here. Z and Kingr are too big to ride on Shadowblade's back, and walking would make it a three day one-way trip. No, they need to fly."

"Gangle wouldn't want to go either."

"That just leaves...oh boy. Pomni's gonna kill me." Caine sighed and downed his brandy.

~

WHAM!!

Shadowblade goes headfirst into a cliff, just missing the top by feet. They dig their claws into he clifface to stop from free falling again. Pomni popped her dislocated shoulder back into place. "Fuck these stupid FUCKING winds!! Why do they keep changing??"

Shadowblade struggled against the crumbling cliff as they climbed to the top. They repositioned themselves to try again, looking back to check on Pomni.

"Just go, before I change my mind. LIKE THE WIND!!" She shouted angrily into the air.

Shadowblade dove over the edge. The momentum carries to their wings and they rose back into the air. With a smoother take off, they settled into a flight pattern around the wasteland. Shadowblade felt more comfident with every wing beat. They went even higher, to the clouds.

Pomni felt oddly at ease when she could no longer see the ground. The mist of the clouds felt cool against her face. When Shadowblade breaches the top, the vibrant colors of the waning sun were all around them. The connection felt calm and happy and excited. This was truly beautiful. The ultimate escape from the world.

Pomni raised her arms up in a shout of elation. Shadowblade roared with her as they soared across the sky.

~

Caine checked his W.A.C.K.Y watch for Shadowblade's position. They would be returning any moment. He left Ragatha to the research and found Jax on the roof.

Jax laid against the slanted roof, watching the stars slowly appear. He heard Caine's blink and internally rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

"I have a mission for you." Caine leaned against an adjacent roof section.

"Joy of joys." Jax said sarcastically. "Where am I headed?"

"The City of Gears...with Pomni and Shadowblade."

"Why-"

"Because I need you two to do some investigating. It's about Shadowblade. I'll spare you the details, but I think that's where they came from and it could lead to answers about their origin. I don't expect, nor really care, if you care about Shadowblade. All I need you to do is help Pomni. The city is swarming with marionettes. Who knows what you'll face."

"Hm...sounds dangerous."

"It will be."

"I'll need something in exchange for my services."

"That can be arranged."

"Your watch is quite fancy."

"Off the table." Caine narrowed his eyes.

Jax smirked. "Then I'll have to take a peak in your workshop, do a little...shopping."

"Off. Limits." Caine said sternly.

"Hm, then I guess Pomni's on her own." Jax shrugged.

"I can offer upgrades, charms, hell- new clothes, better accommodations...?"

"Nah, I like your fancy gadgets. They look fun to play with."

Caine grunted. "I'll see what I can come up with, but you an Pomni leave tomorrow."

"Fine. I'll go with piranha teeth to the city of whatever. What exactly are we looking for anyway?"

"....I don't know."

Jax laughed. "Seriously?"

Caine flustered a bit with embarrassment. "Like I said, I just need you to be Pomni's backup. Leave the rest of her and Shadowblade." Caine blinked away.

Jax kept chuckling to himself. "What a maroon."

~

Shadowblade glided down into the city and attempted to land on a long straight stretch of road. They came down a bit fast and stumbled. Pomni barely kept her grip as she was thrown forward ass over teakettle over the handles of the saddle. She hung awkwardly next to Shadowblade's neck until the beast stopped for her to let go.

"That wasn't the worst landing of the day. The fact we're in one piece of good enough for me." Pomni decided to walk the rest of the way to the manor.

Shadowblade was sore all over. Their armor felt overly sensitive to every cut and dent, a few spots bled. A small whine came from them as they walked.

Pomni felt the pain in the connection. "I'm sore too. I'm lucky I could hold on through most of that." She didn't realize the extent of the pain Shadowblade was in. This wasn't just them complaining about being over worked. They felt beaten and battered and bruised for the first time. They weren't used to this level of pain just from getting thrown around. Pomni shooting them and stabbing out their eye hurt less.

They go through the gate and nod to Z. "Yeesh, What happened to you two?"

