#PTSD OC

[psychotic4ghost]

Mykie "Siren" Jamison

I have made many many characters in my life but I think this is the first character who I have mentally scarred with their backstory. I apologize Mykie that your god (me) is a monster. You are what you eat/drink and I have a crippling monster addiction my doctor has yelled at me to stop :Siren & The 141: Masterlist

ANYWAY here's her character sheet as well as her backstory!

I'll update this post eventually with some drawings of her as well. Pre bio arm and post bio arm. I just have to find the energy to draw again.

[wombywoo]

evolution 👤

[parasolladyansy]

PKMN Black - Ansy

One more highlights post before going back to our regular schedule of Diamond x Pearl REWRITE (& please excuse the slight style changes through these lol, as I made some of these a year or two ago, while others I made leading up to posting DxP REWRITE on my Instagram parasol_lady_ansy).

As I said on Ansy’s timeline, BW was a very coming-of-age story for Ansy, maybe the most impactful for her character as a whole. It was her first official Pokémon journey, as her very first one through Kanto was cut short (see timeline), leaving her with PTSD. Enter Rain, her then-service Eevee (now Vaporeon!) - she was given to Ansy right before she moved to Unova to help adjust to life there.

She met all kinds of friends, enemies, rivals, & even a mysterious Champion from another region. This is when she first met Ingo & Emmet (they were about 19, brand new Subway Bosses, while she was 15). Skyla was about 16, & still working on her pilot license where she can fly industrial planes (like she does in BW2), but can fly small recreational aircraft like ultralights. Cynthia was also aged down to a teenager, though older than Ansy (looking forward to when she appears in DxP REWRITE 🖤)

The last fight against N, then Ghetsis, was a big turning point for her, as that was the first time since the incident in Kanto that she finally allowed herself to be angry, synching perfectly with the fiery white dragon Reshiram. She & they have a very deep bond, & while she didn’t catch them (Ansy befriends Legendaries instead of catching them), they would come when called wherever she was in Unova. 🪽

[vilochkaaa]

i finally make almost full reference for my most favorite stormy farmer boy - Willow :3

i luv him soo so much <33

[sun-snatcher]

hello! i love ur work and i was wondering if u could do some live action zuko angst (that makes ur heart sink) and then it progresses to fluff (that makes ur heart swell) please? HAHA idk if it makes sense but i rlly love ur work!! hope ure doing well n no pressure!!!

🐉・ HEARTBURN

summ.  Fresh from his banishment, Zuko faces the aftermath of his punishment in both his dreams and his waking hours. pairing. Zuko x f!reader (established relationship) w.count.  1k.  a/n.  A bit abstract on this one, but just typical dream logic. A glimpse at Zuko’s descent into madness, almost? Sorry anon if this is mostly angst than fluff! 🧎🏻‍♀️

Zuko’s dreams manifest at the scent of burnt flesh and the sound of his own screaming.

He feels the molten sting of a melting crown upon his skin and the fantastical beast that is his father; something monstrous— something scaled, fanged, clawed, and too large an appetite, with a touch and breath of fire that lights the skies in a blaze.

( He wakes up with his voice hoarse from screaming. The 41st Division will eventually learn early on not to mention it. They just leave a hot pot of tea ready for him come the mornings, by General Iroh's orders. )

Sometimes, it transgresses. Sometimes, it’s his mother who burns while he watches from the sidelines of the Agni Kai; Or Azula. Their shrieks mix with his when he wakes. 

Sometimes, it’s Iroh who scalds him. Great Dragon of the West, jasmine-white with razor teeth and a flame that burns as hot as the sun; serpent eyes a shining gold and a sharper tongue that spoke of his disappointment for his nephew. 

Sometimes, it begins with you.

Please, you beg, at the foot of a winged beast. It speaks in the voice of his father; damning, all-encompassing. It warns the Prince the price of compassion, of mercies, and of weaknesses. Eliminate her, or I will. 

Rarely does Zuko ever move. He’d plead in your name, to spare your life. It never happens; he just wakes to the smell of smoke and the sound of your screaming.

( There are dreams he doesn’t speak at all to defend you. The shame devours him whole. )

“I’ve killed you over a hundred times, in my sleep.”

In the aftermath of another nightmare, you turn to face Zuko. You’re not quite sure what to say. 

“Other nights, it’s the 41st, or Uncle,” he says, quietly. “Even mom, or Azula.”

You turn back to the small medical chest on the desk. The infirmary is quieter at times like these; the soldiers of the 41st know not to visit the usual haunts of their Prince. Tonight, Zuko will have to replace the bandages of his scar, and there are only two people on this ship he’d ever trust in his life to lay a hand on it.

You’re shifting towards where he’s sitting on one of the cots. “May I?”

( You ask. You always ask. Even when you’ve done this nearly fifty times, you ask. Zuko is glad; there’s a comfort in agency, especially when he’s gotten so used to losing it every time he sleeps.  )

He nods, and you make quick work to unravel the bandages. When the layers come away, you observe the way his left eye shuts and opens as he blinks, remaining half-closed into a permanent expression of pain. He looks away, downcast. 

The skin around is stretched taut, some areas rawer than others, marred with growing scar tissue that knots in twisting valleys. ( Zuko has only seen the scar once. He’s covered the mirrors in his room ever since; avoids glancing at his own passing reflections. )

The wound is still fresh; the memories fresher.

You don’t flinch at the sight or recoil like the other soldiers or dignitaries. 

He finds… solace in that.

( Something roils in his mind. It uncurls and hisses and growls. )

“Tilt your head for me,” you say, ready to replace the cotton on his eye with a new one. 

He stops your wrist just as you do. 

Your heart jumps at the contact. His hands are warm.

“Why?” he blurts.

You blink in confusion.

“Why’d you come with me?”

The reply is instant, and unintentionally drowned in affection. “Where else would I have belonged?”

Zuko almost answers instinctively: With me. By my side. He shakes his head.

“You should have never come,” he says, instead. He’d grown fond of you over the years. Too fond; over some Firenation colonel’s daughter, a force to be reckoned with and yet a childhood friend who he’d played and studied and fought with countless times. Fond enough that he’d been foolish to let you step foot into the ship of the 41st Division the day he’d been banished; fond enough to be foolish enough to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. “You could’ve had a better future back home.”

“But a miserable one,” you counter. 

His nostrils flare as he sighs. You watch the way his brows weave to a frown, the way they always did whenever he’s tamping down his frustration. "Nothing is more miserable than being banished from home. Yet here you are walking away from it.”

“You and I both know the palace was never a home for me,” you say. “I’ve been by your side my entire life. I’m not about to break that streak over some punishment. You matter to me.”

Zuko’s heart stifles. 

( Compassion, he hears the wings of the blood-red dragon in his dreams unfurl. Compassion is a sign of weakness. )

“It was a stupid move,” he blurts, letting go of you. He had wanted it to be emotionless, but it comes out as distinctively bitter: “Sooner or later you’ll come to regret your decision. Then, you’ll see I was right all along.”

“Maybe,” you say, just to appease him. “But I doubt it.”

( Lies, jeers the serpent. You have only yourself to rely on in this world, Zuko. )

For the sake of conversation, you don’t provoke him further. You continue, instead, with replacing the dressings around his eye. He’s angry enough as is with the world— with you. For being stubborn. And strong. And steadfast. And loyal. And—

Zuko glances at your face in focus, your hands so careful in binding the gauze it’s nearly featherlight. “Tell me if it hurts,” you say, with gentle authority. 

The ire leaves his body. Zuko’s gaze softens at a realisation:

“Not once have you ever hurt me. Not even in my dreams.”

It’s a statement so frighteningly vulnerable that it has you stilling. Your breath staggers. Something swells in your chest. You let your hand rest on his cheek, thumb below his scar. The touch is reassuring. Zuko wants to lean into it.

“I don’t think I ever could,” you answer, honestly. 

( She can, sings the beast. She will. And once she does, know that it will burn tenfold than what I've done. )

Zuko's hand settles on top of yours. 

