#assorted other wraiths

[kanerallels]

For my 501st follower celebration, as requested by @accidental-spice, a chunk from the Wraith Squadron being trained by Vos and Ventress au! (A little context: Sierra is a Jedi OC of a.spice's who can see the future. You'll see how that's relevant in a minute)

The Wraiths were relaxing in their lounge. Which, of course, meant that a low scale form of chaos reigned. Shalla and Donos were having a push-up competition, at which Shalla was winning with ease while Runt, Tyria, Wes Janson and Dia were placing bets on who’d win. Piggy and Face were playing Dejarik at the board in the corner, Kell was messing with something that looked suspiciously like an alarm clock with several things of dynamite strapped to it, and Phanan was sitting back with a glass of whiskey and watching the whole thing unfold.

Oh, and distracting Face from his game from time to time so he’d lose.

Leaning over a little, he slurped from his glass loudly right next to Face’s ear, and the former actor threw him an annoyed look. “Could you not?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Phanan said innocently. “Is this—” he slurped again, louder, from his cup— “bothering you?”

Face let out a long, aggravated sigh just as a loud whistle caught Phanan’s attention. He turned to see Vos strolling into the lounge, carrying a large crate under one arm, a duffle bag hanging from the other, and propelling another crate with its anti-gravs turned on with his foot.

“Attention, Wraiths,” he said cheerfully. “Donos, please quit while you’re still alive, we’ll need you in the future.”

Donos dropped to the ground, taking a heaving breath, while Shalla carried on, looking completely unaffected. Vos coughed. “Uh, you, too, Shalla.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, popping up from her position and to her feet.

“Inhuman,” Donos said, sitting up with a groan.

“Told you,” Kell pointed out.

As the Wraiths who’d been spectating exchanged money, Phanan said, “So, not to be the curious one, but my superior intellect—” he was interrupted by groans from Kell, Face, and Tyria— “can’t help but notice that you’ve got some baggage there.”

“So I do,” Vos said with a devious grin. “I’ve got another practice mission for you guys.”

Perking up, Kell asked, “Are we robbing another bank?”

Phanan sighed. “I can’t believe you sent Runt and Kell to rob a bank but not me. You two get all the interesting missions.”

“In all fairness, you’ve done some interesting things in your time,” Vos pointed out. “And they had to put the money back— you did, right?”

“Of course,” Kell said.

“Absolutely,” Runt said.

Vos looked deeply skeptical, but apparently decided to move on. “Anyways, this one’s a little different. You need to take control of a large building and prevent the people inside from leaving.” Setting down his crate, he flipped it open, revealing a lot of blasters. “These are your weapons for this situation.”

“Oooooh,” Phanan said. “This is very much my kind of mission.”

Dia got to her feet, peering at the blasters. “These aren’t standard issues— these are the kind that you’d get if you were in a pirate’s crew. Piecemeal, bottom of the barrel— those aren’t even legal.”

Peering over her shoulder, Vos said, “Whoops. Those weren’t supposed to be in there.” Grabbing a pair of rifles, he slung them over his shoulder. “There, now these are your weapons for this situation.”

“What’s in the bag?” Face asked.

“Disguises,” Vos said. “You’re using the contents of these boxes and this bag—  or, for that matter, anything else you have in this room— to take over the building in question.”

“Has Commander Antilles signed off on this one?” Donos asked.

“He can’t actually sign off on it, as he’s been called off-world on an important matter,” Vos said. “Therefore, I’m in charge, and I say yes.”

A grin spread across Phanan’s face. “You planned this.”

“I didn’t not plan it, we’ll just say that,” Vos told him. “Now, everyone’s in on this one. Your goal— on the forty-seventh floor of the building I’ve had a datacard hidden. Get that and bring it to me, and you’ll have succeeded. No casualties, and no one gets caught. Understood?”

“This seems extremely illegal,” Tyria said with a frown.

“That’s because it is,” Vos told her. “If you get caught, you’re definitely going to jail. I have a safe house set up for you in the lower levels. Just head there when you’re done. Please don’t embarrass me and all go the same way—”

“We’ll split up,” Face assured him. “We’ve been at this a while now, you know.”

“I know,” Vos said with a grin. “And if anyone can pull this off, it’s the Wraiths.”

“I’ve got another question,” Phanan said. “Where are we holding up?”