"The wind." Pomni groaned.

Shadowblade grunted in agreement.

"The...wind?"

"Yes, the fucking WIND. It is an EVIL force of nature. Tossed us like a salad all over the wasteland."

Z sniggered.

Pomni went into the mansion, Shadowblade followed her through the windows. They made a habit of it. It was interesting to see the others interact in this large dollhouse. Not far inside, they see Caine appear in front of Pomni. They spoke. Pomni yelled. He looked exhausted. They half shouted more at each other. They came to an agreement. Pomni stormed away. Caine dragged his hands down the front of his face. Shadowblade had felt mixed emotions through the connection. Frustration, but not anger. Respect, but not fondness. It was interesting and confusing.

Caine caught sight of Shadowblade's golden stare through the dark windows. He waved. Shadowblade slow blinked in return. They moved on the the next floor to find Pomni. They came face to face with Gangle. She screamed. Shadowblade should've seen that coming. They moved down the side of the building.

They spied Ragatha in the library, reading and examining something on the table in from of them. Their optics zoomed in. Pieces of purple stone...markings...SB...

Shadowblade felt like they were hit by a charging drill worm. The letters burn in their mind. Flashes of unknown faces fly through their vision. Gold light. A woman's scream.

Shadowblade topples over and scrambles to their barn. They hid inside, producing a copious amount of mist. Their mind races. Their body shakes. They couldn't hear their core cracking over their hyperventilating.

Pomni would have felt the intense fear and anxiety too, if she hadn't just taken off the charm in preparation to go to bed...

~

Jax was the first out that morning. His hammer collapsed and compacted against his back for travel. He wasn't alone long, the combat harlequin was an early riser when it came to missions. He pointed to the barn. "Is your beast sleeping in or what?"

Pomni hadn't put the charm on yet. She saw black mist pouring out of every crack and crevice like it was a hot box. "...what the hell?" She put on her mask and opened the doors. "Shadowblade! Why are wasting all your mist!? Have you been doing this all night!?"

No response.

"Shadowblade?" Pomni put on the charm. She felt immediate emotional whiplash. Dread. So much dread. Bad people. Enemies. Can't fight. Hide.

Pomni walked through the darkness, finding Shadowblade trembling against the back wall. "What's gotten into you? There are no enemies. We need to go. Knock it off with the mist."

Shadowblade obeyed, finding this feeling easy to ignore under orders. The mist stopped and they followed Pomni out.

Pomni mounted up and cringed as Jax climbed aboard. "God, I can't believe he's making us do this." She grumbles and has Shadowblade start walking out of the city.

"I'm not thrilled about it either, shark tooth, but your hubby promised me something nice in return for babysitting you."

"I don't need babysitting! And he's not my husband! I can barely stand him!"

Jax extended his neck to give her a mischievous grin face to face. "That's not what I saw on my way out the door. Oh, Pomni, Do Be Safe. You'll Be Out Of Radio Range, But You Know I'll Come Running If You Need Me." He mockingly fluttered his eyes at her.

She elbowed him hard in the gut. "If you don't want me shoving you off when we get airborne, you'll shut the fuck up."

"Fine, he's smitten and you're a bitch. Is that more accurate?" Jax rubbed his abdomen.

Pomni growled and had Shadowblade take off. She does her best to ignore the ick she felt as Jax reached around her with his extendable arms to hold onto the saddle handles.

The City of Circuits became a model of itself as they flew high into the air. The winds were calmer today, making things far smoother as Shadowblade found an air current to glide due east.

Jax silently admired the view. Flying was a new experience for him too. He shuddered just a little, looking down, and gripped the saddle tighter.

Pomni mentally reaches out to Shadowblade. There was still an underlying feeling of unease in the connection. She tried to push her own battle ready calm through. Shadowblade was resistant. She out her hand on Shadowblade's back. The physical touch warmed the connection. The feeling of calm was more accepted.

Barely an hour passed before Jax needed to talk again. The splendor of flight wore off fast. "Do you know what we're looking for? Your hubby couldn't say."