“You can hurt me,” he concedes, solemn, voice barely above a whisper. “You can if you must. I command it.”

( The dragon in his head hisses. For now, it retreats. )

[shellsweet]

I did it! I made a comic! A comic about my OC (Alice) and her trauma ✨️!

[tildeathiwillwrite]

This sad little fictional man just has so. Much. Trauma.

Let's give him more, shall we? >:3

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Emperor x GN Empress! Reader

CW: General Yandere warnings. Another warning on the second cut.

"𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒓."

Yan! Emperor who schemed against the Empress to have her resigned from her position or even better, executed. He wouldn't want this wench to take the position of his love after all.

Yan! Emperor who secured your position as the next Empress. Hm? It didn't matter what your gender was. Whether you were a woman or a man or neither, for as long as you kept up with the facade, no one would ever notice it.

Yan! Emperor who secured a place for you in the palace, he would never allow anyone to drive you out of it even if it was the Empress or his puppeteers.

Yan! Emperor whose love was only reserved for you and you. The image of you on his bed embracing his tired body would always live in his head rent-free.

Yan! Emperor who felt the need to protect you despite your capabilities of protecting yourself. The two of you may be strong but he knew well the two of you were the exact contrasity of each other. He was the Sin while you were the Virtue itself.

Yan! Emperor who would not hesitate to drag the people who insulted or even caused the slightest inconvenience toward you by their broken and twisted limbs.

Yan! Emperor who secretly worshipped you as though you were his God all along. He couldn't care less about the God his puppeteer worshipped.

Yan! Emperor who knew you hated how both of your lives were controlled like a puppet. But even so, he knew you hated how he had to use force to break free from the strings they used to tug on the two of you.

Yan! Emperor who devised a plan to break free of himself first before saving you. Killing every one of the higher-ups who were using him as a puppet figuratively and literally.

"Then do pray forgive but my dear, what would be left of me, of us, if I didn't kill them all?"

Yan! Emperor who knew you had always been trying to break free from their grasp in a virtuous way, you had always been so naive... no matter how red your armories were painted, that little head of yours had always been so naive.

Yan! Emperor who started to cut the strings that were controlling you one by one so that it wasn't that noticeable that he was involved in this. He knew you'd be devastated if you knew they were all killed just to free you.

Yan! Emperor who started to frame the Empress, forging pieces of evidence and crimes that were all pointed to her neck. It took a lot of time and preparation but he was a patient man. A price to pay to have you sitting next to him on the throne.

Yan! Emperor who stole your journal that detailed all the wrongdoings of everyone in the imperial palace. This way, you wouldn't question the credibility of the accusations thrown at them. Ah, where did you put your diary again?

Yan! Emperor who couldn't wait to fit all the missing puzzles into place, executing all his plans into motion while watching everyone fall from their haven. When the Empress had finally lost all her backing and support, he decided to strike her down with a final hit.

Yan! Emperor who made you watch everything unravel from the front row, how rain fell as the Empress cursed him and you while the guards held her in place.

"YOU WILL SUFFER THE SAME FATE AS I DO, UWAAAAAAAAAAHHH"

Yan! Emperor who watched how your grip on the umbrella tightened, tears wetting your cheek along with the raindrops.

"It's finally over, my dearest."

Yan! Emperor who held no remorse for the deceased as he viewed them as nothing but hindrances to the both of you.

"One must never stop oppressing for just a mere slight of a second would give them a chance to bite back."

Yan! Emperor who immediately discharged you from your position as the Grand General and made you his Empress shortly after the mourning phase had passed. The mourning phase was nothing but a joke to him as his body collided with yours, spending his nights with you.

Yan! Emperor who courted you with a show of him displaying his archery skills, piercing all pearls that were thrown at him down. It somehow reminded him how he annihilated everyone that came in his and your way.

Yan! Emperor who was really mad in love with you, someone who suffered the same fate as he did and yet remained true to self, pristine virtue and beaming in radiance. You were the light of his life despite how your white garment slowly reddened into prosperous red adorning your body. You were the Empress and you had to behave like one, strong-willed and swiftly adapt to all the scheming people in the Imperial Palace.

Yan! Emperor who was your first backing and support, right?

Yan! Emperor who loved you and only you. Forever. For eternity.

CW: Yan! Emperor against Reader (because he wanted Reader to be his lover), Reader's death. Angst no comfort (comfort came in the next lives lmfao), Yan! Emperor avenged your death though (mass slaughter of nation)...

Yan! Emperor who was not pleased with how strong-willed you were as an Empress. As much as he respected you as a former Grand General and an Empress, he did not wish for you to not express any kind of romance sparks anymore.

Yan! Emperor who hated how virtuous you were to the point it slowed down the supposed plan. From then on, the Imperial Palace was divided into two sides, your side and his side. Did he finally stop supporting you, you wondered.

Yan! Emperor who knew what you two had gone through and that you were only being considerate to those who were suffering as well. Nonetheless, he also knew what you suggested was also filled in loopholes.

Yan! Emperor who saw you took in someone under your wing, a girl who was brimming with innocence and curiosity, a reminder to him of how you used to be before you were slowly corrupted.

"It seems like they took her in because it reminded them of themselves as well."

Yan! Emperor who watched how you cared for the girl and protected her from anything that would trouble her. As much as he knew how platonic it was, it was undeniable that he was jealous of the attention that girl received.

Yan! Emperor who noticed how things started to crumble down between you and that girl sooner than you did. He noticed how her eyes were now purely brimming in Envy, green matching her eye colors.

Yan! Emperor who knew she wanted what you had. Honor, strength, intelligence, willpower, and spouse. He knew it and he used that against you.

"If only they are no longer the Empress..." He whispered into the girl's ear, "You would be the next Empress..."

Yan! Emperor who despised the idea of people thinking he really loved his current concubine, she was nothing but a pawn to him. Holding her hand alone made him frown in disgust. He wanted to hold you again and not some make-believe of you.

Yan! Emperor who watched everything by the sideline, how that girl started to consume everything you had, honor, support, intelligence but never his heart.

Yan! Emperor who witnessed everything going well just like his plans until it didn't. His heart was sunken.

"One must never stop oppressing for just a mere slight of a second would give them a chance to bite back."

Yan! Emperor who was only away for a month was informed about your death. The overthrow did not go as he expected. It was supposed to only have you exiled but not killed!

Yan! Emperor who went furious immediately, leaving the province he was in to ensure everything was false news. His horse galloped as though it was burnt alive by him, he did not stop despite the hunger and cold he had to face. YOU were his priority.

Yan! Emperor who saw the whole imperial palace was adorned in red instead of white. So it was only false news, right?

"Hao Yuchen, the traitor had finally been overthrown."

Yan! Emperor whose body failed to stand, his mind racing in horror of what he had done. Instead of surrendering to her mercy, you remained persistent as you had always been, charging toward her men instead of her despite your wounded body. The ending was clear, you died due to your wounds and lack of blood.

Yan! Emperor whose golden eyes finally lost its reflection of light, what swirled in it was only grudge and guilt.

Yan! Emperor who wished he could somehow just strangle the girl and himself to death now. That way, he might be able to meet you in Heaven right?

Yan! Emperor who knew he was bound to be sent to hell. He had committed sins in his whole life and was ready to repent for it to meet you in Heaven up there.

"But what if I ascended as a God instead?"

Yan! Emperor who had no choice but to make her the next Empress, rumors circulating around the Imperial Palace as two Empress had been overthrown. Will this girl be overthrown as well?

Yan! Emperor who wondered to himself, would you be angry if he drove this girl who you protected in your last stand to death? If so, he was ready to feel your fury, in fact, he wished he could feel anything from you.

Yan! Emperor who despised the girl that copied everything you did, he loathed the red that was once adorned your body worn by her now.

Yan! Emperor who was a patient man. A price to pay to have her body floating lifeless on a river. Yes, she would be disposed of the moment he deemed her useless to the nation.

