#Second slug with wings

[bombabo0]

Weird red mouse cat that explodes sometimes

[lulublack90]

Prompt 1 - Harvest

@wolfstarmicrofic October 1, word count 407

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Remus drawled from the bench where he was reclining with a book covering his face. He had a headache and the smell of the Bubotubers wasn’t helping. 

“It’ll be fine,” Sirius assured him. “Hey, you’re meant to be the lookout, how are you meant to see anyone coming if you can’t see them?” 

“Werewolf, remember? I can hear and smell them long before I can see them. Being able to see is not a problem,” Remus answered. He swore sometimes Sirius did actually forget what he was. He heard Sirius huff and the squelching of a Bubotuber being squeezed as Sirius continued to harvest the sap from the slug-like plants.

A few minutes went by in silence, but then he heard footsteps coming towards the greenhouse. “Pads, quick!” He hissed, sitting up and grabbing James’s invisibility cloak and flung it over them. “Just keep that jar away from me,” He whispered into Sirius’s ear. He felt Sirius nod and his heart thud loudly. 

He moved them back into the corner of the greenhouse as a pair of fifth years Hufflepuff's walked in. 

“Eww, the second years must have been harvesting the Bubotubers before lunch, it stinks in here,” The boy said, holding his nose closed. 

“Let’s come back tomorrow,” The girl said. “It’s not that important that we study the Lady’s Mantle today. We can go to the library and get most of the facts there and come back when it doesn’t smell so bad,” The Hufflepuff's fled the harsh smell of the Bubotuber Puss. 

Sirius’s heart was racing in his chest. Remus didn’t need his sensitive hearing to know that as he was pressed up against Sirius’s back and could feel it. The odd thing was that it didn’t slow when they were alone again. Remus leant forward, his chest fully pressing into Sirius’s back as he whispered into his ear. 

“We should go back to the tower and put that some place safe,” Sirius heart rate sped up until it was almost at hummingbird levels. “You alright, Padfoot?” Remus asked, worried about his friend.

“Yeah, fine. Let’s get out of here,” Sirius pulled the cloak from over him and walked out of the greenhouse, leaving Remus wondering what he’d done to upset Sirius. He sighed, his headache beginning to pound again. He decided to make a detour to the hospital wing for a pain potion. He’d worry about Sirius later. 

[metalomagnetic]

Snippet Canis Major

Voldemort remembers the other Sirius. Also, a little glimpse at Orion/Walburga, because I never tire of this toxic couple.

(-)

Usually, it was Arcturus or Pollux that showed up when their children got in trouble. Cygnus, especially, was often in trouble, so Pollux’ face was the most familiar to the students.

In Voldemort’s sixth year at Hogwarts, Atticus Bulstrode, the Head Boy, invited Walburga to Hogsmeade, the last in a lengthy string of boys asking her out. Only this time, she accepted.

When he heard, Orion challenged him to a formal duel. Atticus laughed, rolled his eyes at his fourteen years old opponent.

“Quick!” He was shaken awake by Abraxas, in the middle of the night.“Orion is killing Bulstrode in the trophy room! You have to stop him!”

He reached them just in time, he disarmed Orion, and rushed Bulstrode to the Hospital Wing, where they found Dumbledore asking the Matron for a sleeping potion.

Atticus was lucky- Dumbledore was more often than not away from Hogwarts, chasing Grindelwald, rumour went, but he was there that night, apparently suffering with insomnia.

The professor kept Atticus alive until the Healers from St Mungo arrived and took the boy with them.

“It wasn’t me,” he said, hurriedly, stained in Bulstrode’s blood, lingering in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore peered at him from under his half-moon glasses. Dumbledore always liked to blame everything on him. “I only brought him here after-”

“I know,” Dumbledore assured him.

The next morning Atticus’ father came thundering, his yells easily heard from where Voldemort was spying, near the Headmaster office.

He wondered if maybe this will be the time when a Black actually suffers consequences. After all, Bulstrode’s name was ancient, they were a rich, influential family, and surely, at least on account of that, Dippet would do something more than detention and points taken, which was the usual punishment for Blacks.

Only, this time it wasn't Arcturus that came to fix his son's issues.

It was the infamous Sirius Black. A tall man, with wide shoulders, long black hair hanging around his face, deep circle under his too intense eyes, mouth twisted in a snarl. Orion walked behind him, his gaze fixed on his older relative. Voldemort watched them, hidden by a pillar. Orion never seemed small; he carried himself with such arrogance and pride, his head held so high he seemed a foot taller than he was. Yet right then, Orion looked small, trailing after his grandfather, quietly, as Voldemort observed them disappear up the stairwell leading to the Headmaster's chambers.

They left Dippet’s office not even a quarter of an hour after they entered it.

As soon as they emerged from it, the gargoyles closing the door behind them, old Black slapped Orion, the noise echoing down the hallway.

“Next time you pull something like this, do it on a weekday, you fool! If I’m woken up again at this ungodly hour on your account on a Sunday, you will be very sorry for it.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” Orion answers, in that unfazed tone of his.

The old man narrows his eyes. “What was it about, anyway? How did he provoke your ire?”

A second worth of silence. “He tried stealing from me.”

Orion gets hit again, harder this time. The heavy family ring rips the skin at the corner of his left eye, and that pure blood of theirs makes an appearance.

“Then why does he still have hands?” the old man hisses, enraged. “If someone attempts to take what is yours, you cut off their hands, boy!”

He slaps Orion again, just as harshly.

“Yes, Grandfather.” Orion doesn't take his eyes off his grandfather, doesn't wipe away the blood running down his cheek, his hands held behind his back.

Sirius Blacks huffs in displeasure, before turning on his heels and marching down the hallway. “Weakling,” he mutters.

Nothing happened to Orion. Not even the usual detention. No points taken.

Sirius Black insisted it was a formal duel, that the challenge had been accepted, and it was all done honourably, Slughorn told Voldemort, when he called him into his office to give him the Head Boy badge, temporarily, until Atticus recovered and would be able to return to Hogwarts and his duties.

“When Armando reminded him duels are illegal at Hogwarts, formal or not, Mr Black said rules are just words on parchment; that he’s a wizard, and he follows laws of magic, not of men.” Slughorn sighs, rubs at his temples, and then he takes a caramel out of his newest bribe-sweets bag that Abraxas gave him. “He told Mr Bulstrode that if he wants justice, then he should challenge him to a duel, and solve it like wizards ought to. Of course, Mr Bulstrode has more than one brain cell, so he refused and let it go.” He sighs again, points a sugar coated finger at Tom. “This is why I always told you not to seek trouble with Blacks. We’re lucky he’s apparently taken to drinking lately, locked up in his Manor, that he lets Arcturus handle most of their affairs, who is much milder and reasonable. But, once in a while, he gets out and you do not wish to run afoul of him.”

No one in the common room talked of it; only Walburga complained she was looking forward to going to the newly opened teashop in Hogsmeade, and demanded to know what was Orion’s problem with Atticus.

“A Quidditch thing,” Orion told her, with a shrug. “Don’t worry, Waly. I’ll take you to Madam Puddifoot’s.”

“I don’t want to go with my baby cousin, don’t be ridiculous! Malfoy, you will take me!”

Abraxas backs away, slowly. “I can’t, Walburga. I’m busy, I have to study,” he says, hastily, when Orion glares at him from behind Walburga.

It was the only time mild-tempered, well behaved Orion did something so outrageous that his unhinged grandfather had to come and solve it, so it was the only time Voldemort saw the man.

[gmax-centiskorch]

Mainline Pokémon Games Based on How Buggy They Are: A Thread

Red, Blue, & Yellow

Pretty buggy. The Butterfree line set the stage for regional bugs and emotional trauma. Everybody loves Scyther. Inspired use of Cordyceps when designing the Parasect line. Kabuto and Kabutops should have been Bug to honor trilobites for founding Arthropoda. 8/10.

Gold, Silver, & Crystal

Yes, we had Scyther, but what about second Scyther? Scizor, Heracross, and Shuckle are legends. Game Freak decided to invite arachnids (Spinarak and Ariados) to the party, truly redefining what it means to be buggy. 9/10.

Ruby, Sapphire, & Emerald

This generation is loaded with bugs! Game Freak realized their mistake in not giving the Kabutops line Bug typing, making up for it with Anorith and Armaldo (who are based on Anomalocaris). They fumble the recovery, however, in not only depriving the Flygon line of Bug typing, but forever making them second fiddle to the Salamence line. The Beautifly, Dustox, and Ninjask lines introduce some interesting approaches to Bug-type evolution. Volbeat and Illumise are there. 7.8/10.

Diamond, Pearl, & Platinum

DELELELELELEWHOOOOOOP! A smaller collection of bugs this gen, but a well-rounded one. Vespiquen slays. Scorpions get some love via Skorupi, Drapion, and Gliscor. Writing this post is making me realize that slugs, snails, and nudibranchs like the Magcargo and Gastrodon lines aren’t bugs. We grew up thinking snails were bugs, right? Anyway, Yanmega rules. 8/10.

Black, White, Black 2, White 2

Game Freak’s magna opera. Truly the buggiest games there are. While you have to wait until Pinwheel Forest to encounter your first bugs, you’re rewarded upon arrival with Sewaddle and Venipede, the larvae of the Leavanny and Scolipede lines. From there, you encounter the Crustle, Galvantula, and Volcarona lines. Game Freak has some more fun with Bug evolutions, having Karrablast steal Shelmet’s armor as they evolve into Escavalier and Accelgor (inspired by the real-world interactions between the ground beetle family Carabidae and the gastropods they feed on). Durant is our first proper ant, and we get our first (and only . . . ) legendary / mythical Bug in Genesect. These games made Bug my favorite type. 10/10.

X & Y

A big step down from the previous generation. This game hardly has any bugs. Do you like butterflies? You get a butterfly. Vivillon is a lovely butterfly that comes in all sorts of colors, but SURELY there are more bugs than that in France. 6/10.

Sun, Moon, Ultra Sun, Ultra Moon

Giant isopods! Diving bell spiders! Giraffe stag beetles! A true return to form. While the native bugs of Alola are great, we are also introduced to the ultra beasts, two of which (Buzzwole and Pheromosa) are really cool bugs. It seems they were going for wasps and bee flies when designing the Naganadel and Ribombee lines, but they don’t really work for me. Faint blemishes on an otherwise buggy generation. 8.5/10.