"HE'S NOT MY-ugh!! I don't know either. He just said there was something significant to Shadowblade at the City of Gears."

"We're doing all of this on a hunch?"

"Pretty much."

"Tap-dancing Christ."

"Shut the hell up, it's not like you had anything better to do."

"That's not the point. If we don't know what we're doing, and the city's as large as he says, we could be there for days. Sounds boring as fuck."

"He did mention to marionette infestation..."

"So we're either going to be bored to death or be torn apart by marionettes, what fun." Jax rolled his eyes so hard, they nearly popped out of their sockets.

"Welcome to my world."

~

Caine triangulated Shadowblade's position in his watch to the map. If they minimized any stops, they would be in the City of Gears after dusk. Not the best time to be arriving, but the fastest. He pocketed his watch and looked to Ragatha, who was nose deep in a book. "They're making good progress. And it doesn't look like Pomni has left Jax anywhere, so that's a good sign that they haven't killed each other yet."

Ragatha put her book down. "How do you keep track of us..?"

"Let me put it to you this way. If I've made something, I know where it is."

"Oh..." She didn't ask further. "I've been able to decipher some of the less common symbols used on the charm. While I was correct in saying that it was a suppression charm, it's a very particular suppression charm."

"Aren't they all?"

"Yes, every charm is unique, but when I say this one is very particular, I mean that it was assigned to a particular person. Those letters, the initials, I don't think those are someone's signature. I think those are related to the person the charm was meant to control."

"You're confident in saying a person? A soul?" Caine felt his stomach drop.

"Yes. The way the symbols are assorted on the charm, it's a contract. Whoever put their initials on the charm agreed to the terms of the person who created it. Though I can't say if it was done so willingly. My....the one whom I served before...used similar methods." Ragatha shifted in her chair and looked away.

"You needn't explain." Caine reassures. He takes our the core sample and hands it to her. "Give your thoughts on this when you have a chance. I need those charm shards back." He turns to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To test a theory."

~

Pomni focused silently ahead. If she stayed calm, Shadowblade would be calm. It would make the travel that much more bearable. Jax, on the other hand, was bored out of his mind and couldn't stand the silence.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

He waits only a second to ask again. "...how about now?" He smiled.

Pomni's grip tightened. "No."

"Are we there....yet?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"NO!!"

Jax held back a laugh. "You're too easy. Maybe that's why Caine likes you so much. Didn't take him for the type, but whatever floats his boat."

"What the FUCK are you implying??" She turned to glare at Jax.

"Wow, really gotta spell it out for you, huh? I'm calling you a wh-"

Pomni punched him so hard, he tumbled backwards off of Shadowblade. Shadowblade felt something grab their foot. They look down and back to see Jax hanging by one hand. They look back up at Pomni.

"Keep flying. If he falls, he's no longer our problem."

Shadowblade snorted, feeling Pomni's rage.

Jax extended his arms to reach up and grab into the seams of Shadowblade's armor. He hoisted himself back up to the saddle and settled behind Pomni. "I can add sensitive to the list." He called it quits for the time being, she definitely dented a few of his ribs with that hit. He took steady breaths through the pain.

~

Caine locked himself in his workshop and set the charm pieces on a small table with a sigil. He lights the half melted candles and puts both hands on symbols on either side of the sigil. He takes a deep breath and focuses.

Blue energy travels from his heart, down his arms, and to the table. The sigil lights up and the pieces of the charm hover an inch off the table. He mutters ritualisticly under his breath, willing the pieces to be whole again. The electric blue energy shocks the pieces one by one, heating and melting the jagged edges. The pieces fit together and seal the cracks. The reformed charm clatters to the table as he releases it, feeling a little light headed.

"Okay...step one wasn't too hard." He braced himself. "Now....who made you?" He focused again, using his soul energy to tap into the void. He heard faint whispers all around him. The symbols on the charm glow. One whispered voice stands out. A middle aged male voice comes from the charm.

"I....am the Master...."