Yan! Emperor who tricked her into drinking the poison instead of the elixir of immortality, letting her body fall into the river as her eyes never left the moon.

"... The moon looks beautiful just like them..."

Yan! Emperor who had always been jealous of the girl. He knew she adored you and yet her way of viewing things was distorted into something disturbing.

But who was he to speak like that when he himself was also at fault?

Yan! Emperor who sat by the porch, gazing into the moon while reminiscing the memories he shared with you before drinking the elixir of immortality.

Yan! Emperor who knew there were only 2 people left in the Imperial Palace, him and a nameless young man.

Yan! Emperor who let the young general cut him open with his sword, feeling a little of the pain of what you felt back then. The general pulled out a bottle of concoction from his sleeve,

"This is the real elixir of immortality." He spat as he drank the elixir.

Yan! Emperor who did not shut his eyes close, his eyes never left the moon above him. Were you residing on the moon as a rabbit? Or were you flying freely like a crane?

In the Imperial Palace, the Emperor lay lifeless on the porch, his golden eyes were dead but they never left the moon above him.

"I will... forever... hold you dearly... in my heart..."

To find you again, to see you again, to hold you again.

Even if it took millenniums... even if it meant I had to destroy your life again...

In the river, the girl's body floated lifeless as her eyes never left the moon.

In the forest, the boy's body lay lifeless as butterflies and flowers surrounded him, his eyes never left the moon.

ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ:

The second cut wasn't really necessary to be read but here's a summary. (The fic up there was packed into summary as well but it left lots of confusion and details out so it sounds OFF)

Hao Yuchen - Emperor

Ying Zili - Girl

Ying Qingyuan - Nameless Young Man

Reader's whereabouts remained unknown. (Nb: reader will appear as a crane next time.)

After the reader's death, the Emperor starts to plan the Empress' downfall, tricking her into making the wrong moves and framing her. The Empress was depicted as committing suicide out of the pressure of mistakes she had committed while the truth is that she was tricked into drinking the poison she thought as an elixir of immortality.

The Nameless Young Man was suspected to be either Reader or Empress' underling.

The whole nation was slaughtered by the Emperor which indirectly made him ascend as a God instead.

Empress and Nameless Young Man also ascended as Gods as well. Ps: in the original lore, the Emperor's ego was hurt so he tried to strike down the Empress and turned them into his lover.

Bonus ; Crack

[jazzstarrlight]

Lexi & Anya- A Trigger (1&2/?)

This has been sitting in my head for weeks now. Kinda like how I do these partial sketch/digital pieces. So many ideas, so little time in the day to draw them.

Also, the return of my OC Jnx as Lexi's teacher. Professor Jnx!

[sketchygabz]

“For without you, my Master…my existence…my existence means nothing.”

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Fool's Errand Pt 1

Part (1) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Warnings: Back to some good, ol' whump here. Minor ptsd, blood, broken nose, needles, profanity

WC: 3,183

“Damn it, get down!!”

“I am! Any lower and I'll need a kriffing shovel!” I snapped back, tempted to mute him just to hear myself think.

“I’ve got eyes on her, Cross; just focus on finding us a way in!” Even Echo's voice held the faintest rush of unease.

We'd known this wouldn't be easy. They'd caught someone – some big-name politician I hadn't made much effort to remember, but the Republic deemed them important enough to send us behind enemy lines to get them back.

The Marauder lay hidden nearly a dozen klicks away, nestled amidst brambles and fallen logs until even I struggled to notice it. We’d stolen a pair of Separatist transports to approach the black ops site without raising much suspicion and split up to search the compound faster. Tech and Wrecker infiltrated the northern side, Echo and I came in from the south, and Hunter was on his own along the crumbling remains of the eastern wall with Crosshair posted in the nearby tree line. He’d violently opposed my going in, but we had no means of knowing what kind of state our target would be in when we found them.

The politician was the least of my concerns, though. I’d been on edge since entering those transports. The ping of the metal walkways against our boots, the hum of the engine, even the color of the walls… it was just too similar. But were weren't on Agamar, and I hated how softly the others were stepping around me. I hated even more the undeniable knowledge that I needed them to.

That tension hadn’t lessened as we reached the Separatist black site. It looked abandoned; scarce buildings in such a perfect state of intentional disarray as to almost promise nothing but ancient debris and decades of dust lay within, but Tech's scans confirmed massive power fluctuations underground. It wasn't a huge compound, but it didn't need to be. Barely a half dozen structures remained standing, skeletal framework partially hidden by an overgrowth we now used to our own advantage as we crawled through the dense brush, thorns somehow numerous enough and sharp enough to occasionally find purchase in the slim crescents of skin left unprotected between sections of armor.

Echo and I had just finished sweeping through the second building in search of an entrance to the lower level when the site’s defenses suddenly roared to life. Numerous turrets burst from the soil that, mere seconds prior has shown no trace of anything beyond untouched wilds, and we’d just managed to hide behind a partially caved-in room before being noticed.

I could hear dozens of gears whirring to life just beyond our dilapidated shelter, the harsh crunch of leaves and branches breaking beneath heavy, metallic feet. Droids were flooding the site. We were pinned down by the turrets. And Hunter wasn’t answering his com.

“Can we make it to the next structure?” Echo asked, voice forced into a whisper.

“Not yet.” There was a long moment of silence, and I could feel myself tensing more with each passing second, legs coiled beneath me. “Now!” We were moving before the hushed order fell silent, both crouched so low that we were practically crawling, one hand occasionally darting to the ground in a gate more natural to some forest dwelling beast, but our awkward appearance didn't matter. The half dozen droids mere meters to our right posed little threat in and of themselves, but revealing our presence now might cause untold numbers to swarm. If they had Hunter, our only hope to free him was to keep ourselves hidden.

My legs burned from the effort of keeping up with Echo. He moved as though he’d been born for such things, body stalking preternaturally through tall grass and biting bramble effortlessly, but I still found myself watching him, worried I'd note some hint of a falter in his stride, but whatever strain the motion surely wrought upon his residual limbs was a torture to which he was far too accustomed to show amidst the threat lingering over us.

“Down!” We dropped harshly to the ground, and my every instinct balked at the helpless position. Mere seconds passed before the almost musical chorus of shifting counterweights and metallic limbs raced through the foliage just feet ahead of us. Droidekas. The nervous tension dancing beneath my skin turned to dread in an instant, ice bursting through my chest in a rush of panic. I didn't want to notice the way Echo glanced back toward me, the depth of concern that tiny movement conveyed. The droid presence was no longer a simple annoyance. We were in danger.

Was Crosshair switching between com channels to warn Tech and Wrecker lest their chatter create a lethal distraction? Were they balancing the risk of striking first versus continuing what felt like a doomed plight to remain unnoticed? My lungs ached from the effort of controlling each breath, body eager to fall into the too tempting frenzy of fear.

Echo’s hand flared out, signaling me to move around his left flank before readying his pistol, attention trained toward the sound of machinery falling into formation. I knew at least fifteen meters still lay between us and the next building; knew that he was purposefully placing himself between me and the enemy units; that, even among this squad of elites, Echo was the most capable soldier I could hope to have guarding my back, but, still, I had to grind my teeth against useless objections, abhorred at the very thought of letting him act either as distraction or delay if we were seen.

That fear surged anew at every shuffle of leaves and snap of twigs as I crawled forward, stealing one final glance just as I passed him. He couldn’t see the plea in my eyes, the order begging to scream from lips carefully trapped between ground teeth that he not put himself in danger, but he didn’t have to. With the smallest movement, he looked toward me in kind and offered the faintest nod, and that tiny gesture was enough to push me on.

He waited until several feet separated us before he started after me, and something about that, about knowing he was following just behind me granted me a confidence I had no right feeling, determination numbing me to the burn in my arms as I hauled myself through an undergrowth that showed no sign of the wear it ought to have from the abuse of concealing a Separatist base.

When the ridge of a tattered roof finally jutted above the line of greenery, I couldn’t restrain the deep sigh of relief, but I had to remind myself that any façade of safety feigned by the crumbling walls granted only a fool’s comfort and forced myself to pause just shy of the entrance. Echo didn’t stop until he was nearly flush against my side, and we both waited with bated breath.