Sword & Shield

Centiskorch is the greatest Pokémon ever made. I have them tattooed on my arm. Blipbug is the worst Pokémon ever made. I see them in my nightmares. Interesting that they’re both Bug Pokémon, and that Game Freak really min-maxed with them. Fortunately, Blipbug evolves into Dottler and Orbeetle, who are great. Snom has a place in everyone’s heart, and Frosmoth is elegant as can be. 9.5/10.

Scarlet & Violet

I love Rellor and Rabsca! I . . . don’t really love the rest! Iron Moth and Slither Wing are great, but they’re nepo babies. Tarountula and Nymble are nice, but Spidops and Lokix leave something to be desired. Orthworm is a a big worm. At the end of the day, these games would be alright if they weren’t so wonkily coded and glitchy. Wish there was a better word for that. 7/10.

[in1-nutshell]

Hii! I absolutely loved your requests and how the characters act and wished they were longer, but! I wanna request of the continuation of Buddy being Bee’s twin who was brainwashed to be a con!

BUT I WANT BUDDY AND BEE TO REUNITE WITH BUDDY COMING BACK TO THE BOTS SIDE PLEASE

The twins are going to be reunited! Or are they...

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy being Bumblebee's Twin who was brainwashed and reunited

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFP

Starcsream was the one who left Pandora’s box open.

He was having one of those days again.

Being pinned down by Megatron, having the Autobot’s kick in new dents into his wings, and worst of all being laughed at by his underlings!

Starscream limping in the halls.

Buddy walking by.

“Hey, do you need help getting to the med bay?”--Buddy

Starscream swiping Buddy’s servo.

“Get away from me Autobot scum!”--Starscream

Starscream walking away.

This peaked Buddy’s curiosity.

Starscream was many things, but when he gets mad, he always lets some hidden truth out.

So why did he call them an Autobot?

For the last months on Earth Buddy had been facing off to the yellow mech in every encounter they had.

Nearly having the chance to offline him on multiple occasions, but they always hesitated at the last second.

They first thought that their trigger digit was seizing up and had Knockout look at it.

Buddy sitting on the med bay as Knockout examines their servo.

“Hmm… interesting.”--Knockout

“What?”--Buddy

“Nothing seems to be wrong with it.”--Knockout

“That’s… strange.”--Buddy

“Well, my work here is done.”--Knockout

“Do you recommend I do anything in case it happens again?”--Buddy

“…Try using your other servo.”--Knockout

This interaction only further deepened the curiosity.

They knew better than to ask anyone on board.

So, they would have to do some snooping on their own.

But they had to be careful about it.

Buddy chose the rare time Soundwave was out of the ship to gain access to the mainframe.

They could easily delete their footprint from everyone, but Soundwave always terrified them to an extent.

Better safe than sorry.

It took a matter of finding some hidden files under their name to finally piece together the story.

A rather horrifying realization.

Buddy was an Autobot.

They were related to the yellow mech.

They were his twin.

Buddy’s tanks never sunk so low as it did when they read the statement repeatedly.

They had nearly offlined their own twin and they didn’t even know it.

They saw pictures of them as an Autobot. The frame was different, but at the same time, it felt familiar.

It turned out that Starscream himself had managed to kidnap Buddy during a confrontation with Megatron. He brought them for interrogation, after they didn’t budge Megatron and Shockwave decided to make use of them, through shadow play and memory alteration Buddy was a blank slated and had been replaced with altered memories with an altered frame.

Buddy felt sick as they downloaded the information to the data slug.

Making sure that they left everything how it was they quickly left to their habsuite.

They knew they needed to make a decision with this new information.

They knew which one they were going to make.

It took a week of preparations, but they did it.

Now was to act.

“All right. I’ve destroyed the tracker and the remote groundbrigde should be online in a couple more nanoclick… This is actually going according—”--Buddy

CRASH!

BANG!

“…I had to jinx it didn’t I?”—Buddy

BANG! BANG!

“No matter… Just need to input the coordinates… and pull the—”--Buddy

Achoo!

“Bless you. Now –"--Buddy

Buddy stops and looks to where the sound was.

They look down to see a teeny human with glasses looking at them.

“…”--Buddy

“…”--Raf

“…I hope you don’t take this the wrong way.”--Buddy

“Why—”--Raf

Buddy tossing him into their subspace and jumping into the groundbrigde.

Buddy came out the other way, skidding on the rocky ground as the groundbridge closed behind them.

They were finally free.

Now time to deal with the next steps…

Buddy opening their subspace and grabbing the human.

“Sorry about that.”--Buddy

“Who?! What!—”--Raf

“I know what this looks like, but this is not a kidnapping.”--Buddy

“I kinda does…”--Raf

“Yeah, it does but it was either that or have one of those Cons step on you. And quite frankly, your species has grown on me a bit.”--Buddy

“…Thanks?”--Raf

“Yeah, anyways the names Buddy kid. What’s your name?”--Buddy

“Raf. What a minute. Bumblebee said he had a twin named Buddy…”--Raf

“Well, there’s something about that… you can read Cybertronian can you?”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Raf

“Look at the screen.”--Buddy

Buddy did not expect the surprise hug that the teeny human gave them.

He began ramble all sorts of stories Bee had told him about them in hopes of recalling memory.

“As much as I appreciate you trying to help, I still don’t remember much.”--Buddy

“Sorry…”--Raf

“It’s all right, kid. Its not your fault. But I am hoping to find your Autobot friends to help me with this. I know my chances are slim to none—”--Buddy

“I’m sure they can help! Or at least look at it.”--Raf

Buddy smiling at Raf carefully patting his head.

Click!

“Servos where I can see them Con!”--Arcee

Buddy turns around slowly with Raf in their servos.

Arcee and Bumblebee have their blasters out.

“Beep bep boop! (Put him down now!)”--Bumblebee

“Bee wait! Its Buddy!”--Raf

“What kind of lies has that Con been telling you!”--Arcee

“No! Really, Buddy show them the data slug!”--Raf

Buddy handing the data slug and Raf to Bumblebee.

“… He only said the data slug, what’s your plan Con?”--Arcee

“I don’t have any plans. And quite frankly you’re my only hope right now.”--Buddy

“Beep? (Hope?)”--Bumblebee

“I… I recently found out that a good portion of my memories had been altered. My frame altered. And… Listen I’ll come with you cuffed and unarmed, I just need to know if what on that data slug is correct with your data base or not.”--Buddy

“Beep bop boop? (What’s on the data slug?)”--Bumblebee

“… I don’t want to give anyone false hope… just cuff me. If there isn’t anything useful, I’ll tell you everything I know about the Nemesis.”--Buddy

“… cuff’em Bee.”—Arcee

Raf wasn’t too happy seeing Buddy cuffed, but he supposed it was for safety reasons.

No one was happy seeing the Con that had gone after Bumblebee at the base in some cuffs.

While Arcee explained the whole situation, Bumblebee strapped them onto the med bay slab.

The two exchanged some looks before looking away.

“You’re telling us that there is a possibility that you could be Bumblebee’s twin?”--Ratchet

“Yes.”--Buddy

“Hmmm. Highly unlikely. I knew Buddy, they would never—”--Ratchet

“Listen, can you just verify the dates! Sorry if that sounds insensitive, but I really just want to know if someone has been messing with my processor!”--Buddy

“The data is almost done. But if I may ask, what made you want to look at this now?”—Optimus

“…Some things haven’t been adding up lately, and when Screamer said I was an Autobot… I just got curious. Either way I’m not going back to the Cons. I’m not going to risk my tailpipe for some leader who keeps putting unfamiliar substances into his chassis, and… yeah.”--Buddy

“Beep bop (you hesitated.)”--Bumblebee

“…Maybe…”--Buddy

“Beeepbep bop (Is there another reason?)”--Bumblebee

“…So, what if I don’t agree with the annihilation of an entire species that has nothing to do with the war.”--Buddy

Scan complete.

“Finally! Let’s see what it says!”--Bulkhead

“Yip, yip, Bulkhead stand away from the console.”--Ratchet

“Right, sorry.”--Bulkhead

“And the scan says—By the Allspark…”--Ratchet

“Beep (What?)”--Bumblebee

“Yeah, what’s going on? I can’t exactly see with you guys’ backsides in my line of vision.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Ratchet

“Yes?”--Buddy

“… Your presumptions are correct. Bumblebee, that is your twin.”--Ratchet

Both Bots freeze before fainting.

“At least one of them is on the med slab?”--Miko

“Miko not now.”--Raf

[lifeonthemurdersim]

"Who kisses the other awake in the morning?"

"Neither. You wake up and he's staring at you."

Oh my god... Could you profundize this? I can't stop reading this, it's so... I am enthrilled. So, so enthrilled.

Thank you so much for this ask! To clarify for those reading, I gave the above answer when answering ship questions for Lawrence x Violet/Reader.

I started explaining further but then I recalled this was actually one of my unused ideas for my GoreKinktober series so I decided to revisit it as a short piece! I hope this gives the elaboration you were looking for! 😊

My Ecosystem Fandom/Universe: Boyfriend To Death Characters/Pairing: Lawrence Oleander x Reader (his POV) AO3 Link(full tags, warnings etc here) Word count: 1,203 words Synopsis: You're used to waking up to Lawrence watching you by now. What you're not so aware of, is why. Author's Note: This prompt is for the 24th but I'm posting on the 1st of November. More about Gorekinktober on my pinned post! Kinktober prompt(s) used: Somnophilia Goretober prompt used: N/A

Lawrence still isn't used to being this close to a living, breathing human for such a prolonged amount of time. It's a heady mix of overwhelming, being that there's just so much of you to take in, and so, so fascinating. A whole little ecosystem, in his bed, in his arms, that he wakes up to every evening.

He can see the vast expanse of beautiful skin cocooning you, enshrouding all those intriguing little organs; all buzzing away carrying out their functions as they're supposed to. Whatever encounter you once had with the river, it was obviously brief enough to leave you wonderfully untouched. You're not rotting like him, you're fresh, you're perfect.

Imagine if all that's inside of there was visible on the outside. It might not last for very long, but for that brief moment, where everything was still ticking but the whole of you was inside out, it would be glorious. He knew you better than anyone else he had ever encountered, so you wouldn't be another art piece discarded in a random stack nor hung clinically in an empty hall. He had passion for you, he loved you, if Lawrence made you art, you would be his masterpiece.

Although he supposed some part of him would like to see the inner workings of your mind, he'd have a little more time to see you functioning if he left your brain untouched. Actually, he thinks he would leave your face intact, too. He likes it exactly as it is, the shape, the features, especially soft when you're sleeping. Even a master artist couldn't improve upon it. Yes, he'd likely leave your entire head be, it's simply too pretty.