Vos’s expression twisted into something half-grin, half-grimace. “Tyria, Shalla, Donos— you’re really not gonna like this.”

~

Bail Organa was strolling through the Senate Building on his way to lunch with his friend, Padme Amidala and her family. It had been a long session, but not as long as some that the Alderaanian senator had been through. It would be good, he thought, to see Padme and Anakin. It had been a long time— and he always enjoyed visiting with their children, whenever the twins were around, although that was less and less these days.

As he headed for the turbolift, he spotted Mon Mothma chatting with the young senator from Bothawui. An ambitious fellow, if Bail had ever met one, but he meant well, in his own way.

Doesn’t have the best grasp of Coruscanti politics yet, Bail mused. Perhaps I should offer to give him a hand. He reconsidered the thought quickly, however, after recalling the Bothan’s aggression on the Senate floor that afternoon. He had a feeling that any offers of help would be turned down at the least and probably taken the wrong way.

Bail keyed the button for the turbolift, and was patiently waiting when a thunderous boom shook the Senate building. Feeling himself tense, Bail scanned the room, wondering what had caused the quake— and then the door to the turbolift hissed open, revealing a large group of beings, all wearing bandit masks except for one man, who appeared to be wearing a very large tube sock with one eye hole and a mouth hole cut in it.

The leader lifted a blaster rifle up to his shoulder, and spoke in a casual tone. “Hands in the air, Senator. We don’t want any trouble.”

“Other than what we’re bringing,” added a woman’s voice in the back, and a murmur of laughter went through the group.

Hmm, Bail thought. So this is what Sierra was talking about when she told me not to panic at work today. Raising his hands in the air, he stepped back as the masked group stepped out of the lift.This should be very interesting, he mused.

[jkriordanverse]

Hc that there's an ongoing rumor about Kaz and Inej's relationship and so now they refer to her as "Dirtyhand's love" as a joke and when Kaz found out he started refferring to Inej as "love" and an assortment of other pet names which somewhat annoys her a little bit but scares the shit out of Ketterdam cuz wdym the Bastard of the Barrel's girlfriend is the Wraith??? like #power couple but at the same time they're also scared out of their wits because like-!!!

[therobotmonster]

Superman's unwillingness to kill is not his greatest weakness...

But Rom the Spaceknight's is.

Warning, I am on pain medication.

I didn't want to bloat the post that inspired this more than I did already. In it, there's reference to Zach Snyder alluding to his putting Superman in the position where he 'had to' kill Zod because Superman's unwillingness to kill is "his greatest weakness."

I disagree. Superman's unwillingness to kill is actually his greatest strength, or at least a manifestation of it. Superman doesn't refuse to kill just because of a Christian devotion to 'thou shalt not kill' or an adherence to human law. Clark's refusal to kill is an extension of his absolute dedication to not abusing his power.

Clark's actual greatest weakness is his compassion for others. That's the thing that constantly tempts him to abuse that power. It isn't that killing Lex Luthor or Zod is an unforgivable crime in itself, it's that Clark knows it wouldn't be.

Rom, on the other hand, is the other way around.

Rom isn't really a Superman Expy, but he's certainly a commentary on him, even if unintentionally. Rom is also a paragon-type, also an alien superhuman with a wide assortment of immense powers. His greatest weapon is essentially a phantom zone projector.

Like Superman, Rom is sworn not to kill. But that's the important part. Sworn not to. He is bound by oaths and duty and rules of engagement because he's both a holy knight hunting demons and a soldier in a war. He isn't allowed to kill non-wraiths because they're civilians and doesn't want to because he cares about most living creatures.

He isn't allowed to kill wraiths because death is too good for them. He's hunting down war criminals, and the Galadorian leadership sentenced them all to exile to limbo to suffer for eternity, immortal but unable to affect, much less harm, anything.

A dead wraith is a wraith that has escaped its sentence, and coming back from the dead is easier for a species of demon-warlock aliens than escaping their metaphorical exorcism and banishment to hell.

Rom's code against killing is the most often exploited weakness he has. The wraiths, knowing a front-on confrontation with him is certain banishment, love to hurl non-wraith humans and superhumans at Rom, knowing the Spaceknight won't return their lethal force (and that if he did, they'd have forced him to murder an innocent, which they consider a win).