“Tech and Wrecker found an entrance. If you don’t find one in there, stay hidden until they report back.” Crosshair’s voice fell into a carefully detached hum. I wanted to respond, to offer some reassurance, but we couldn’t risk even that, so I merely watched in silence as Echo took point once more, waiting for his signal before following him into the derelict structure.

Once, it stood a couple stories high, brick walls more akin to a school than a prison, but there was no sign of such possibilities within any longer. Nature had reclaimed the half-dozen rooms and interconnecting hallways long ago. Ferns draped through shattered windows, and mounds of dirt collected in the corners reached halfway to the ceilings. There was no broken furniture nor remnants of belongings hidden amidst the rubble, and I found myself wondering if it had ever been anything more than this. Had the Separatists built it solely to be abandoned; its fate preordained to ruin from the start purely to act as camouflage for what horrors lay below? I wanted to hate them for it but knew it was fueled by naivety; knew that far more had been wasted for less in this war on both sides and that even more would be lost before there would be any hope of armistice.

Only after Echo stood did I move to regain my footing as well, body still hunched forward in that instinctive drive to hide as we searched each room in turn. When he paused in what must have been the central chamber, attention trained in the corner just to the right of the doorway, I stepped back toward the hall, carefully watching for any signs of encroaching danger, my own pistols at the ready.

“We’re heading in.” Echo stated seconds before the hiss of an airlock screamed through the tense silence.

“Copy.” Crosshair replied shortly. He hated this. I knew he hated this: being forced to wait behind as we tread beyond his sight, beyond his reach should something go wrong, and my heart ached knowing there was no comfort I could offer as I turned to follow his brother down the narrow porthole into what was surely a maze of identical passages designed to be inescapable.

No veneer of color was granted to bare metal walls and exposed purlins overhead, and what few lights flickered within granted only fleeting glimpses of the lifeless passageways. This place was not created for comfort. Every detail was made through cruel intent to rob those trapped here of even the thought of warmth, and I couldn’t force the memory of that filth-stained cell from my mind; the scent of stale moisture and blood and rot.

My stride must have faltered; my pace slowed or breath hitched. Something drew Echo’s attention back to me, and shame sank into my gut like something rancid and squirming, and I couldn’t find the strength to push it back in time to dismiss it entirely.

“You alright?” He whispered it, body leaning carefully over mine as though he could hide me from the nightmare surrounding us, and I hated the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to answer him directly.

“Let’s just get Hunter and the damn politician, and get out of here.” I nearly growled. He hesitated a moment longer, and I wanted to yell; to shout that there wasn’t time for this, to berate myself for causing even this short delay, shoulders pulling back with a determination fueled by the rage I felt toward myself for my weakness. He drew a slow breath before wrenching his focus back toward the long hallway, and a shaky sigh of relief escaped me.

I wouldn’t have noticed the port had Echo not stopped suddenly beside it, needing only to shoot a quick look for me to take watch as he plugged himself in. There was no cover here, nowhere we could hide if a patrol came upon us, and each second we lingered stoked the anxious certainty that we were moments from being found, but I didn’t waver, attention shifting between the direction we’d come from and the path ahead.

“Tech, Wrecker; looks like the target’s in the far west corner. Are you guys near there?”

“We are.” Tech responded quickly. “Have you located Hunter?”

“No, but we’ll head east and see what we can find.” My heart dropped at Echo’s response, and I fought to convince myself that that didn’t mean they didn’t have him; that didn’t mean he was…

Echo disconnected from the port, and I forced myself back to attention. He didn’t say anything more before continuing forward at a quick trot, weapon held loosely before him. Our footsteps boomed around us, mocking our every attempt at quiet. We slowed at every intersection, carefully searching down each hall before crossing. It was a perfect grid, an even number of paces separating each corner for what felt like eternity.

I heard it first. It was wet. An occasional crunch of metal against meat. I knew that sound. I knew the heat of abused flesh swelling beneath the assault; knew they would kill him long before he talked.

My hand was reaching for him before consciously acknowledging the movement; a quick tap on Echo’s shoulder singling him to stop. He needed only to pause before he heard it, too, and I watched his body tense as he reached the same conclusion I had, breath quickening beneath a flare of rage and dread. Without a word, we took off toward the wretched sound. There was a rhythm to it. Two strikes and a pause. Two strikes. Pause. I couldn’t hear what they asked in those fleeting seconds between, but my mind wouldn’t let it remain quiet long enough to wonder.

Who ordered the hit?

I swallowed back the bile that tasted too akin to rancid water.

We barely slowed at crossings now, nearly sprinting through the underground base.

Who placed the bombs?

Two strikes. I could hear him cough in the brief silence that followed, heard the splatter of liquid against metal and knew it was blood.

Echo looked over his shoulder to catch my gaze, to make sure I was ready, before tearing through the door. An alarm blared. The lights flashed a deep red that paled beneath the blue of our blaster fire filling the small cell. His armor was gone, blacks torn where they’d snagged on metal fists. I didn’t count them, nor did I need my overlay’s targeting system as Echo and I stormed the room, both strafing the enemy units in a frenzied rush.

I vaguely noticed the lethal elegance of the man beside me as he dove between a pair of B2s, rolling to his feet behind them, pistol already raised and firing before he’d come to a stop. I ducked to the side just as another droid raised its arm, the wall behind me hissing as metal melted beneath the powerful, crimson shots. It didn’t get the chance to fire again, and I watched with eager satisfaction as the towering machine fell heavily to the floor.

It took mere seconds. I didn’t have time to find a new target before Echo felled the few remaining enemies, sparing only a fleeting thought toward a figure among the metal corpses that was far too soft to belong among the droids, nor did I pause to wonder if it had been my shot or Echo’s that claimed their life. Whoever they were, I was too happy to leave them to rot among the destruction they sowed, attention training instead on Hunter.

Already, Echo was working to sever the bounds securing his wrists to the metal slab behind him, and I rushed forward to catch him as his first arm fell free, wincing at the stifled groan my touch drew from him.

“T… took yuh… long ‘nough.” He slurred, jaw barely moving around the strained words.

“Not our fault you let yourself get caught at a kriffing black site.” Echo retorted, already working on his other wrist.

“S… st’nned m…” His reply broke into an agonizing flurry of coughs, thick drops of crimson smearing across my chest plate.

“Alright, enough – you can make all the excuses you want after I patch you up,” I interrupted, a gentle warning in my hushed voice, “For now, just try to slow your breathing and stay awake, alright?” His head shifted toward me in silent consent, and my worry spiked. He was barely recognizable from the sickeningly wrong angle of his nose, and already his eyes were nearly swollen shut. His ribs were far worse off, however. I could see the heavy bruising through tears in his shirt, could hear the rattle in his every hitched, shallow breath.

“I presume the alarm indicates that you’ve found Hunter?” Tech asked just as the other shackle clicked open. Hunter fell against me with a choked grunt, and I tried not to imagine the pain shooting through his torso.

“Easy; just sit back.” I murmured softly, carefully guiding him to the ground.

“Yeah. He’s hurt, but Doc’s with him.” Echo responded, already treading back toward the door to watch for incoming troops. He paused briefly at the figure lying amongst the droids, but I didn’t see what he did, attention devoted to helping the wheezing man before me.

“Hunter, I want you to focus on me for a bit, okay?” My voice left in a whisper void of the urgency with which I dug through my bag. He hummed some manner of a reply, but I couldn’t make out anything akin to actual speech.

“We located the prisoner, but… it seems we were only given a portion of the information regarding this mission.” I had to stifle a surge of frustration that I could hear mirrored in Tech’s clipped statement as my scanner buzzed to life.

“Great.” Echo groaned.

“We’ll rendezvous at the Marauder and discuss how to proceed. Crosshair, is-” He was interrupted by a violent shockwave tearing through the base.