The rest though, he'd deconstruct with searing crimson lines, the first hint of the internal you emerging to the external. It would leave him in need of more. You'd need to be opened up all the way so you could be appreciated in every sense. He would slice deeper into your limbs, folding the muscle and sinew open neatly so see more of you, a larger surface area, but also the things that hadn't been seen before.

Then his focus would be your torso, he'd have to cut slowly so each organ was revealed bit by bit, he needed to savour every inch of you, every second of unwrapping you. The excessive length of your intestines would snake around your waist, forming elegant arcs swinging back and forth behind you like wings of an angel.

The liver has a nice texture when you cut into it, soft but with a little pushback. He could carve out slivers and hold them; they'd be like little brown slugs but ones that could never hurt his plants. He could rest them on your slumped shoulders like art. He could carve a firm L into it, a jagged O. His art needs a signature somewhere. The liver almost re-forms around the letters though. Maybe he would have to carve his initials into a few places on you, just to be sure.

The veins and arteries, though, he'd keep attached to your heart, only cutting where he had to. He'd arrange them like spokes, like a sunburst coming out from your chest, measuring the intervals carefully. If he presses a thumb to your wrist, he can feel them, throbbing gently with every beat of your heart. He brushes his hand up your arm slowly, gently, grazing your shoulder.

You shift slightly. Lawrence freezes up. But you don't stir, so he presses a hand to your chest. There it is. Pulsing under your shell. Imagine if those ribs could be cracked open, releasing the softly trilling little bird from its cage. How much firmer and louder would that beat be without those confines alone?

Better still, what if he could reach out and wrap his hand around it, really feel it? Would it be the slow steady beat it sits at while you dream away, or would the actions taken to lead him there render it to a dizzying pace? Would it become too much, too overwhelming? Would he have to squeeze it hard to get it to stop?

Or...

Would it already have fallen silent before he even got that far?

Never to be heard again.

Not just your heartbeat, either. Your soft assurances when he was spiralling. The pitter-patter of your footsteps as you tended to his plants. Your soft moans and whimpers when he was pleasuring you. The charming little rhythm of your laugh. Your loving words. Your voice in general.

Yes, at times just having another person around him was a lot for Lawrence. But having to live without this one specific person he'd become so attached to would be downright unbearable.

The silence would be overwhelming.

You were the only one who'd seen the river, the only one who really understood. This world wasn't real, but he was forced to exist in it until he allowed his body to decay entirely. But having you around made it bearable. More than bearable.

Good.

He absolutely wanted to do it. He wanted you to be his work of art, his best work. But there was too much to risk, so he couldn't. He wouldn't. But sometimes, he really really wants to. He leans a little closer to you, hoping that will stave off the urge, only for your eyes to blink open. You both jump a little. The thumping of your heart under his hand quickens.

"L-Lawrence!" you stutter out, then exhale to try to calm, he feels it in your chest. "I... never get used to you doing that..."

"Oh..." he replies. "...sorry?" He's not sure if he is sorry, but it feels like maybe he's worried you, so he's supposed to say it.

"It's... OK I guess..." you tell him, softening into the hand at your chest a little. You raise both brows at him. "Did watching me sleep... turn you on?" you ask, looking him up and down.

Lawrence looks at you with confusion at first, but then he allows himself to step out of his detached thoughts and actually feel his body. His cheeks are warm; blushing most likely, all his skin is heated and prickling. His heart is racing faster just like yours, but it's not just from you making each other jump, his breathing is deeper than usual. Probably the most evident part to you, there's a very evident bulge in his sweatpants. While he was busy disassociating into fantasies of tearing you open, his body was flooding with arousal.

"Yeah..." he admits a little breathily. "I... guess it did." A slight smile graces your lips. You come closer, the kind that verges on overwhelming, but right now he wants it, your proximity, your touch. You roll him softly onto his back, straddling him.

"It's a good job I woke up then, isn't it?" you ask suggestively as you push his hair back, smiling down at him.

Lawrence thinks of his imagined you, lying bleeding and wide open and lifeless in his mind. Then he looks at the real you, flushed and adoring and very much alive on top of him.

"Yes." he agrees, smiling back. "It really is..."

[nostalgiclittlespace]

request: CG!Rosie and Little!Alastor

Plot: Rosie's trying to get Alastor to sleep but Al's being a cranky lil baby (Alastor's little age is newborn)

Hope you enjoy! Sorry if it’s scatter brained, I wrote this late at night 😅

SFW AGE REGRESSION FIC. DNI IF KINK, NSFW, PROSHIP, OR SIMILAR. DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES

Title: A Fussy Fawn

Pairing: CG! Rosie x Little! Alastor

Word count: 940

Description: Despite Alastor’s insistence (and by that I mean his fussing) he definitely needs a nap. Good thing Auntie Rosie is always there for her fawn (fluff, hurt/comfort-ish)

A Fussy Fawn

Alastor was not tired.

He had made that clear on several occasions—first when Rosie suggested they have some quiet storytime, then when she tried cradling him with a bottle, and again when she offered him a pacifier.

Rather than the polite words or violent displays Alastor usually would have used to convey his thoughts, the upper rooms of Rosie’s Emporium were filled with fusses and shrieks at her attempts.  Though his powers had diminished to near nothing when he regressed, the radio sitting on the nightstand randomly switched channels and crackled with static and interrupted songs.  His shadows did not attack him or Rosie; instead, they too tried to soothe him by offering toys and gear at random.  Like Rosie, they had no success.

Yet, despite Alastor’s insistence, he definitely needed a nap.

The Radio Demon sat criss-cross on the red quilted blanket Auntie Rosie had made him many years before.  Cast aside plushies and toppled wooden blocks littered the ground around him, attesting to his displeasure as he whined once again.

“Young man,” Rosie said, soothing yet serious, “you know you will feel much better if you just take your paci.  Look, I even got your favorite one!”

Indeed she had.  The red plastic and its matching silk clip shone softly under the low nursery lights.  A small deer had been painted onto the center.  It even had his name on the handle!  

Nonetheless, Alastor showed no interest in the comfort item.

Rosie attempted to push the pacifier into his mouth, but to no luck.  As soon as the pacifier reached his lips, he popped it out of his mouth with a miserable screech.  He threw it away from himself, as if the silicone soother had somehow offended him.

“Alrighty then, no paci,” Rosie sighed, reaching across the play area for his plush alligator and offering that instead.  “How about this one?  Would you like to play with him?”

Alastor shook his head vehemently before flopping over onto his stomach in silent protest.  Well, actually it wasn’t all that silent.  Grumpy fussing emitted from his frame as he laid there like a slug.

After only a few seconds, his chest only took heavy breaths, his frame shaking slightly, and his ears pinned back against his skull.  As he cried miserably, Rosie sighed softly, feeling a loss for ideas.  Normally, Alastor would accept quiet time without question.  In fact, he preferred it to some of the noisier or messier activities they had tried.  So, what could have possibly interrupted their usual schedule?

Nonetheless, Rosie didn’t question his moodiness, nor scold him for his lack of manners.  Instead, she scooted a little closer and placed a hand on his back.  She found a soothing rhythm, tracing small circles like it was second nature.  To be fair, it most likely was.  

Despite being a cannibal, an Overlord, and having lived a life sinful enough to condemn her for eternal damnation, Rosie never lost her kindness nor her maternal instincts.  She took anyone under her wing, especially the children living in Cannibal Town.  Alastor was no exception.

The Radio Demon finally seemed ready to accept some form of comfort; Auntie Rosie’s comforting presence finally making some difference.  Unsteady as a newborn fawn, Alastor crawled a grand total of two steps before planting his face in Rosie’s skirt.  The dress’s soft fabric provided a gentle pillow, undoubtedly even more comforting than the blanket beneath them.

His fawn ears twitched as Rosie scratched them gently.  Gradually, they relaxed from where they had pinned backward and returned to their usual perked state.  His whines diminished too–instead replaced by soft sighs of contentment when Rosie pet his head just right.  Finally, he seemed ready to settle down.    

My, he certainly is one for dramatics, Rosie thought affectionately.  Even when this young, he must make a fuss about the little things.

  As Rosie’s fingers mused with his tufts of hair, Alastor’s body grew steadily limp.  As his blinks grew slower and his breaths deeper, his Caregiver carefully lifted him into her arms so he was no longer half-draped across the floor.  With motherly precision, she guided him into a strong yet gentle cradle.

With equal heed, she slowly stood up, then carried him over to the rocking chair.  Alastor stirred, blinking blearily as the movement disturbed his half-asleep state.  He whined sharply, threatening to undo all the work in soothing him.  However, Rosie eased away the baby’s complaint with practiced care.  Whispered hushes, a gentle rocking motion as she carried him, which continued as they lowered onto the wooden chair.  It glided back and forth, slow but sure.  

Rosie reached over to the radio sitting on the nightstand beside them, careful not to jostle Alastor’s delicate slip back into dreamland.  A couple dial turns later, the nursery’s smooth jazz resumed drifting through the air.  This time, Alastor’s powers did not disrupt the lulling notes.  He simply blinked slowly up at Rosie, who smiled back down at him.

“I think you’ve fought sleep for long enough, darling,” she chuckled.  “Rest now.  We’ll have plenty of play time later.”

Whatever had disturbed him, she could find out later.  For now, getting him to sleep was a much higher priority.

Thankfully, Alastor seemed to agree as his doe eyes drifted closed again.  He curled up, tucking his body closer to his caregiver’s.  Rosie, smiling fondly, reached for the spare blanket they kept on the rocking chair’s back, and draped it over him.   The peace enveloped the scene, Rosie’s worries melting away with Alastor’s miniature snores. Even if he is a bit cranky, Rosie thought, amused, he still is an adorable fawn.

[cloudyswritings]

Hollow knight bugs & real world species

basically this is just a place for me to dump my thoughts about the species of Hollow knight characters. Let’s start with the easy ones.

Divine & Leg Eater: These two are very obviously a termite king and queen, Divine literally can’t be anything else.

Ogrim: The biggest shitter, dung beetle obvi.

Cornifer & Iselda: Weevils, aka the best bugs. Look at their proboscis’

Mantis lords: Mantids, probably based mostly on the Chinese Giant Mantis specifically.

Flukes: They’re just flukes, disgusting.

Unn: Objectively the best goddess, big slug

Quirrel: So it seems likely to me that Quirrel is a isopod of some sort, most likely an armidilidium species, I think it’s something about his hunched/slightly curled posture and body segmentation.

Radiance: A silkmoth, her wings look to be in proportion with the species and everything else screams silkmoth.

Grimm: it’s a common theory, but his resemblance to a vampire moth is striking.