Caine rolled his eyes. Of course someone who made this kind of charm would call themselves that. He has to stay focused, he could only hold this for so long. "What is the purpose of your charm?"

".... control...."

Fuck. He already knew that. Sweat rolled down his head as he concentrated. "Who is SB?"

"....my greatest creation..."

"No, WHO is SB? Is it a name?"

"...yes, the one who served me..."

"Vague bastard." Caine could barely hold the connection. "Is SB a puppet?"

"...my perfect puppet...obedient and powerful...the soul served without question..."

Caine could feel his hold on the voice slipping. He forced himself to keep going. "HOW? Where is the D.I.E??"

"...within..."

Caine vision blurred with exhaustion. "Are there...others...?"

"...yes...my traitorous son..."

"Where....where...." Caine collapsed. The Master's voice whispered as darkness took him.

"...where it all began..."

~

The sun shone its last as the City of Gears was finally in sight. Massive warehouses and factories towered over all other buildings. The city was ravaged by time and being reclaimed by nature, as the forest on the south side slowly intruded more than half the city.

Shadowblade flew low and made a better landing this time. At least they didn't fall forward on their face. Shadowblade and their passengers stayed alert as they entered the city. It was quiet. Despite being surrounded by trees, no birds sang. The wind was still. They wandered the silent streets aimlessly.

"I think Caine's info is a bit out of date. There's no one here." Jax said.

"Keep your voice down. This place shouldn't be this quiet with the amount of nature here." Pomni's whole body prickled on high alert. Her instincts told her to look up. She did just in time to see a wolf like pouncing from the second story of a broken building. She didn't have time to warn the others. She rolled and slid off Shadowblade as the wolf landed where she had been.

Jax jumped back and slid off the other side. Shadowblade felt the claws of the wolf in their back and bucked it off. More wolves attacked. Pomni dodged one and drew her blade. Jax activated his hammer and swung at a charging wolf, sending it into a wall.

They were surrounded by a dozen wolf sized and shaped marionettes snarling at them.

"Seekers!" Pomni shouted. Seekers were used to track and kill puppets. They tore their prey apart without mercy. As it was getting dark, Pomni put on her mask. Her eyes glowed with Shadowblade's as they stared down their opponents. Shadowblade roared, shaking dust from the ruined buildings. The ungraded blades on their wings and Pomni's sword glowed with energy.

The seekers weren't intimidated and attacked. Pomni put her sword through the mouth of one and she avoided another. She rolled over the back of the one she killed and kicked the next seeker that lunged. Shadowblade sliced two seekers in half with one swipe and whipped ther tail around to the ones behind them.

Jax limbo-ed under the swinging spiked tail and sprang himself into the air to bring his hammer down on one seeker, caving it's body in. He moved quickly to the next, spinning his hammer and launching a seeker into a ruined building.

Pomni got pinned by a seeker, she held it back with her sword in it's maw. It snapped and clawed wildly until Shadowblade chomped down on it's body and threw it away from her. She got to her feet and ran under Shadowblade to get to the seeks attacking on the other side by Jax. She cut through one that was about to pounce.

Jax swung around, saw Pomni and changed trajectory at the last second. He threw his hammer, crushing a seeker's face in.

Shadowblade brought their heavy tail down on one seeker and swung at another. Two jumped on Shadowblade's back and they reared.

"Shadowblade! Roll over!!" Pomni commanded.

Shadowblade did so, crushing the seekers under their bodyweight. Jax laughed, grabbed his hammer and killed another seeker. "Play dead!" He couldn't help himself.

The one remaining aimed for Pomni. It tried fainting left but Pomni was too quick. She decapitated it as it lunged. No other marionettes in sight, they caught their breath.

Jax was in a fit of giggles. "Roll over? Really?"

"What else was I going to say?? Stand there a take it!?"

Jax howled with laughter. "No...no, it isn't that. It's the basic bitch pet command shout during battle. You couldn't call it something else?"

"Like what, smartass?"

"Kill the passenger?" He really didn't have a clever retort, he just thought it was funny.

"God, you're insufferable."