“That… wasn’t me.” Wrecker said hesitantly after a moment of tense silence.

“All clear.” I nearly scoffed at the haughty pride in Crosshair’s voice before returning my attention to the scan results, stomach twisting as I read over his injuries.

“Looks like you’re gonna live, Sarg.” I managed to tease softly despite my own dread, earning a groan heavy with mock disappointment. “You’re going to be pissing blood for a week, though.” He let out an even less thrilled grunt that drew a quiet chuckle from me. “How about I get some pain killers in you, and you let me help you back to the ship?” His eyelids shifted but weren’t able to fully open. Still, he offered no objection when I laid an autoinjector against his neck, and my worry grew at how quickly his body went limp.

“How is he?” Echo asked, voice tense as he walked back toward us. My gaze caught on a sack thrown over his shoulder. “His armor.” He explained, much to my relief. They hadn’t had him long, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that they wouldn’t have had time to dispose of it, but it was still a stroke of luck that he was able to find it so easily.

“He’ll be alright… but we should hurry.” Even through our opaque visors, I knew he felt the intensity with which I held his gaze, that he understood the truth behind my carefully even reply. He gave a small nod and dropped to a knee at Hunter’s other side.

“Hey, brother, think you can hold on to me?” My lips pulled into a small smile at the gentleness of Echo’s deep voice, the care in his movements as he eased Hunter’s arm over his shoulders. I threw my bag back on and followed suit with his other arm.

“Mmm… m’alri’.” His dismissal faded into a barely audible mumble as we pulled him upright, head slumping toward his chest.

“Those drugs won’t last long.” I warned quietly. Again, Echo responded with a short nod, and, together, we began the lock trek back toward an exit I doubted I’d ever find without him.

Next Chapter

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[druidshollow]

Rivers is reminded of his past when Canopy tries to help him hide the scars from Dune's attack.

ive been in kinda a bummer mood lately so have a bummer comic lol. been there rivers i get it

[thescarletnargacuga]