Mask maker: Bro is very obviously a whip scorpion, the arms are what really seals the deal, but living among other predators with ease(ie deepnest) and twitchy motions are staples of whip scorpions irl.

Cloth: a Cicada nymph, hence her whole burrowing thing and the sounds she makes. Plus this is actually confirmed.

God Tamer: She’s an ant, but not a queen. She’s probably a worker who got separated from the colony. Her antenna are fairly distinctive in Hollownest and are very ant like. Plus she tames other species, something ant colonies effectively do by treating aphids like livestock

Ze’mer: So there’s two equally good guesses for what she is. The first is that she’s a silverfish, this would support her outsiderness given silverfish are a truly strange and primitive branch of bugs. The second possibility is that she’s a glow worm beetle, the adult stage of glow worm. This is also super plausible because of the antenna those beetles have lining up nicely with her fluff and drooping antenna. I think either one is a great interpretation.

now the harder ones.

Sly: So his size is notable, as is his eyes being very visibly compound, that combined with his mobility in the air and the sort of buzzing yoda type sound his voice has makes me think he’s a fly of some sort. Plus it rhymes.

Herrah: she’s most likely a horned baboon tarantula, the colors and size line up with what we see compared to the weavers and devout. Plus the horn on those tarantula line up shapewise fairly well with hers.

Pale King: This man to me has two different possibilities, either he’s a leg less lizard of some sort or more probably he’s some sort of really fucked up crustacean. We know Wyrms molt so that almost certainly rules out option one. My thought is that Wyrms have the same issues lobsters run into where they get bigger with every molt, so their exoskeleton gets heavier, thicker, and harder to break out of. Eventually they die, crushed under their own weight and unable to molt(this is when Wyrms generally abandon their larger form to make kingdoms). Verdict: something terribly cursed.

Bardoon: Bardoon, Bardoon, Bardoon, why must you be so difficult? So at first Bardoon really looks like a silkworm, the color is right, even the face of the two look super similar. But Bardoon is demonstrably longer than a silkworm has any right being, and his little nub/tail that you can hit distinctly resembles the “horn” all hornworms have. Despite that I’m nominally going to say he’s a silkworm until I find better evidence. Verdict: Concerning implications.

Gubs and Grubfather: Parasitic wasps maybe? The charm is called Grubberflys elegy, but their behavior mimics the way some wasps lay eggs inside of hosts so their young can eat their way out. Verdict: wasp things probably.

Tiso: So Tiso and Sharpe both look remarkably similar and from the very, very limited amount we’ve seen from both move similarly. In that vein they both look vaguely like assassin bugs, specifically assassin bug nymphs.

Vessels: Something even more fucked than the Pale King, they’re like mostly plant though I think? Like their masks look like his but are actually made of the White ladys bark/wood and grow constantly, their horns look a lot like her branches too. I imagine that their bodies have the same crustacean exoskeleton thing going on their dad has, so they’re probably incorporating heavy metals into their chitin. In all likelihood their mother being a plant and the light absorption the void displays means they’re photosynthetic in some way, it might explain how they grow too. The dangling bottom parts of the shades also look sorta like roots honestly, this also meshes well with how thorns of agony appears as void tendrils when activated. Verdict: Who tf knows, they’re definitely photosynthetic though.

The Shade Lord: So obviously this big chonker is literally just void, but their form distinctly resembles a dragonfly nymph, with four main arms/legs being used, and a distinctly predatory head shape. Plus we don’t see their bottom half, so I imagine it’s either a mass of roots like their mother, or something vaguely wormy. Verdict: Dragonfly thing

Isma: She is super fucking weird tbh, her head is shaped a lot like Vespas. Obviously however she’s some sort of pant being given the way we find her. My theory here is that she’s actually some other sort of bee, there’s a ton of bees that are solitary species. Based on that I’d say she was a bee— probably a white-banded digger bee— who became a devotee or worshipper of Unn. This may explain how the Pale king was allowed to build in green path. Unn let him build in her land and in return she got a loyal and powerful spy/pair of eyes in the Pale court.

[strawberry-snek]

I love the sea slug melusines but like. Imagine. If they were more like the original girlboss.

One day, all around Fontaine, starting from Merusea Village, they start gaining weird mutations. Maybe from Elynas’ blood. Maybe it’s because the dragon sovereign is back in power, they’re more like dragons, with a mix of snakes and fish.

Forked tongues. Little mittens to better hands with claws. Little nub feet to claws. Their wings losing their downy feathers and becoming more dragonlike, and usable. Horns unfurling and/or sharpening, hardening into proper dragon horns. Gaining a second tail, both tails eventually losing their fur, somewhat snakelike, and then, becoming fishlike, with fins. Their snouts becoming either dragonlike or snakelike, full of sharp teeth. Gaining venom glands, beginning to produce venom. Maybe water breath attacks, playing with pressure, temperature, velocity. Little monsters when they figure out how to use it for self defense.

Everyone is probably terrified? What the fuck is going on? Venom? Water jet breath? But the melusines themselves?

They’re stoked because holy shit. They can actually use pens (and paintbrushes) now. And a whole load of other things they couldn’t do before. Like guns. Hands rock. And for those with wings, holy shit they can fly now!

Neuvillette is supportive. Wriothesley is also supportive, he has little dragon girls running around guarding the fortress. Siegwienne thinks she looks cool, but still small and cute enough to get away with playing dumb.

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hey Slug! Now that all snippets are out, what are your thoughts so far on the BB songs for the 3rd DRB? I'm especially excited for Ichiro's. It reminds me of Hiphoppia but with less intense dream vision feel and more funky back alley hip hop stuff. Jiro's sounds good too tho!

I love anon asks like this that remind me to go look at the new stuff that comes out... I would never think to do it otherwise. Thank you; it's very sweet of you.

Let's fire up the old YouTube and give them a listen.

Ichirou -- H歴維新 / The H Age Revolution

(Side note about the title: I'm using "revolution" here in a general sense, but this specific wording is evocative of the Meiji Restoration, the political revolution in the late 1800s that ended the regime of the Tokugawa shoguns and "restored" the old social order under the emperor while radically transforming Japanese society as a whole. Here, we should understand that Ichirou is tearing down Chuuouku's reign to usher in a new state of society.)

(Fifteen seconds in) YOOO this goes hard. I like this beat and the vaguely military-esque theme w/ the horns.

(At end of preview) DAMN okay. Give me a sec to get my thoughts in order.

Every time I see the language in these songs, I'm reminded of a video of an NHK presenter guy reading the lyrics of one song and announcing dryly, "They're all very good at kanji."

I love how this is much punchier than Break the Wall. Ichirou seems to be much more of an active agent in it, not just the figurehead leader of a revolution--and I LOVE that. It's great to see Ichirou embracing his individuality and not simply playing into the image of MC BB that others want him to be.

I also love all the callbacks to previous songs, quite literally going back to basics. ペンは剣より偽りがない ("The pen is mightier than the sword, and that's a fact!") goes all the way back to Hypmic's very first song's ペンは剣よりヒプノシスマイク ("The Hypnosis Mic is mightier than the sword")

Can't wait to get the full version and learn the lyrics. Seems like a hella fun song to rap.

Jirou -- Sunshine

(Five seconds in) Getting "This Means War" vibes.

(Fifteen seconds in) Bro what is this autotune... This sounds like the opening of Rhyme Anima season 2.

(Forty-five seconds in) "I'm ready; the wind's pushing me along; I'm flying with the wings Ikebukuro's given me" Hell YES Jirou you get that identity independent of Ichirou

(Fifty seconds in) "I can't shake the past. I take my scars with me off into a future--a future that's still unknown." Yo this is bars. (I'm butchering its lyricism but whatever) I love that Jirou is actually acknowledging his past and his struggles instead of pushing it away. You notice how his comments on the past are always either "Ichirou was so cool" or "Saburou used to be such a cute kid; what happened?" ? It's good to see him finally being honest enough to touch on his hurt feelings.

(End) Hmm... I don't know how I feel about this one at first liston. I really like Jirou's voice actor's singing voice, so I'm kinda not feeling the autotune. On the other hand, his singing voice definitely has more of a sweet/young flavor, and I can see the authors wanting to lean away from that to make him sound more adult. I think my issue is this song sounds... idk, a bit too idol pop rock to my tastes. I don't mean that idol pop rock is a bad thing; it's simply not my personal preference.

Here's a selection of people in the comments having a normal one:

"Wtf he's hot now"

"I'm picturing Jirou going to school the day after this song drops and his friends being like 'EYYY' and he's like 'Aw, you listened to it? Thanks, guys!' Then a bunch of girls swarm him and he deadass has no idea what they're on about it"

"Say it isn't so... Not my sweet baby boy dumbass Jirou... They made him hot af..."

"I feel like a mom watching my widdle Jiro-chan grow up"

Saburou -- 朱夏 / Maturity

(Side note about the title: Japanese borrows some terms for stages of life from ye olde Chinese (<- very technical term) wherein stages of life correspond to colors and seasons. You may know the word "seishun" (blue spring) or have seen blue = youth as a recurring piece of imagery in Japanese media. (BSD's Blue Period, anyone?) "Shuka" (red summer) is the stage that encompasses most of adulthood; it's the summer or prime of a person's life. The word conveys a sense of energy and a greater understanding of the world than in the youthful seishun period. Sounds like the Hypmic authors want to convey that our baby boy is growing up! *sobs into a hankie*)

(Five seconds in) Chill lofi hip-hop beats for studying

(End) Hmm... Musically, I liked the piano as a consistent piece of imagery for Saburou. It was a little too chill for me, but I always say this and always warm up to Hypmic songs over time lol.

Lyrically, I kept thinking throughout the video "This would be easy to translate" because Saburou monologues for most of it haha. Apart from the imagery related to seasons and the BB's heat/energy "firing" him up to reach the hot summer of adulthood, most of the song is surprisingly literal and straightforward. Saburou states in plain terms that he wants to go be his own person (seems to be the running theme of this album), but it's a departure from his usual style of complex imagery and vocabulary. I would guess that's on purpose, as the song opens with "All through my childhood, I could never wait to grow up. I'm a better rapper than Ichirou, but no one ever sees me as anything but an accessory to him. At least I'm better than Jirou in every way-- oh, who am I kidding? Look at me going on like an edgy middle schooler. I'm always smart, collected, calm--but on the inside, I'm NOT okay!" That is, Saburou is purposefully throwing away his attempts to look smart and mature for his age. He's allowing himself to be rough and emotional like any fourteen year old.

Really fun start to an album; can't wait to hear all the songs! Thanks again for sending this ask, anon.