Shadowblade was looking all around for any more signs of danger when they spotted a street corner with small shops. Windows ruined and signs faded, they were still recognizable as a market. Another flash. Shadowblade was short, maybe Pomni's height, walking down the street. The market was alive with people going to a fro. The scent of fresh bread and gardens flowers filled the air.

Shadowblade walked away from Pomni and Jax, following the vision. They were looking through windows at beautifully crafted jewelry and dresses but moving on. The went to a book shop on the corner. The vision fades to reveal a destroyed corner building. The books long destroyed.

"Hey...your beast is walking away."

"Huh? Shadowblade, where are you going? Get back here, we need to stick together." Pomni commanded but Shadowblade didn't obey. They kept walking down the ruins market street. "What the..?"

"Pffff, even your pet if sick of you."

"Fuck off." She moves to follow Shadowblade. "They've never ignored an order before."

Jax followed behind, keeping an eye out for more seekers. His own eyes glowed softly in the unlit city. He didn't need goggles to see in the dark.

Shadowblade looked down a desolate street past the market. A poster on the wall of a business stood out to them. It was barely legible, but it was an ad for a circus. A vision showed the poster it's full glory, they've walked by it many times. It was a landmark for their commute. Moving on, the businesses gave way to town houses and suburban homes. Once large and beautiful homes reduced to rubble.

~

A polite knock rattled Caine's workshop door. "Caine? I have some information on those crystal shards you gave me. ...Caine?"

"Oh dear, maybe he fell asleep. Here, let me help." One of Gangle's ribbons slithered under the door and reached the lock on the inside.

The ladies see Caine on his side in front of his charm table and rush to him. "Caine??" Ragatha checked his heart, he was still alive. "Caine!"

He stirred a a little. "Rag...the..." He lifted his hand to point at the charm on the table and passed back out.

"Oh my god, what did you do to yourself? Gangle?"

"On it." She wrapped her ribbons around Caine, easily lifting and carrying him out of the room.

Ragatha grabbed the charm, impressed to find it in one piece, and followed Gangle. "This must have been an incredibly powerful charm for him to use so much energy to pass out."

"Will he be okay?" Gangle asked worriedly.

"He'll be fine, he just needs rest. Take him to his room." Ragatha went back to the library to study the reformed charm in greater detail.

~

Shadowblade stopped in front of a half collapsed mansion. They stared as a vision of walking through gate entered their mind. They couldn't walk on the grass, no matter how much they wanted to feel it between their toes. They had to take the groceries to the kitchen so the cooks could ready supper for ....for someone. Someone powerful.

"Shadowblade?" Pomni asked quietly. She could feel confusion and deja vu through the connection. "Is this what we came for?" She pointed to the large ruined house.

Shadowblade didn't answer. They didn't know. They stepped over the low ruined wall and inspected the house closer. Three floors of grandeur, once upon a time, now a darkened shell. They could see the grand stairway through the huge hole in the wall, spiraling up all three floors. They went up and down those stairs many times. Lots of work to do. Always an errand. Always a chore.

Jax and Pomni climbed through the rubble to investigate the first floor. Jax aimlessly milled about for any interesting trinkets, but Pomni made a b-line for any intact rooms. She searched for evidence of who once lived here but the ravages of time and war took most everything that once existed in the homestead.

Jax stepped on a losse floorboard and fell through. Shadowblade's bright eyes found the hole he made a peered down. Pomni heard the crash and rushed over. "Hey! You alive?"

"Yes." Jax rubbed his ass. It wasn't a far fall, but it still hurt.

"Shit. I mean, good." Pomni smirked.

"Fuck you."

"Get in line. What's down there?"

"Uh...a basement? Old storage. A few wine racks. Ooh, some of them still have full bottles. Lucky day!"

"You're sharing that!"

"Then get down here and collect your own, lazy ass!"

Pomni jumped down and Shadowblade demolished the part of the house blocking them from entering. They clawed and chewed at the floor to expose a large portion of the basement. As Pomni and Jax bickered over bottles, Shadowblade focused on one corner in particular. A vision showed them being down in the basement to put away some preserved food. A figure in the dark was in the corner reaching for something in the ground. Something heavy closed shut. The figure yelled at them.