SHADOW PUPPET

PART 4 OF THE UNSEEN SERIES: A HARLEQUIN AU FANFICTION

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

Shadowblade is my OC and NOT CANON

Featuring MOTSI, OC by @paper-fowl

WARNING: swearing, nightmare imagery, PTSD

~~~

"OW! Are you sure you know what you're doing!?" Jax loudly complained as Pomni mended a crack in his arm.

"I'm not Caine, shithead. You're lucky I'm even attempting this. Now shut up, so I can concentrate." Pomni focused her energy into the mending tool, slowly soldering Jax's wound closed. It was messy, but at least his inner workings were no longer exposed.

They sat with Shadowblade in the middle of the ruined warehouse where their epic battle with the silver beast ended. The beast's body laid headless, purple fluid congealing around it. Jax was badly wounded from using a powerful energy attack that finished the beast off. He could still fight if he had to, but energy was out of the question until he had more rest. Pomni wasn't too bad off, the only serious thing was some shrapnel in her left leg. Shadowblade needed serious repair, the giant dragonesque puppet had gone into shutdown and was unresponsive.

The sky was still dark. It was hours before dawn. Pomni had her mask to help her see in the dark while she attempted minor repairs. Jax bared the pain of the unprofessional work by occupying himself with conversation.

"Hey, is your pet going to live?" Jax nodded to Shadowblade.

"They better, or getting back home will be a bitch. I don't want to deal with you more than I have to." Pomni commented sarcastically to distract herself from her worry over Shadowblade.

"Ditto." Jax deadpanned. "You gonna call your boyfriend for help? They're pretty messed up." He looked over Shadowblade's torn torso and wings. If he hadn't arrived when he did, they would likely be dead.

"He's not my boyfriend." Pomni grumbled. "But, yes, I'll have to call him. Shadowblade's damage is too severe for me to even attempt to fix. We're going to be here for a bit. Even with his blink, I don't think he could get here faster than we did, and it still took us a whole day."

Jax rolled his eyes. "I told you we'd end up stuck here. Why don't you-.... Uh....why don't..." Jax collapsed.

"Jax??" Pomni put down the tool and double checked what she did, seeing if she damaged him in a way that would make him fall over. "Jax! Wake up! That's not funny! We need to-!!!!" Pomni felt it. An overpowering aura that made the air feel dense. She could sense the direction it was coming from but couldn't see anything yet. She instinctually reached for her sword, but her hand shook too much to unsheathe it. She couldn't stand, her body refused to move from its kneeling position on the floor.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Rhythmic tapping of a heavy metal cane echoed from the far end of the warehouse. Pomni's eyes went wide with panic. Not him. Not now. Please, if there is a god...

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

A towering, suited humanoid figure emerged from the darkness, within range of Pomni's night vision. The seven foot, bullhorn-head puppet walked slowly but with purpose. He was going straight for the silver beast.

Pomni hyperventilated. The Patriarch was going to kill her. She was defenseless and miles from Caine. She internally cursed herself for not even being able to draw her sword. She watched the imposing figure hold the end of his cane to the silver beast's chest. Firey red energy blazed down the cane and made the end white hot, burning through the beast's armor.

The Patriarch cut a hole over the beast's core with one circling movement of his cane, then held his hand out as though expecting something to be dropped into it. The purple crystal within the beast's chest cracked and shifted out of place before the very core of it shot out and landed in the Patriarch's palm. He closed his fist and pocketed the crystal before slowly turning his head to Pomni.

Pomni gasped, her heart going wild with fear. Everything inside of her screamed to run, but she fought it to stay with Jax and Shadowblade. Even under distress, she would not abandon them.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

The Patriarch approached calmly, completely unbothered by anything around him. Then, in a burst of fast forwarded motion, he was directly in front of Pomni, staring down at her.

Pomni would have screamed if she could breathe. Instead, she scrambled backwards; managing to find the strength to back away, at least until she was against Shadowblade. She stared into the Patriarch's single bright red eye, knowing it would be the last thing she would see before the void.

"You have something I want." He held out his hand. His voice clear and derisive, but with a threatening undertone.

Pomni put her arms out against Shadowblade, covering their exposed core like she could stop him from harvesting it too.

Instead, an object in Pomni's vest jumped, drawn in by the Patriarch's telekinesis. She tried to hold it down, but the journal from the basement safe flew away from her and into the Patriarch's waiting hand.

"Thank you." The Patriarch gripped the journal and turned to leave.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Pomni's mind raced as she stared into the back of the Patriarch for as long as she could see him, half expecting him to turn around and put his cane through her heart. The air still felt oppressive even after he was long out of sight. She felt like she was holding her breath for eternity when it finally stopped. She gasped and held herself as she trembled against Shadowblade.

Jax groaned. "Fuuuuck, my head...what happened? What did you do to me?" He sat up, rubbing his head. His chest felt weird as well, like his soul had been disconnected from his body before coming back suddenly. He saw Pomni curled up against Shadowblade with a thousand yard stare. "Hello, I asked you a question."

Pomni didn't respond.

Jax got himself to his feet and dragged his tired frame over to her. "Pomni?"

No response.

Jax has never seen her like this. Something spooked the Harlequin into silence and it was freaking him out. They couldn't wait any longer for reinforcements. He extended his arm to reach into the saddle bag. He rummaged around until he found a communicator. They were outside of radio range, but the distress beacons were detected by the W.A.C.K.Y watch no matter where they were. He activated the beacon and sat next to Pomni. For once, he was fine with the silence. He didn't know what to say anyway.

~

Caine was roused from sleep by a pinging noise from his watch. "Huh..?" His vision swam as he struggled to focus on the noise. "Wha-.. woah!" He rolled off the bed, nearly hitting his head on the nightstand on the way down. He groaned and searched his pocket. His watch continued to ping loudly and a distress marker was lit up in the City of Gears. He got to his feet and hastily grabbed his things. He was about to start blinking when Gangle and Ragatha came in.

"Caine! What are you doing out of bed??" Ragatha fussed.

"Pomni's activated her distress beacon. I need to go." He tried to blink outside but his heart lurched from the overexertion, causing him pain. He grunted, clutching his chest.

"Absolutely not! You're in no state to travel." Ragatha put her foot down, trying to guide Caine back to bed.

"Unhand me!" Caine pulled away, stumbling into the bed post. "Pomni's in trouble!"

"Then we'll send others!" Ragatha argued, scared for his well-being.

"No...no... You won't get there fast enough. None of you can...oh god." Fear gripped Caine soul. He barely felt strong enough to stand, let alone blink all the way to the City of Gears. He cursed himself for holding on to the void for too long. Now Pomni needed him and he couldn't get to her.

"I'll take you." Gangle said quietly when there was a silent pause between Caine and Ragatha.

The two looked at Gangle, surprised. Caine steadied himself. "Have you learned to blink?"

"No...but I am more comfortable with my soul magic and I....can fly."

"Since when??" Ragatha gaped.

"Not long. I figured out I could do it when one of Kinger's stick bugs wouldn't come down out of a tree. Next thing I knew I was floating." She giggled lightly. "Caine, If you need to get to the City of Gears, I will take you as fast as I can."

Caine put a grateful hand on Gangle's shoulder. "Thank you. We need to leave immediately. Grab anything you may need."

Gangle swept out of the room and Caine double checked his pockets for tools. Ragatha sighed. "It's going to be dangerous. You're so low on energy, you're stumbling around like you've been drinking all night. Let me go with Gangle. Let us handle whatever's got Pomni down."

"With all due respect, if Pomni has activated her distress beacon, you wouldn't be able to handle what made her do it. She and Jax, and possibly Shadowblade, could all be downed. They'll need an expert healer. I can rest on the flight there. By the end I should have enough energy to at least help them, even fight if I must. Try not to worry." Caine adjusted his coat on his shoulders, as ready to go as he could be.

"Impossible, I'm afraid. Everyone here has come to mean a lot to me. Including you. Please, don't push your soul too hard. It can only take so much. I'm sorry if I'm being overbearing, I just...."

"You're a wonderful friend, Ragatha. The world needs more people like you. I'll be careful." Caine reassured.

Ragatha nodded solemnly. "That's all I ask...oh, before I forget, I found some information on the crystal that I think you'll want to know." She took the fragments out of her pocket. "This is piezoelectric quartz. It's used as a power source for marionettes. It comes in a variety of colors, but they all generally come from the same place. The City of Power."

Caine remembered what the Master said about the existence of a D.I.E in Shadowblade. "Within...oh my god."

"What?" Ragatha asked.

"That's how he did it. The rat bastard fused a D.I.E with a large marionette's power source and then used a charm to maintain control. The process required to do such a thing.... I'm sick just thinking of it." He gripped his cane hard.

"Who...?" Ragatha stood confused.

"I spoke with the foul soul responsible for Shadowblade. Why do you think I'm so tired?"

Ragatha took the reformed control charm with S.B's initials out of her pocket. "Here. I don't know if it'll be of anymore use, but you should have it."

Caine took it as Gangle rushed back into the room, wearing a small cross body bag. "I'm ready!"

"Let's go then." Caine turned on his heel, marching to the door. "Hold down the fort, Ragatha."

Gangle and Caine went outside, where the sky was showing only the slightest bit of light from dawns approach. Gangle nervously held her arms out. "I, um...have to carry you."

Caine jumped into her arms without question, eager to get going. Gangle securely wrapped her ribbons around Caine legs and torso, carrying him as though he were her bride. She was the only one even slightly embarrassed.

Gangle focused on the gentle breeze lazily wafting by. A silvery glow emanated from her heart, traveling down the ribbons she stood upon. The wind rushed around with force, becoming gale force in an instant. Gangle's ribbons caught the air and gained lift. Caine watched with fascination as they rose from the ground. Gangle leaned forward and she started flying quickly, due east.

"Well I'll be dipped. You're soul magic uses the wind! That's incredible!"

"Heh, thank you." Gangle smiled with a tiny blush.

"Now we just need to find someone who can influence water, and we can make our own weather." Caine joked.

~

Birds chirping in hazey morning light gently stirred Shadowblade. They were in a comfortable human bed, wrapped in warm blankets. The smell of food in the air.

Shadowblade sat up, feeling very light and strange, their body not moving in a way they were used to. Removing the blankets, they saw a fair skinned human hand. They gasp. Two hands. Dainty and young.

Slowly, they get out of bed, standing on two legs. They look down, lifting their long nightshirt to see two human feet. Ten toes. Cold against the hardwood floor. They take a step forward. Then another. They balanced as though they had been walking on two legs their whole life.

Shadowblade looked around the room. It was small; only a bed, small vanity and wardrobe. The sunlight pouring in from the window gave everything a warm glow. They go the vanity. A crystal clear mirror reflects their chest as their head stood just out of its sight.

Shadowblade's hand shook as they reached for the top of the mirror. They tilted it...to see a young woman wearing a bonnet staring back. Shadowblade touches the human face, staring wide eyed at the reflection. The face was that of a young adult woman. Bright hazel eyes. Light freckles dotted pale skin. They grasp the bonnet, pulling it off to reveal long dark red hair that spilled over their shoulders. The hair curled lightly, a bit frizzed in the morning humidity.

Shadowblade touches the hair. The thick locks slide between their human fingers. It was the softest texture they'd ever experienced.

"You awake in there?" An unfamiliar woman's voice called from beyond the bedroom door.

Shadowblade jumped, staring at the door like a startled cat. "Coming, mother!" They said involuntarily. They gasp and clap their hands over their mouth. Their voice was soft, melodious even, like Gangle's.

Their eyes went back to the mirror and they looked different. They wore a simple brown dress and their hair was tied back. They felt compelled to leave the room, so they went out to find "mother".

The house was tiny, a bit ramshackled, but cozy. Floors boards creaked with each step. They only had to turn a corner to see a woman standing at a stove, her back to Shadowblade.

She was humming to herself, stirring a small pot of porridge. Shadowblade approached tentatively, jumping again when the woman looked back at them.