[thatonepikminperson]

How to kill all of the Pikmin 3 Bosses with ease, aka, how to drop kick six toddlers

Yes, I'm doing one for Pikmin 3, because I also have played this game too much. SHUT, I had quite a while to play this game, and I have learned the ways to beat the shit out of the local six children of this game, aka, the bosses. (Spoilers for Pikmin 3 and it's bosses down below, btw)

FIRST OF ALL, I'm just going to say this once. Unless a boss fight demands you use Rocks, never bring them to a boss fight*, they are ASS at fighting. Bring Reds, trust me.

*There is an ONE exception, and we'll get to them

Armored Mawdad

So this boi is really easy after the first ten seconds. You basically go for the very back of his tail (The tip thing) and break that. He will shake off Pikmin and rest on a wall. Rush the creature with your Pikmin (Reds first) and watch as he gets capped at 1 HP. Then when he comes down again throw one rock at it and dead

Vehemoth Phosbat

Fun fact, you only need to build half of the bridge. No joke, choose which pile you want to bring over. You can put one Captain in the dark to lure the Phosbat over, just keep in mind that you should rush the pile as soon as it starts to try and eat the Captain (It will fail.) Once half of the bridge is built, wait for the Phosbat to try and eat the Captain in the dark again, call them over, throw 20 Yellows and the Captain over and light the room up. From there, you can just bully the Phosbat with the lights you never turned on because yes they still stun the poor bat. GG easy no re.

Sandbelching Meerslug

Easiest boss in the game, like not even by a long shot. The strategy is simple, bring 100 Reds and win. That's it. Just bring 100 (I think 60 should still work, you just got to be more careful), and when the slug does his sink hole thing, RUSH THE MOUTH. It shouldn't kill any Pikmin, and it forces the slug to come up. Bombless and way easier than before.

Scornet Maestro

First of all, why do you need help with this boss. Second, if you are having trouble, just bring another Captain and have the attacks go onto them. Just remember the attacks the Maestro does don't lock in immediately, they can still switch.

Quaggled Mireclops

Alright, you got two options. ONE: Bring 100 Wingeds, and some Spicy-Spray and auto win, or two, Use Blues and Suffer. I suggest the Winged strat, as it's easier and more funny to pull off. Just rush the guy, then rush him again. Also keep an eye on his health as half way, the tonuge attack changes.

Plasm Wraith*

*(THIS IS THE EXCEPTION TO THE ROCK RULE)

ROCKS. This is the only boss fight I'd recommend using Rock Pikmin, for the shear fact that the main attack this Wraith does WILL NOT KILL THEM. The only things that can kill them are the elemental attacks and as long as you don't suck, you should be fine. Rocks can take out Fire and Rock elemental attacks at any time, electricity you gotta be fast, and Water is a don't even try. Other fun facts with this fight, one, if the Wraith is floating, just walk away. If it has nothing to attack, it's forces to land back down, and two, if the Plasm Wraith feels as if it's surrounded, it will walk into one of the elemental attacks. Try to whistle your Pikmin back BEFORE that happens.

[ecliip]

SLUGCAT REDESIGNS YIPPEE

hello rain world community please click for higher quality (downpour spoilers btw)

also lots of design rambling underneath the cut. warning its very long and all over the place

-OKAYOKAY so you may notice that Survivor, Monk, and Gourmand all have similar markings- darker back patch, light tummy, tipped ears/stalks- this is because Gourmand is their grandpa in my interpretation!! they share traits because famly..

-neither Survivor nor Monk are fully grown, though Survivor is almost an adult. theyre the slugcat equivalent of teenagers. thats why theyre a little shorter than everyone else. however Enot and Rivulet are fully grown, Rivulet is just built for a different environment and Enots a fucked up inversion of Survivor

-Hunter, of course, gots the rots. i dont know why nobody utilizes Hunters scarred eye in HLL designs tbh- because the scar and the closed eye together make an X shape. and you know what else has an X shape? rot cyst. food for your thoughts :)

-the feds don't want you to know this but you can make any slugcat of your choice as fat and round as you want and nobody can stop you because they are your slugcat designs. anyways chubby arti :) and chubby nightcat :) and plump monk :)

-Nightcat has little silver splotches because I SAID SO. the silver bits by their eyes were actually inspired by Moonwatcher from Wings of Fire with those silver teardrop scales by her eyes, i always thought that was cool. my WoF phase haunts me to this day,,, also Nightcats ears point sideways because its cute

-okay you're probably wondering what the FUCK is up with Enot. the answer: who knows??? i made them La Creatura. theyre a little freak of nature who shouldnt exist but they glitched into existence or something and they have four ears and four hands and six eyes as a result

-Gourm... im love Gourm... theyre the second tallest slugcat, Spearmaster takes first place as resident stickbug

-okay so! if you may notice, pre-canon event Arti and current Arti have some differences. previous Arti has some little scars, and a darker end to their tail. current Arti has burns that cover those. thats intentional! i like to think that when the incident happened, the anger and grief took them over, erasing all personhood in the eyes of both the scavs and theirself in favor of carnage and fury and destruction. the burns represent that. the signs of a life well lived, that little dot of personhood? gone, replaced only by rage and hurting and memories of a tragic incident. (dont worry Arti fans in my little au they arent sad and enraged forever, they do heal. eventually.)

-more design notes about Arti but their right leg is burnt and hurts to put too much pressure on, so they prefer exploding if they have a long distance to cover or somewhere to reach. also, i gave Arti a tailtip that resembles a wick that was a result of the burn scars, thank you @pansear-doodles for bein cool about people takin inspiration from your amazing designs!!

-Spearmaster is comically tall and i love that. they also have Suns's logo on the back of their head. its like a watermark! Hunter doesn't have a watermark because in my interpretation, the rot stuff was intentional, added by NSH as a ticking time bomb as a sort of motivation for Hunter, so like why bother claiming a slugcat thats gonna either ascend or experience a fate worse than death

-also the pearl experience left a permanent scar for Spears because why not

-Rivulet.. the funny fishie.... i made almost zero changes to my orevious design of them because it is perfect. just added like some extra gills. theye very short and have little ears because little ears probably help with swimming and stuff to be like aerodynamic. they also have those little flaps on their side like nudibranches!! lil reference to sea slugs :)

-Saint takes inspiration from lynxes (ears) and sea bunnies (the spots!!). Saint is also the oldest slugcat here. i made their forehead dots eyes because that is COOL !!!! i love extra eyes. also chest floof :)

-Survivor and Monks parents had to take care of THREE pups ON THEIR OWN WITHOUT A COLONY TO SUPPORT THEM and they have zero special abilities to their name unlike Arti or Gourmand. theyre gonna be a little scuffed up

-Arti's pups are a mix between a carnivorous slugcat (Arti) and a regular slugcat (whoever Arti had kids with). the blue pup has a diet like Gourmands, where it can eat meat but it wont get as much out of it as a carnivorous slugcat. the green pup has the typical Slugcat diet.

i'll update this if i think of anything else to add!!!

[sycamorality]

can I rq an angelkin scug? second Flag on this post Thnk q <3 (if pawsibble I’d love 2 see wings in that thang,,,)

hi! the wings and fur and etc are complete random chance - i don't intentionally choose what slug to give a certain trait! also the post you wanted to link didn't link, so i picked two flags that seemed like they'd be what you meant questionmark and hope i got the correct one

the second one seems to have longer ears! it looks like a bunny.

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: November 14, 2024

Reworked Character #12: General Morden

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, alcoholism, and torture.

Real name: Donald Humphrei Morden IV

Aliases: Devil Rebirth and Your Excellency

Occupation: General of the Rebel Army, Vice Admiral of the Marine Corps (formerly), Tactical Commander for the Intelligence Agency (formerly), Commander of the Middle Eastern Garrison (formerly), and Field Marshal of the European Garrison (formerly)

Retirement plans: Buy a secluded tropical island, build a cottage in the northern forests of New Brunswick, and raise more exotic pets

Special skills: Political science, wilderness survival, strategic negotiation, planning for ambushes and tactical assaults, and sniping with heavyweight firearms

Hobbies: Reading classical poetry and Shakespearean plays, playing complex piano compositions, studying geopolitical events, building wooden cabins, and hunting

Likes: Forested landscapes, his remaining family, the fearless devotion of his army, finishing things straight to the end, and smoking Cuban cigars before leading off to a battle

Dislikes: Ignorance, objectivity, people with no ambitions, governmental and military corruption, and a lack of proper etiquette and table manners

Favourite food: Creamed salmon spaghetti and maple walnut ice cream

Favourite drink: Scotch whisky

Sexuality: Heteroromantic sapiosexual

Gender: Male

Age: 49 (in 2022), 55 (in 2028), 57 (in 2030), 59 (in 2032), 61 (in 2034), 68 (in 2041), 70 (in 2043), 71 (in 2044), and 74 (in 2047)

Blood type: AB+

Weight: 249 lbs. (113 kg)

Design: He’s a 6’ 5” (195.58 cm) Canadian mesomorph with a chiselled musculature, an upside-down trapezoidal chest, and broad shoulders. He has limestone skin (it was once a rose beige), a cleft chin, a brownish mole on the left side of his nose bridge, sparkling sapphire blue eyes with flecks of blood red, and bushy eyebrows. He has wrinkles on his face, characterised by forehead lines, frown lines, crow’s feet, and nasolabial folds. He has neatly trimmed, chin-length caramel blonde hair with sideburns, a similar moustache that the impostor Morden Robot has in Metal Slug 4, and an encircling band of silver-grey in the centre. When Morden becomes a cyborg, he possesses a revolutionary self-resurrection mechanism. A rhombic dodecahedron microchip embedded in his spine springs into action whenever his vital systems fail. The chip emits a low humming frequency and flashes a cyclical pattern of blue, white, and red for precisely 50 seconds. After this brief interval, he awakens in a newly prepared cyborg body, fully restored and operational with all of his memories intact.

His right eye has been brutally gouged out, which is indicated by the heavy scarring from six stab wounds. This would be replaced by a cutting-edge, cybernetic implant, expertly crafted by the Amadeus Syndicate. The cybernetic orb's sclera has a dark, polished chrome finish, adorned with crimson micro-circuits that mimicked the appearance of veins. At its centre, a pupilless blue-grey iris radiates a soft, luminescent glow. When it transitions to a fiery amber, its intensified brilliance signals heightened alertness and strategic recalibration. Equipped with cutting-edge scanning and data-processing capabilities, this cybernetic implant enables visual recall of critical information, threat detection, and instant recognition of key objects and individuals for future reference.