Shadowblade clawed the ground and they came in contact with something heavy and metal. They dug up a large ancient safe.

"OH SHIT! Now we're talking!" Jax excitedly examines the safe. He figures the locking mechanism is far rusted in place and the only way into it, is with a really big hammer. He brings his hammer down several times until the safe warped and the door didn't fit in the frame. Much to his disappointment, there were no treasures inside. Only papers. He goes back to the wine racks.

Pomni sifted through the papers. There was a lot of boring stuff, banknotes and contracts and deeds and bills of sale, but... There was also a journal. She opened it to find it full of gibberish. Backwards and mixed writing that made no sense.

Shadowblade could just make out the tiny writing. It didn't make sense to them either, but the journal itself looked important. They leaned their head down to press the journal towards Pomni, encouraging her to keep it.

Pomni looked up with an arched brow. "This? ...alright."

She dug around a bit more and an envelope marked "confidential" piqued her interest. Inside was a letter, addressed to no one.

Sir,

The project has proven successful.

The subject is integrated.

On your order, activation protocol Warshroud is a go.

"War shroud?" Pomni said our loud and Shadowblade froze.

Visions of being taken. Beaten. Hurt. Scared. Men talking. WARSHROUD.

Pomni felt all of it. This was the right path. There was no address but their was a symbol of a hammer and pickaxe on the stationary. She recognized that symbol from one of the factories they passed on their way in. "Hey, numbnuts, we're moving on." She climbed up Shadowblade's head and laid a comforting hand on them as Jax finished stuffing wine bottles into his bag. He extended his arm to grab shadowblade's shoulder and hoisted himself up.

Pomni steered Shadowblade to the factory. Massive bay doors laid on the ground, leaving an entrance large enough for Shadowblade. The inside was as ruined as the rest of the city. Nothing of interest remained intact.

Shadowblade spotted another set of large doors. These, they recognize. A vision of being barely conscious. Restrained. Helpless. The heavy metal doors sealed any escape. Shadowblade trembled. They didn't want to take another step.

"What is this place?" Jax asked, looking around.

"I'm not sure. Shadowblade, we're here because Caine believes there are answers to what- er, who? You are. He's a crackpot, but a smart crackpot. Can you keep going?"

Shadowblade shook in place, refusing to move.

"... alright." Pomni slid off and went to the doors herself. "Come on, Jax. We'll have a look around ourselves. Shadowblade can wait up here."

Jax left his bag hooked to the saddle and dismounted to go with Pomni. "Another dusty old basement, this place is just full of wonder." He sighed.

Down below was more destroyed than above. Hardly anything was recognizable as equipment. Giant smashed tubes held remnants of crystals of various colors. Claw marks and old burns charged the walls and floor.

"Looks like one of their projects backfired." Pomni commented as she stepped over some rubble.

"Shadowblade?"

"I don't know. There's a lot i don't know, but....looking at all of this, this isn't a normal marionette production facility. That's for damn sure."

~

Shadowblade felt a crack. A glacial popping sound from within. The crystal within their core broke further. More visions came. War was declared! Puppet uprising! A mother's touch. A handsome stranger. Debt. Famine. Disease. Death. Work in the city. Suffering. Gold light. Blinding. Obey. OBEY! Shadowblade roared in confusion and pain. Their cries echoed through the factory.

Jax and Pomni stiffened as they heard Shadowblade above. A loud mechanical whirring in the rubble beside them signaled something was powering on. Two intensely bright purple lights shone and rose high above them. In the dark, both could just make out the silhouette of a beast. A beast twice the size of Shadowblade.

Pomni and Jax bolted for the exit, sprinting back out through the facility doors. The purple lights finding them as they run. Monstrous booming announced the creature's pursuit.

Shadowblade felt the floor quake and got their senses about them as Pomni and Jax came running out, purple light right behind them.