"Good morning, dear! You slept late. Have a seat, breakfast is nearly finished." Mother said with a smile.

Shadowblade sat stiffly as they were served a meager meal of porridge and a slice of bread. They kept their eyes on Mother, not trusting to take their gaze away from a stranger.

"Wh...where...am...I?" Shadowblade said slowly, not knowing their own voice.

Mother sat next to Shadowblade at the table with her own food and gave a warm smile. "You're home, silly. I certainly wouldn't mistake this place for anywhere else."

"I don't... understand...how..?"

"Where else would you go when you are hurting? You've been in a lot of pain for a long time. I'm glad you finally made it back. I've missed you."

~

Jax eyed the shrapnel in Pomni's left leg. "...you gonna get that?"

Pomni still wasn't responding. She stared emotionless at the floor, lost in a daze.

Jax gripped a piece of metal sticking out of Pomni's leg and yanked it out.

"AH! SON OF A FUCK THAT HURT! WHAT THE HELL!?" Pomni gripped her leg, glaring at Jax.

"There you are." Jax tossed the shrapnel. "What happened to you? You got all weird."

"Nothing." Pomni said stiffly.

"Bullshit."

"I'm not obligated to tell you anything."

"You are if it puts me at risk. I pass out for no reason and then you start acting like scared child?"

Pomni picked at the remaining pieces of shrapnel in her leg, carefully removing them. "You wouldn't understand even if I told you."

"Try me." Jax said firmly.

Pomni locked eyes with Jax in an intense stare for a long moment. "...fine. Are you familiar with an entity referred to as The Patriarch?"

"No."

"I may be the last combat Harlequin, but I am not the only Harlequin. This self proclaimed Patriarch has been following me ever since I defeated Kingr. I've seen him everywhere... I don't know how he gets around so fast."

Jax paused, thinking. "...maybe he isn't real."

Pomni went ridged, looking about as mad as she could be. She pulled the collar holding her bell away from her neck, exposing an ugly scar. "He did this to me, just by LOOKING at me. He's real. I don't know what he wants... Some times he hurts me. Sometimes he doesn't. Nothing and no one can stop him."

"Caine hasn't fixed that?" Jax pointed at Pomni's neck.

"I never take off the bell... He doesn't know about it."

"Damn...what did The Patriarch do this time?"

"He took part of the core of that thing." Pomni pointed at the deceased silver beast. "And he stole the journal. I don't know what he would want with it, but I can't imagine anything good. I'm just glad he didn't take Shadowblade." Pomni looked over her damaged companion.

Silence fell between them once again. The only sound being the soft rhythmic hum of Shadowblade's core. Pomni took off her mask, morning light giving her enough to see.

~

Gangle zoomed across the sky as fast as she could. Making much better time than expected. Caine took the time to meditate, rejuvenating some of his energy on the flight. His watch pinging louder as they grew close to the City of Gears broke his trance.

"We're here already?" Caine checked his watch.

"I found a jetstream!" Gangle proudly announced. "Where are they?"

"Down there. The warehouse with the big hole in the roof."

Gangle gracefully descended through the roof, bringing the wind with her and kicking up dust. Pomni and Jax were on their feet, expecting a fight. Caine almost blinked to Pomni, but saved his energy. Gangle released him, feeling his anxious squirming.

Caine ran up to Pomni, checking her for injuries. "We came as fast as we could! What happened!?"

Pomni embraced him. "I've never been so happy to see you."

Caine stood stunned, looking to Jax and Shadowblade's body, but gradually hugged her back. "I'm glad you're safe."

Jax avoided looking at the hugging duo. He was more interested in why Gangle was so far away from the manor. "Well, look who decided to leave the manor walls for once. Enjoying your field trip?"

"Indeed, Sir Jax. The air is so fresh up high." Gangle was transfixed a moment, then looked away shyly. " Master Caine needed to get here quickly. So I helped."

"Descending from on high like an angel? That's one way to get my attention." Jax chuckled.

Gangle squeaked. "I didn't- I'm not- oh my..." She hid her face, emotive patterns on her mask changing wildly.

Caine wished Pomni wouldn't let go, this was the most contact he's had with her that didn't involve fighting in a long time. His very soul sang in her presence.

"Shadowblade isn't doing good." Pomni said quietly. "And...he showed up."

Caine's blood ran cold. "The Patriarch?"

Pomni let go of Caine and pointed to the silver beast. "He took the core of that thing that attacked us. I thought he was going to take Shadowblade's too, but he didn't. He just...left. Even thanked me. Condescending bastard."

Caine could see the broken core and blood of the beast. "...the traitorous son."

"Huh?"

"Later. Shadowblade." Caine started evaluating Shadowblade's condition. The torso and an entire wing were torn apart. Heavy damage to the neck as well. They lost a lot of fluid, the core was dim and cracked. "Void preserve me, this is going to take awhile." He puts a hand on Shadowblade's face, drowning at seeing no signs of life.

"You can fix them...right?" Pomni asked with worry in her voice.

"Enough to get them back to the City of Circuits, but even that's going to be hours. You'll want to get comfortable."

Gangle and Jax came close to hear Caine's take on the damage. Gangle gasped, staring right at the core of Shadowblade.

"Oh my goodness...I can see them."

"Yeah, they're kind of hard to miss." Jax snarked.

"No, I mean I can SEE them. They're soul... This creature is a puppet!?"

"Hey, that creature has a name." Pomni glared.

"I-I'm sorry. I never thought-...Poor soul." Gangle stared, transfixed. The energy from the soul escaped through the cracks of the crystal containing it's D.I.E. She read what came through. "You saved them..." She looked at Jax.

"What?" Jax looked behind him, like Gangle could be talking to someone else.

"The last memory they have is you stopping the silver beast from killing them. You're a hero."

Jax blinked. "You know what? We haven't had a chance to secure the perimeter. I'm going for a walk." He turned on his heel and made for a side door outside.

"Jax?" Gangle called after.

"Let him go." Caine said, not looking up from Shadowblade.

"I think I insulted him. I didn't mean to." Gangle said.

Pomni huffed. "I'll have to remember that the next time I don't want him to bother me."

~

"Am...I...dead?" Shadowblade asked Mother.

"Not in a way that matters." She cryptically responded. "Won't you eat? You need your strength."

Shadowblade looked down at the bowl and considered eating but something blocked out the sun coming through the window. Shadowed mist poured in through every window and under the door and even the cracks. Shadowblade stood so fast, their chair fell over.

Mother didn't react, watching Shadowblade solemnly. "I wish we had more time..."

Shadowblade breathed heavily, they had no means of defense. They were small and weak and fragile as just a human. Ominous mechanical growling came from outside, from all sides of the tiny house. The mist filled the building, choking Shadowblade's throat and stinging their eyes. They fumbled blindly for a door but found nothing. The building they were in was gone. There was only darkness.

A golden light shined down on them. Two large eyes peered from the shadows. Shadowblade ran, but no matter how fast or far they thought they went, they couldn't get away from the eyes watching them. Ever nearer.

They ran until the eyes were on them. A beaked maw large enough to swallow them whole descended upon them. Then, they were the eyes. Feeling tall and powerful...and cold.

The mist dispersed to reveal an unknown battlefield. Human bodies by the hundreds were piled and rotting. Puppets torn to uncountable pieces littered the landscape. They knew this was their doing. They never failed a mission. Obey the Master. Seek and destroy.

Behind the stoic mechanical eyes was horror beyond comprehension. Shadowblade was realizing for the first time the true weight of what they'd done. All those people, humans and puppets alike, dead by their hand. The blood that stained their soul would never wash away.

~

Caine focused hard on putting all of his energy into healing Shadowblade, mending vital systems first. Pomni stood watch, keeping a com handy if Jax reported something. Gangle sat with her eyes locked on Shadowblade's core, taking in as much information as she could gather.

"Shadowblade is a she..." Gangle commented.

"Do you know her name?" Pomni asked.

"Not yet. Their a lot of memory to sift through and...most of it is as this form. She's been a puppet much longer than she was a human."

"Fucking hell..." Pomni grimaced.

"She fought in the war." Gangle added. "Against her will."

Caine tossed Gangle the charm. "You can thank this for that."

Gangle examined the ruinic stone. "SB... Shadowblade?"

"No, but an amazing coincidence." Caine answered. "Probably why they liked the name to begin with."

Pomni's com came to life with Jax's voice. "Hey, you bonzos wanna see something cool? Go outside, south side of the warehouse, and follow the ramp down."

"Really? You want to look for more trouble?" Caine guffawed. "We're lucky this place isn't swarming with marionettes."

"I'm sure that silver beast over there took care of anything troublesome a long time ago. I need to stretch my legs." Pomni left to go see what Jax wanted to show them.

Gangle stayed, putting a sympathetic hand on Shadowblade. "What will we do when she wakes up?"

"I don't know..." Caine answered honestly. "Figure out how to communicate, that's for sure, but otherwise, I'm not sure what we could do for her."

"Maybe a new body? Like the rest of us?"

"If that's what she wants, but I'll have to figure out how to safely extract the D.I.E from the crystal. This is all unique technology and I don't want to risk severing her soul from the mortal plane."

Gangle frowned, seeing more of Shadowblade's memories and state of mind. "What if she wanted you to do that?"

Caine paused. "Then I would understand." He left it at that.

~

Pomni met Jax on a subsection of the warehouse. They were in what looked like a massive subway tunnel system, but there were no rails. A tunnel to their left was collapsed, a train buried in the debris. To their right, an open tunnel with an odd looking train intact and waiting for passengers that would never come.

"We need to work on your definition of cool, Jax." Pomni looked around, bored.

"You don't know what these are, do you?" Jax forced open a hatch near the front of the complete train.

Pomni saw writing on the side of the nose of the train. "Mobile Operative Transport, Sector I."

"Exactly! It's a MOTSI! One in good condition, too. These living trains took people back and forth across and to other cities super fast. I rode more than a few in my time. Always fun."

"Living..?"

Jax activated a power stitch in the front car and the train came to life with a loud hum. As it shifted, the front of the train shook debris off its head raising it slightly from the ground. Bright yellow lights shined in Pomni's face.

"Ha! It still works!" Jax cheered. "We just got our ticket out of here."

The MOTSI train was more snake-like now that it was active. A faded white and red paint job was down the entire length of it's body. The hatch Jax had opened shut him inside and the train went off through to the only available opening in front of it.

Pomni stepped aside, avoiding being accidentally crushed against the wall. The movement of the giant train made the earth beneath it rumble. It forces it's way out of the smaller entrance, under Jax's direction, and breaks free of the underground railroad.

All the noise got Caine and Gangle to rush outside, prepared to fight, only to see a massive metal snake coil itself around a building. Jax popped out of the top front section, behind the head, and jumped down. "I got us a ride home. You're welcome." He smirked.

The snake stayed put, watching Jax.

Pomni joined the others. "This is getting ridiculous. Why can't we find any small pets."

"I was about to ask the same thing." Caine stared up at the snake train.

~

Shadowblade tore at their body. Their claws ripped away armor and spikes and cut into vitals. They tried to speak, only roars and rumbles of anger and agony came out. All they could hear were their own thoughts.

I am not a monster.

I am NOT a monster!

I AM NOT YOUR PUPPET!

I AM ME!!

They dug their claws into their chest. The crystal cracked under their grip. The pain was immense.

YOU DO NOT CONTROL ME ANY MORE!!

Shadowblade roared as mist poured from them. It formed a shadowy silhouette of their form, glaring back with the same golden eyes.

YOU ARE NOT ME!!

Shadowblade crushed their own core. Golden shards fell like stars from their chest. A white light beamed from the center of the crystal, piercing the shadow. It scattered in the harsh light.

I am...me.

Shadowblade's mind felt clearer. More memories came, but they didn't hurt. They flowed freely like a river that had been dammed for too long, washing away the barrier that held them back from feeling human.

~

Caine went back to Shadowblade alone, the others entertained by their new pet. He was about to continue repairs when a sharp sound from the core for his attention. He watched in amazement as thin black tendrils sprouted from the center of the crystal, forcing their way out through the cracks.

The new flesh wove itself into Shadowblade's inner workings, spreading across the entire body like vines. Shadowblade's eyes slowly brightened as she came to consciousness.

Caine smiled softly, putting a hand on Shadowblade's head. "Welcome back."

Shadowblade rumbled, happy to see a familiar face.