General Morden wears a pair of rusty orange boxer briefs, a glossy black eyepatch over his cybernetic right eye, and a Persian indigo armband on his left arm, adorned with the insignia of the Rebel Army. He wears a feldgrau military beret, distinguished by a scarlet band with white piping and an embroidered emblem featuring a black dragon's head swallowing a winged gold sword. He wears a white dress shirt and gloves, a flame-coloured tie, a metal dog tag necklace with his name, and a brownish-black leather belt secured with a gilded snap-on buckle.

His shoulders are draped with a long brownish-black coat featuring cuffs edged with scarlet piping, golden maple leaf clasps linked by a chain, a Persian indigo, and a prominent fur collar dyed a pinkish-orange. He wears feldgrau army cargo pants, tucked into black combat boots with spike soles and lined with coyote fur. He wears a feldgrau military coat featuring a left-side white aiguillette, two breast pockets, and a scalloped rear vent with flap pockets. It also features scarlet cuffs and a turned collar with Persian indigo piping, gilt-brass buttons, and golden shoulder boards adorned with two vertical white stripes.

He wears five badges: a black bar with two vertical golden stripes and a horizontal white stripe above his left breast pocket; a gilded skull with draconic wings on the pocket flap; a silver circle with a scarlet X on a white-edged red-orange ribbon and a gilt-brass roaring dragon's head on an ultramarine ribbon, both on his left breast pocket; and a gilded six-pointed star with a scarlet-edged white circle hung on a jade ribbon, secured with a gold clip on his right breast pocket. Morden's belt supports a sheath for his combat knife and a secure strap for his military baton, featuring a white elephant ivory shaft, a scarlet velvet-wrapped grip, and flat-topped gilt-brass end caps, each set with 12 circular rubies.

He wears a drop leg holster for his Chiappa Rhino 40DS revolver and a black bandolier, slung over his left shoulder, holding .357 Magnum cartridges for the firearm. His military coat pockets contain a rose gold lighter, keys to his personal Space Tank, and a treasured photograph of his late family. The pockets of his army cargo pants carry around a pack of Cuban cigars, the Ajirabian Teardrop, a copper-hued flask of Scotch whisky, and a walkie-talkie. He wields an M20 rocket launcher, designed with a leather shoulder strap and featuring an olive green, tan, and dark grey camouflage pattern, which fires anti-tank missiles.

Morden owns the greyish-green Space Tank, a floating tank saucer emblazoned with the Rebel Army insignia on its front. Constructed as a birthday gift and token of allegiance by loyal Rebel Army members and the Pipovulaj Army, this vehicle incorporates advanced Martian and Tuatha Dé Danann technology. The Space Tank's upper body bears a striking resemblance to the Dai-Manji, while its dark grey chassis is reminiscent of the Nop-03 Sarubia's. The tank boasts extremely thick armour, a silver antenna protruding from its left side, and a gold-painted rim accented with a scarlet edge. Primarily serving as his personal transportation, the Space Tank can also be deployed on the battlefield when necessary.

It features a built-in metallic blue cannon that can only be activated by inserting the Ajirabian Teardrop into a designated slot within the tank. This action opens the front compartment, exposing a large cannon similar to the Denturion's. When deployed, the cannon extends, allowing Morden to tap into the laser power of the Ajirabian Teardrop

Character summary: Previously, General Morden was a compassionate, dependable, and reliable leader who deeply valued the lives of every soldier under his command. However, the tragic loss of his family, exacerbated by the government's and military's corruption and culpable inaction, ignited a desire for vengeance. He seeks to topple an unjust system, even if it requires dismantling all governmental powers. His vision for the New World involves unifying warring nations under a rigid, authoritarian regime, achieved by overthrowing the Earth Federation and eliminating its allies through forced assimilation and strategic neutralisation. Despite being a charismatic and adaptable leader with a strong sense of justice, he ultimately descended into ruthlessness and megalomania, becoming a bumbling madman. Upon encountering his enemies, he frequently erupts into mocking laughter, regarding them as feeble-minded and ignorant foes. Nonetheless, even in the face of humiliation and defeat, Morden’s dignity, charisma, and commanding skill always remains the same.

Despite being an atrocious person who comes across as mean and cold, he’s surprisingly sweet and kind, especially towards those who support his ambition, work alongside him or are part of his family lineage. He's a tough, efficient, and introspective individual who can be demanding of his soldiers, yet he feels genuine empathy and understanding for his troops. Although he's prone to frustration when missions don't go as planned, he never gives up. Despite the challenges, he consistently demonstrates resilience and determination, always pushing forward to achieve his objectives. General Morden is a man full of pride, often boasting about his greatest feats on the battlefield. Depending on the situation, he'll abandon his position behind the battle lines and fearlessly charge into combat. He lives by a personal code of honour that prioritises restraint, avoiding unnecessary violence whenever possible. He isn't afraid to make sacrifices when necessary and occasionally spares or even helps civilians, showing a glimmer of empathy beyond his military duties.

He's an exceptionally intelligent and cunning strategist, always thinking several steps ahead of his adversaries. A skilled manipulator, he expertly entices others to do his bidding through false promises and strategic persuasion. However, he's highly resistant to manipulation himself, and his sharp wit and worldly wisdom makes him immune to naivety. If he discovers someone attempting to deceive him, he'll confront them directly and give them a nasty glare that conveys a clear message: he sees through their ruse, and denial will only worsen their situation. When he's drunk, he becomes sorrowful, careless, and overly attached around Sagan and Logan, grows increasingly agitated, and frequently mumbles incoherently and gazes blankly upwards.

Whenever he encounters a pair of glowing red eyes, he's tantalised by their whispered promises of safety and growth. Yet, he hesitates to follow, unsure if the allure is genuine or just a product of his own fevered imagination. He's a melancholic, cautious, and headstrong individual who shows mercy to his subordinates, excels at evading capture, and indulges in life's luxuries. Loyalty and camaraderie are paramount to him, but betrayal from within the Rebel Army is an unforgivable offence. Morden’s intolerance for failure is absolute; those who deliberately falter face severe punishment or elimination. His ego is easily bruised by ridicule or underestimation from his enemies, threatening his self-image as a fearless warrior and exceptional leader. He has no qualms about torturing and executing enemies and traitors, whether publicly or privately, and considers advancements in military technology to be essential to achieving his objectives.

He struggles with mild alcoholism as a coping mechanism for the loss of his family, borderline personality disorder, practognostic dyscalculia, trypophobia triggered by honeycombs and decaying flesh, and the fear of dying a dishonourable and gruesome death. He views domestic cats as a far cry from their majestic ancestors and larger wild relatives, often going so far as to forcefully shoo them away. Although capable of aggression and violence, he usually maintains a calculating, serious, and calm demeanour. However, beneath his surface lies a volatile temper that periodically ignites into explosive outbursts when overwhelmed by intense feelings of rage, shame, and self-loathing. Despite his resolute ambition, he secretly grapples with the moral implications of his actions. His doubts are ever-present, but he consistently prioritises his goals over his conscience. His courage falters only when faced with extremely bleak circumstances or painful reminders of his family's tragic loss.

He generally tolerates his troops' actions against external parties, but draws a firm line when it comes to harming their own comrades. He's a strict disciplinarian, swiftly addressing conflicts and misconduct amongst his ranks. When issues arise, he demands accountability, forcing the offending soldier or group to apologise, backing this demand with the threat of demotion or public embarrassment. He views the Rebel Army as a surrogate family and enjoys celebrating victories and spending downtime with them. He cherishes Allen's friendship, appreciating him as a trusted companion for casual nights out and lively conversations, but Allen's impulsivity and relentless drive for action often test his patience. He feels a pang of jealousy towards Allen, which he keeps secret, because Allen's family is still alive, whereas his own family is either deceased or estranged.

He gets along well with Doctor Amadeus, who demonstrates genuine interest in his cause and the technological advancement of the Rebel Army. Although he admires her genius-level intellect, finding it captivating and beautiful, he’s sometimes intimidated by her calculating and enigmatic nature. He secretly harbours a deep-seated fear of Rootmars, knowing she has the power to effortlessly crush him and his army if he incurs her wrath. Despite this, he holds Rootmars in high esteem, admiring her leadership skills and formidable reputation, even if their visions for the New World greatly differ. He regards Ptolemaios with skepticism, stemming from his disdain for cults and religious extremism, compounded by their past confrontation during the Arms Deal Barrage. Additionally, Ptolemaios' reluctance to engage directly on the battlefield raises concerns. Nevertheless, he acknowledges his exceptional wisdom and deeply respects his unwavering commitment to leading the Ptolemaic Army.

He’s fiercely devoted to his younger cousins, Sagan and Logan, the only family members he remains in contact with, and will stop at nothing to ensure their safety and happiness. He’s extremely protective of Sagan and Logan, treating them like his own children. He goes out of his way to safeguard them, swiftly and aggressively defending them against anyone who poses a threat, causes harm or violates their personal boundaries. However, when Sagan and Logan disagree or get physical with each other, General Morden calmly intervenes, resolving their conflicts with a gentle yet firm, understanding, and patient approach. He has zero tolerance for Sagan's habits of casually issuing death threats and making crude remarks about her comrades, whether jokingly or seriously. He also dislikes how Logan occasionally disregards Sagan's wishes, intentionally doing things she's explicitly forbidden, which often escalates into heated arguments or fights. Furthermore, Logan's tendency to engage in physical altercations with comrades and getting disoriented when exploring the wilderness consistently gets under his skin.

Morden and Tequila were once inseparable friends, sharing stories of their lives over drinks and exploring exotic destinations that Tequila had always wanted to visit. He deeply admired Tequila's worldly wisdom, courage, and profound insight into the human condition. However, their bond was severed when Morden's lust for global domination took hold, driving Tequila away and forcing him to turn against his former friend. The betrayal left a bitter taste in Morden's mouth, a painful reminder of the friendship he had lost. He has a deep-seated hatred for Marco and Tarma, as they foiled his nearly successful plan to achieve his vision of a New World during the Great Morden War. He especially despises Marco, who gouged out his eye at the end of the Great Morden War and played a role in getting the original Sagan killed during the Extraterrestrial Alliance Clash.

Backstory: Donald Oghma Morden IV was born on January 24, 1973 in New Brunswick, Canada. He hails from a long lineage of hunters, courageous soldiers, militant commanders, esteemed politicians, and wealthy businessmen. However, whispers abound that he's the direct descendant of a legendary Tuatha Dé Danann sovereign, fabled to have played a pivotal role in the downfall of Atlantis. The Morden name originates from a British family that served as royal advisors, food merchants, and nobles in the 19th century. Although they were of British origin, they resided in Germany, specifically within the Fortress of Königsdrache. From this strategic location, they exerted significant influence on the country's politics and military affairs. During the Napoleonic Wars, the Mordens distinguished themselves as exceptional leaders and skilled soldiers, renowned for their strategic intellect rather than brute force.