Jax gave Pomni a boost throw onto Shadowblade and grabbed onto the saddle himself. Pomni whistled for Shadowblade to run.

Shadowblade got just a glimpse of the beast after them. A huge break-like maw snapping at them. They got outside and made for wider streets to attempt take off.

The roof to the factory exploded. Enormous silver wings lifted the beast into the air as it urgently broke free to pursue its prey. It's body gleamed in the moonlight, this beast was never meant to hide. It dove as Shadowblade finally found enough space to spread their own wings.

Without enough forward momentum to get away, Pomni whistled for Shadowblade to halt. They dropped to the ground and skidded as the silver beast landed hard in front of them, demolishing several buildings. Outside and up close they could see that this creature was also quadrupedal. It's silver steel body glowed with purple energy from every crack in the armor. The wings were on its back, giving it all four legs to fight with in the air. The head and front legs were bird-like and heavily armored, talons as long as Pomni was tall. The back end of the body was like a lion, the tail long and thin with a bladed end.

For the half second the creature was down Pomni mentally steeled herself for battle. Shadowblade, confused and scared, found comfort in Pomni's resolve. Shadowblade lunged, doing for the beast's neck. Pomni jumped from Shadowblade to the silver beast and clamped her mechanical hand onto it's face plates. Jax also jumped, going as high as he could and activating the spikes to bring his hammer down hard on the beast's head.

Shadowblade tried to hold the beast in place, clawing at it's chest and holding tight to it's neck. Jax's hammer comes down and barely makes a dent. He practically bounces off and lands hard below the brawling beasts. Pomni tried jamming her sword into the beast's eye but her sword doesn't pierce the optic at all, she just annoys it.

The beast shoves back against Shadowblade, pushing them away and shaking off Pomni. The beast's claws left deep marks in Shadowblade's shoulders. Shadowblade roared and the beast roared back. The talons and beak of the beast glowed purple, like Shadowblade's wing blades. Shadowblade was already glowing and went for the slash attack. The beast whipped it's tail, having farther reach, forcing Shadowblade to doge and abandon their attack.

Pomni's blade glowed brightly and she went for a back leg. The energy from her blade made a small cut into the heel. "JAX!! USE ENERGY!!"

Jax was way ahead of her. As the beast turned to attack Pomni, his hammer lit up with green energy. He ran up Shadowblade's tail and back to spring himself up and come down between the beast's shoulder blades. His hammer did damage this time. A lot of it. The silver armor split and broke around the wing joints. The beast roared and reared to remove Jax. Shadowblade slashed a deep cut along the side of the beast as it went up. Shadowblade kept themself between the beast and Pomni.

Pomni wasn't having that. She used her grapple to grab the beast and reel herself to it's back, where she dragged her energized sword up the beast's front leg. Shadowblade tore at the beast's throat again, removing armor by the mouthful. Jax dodged the beast's blades tail and smashed at the beast's spine.

The beast's purple eyes brightened and it tore it's claws into Shadowblade, it lifted them off the ground and suplexed the lot of them into a row of buildings. Pomni's and Jax barely got off the back in time as everything came crashing down.

Finally being free of the 3v1, the beast took off for the arial advantage. It circled around and aimed for the largest target, diving for Shadowblade's exposed belly.

Shadowblade was discombobulated. They lost track of Pomni. Their large wings were stuck under rubble. All they could do was roar in defense as the beast came down.

But the beast never came. A wall of green ice flew up out of the ground and blocked the attack. The wall crumbled but the beast was taken off guard and missed, giving Shadowblade enough time to get up.

Jax huffed against a brick wall with his hand out. He hadn't had to make something that big in a long time, it took a bit out of him. Pomni patted Jax on the shoulder as she sprinted passed to get to Shadowblade. "You owe me!!" He shouted after her.

Pomni mounted as Shadowblade righted themself. "Come on!! Let's show this mother fucker exactly who he's dealing with!!"