~~~

To be continued...

[cry-ptidd]

I just wanted to say that I think the werewolf lady is pretty

And have her and Anderson met before? And was it a hostile interaction or a wholesome one??

Her and Anderson’s first meeting really wasn’t wholesome.

[cherubchoirs]

Michael, the Ruined Prince

Michael, having used all of his power to seek out God, had failed as the Prince of Heaven. He had abandoned his people, absent for centuries on a fruitless search filled with unheard, increasingly desperate prayers and an unrelenting, bone-deep exhaustion that is now permanent. His grief grew day by day, and an angel in isolation begins to wither, to warp – they must be with one another lest they twist into their extremes, retreating into their divine purpose until it becomes self-destructive parody. And Michael had already been scarred long ago by his role in banishing Lucifer, by God’s own ever-mounting wrath that ate away at the mercy he was meant to feel alongside it. Michael had already been insular, something had already pulled at the seams of his soul, and now centuries of failure consume him. He would return to Heaven with nothing for his people. Nothing for the siblings he swore to protect.

So his final thought in a deeply troubled mind urged him to try one last time. That if he could not find God, then he must bring God to himself. He must sin, he must beg for punishment, and then God will come to deliver it onto him. Just as He once did to Lucifer. It disgusted him, to think he had to debase himself to be as the sinners he held nothing but vile contempt for ever since he couldn’t cope with the guilt of the first fallen angels. But his prayers have failed, his days of weeping have failed, he moved Heaven, Earth, and all of Hell to come up with empty hands. Less than that. Not even a feeling. So Michael, even as a Cherub who could not, did everything he could to replicate his memories of when he had witnessed God Himself tear the light from His angels. Michael had seen it every time, it was he that had to bind any fallen angel that survived it to their place in Hell. He knew, implicitly, what the ritual was even if God seemed to enact it in one beautiful, elegant motion. And he did just that. Imperfect pantomiming, flawed execution, but the same ritual as best as Michael could copy it. All to himself.

But only God and the high Seraphim can sever an angel from their light.

His soul was rent from his body. His light was torn to shreds by his inexperienced hands. The agony that it screeched resounded all the way back to Heaven in unintelligible, muted whispers of nauseous grief no one could understand. Michael felt himself die, but it was incomplete. He was left in a corpse, a body destroyed and succumbing to all it meant but with him still inside of it. God did not come, and Michael was trapped a ruined body, bereft of a soul, of his light, giving way to rot and deterioration yet fully functional. He could do nothing but take this as a sign from God, one that he will not be punished no matter his crime for being such a loyal servant. Even as his body falls apart, as plants begin to burst from his remains, he believes himself to be blessed – see how he grows God’s garden. See how his crown remains pristine. He adorns his exposed bones with gems and finery, ostensibly as thanks to God for keeping him alive, keeping him sinless when he had so despised his impending fall from grace. But. Michael is, in the back of his mind, highly aware of what he’s become. He knows he is rotting, he knows he is in a dead body, he knows, somewhere, God had nothing to do with it. It was just a mistake, it was just his own foolishness with catastrophic consequence. He is more noxious than a fallen angel now, a botch job shambling numbly back to Heaven when he feels the death of Gabriel.

Upon his return, he largely attempts to hide the rot of his body, at least from the citizenry – he cannot hide it from Raphael or Uriel, nor does he try. To Michael, it proves his devotion, it shows God’s still present love for him, and it is a testimony to how he cannot fall, that he can never lose his place in Heaven. Raphael begs for him to be healed, Uriel pleads reason to him, but neither had ever been as strong as Michael and ultimately, he is their leader. No matter the state he returns in, he is the Prince of the Archangels and truthfully...they both fear him now. He is not the Michael they loved, not the one that had been quiet and stoic yet still loving in return. The Michael that would have done anything for them, that never wanted to lose another like he lost Lucifer. He commands them now to join him in binding Gabriel, his tangible grief the only thing that seems to be left of who he had once been.

Internally, Michael sees their fear, he feels the crushing guilt of Gabriel’s fall, he is violently ill with one true look at himself. He had gone wrong a long, long time ago, when he lost Lucifer, and now all of that was being made manifest, but he can’t face it. As flesh falls away, he covers it more and more with jewels as if that could hide the decay he can feel spreading night and day, the only thing he feels now. He must retreat into his purpose, he must not allow such devastating failure to be his legacy. So he turns on Gabriel. Gabriel, whose light had been severed. Who walks freely in an abandoned Hell. Who still has a living, breathing body. Michael’s vitriol toward the damned hones in on Gabriel, consumed with being sure he is left nailed to the lowest pit in Hell for his treachery. All the love he once had turns to hatred and in it, the other three can see that Michael has been left shattered, that nothing in him truly believes God made him this way. God’s most loyal, left to rot.

Additional information:

Michael now always exudes the Odor of Sanctity, but there is a distinct undertone of mold to it

The opalescent webbing that runs through his body is the angelic brain - normally it is iridescent and transparent with a strange glow, but Michael's is opaque and dull

Michael now prefers walking, something noted as unusual when he returned to Heaven, but it's simply due to the fact that his body has been left entirely numb and so it's difficult to maneuver in the air properly

He is very protective of his crown and dragon-skin bag, as they seem to be the only things left uncorrupted on him

[hurrraaid]

OKAY so it turns out I have over 50 drawings of my various cod ocs (as well as my friends ocs) so I have no idea how to post it all without spamming. So here's just a handful of various comics.

Tadger ( Sgt Brian mcdougall) is my whore of an oc. Todger and Magpie belong to @twilishark