He was born into a large, middle-class Canadian family, being the sixth of eight children with three older brothers, an older sister, and a younger brother and sister. His siblings, from oldest to youngest, are Edmund, a successful woodcutting industry businessman; Quentin; Timothy, a Private in the Eurasian Garrison; Kourtney; Reynold; and Vanessa, a supervisor in food packaging manufacturing. His grandfather, Donald Humphrei Morden III, was a seasoned, worldly-wise veteran who retired after the birth of his fifth grandchild and subsequently pursued a career in hunting and sustainable meat production. His father, a Corporal in the North American Garrison, was known for his adventurous and carefree spirit. His mother, a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps, balanced stern discipline with tender affection. Due to their demanding military careers, his parents had limited time with him and his six siblings, relying on his grandfather to provide regular care and support.

Although Morden keeps his childhood private, a few details have emerged. Remarkably, all of his siblings demonstrated exceptional intelligence, but Morden's rapid development surpassed them all. This stirred jealousy among his older siblings, who admired his swift intellectual growth, while his younger siblings looked up to him in awe. Despite this, he was incredibly close to his siblings, sharing countless hours exploring the nearby woods and enjoying board games together. Donald III taught Morden entrepreneurship basics, war history, and practical skills like hunting, wood-chopping, and shelter-building. Whenever his mother was home on leave, she would delight him with piano music, fostering a deep love for the instrument. At just 7 months, he spoke his first word: "papa”. Between ages 2 and 5, he demonstrated remarkable autodidactic abilities, exploring diverse subjects that he grasped with ease, including sociology and legal theory. By age 6, he had become a budding piano prodigy and began reading Shakespearean plays and sonnets.

At the age of 7, Quentin was diagnosed with sickle cell disease, a condition prevalent in the Morden family. Tragedy struck again a year later when Reynold went missing during a nature walk, and his father was fatally shot in combat. Six months later, he stumbled upon Reynold's mutilated, rotting corpse, infested with maggots and covered in fungal growth. The gruesome sight triggered his trypophobia, and ever since, the image of honeycombs infested with bees and decaying matter would evoke unsettling memories of that incident. Before Morden turned 10, Quentin died from health complications. Just a month later, his mother was tragically killed in an unexpected airstrike ambush. At age 12, Donald III mercy-killed Kourtney, who suffered from multiple sclerosis and debilitating complications following numerous surgeries that severely impacted her health and mobility.

As Donald III struggled with a terminal brain tumour, he made the difficult decision to place Morden and Vanessa into the Regular Army's orphan program to ensure their care. Meanwhile, Edmund relocated to Saskatchewan with Timothy, seeking a fresh start and a brighter future for the two. The series of tragic losses had left the family fractured, and Donald's remaining siblings lacked the emotional resilience to keep the family together. Morden felt deeply abandoned and betrayed as Edmund and Timothy departed, leaving their dying grandfather and younger siblings behind. Vanessa, overwhelmed by grief, deliberately distanced herself from Morden. In contrast, the Regular Army provided Morden and his younger sister with stability and support, covering their essential needs. He wondered if he had more relatives and set out to find additional family members while balancing his education, but eventually abandoned his search when he couldn't locate any direct blood relatives.

He met his future wife, Penelope, in grade 11 and began dating her, forming a strong romantic connection. After graduating at the top of his high school class with highest grades, Honour Roll distinction, and six prestigious awards (five scholarships and one bursary), he went on to study geopolitics, jurisprudence, and Marxist sociology at university. At 22, he married his high school sweetheart in a shotgun wedding after learning she was pregnant with their daughter, Dorothy. Three years later, they welcomed their son, Lawrence.

After graduating at the top of his class from university, he relocated to Riyadh and enlisted in the Regular Army Marine Corps. His exceptional leadership skills and tactical expertise propelled him to attain the rank of Vice Admiral. He then assumed roles as Tactical Commander for the Intelligence Agency and Commander of the Middle Eastern Garrison. Following his transfer to Cumbria in North West England, he was reassigned to the European Garrison, where he achieved the esteemed rank of Field Marshal. During his time in the military, he earned a reputation as being a tough, efficient, and caring officer of the Regular Army, and is held in high regard by his troops as he treated them with equal amounts of respect. He was also known for being a devoted and compassionate father to Dorothy and Lawrence, and a loving and supportive husband.

After Morden joined the Regular Army, Sagan and Logan became aware of his existence due to his impressive reputation and some family photographs their father had received from Edmund. Intrigued, they were surprised to learn they had an older cousin. Eager to connect, they decided to arrange a meeting with him. They sent Morden a letter inviting him to meet with them in Bavaria, where the Fortress of Königsdrache is located. When Morden travelled to the location, he met Sagan and Logan, and they had a warm and engaging conversation, getting to know each other and finally uniting as family. Alongside Sagan, Logan, and other key figures in the Arms Deal Barrage, he would learn about the Regular Army's deep-seated corruption, but he kept it a secret.

In 2023, during a trip to Ottawa, the Central Park bombing shook the city, claiming the lives of many innocent victims, including Penelope, Dorothy, and Lawrence. Having survived the devastating attack, Morden discovered that it was allegedly linked to an intelligence failure within the Regular Army and widespread corruption within the government and military at the time. After relying on alcohol to cope with his sadness and anger, he resigned from the Regular Army, retreated from public view, and began secretly planning a rebellion. Many loyal followers from his Regular Army days chose to stand by him, and with the support of Sagan, Logan, and his most trusted soldier, Allen O'Neil, he initiated plans for a coup aimed at rooting out corruption within the government and military.

He assumed the rank of General and formed the Rebel Army, drawing support from disillusioned Regular Army personnel and multiple radical organisations sympathetic to his ideology. During his time building up the Rebel Army, Sagan and Logan transferred ownership rights of the Fortress of Königsdrache to General Morden. As the last remaining Armitage family members, Sagan and Logan originally inherited the Fortress of Königsdrache, but chose to bestow it upon General Morden as a token of gratitude and respect. Morden was also gifted six exotic pets by his most loyal men: a serval named Othello, a Burmese python named Sycorax, a blotched blue-tongued skink named Troilus, an African grey parrot named Cymbeline, a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog named Banquo, and a capybara named Desdemona.

His mental state deteriorating, he amassed power and resources for a large-scale offensive. In 2026, Morden initiated his coup d'état, seeking to dismantle the Earth Federation and its alliances and establish global dominance. The Rebel Army, led by General Morden, swiftly defeated the Regular Army and seized control of all major cities worldwide within 170 hours. Upon receiving intel from Madoka that the Regular Army had begun mass-producing the SV-001, codenamed "Metal Slug”, following successful testing, Morden launched a strategic attack. His objective was to destroy the factories manufacturing the SV-001 and capture the units already built.

Upon learning of Morden's betrayal, his ruthlessness, and his remarkably swift coup d'état, as well as the destruction of the SV-001 factories, the US President declared him as the reincarnation of the devil. He would be responsible for brutally executing Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye in front of Marco and Tarma, shooting them in the head with his Chiappa Rhino 40DS revolver. Before the execution, he gruesomely gouged out Marco's left eye and then ordered Allen O'Neil to sever his left arm.

In the final showdown of the Great Morden War, Marco gruesomely gouged out General Morden's eye, avenging the torture he and Tarma endured and the execution of his comrades and friends. The Great Morden War served as a stark wake-up call for the Regular Army, prompting a significant shift in their approach to counterterrorism. In the aftermath of the war, the Regular Army began to take terrorist threats with utmost seriousness, reevaluating their strategies and protocols to prevent future attacks.

After escaping imprisonment with support from the Rebel Army and Pipovulaj Army, he secretly allied with Doctor Amadeus to exploit her knowledge of Tuatha Dé Danann technology and bioweapon development. This alliance would pave the way for the mass production of specialised cyborgs and lethal mechanical constructs for Rebel Army use, the enhancement of Königsdrache Fortress through the integration of mechanical and defensive upgrades, the creation of Wysteria, the revival of Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye, and the development of terrifying creations such as the Flying Killers and Mutated Soldiers. He planned to utilise Wysteria as the ultimate bioweapon to achieve global dominance, and deploy Tequila, Gimlet, and Red Eye as super soldiers to serve the interests of the Rebel Army and Amadeus Syndicate.

When he formed an alliance with Doctor Amadeus, she gifted him a canine experiment named Enobarbus, who could breathe fire, as a sign of respect. This is made possible by the dog's salivary glands, which produce enzymes that generate heat and flames when they react to oxygen. This canine experiment is a 8’ 1” (246.38 cm) burly wolf with razor-sharp silver-grey teeth, prominent fangs, glowing amber eyes, and a thick Prussian blue coat that gradually transitions to a watery blue and pure white at the ears, paws, and tail tip.

[historicrad39a]

1. The Raid

Sector -300 +145, +36 full rotations and 8 deci-rotations - ~287ly from Ka’Lagrath space

Ka’Laxi was standing on the bridge of the Eclipse. His ship was the flagship of the 1st raider fleet tasked with raiding the a system under the control of a small interstellar alliance.

The Ka’Lagrath didn’t have what could be considered a proper invasion fleet - their navy was comprised of several smaller raiding fleets. This was inline with standard naval doctrine of the time - fighting a massive war hundreds of light years away from your supply lines was seriously difficult. Thus, standard naval doctrine was extremely simple: Raid civilian or softer military targets, Take hostages, and extort the ever living hell out of the enemy civilization in exchange for the hostages. What few interstellar nations existed at the time all used similar tactics.

Ka’Laxi had many orbital “laps” worth of experience. He was considered to be the best of the best, he had effectively bullied several neighboring nations into giving up resources, territory, and even independence itself. Today would be no different, this small interstellar alliance was comprised of two neighboring species whose home worlds were only some 20 odd light years apart. This occurrence was considered extremely unlikely, as in most instances of this occurring in the past, only one nation had FTL capable craft - and habitable planets were desired enough as to make Xenocide the obvious choice.

Based on this information, the two species were thought to be pacifistic in nature. In other words: easy pickings. With this in mind Ka’Laxi was confident that the Alliance fleet - a fleet comprised largely of training vessels at that - would surrender almost immediately upon the beginning of the engagement.

“Exiting Rift-space now,” reported one of the officers.