Shadowblade roared and took off as fast as they could. Finally airborne, they circled with the beast. Back and gold streaked across the sky opposing silver and purple. Shadowblade went on the offensive, aiming to slash at the beast as they flew by at top speed. The beast rolled and slashed them instead, with it's talons. Shadowblade want deterred. They went again, this time making the slash. Them again. And again. Being lighter and faster, Shadowblade made several successful attacks.

The beast roared with fury and opened its maw wide. Purple energy gathered between its jaws.

"What the fuck..?" Pomni muttered.

A wide beam of energy blasted out from the beast. Shadowblade narrowly escaped it hitting their body, but one of their wings was partially clipped.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?!?" Pomni steered Shadowblade away, dodging another fly by. "We need to disappear!" She pulled up and Shadowblade flew into the clouds, mist pouring from their body.

The beast followed, being blinded the moment they flew into the thick shroud. For a moment, the beast hovered in place. Then, a slicing blade cut them from the dark. Their tail fell to the city below. The beast roared and charged their energy weapon again, but before they could fire, a golden razor X flew at them and they had to abort. The beast flew above the clouds and mist, circling and searching.

Shadowblade came flying straight up, and sliced one of it's wings in half. The beast plummeted. It smacked into a factory chimney before crashing through an warehouse roof and to the ground.

Jax saw the fall and ran to catch up, his quick feet moving even faster with green energy.

Shadowblade didn't give the best the chance to get up. They came barreling down through the broken roof and slammed the beast with their powerful front claws. Purple fluid went flying. The silver beast thrashed wildly, trying to take off on one wing. Shadowblade couldn't keep it down, the larger beast kicked them off and charged. Shadowblade barely got Pomni out do the way before the beast slammed into them. Pomni was thrown, recovered and transformed their hand to fire at the open wounds on the beast's body. The gapping wounds proved to be easy targets, every shot found in opening and blew them even wider.

The beast ignores Pomni, focusing all of its hatred onto Shadowblade. It's talon's cut and slash into the armor, getting deep and breaking vital systems. Shadowblade fought back, using their tail to stab the beast, but it was unrelenting. That it opened it's maw again. A terrible buildup of purple energy formed right in front of Shadowblade's face.

"NO!!!" Pomni ran out of shots and hacked at the beast's back leg. She wasn't doing anywhere near as much damage as she wanted to, not deterring the beast in the slightest. "FUCK YOU!! OVER HERE!!" She stabbed it full on in the leg, no reaction.

As the beast was about to fire, Jax comes in out of nowhere, his hammer encased in green ice, and slams the beast right in the back of the mouth. The collision of the green and purple energy causes a massive explosion in the beast's throat.

There is a hush as the smoke clears. Everyone is down. The silver beast no longer had a head. It's body torn, purple blood soaking the floor. Pomni, the furthest from the explosion, rises first. She limps over to Shadowblade, whose eyes are inactive. "Hey...wake up. We won..." She put her hand on Shadowblade's face.

She looked around. "Jax..?" She sees him on his side, facing away from her. She limps to him and carefully rolls him on his back. She puts her hand over his heart, he's still active. A sigh of real relief escapes her.

Shadowblade stirs. Heavy damaged but alive. They slowly crawl over to the two smaller puppets and curl their big body protectively around them.

"It's okay...it's dead. You did good." Pomni gave a small smile and Shadowblade blinked slowly back.

Jax woke with a loud groan. "God...damn! This is why I hate using energy. Gives me an awful fucking headache."

Pomni slapped Jax on the chest. "You crazy bastard! You could have died!"

Jax groaned and laughed. "But it was awesome, wasn't it?"

"...yeah, it was." She checked her saddle bag for supplies and saw wine leaking from Jax's bag. She peeked inside to see only one surviving bottle. She took it and handed it to him as she performed some basic puppet first aid. "You've earned that."

Jax broke the neck of the bottle and poured some in his mouth before offering to Pomni.

Pomni accepted and saluted Jax.

Shadowblade watched as long as they could before exhaustion claimed them. As they powered down, the darkness that would normally greet them became bright and other worldy. For the first time in their mechanical life, Shadowblade dreamed.

~~~

To be continued...