“Very good,” Ka’Laxi replied. The haunting nebulae-like appearance of Rift-space was interrupted by a tunnel of streaking lights that gave way to real space as the Eclipse decelerated to sublight velocities. Before them was an average G-type star orbited by several planets. Orbiting the closest planet - about 51 light seconds away - was what was thought to be a military installation for training new naval crews. Why the alliance would put their training camp 72 light years from their home systems was unclear, but all that mattered was that the target would be soft.

The Ka’Lani drive reactivated, and by bending space around the ships, the fleet would make pace to arrive at the station in about 1 deci-rotation (~3hrs).

One Deci-rotation later, and the fleet was about to arrive. The destination lock activated, and the fleet was ‘dropped’ about 30km away from the station. An alliance ship immediately hailed the fleet. The Ka’Lagrath weren’t able to fully decode the language(s) used by the alliance, but they knew enough to “negotiate” with them. But unfortunately, of all the words used in the ship’s hail, the Ka’Lagrath only knew one: “business.”

“Begin attack,” Ka’Laxi ordered. The two pods either side of the bridge opened, revealing the end of the launching rail of their main rail gun armament. A deep, whirring noise built up for a moment before being released as the slugs from the two main guns fired towards the station. 5 seconds later, the left-hand wing of the station exploded violently - evidently they had hit the station’s fuel storage. The alliance ships seemed to get angry - they began hurling canon and plasma rounds in the direction of the fleet.

Had they not realized that plasma rounds are ineffective against most naval ships? Ka’Laxi wondered. In any case, while they weren’t initially expecting the Alliance to start fighting back, it wasn’t entirely unexpected either. All they had to do was destroy a few more ships and they would most likely surrender.

Interestingly, in the chaos, two Alliance ships immediately fled to Rift-space. Ka’Laxi was unsure if this was simply cowardice, or if they were attempting to get reinforcements. Whichever it was, it wouldn’t matter. Once they had hostages, no amount of ships would be enough to stop them.

The alliance ships got aggressive. One by one their comrades’ ships were forcibly and violently depressurized, and they had nothing to show for it - despite being outnumbered nearly 9 to 1, not one of the [species]’ 15 ships had so much as had their paint scratched. The alliance ships seemed to realize this, as scanners indicated that their plasma rounds were getting hotter - implying that the alliance ships were dumping more power into their weapons.

“Fools,” Ka’Laxi muttered, “when will they realize that they cannot so much as scratch us?” He let out a long sigh, “continue the attack.” One might almost feel bad for how poorly the Alliance was being beaten, yet they refused to give up. Ka’Laxi admired that tenacity, even if in the end it would be for naught.

“Sir?” An officer chimed.

“Yes?” Responded Ka’Laxi.

“Scans indicate that engine exhaust temperatures are rising on the alliance ships,” the officer reported.

“Are they attempting to flee?”

“N-no, they seem to be-“ the normally red face of the officer went blue as it drained of blood. As Ka’Laxi looked at the sensor array, his face, too, went blue.

“They’re… charging straight for us??” As if operated by a single mind, all 105 remaining alliance ships turned in unison towards the fleet and began to charge at them. The ship’s speed rose, three hundred, four hundred, even five hundred meters per second. At this rate, the Alliance ships would be on top of them in around 50 seconds.

“Intensify forward firepower!!” Ka’Laxi barked. The Alliance’s weapons were ineffective at range, but there was no guarantee that would remain the case in close-quarters combat. Ka’Laxi was baffled by the Alliance’s actions, getting in close to your opponent was suicide in a naval battle - by most standards, even 25-30km was way too close, and within 5km was considered suicide. But at present, the Alliance ships were eighteen, no, seventeen kilometers away - and they showed no signs of stopping.

At a distance of 5 kilometers, several Alliance ships broke off, and began a gentle dive away from the formation. The Alliance ships were not even firing their weapons at this point, they simply allowed the 1st raider fleet to score numerous hits and destroy multiple vessels without fighting back.

Before he realized it, the Alliance ships were swarming his fleet - flying by at hundreds of meters per second as they surrounded them on all sides. Ka’Laxi didn’t even have time to think before-

BANG

The entire ship shuddered. The hull squealed and screamed as if in agony while the lights repeatedly flickered.

“Report!” Ka’Laxi barked. His officers did not even have time to respond before another resounding bang shook the entire hull. He could hear the screeching noise of metal on metal, something on the Eclipse was being torn apart. The lights flickered one last time as the power died for good. All that remained were the red emergency lights, radio, and a rudimentary radar.

“N-Numerous Alliance ships have made contact with us, and the other ships are reporting the same,” one officer reported. They are ramming us? As Ka’Laxi recalled, ramming was used in the early days of Naval warfare on his home planet, but as technology advanced, ramming became an outdated tactic. Ramming in modern Naval battles - those set in the vacuum of space - were completely unheard of. Getting close enough to ram was suicide, yet the Alliance was doing just that.

“We’ve lost contact with the engine room!” Another officer reported, “the entire engine room seems to just be… gone,” he continued.

Ka’Laxi’s eyes widened as he saw one of the Alliance ships right in front of him - charging at full speed.

“Brace!” He yelled, but he was too late. The bridge let out a massive groan as it shuddered from the impact, and everyone in it was thrown to the ground. The reinforced glass windows were fractured, and several appeared to be leaking air. But Ka’Laxi was unconcerned with that at the moment. He, along with anyone else who was presently conscious, were all focused on the window in front of them.

He could see into the bridge of the Alliance ship. On it, he could see individuals from one of the two species that comprised the Alliance - those who called themselves “Humans” - running around frantically. They didn’t even evacuate?? Ka’Laxi was in shock. These things were reckless - they were monsters. Ka’Laxi was terrified of them.

The Alliance ships that had previously been maintaining contact with the Eclipse suddenly broke away. Ka’Laxi hadn’t the time to speculate as to why, before he heard the sound of screeching metal followed by rushing air before-

Silence

Ka’Laxi was disoriented, his body was tumbling freely in perfect silence. He tried to take in a breath, only to find he could not. Then he felt pain - one side of him was boiling, while the other was freezing. Blood vessels near the surface of his dark-red skin burst, spewing his red blood into countless tiny droplets.

Below him was a hunk of metal that had been split in half - one he barely recognized as the remains of his flagship, the Eclipse. Surrounding him on all sides was a perfectly dark sphere with innumerable pinpoints of light. He had been ejected from his now devastated craft, and he was tumbling endlessly in the vacuum of space.

His consciousness began to fade. But before it did, he saw one last sight - engines. The engines an Alliance ship expelling bright white exhaust. Unlike his own ship which had been utterly destroyed, the Alliance ship appeared to suffer little more than cosmetic damage.

They had lost. More than that, they could never win. If the Alliance so wished it, the Ka’Lagrath would go extinct - wiped off the face of the universe. They had been Naïve.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Ka’Laxi’s consciousness faded - never to rise again.

I hope you enjoyed this story. It’s my first time publishing something I’ve written so I’m nervous about posting it, but if even one of y’all enjoyed it, it’ll be worth it. I have more ideas set in this universe, so if people like it, I’d be willing to write more about what happens after this ill-fated raid.

I’ve been Rad, and thank you for reading :D

Read the next entry here

[frostgears]

From the bridge of the Shadowsea, Ada watched the monitors and gritted her teeth. The camera drone was barely keeping up with Cinquain's flight armor, and on top of that, throttling down its bandwidth to the relay to stay beneath the station's detection threshold as they approached, so the picture was getting steadily worse. She keyed the mic.

"Cinq. How are you holding up?"

"Green across the board, boss. Thermals where they should be. Deflek geometry solid, aerodynamics smooth like butter."

"Not the armor, Cinq. You."

"Green across the board, boss," her pilot repeated. "You nervous? You sound nervous."

No point in hiding it. "Always."

"Don't be. You trained me for this. Tell the mission jitters to fuck off."

"Wish I could. I don't have your triggers."

"Hard life you live, boss." Her pilot paused. "Coming up on the go/no-go line. We doin' this or what?"

She released the mic switch for the duration of one long intake of breath, held it again. "We're doing it."

"Right."

"And here's me," she told her pilot, and flicked a quartet of hardswitches across the width of the console. The Shadowsea's automatics took it from there.

For a quiet minute, nothing happened.

Then, when the moment was right, the firing solution perfect, the ship shuddered as its twin railguns hurled cobalt slugs in perfect over-the-horizon arcs. Elsewhere on the planet's surface, Cinquain had entrenched weapons where Ada commanded; now buried hypersonic missile launchers ripped their way to the surface to launch a a follow-up barrage of smarter, heavier ordnance.

The camera feed lit up white and then went to SIGNAL LOST. On the voice link, Cinquain whooped and then her signal was gone too.

Ada bit her lip. Nothing to do but wait. And oh, how she hated waiting.

The signals came back, eventually.

The camera drone had survived, and in its feed, defense drones fell burning from the sky. Pillars of ash spread from where railguns and missiles had blasted the station's air defenses to dust. The black wings of Cinquain's armor in approach configuration showed briefly against the steel and glass of the station itself, and then, nothing.

She put the drone into signal relay mode and switched to Cinquain's armor's camera just as Cinquain smashed through the station's walls. The video feed was chaotic, patchy, contrast blown by weapon flash. Most, not all, from Cinq's own weapon.

It was over quickly. She watched every second, room by room, unflinching, reminding herself what this all cost in the end, what was gained, what was lost.

"—day— … —ender—"

"Say again, Cinq."

"I said, that's something you don't see every day, boss. Finally got one of the bastards to surrender."

The armor's camera showed a room full of metal shelves, and a young woman, wearing the usual black and gold but cringing, arms crossed in front of her face as if to ward off Cinquain's cannon.

That didn't happen. Their indoctrination ran deeper than she'd ever been able to figure out a way around — at least, in the field. "You're kidding."

"Nah. Somebody's lucky day, I guess."

"Is the station secure?"

"Other'n this chick, yeah. Everything matched up with our blueprints and personnel records."

"Good. Hold for pickup. I'm bringing the ship in."

"Urgh." She could hear the grimace in her pilot's voice. "Be careful, will ya?"

Despite the chain of command being obvious, short, and to push the metaphor, tightly wrapped around a certain pilot's neck, Cinquain still considered the Shadowsea hers.

Pilots.

"Funny of you to tell me that."

"I'm the one who has to fix the paint job. And last time, two layers of armor underneath—"

Ada spoke a phrase into the mic.

In a voice entirely drained of its irritation, as well as its accent, Cinquain replied: "I hear and obey, Miss."

"Good girl," Ada purred. "Continue to hold. I'll be there shortly."

She reached up to pull the flight controls into position…