In these contests, Rom's humanity (specifically his ability to express human traits like compassion, mercy, and self-sacrifice) is usually what turns the tide by convincing these dupes of his true nature.

Pictured: Rogue inadvertently triggers Rom's body dysmorphia

Now, as has often been mocked, Rom does kill a couple of times. This gives him an existential crisis, but it's more about violating his oaths and losing control than remorse for destroying a wraith in a moment of passion. The audience isn't supposed to be horrified at his actions or unsettled, they're supposed to see the impossible standard the Galadorians put on Rom and his brethren.

But it still works with the themes, because Rom is a man trapped in a machine, and his Spaceknight code and duty are a part of that machine.

So where Superman must triumph over the temptations his own compassion puts before him to go too far, Rom has to keep his power and duty from keeping him from feeling the emotions he needs to triumph over his demons.

[dr-futbol-blog]

Sanctuary, Pt. 4

Now. The Ancients. Let's do an excursus on them real quick.

There appears to be a strong sexual attraction between the Ancients, and to a lesser extent the people who hold the ATA gene. They feel drawn to each other and can feel this pull emanating from one another upon close proximity.

We are shown several times that Sheppard can feel the Ancients, he can recognize them based on their physical presence alone. Ancients and those still carrying the gene are instantly and powerfully attracted to him. He could also recognize that the replicators were not Ancients despite for all intents and purposes looking like them just based on their physical presence (they didn't feel "Ancient-y" to him). Ditto being able to clock the wraith among the Ancients in the virtual environment of Aurora (S02E09), because "There's something very odd about her." Even McKay with his artificial ATA gene can feel them:

McKay: I know I'm not normally Mr. Sensitive, but you've got to believe me when I say there is something about her. I know it's intangible, but I can feel it--*

This actually makes sense from an evolutionary stand-point.

There are "Four Great Races" in the SG universe. We know nothing of the Furlings. The Nox, given their reverence for nature, probably are DTF but because their life-spans are lengthened, it probably happens rarely. It would make sense for them to have mating cycles to keep their population under control but we have no information about this. Then there are Asgard. We know that they they evolved beyond sexual reproduction, actually becoming incapable of reproducing sexually. This lead to the destruction of their race through progressive attrition of their gene pool. And then there are the Ancients, the Alterans.

We know that the Ancients also evolved beyond their physical forms to beings of pure energy. But this didn't happen over night. It didn't happen in one generation.

In the episode Epiphany (S02E12), we meet people that are close to Ascension, close to evolving beyond their physical forms. They are not Ancients but as "those who came after", they are close enough. These people not only had and enjoyed sex but it seems like sex was one of the only pastimes that even slightly interested them beyond meditation anymore.

I'll argue later that Sheppard felt attraction toward both Avrid ("Then shouldn't he be the one bringing me breakfast?") and his sister Teer ("The woman teaching me how to meditate was… very attractive"), although he seems to not actively pursue women in general. Like he tells Teer, he never sees these things coming, with women. Sheppard most definitely had sex with both of them.

Now, this makes sense. If, as a species, your pursuit is to evolve into beings of pure energy and discard your physical bodies but this cannot be done in a single generation, there needs to be a strong sexual pull between members of this species. Otherwise they would, like the Asgard, die out for lack of sexual reproduction before reaching that goal. They need to feel sexual attraction toward each other, and it has to be pronounced to override their disinclination toward earthly pursuits.

There's a phenomenon called Genetic Sexual Attraction that exists in humans. It's an intense sexual attraction felt between people that are genetically close to one another (like siblings) that have not undergone the reverse sexual imprinting that usually takes place when peers are raised in close proximity. This reverse sexual imprinting can happen between children that are not genetically related to one another if they are raised together, and it seems to be missing between siblings that have been raised in separation. It's an unfortunate side-product of an assortative mating strategy in humans.

It would make sense for the Ancients to have evolved something of this nature to ascertain the survival of their species, which would keep members of the species too genetically close to one another from reproducing but to generally drive the people of their species to have a strong sexual attraction toward one another. This attraction would have to be strong enough to force them to mate and produce offspring despite a mental disinclination toward carnal pursuits.

The Ancients, whom we know dabbled in genetic manipulation, may even have reinforced this through scientific means, given that they were losing the war against wraith due to their diminishing numbers, being out-reproduced by the wraith. Further, the Alterans had also evolved to a state of physical beauty that humans frequently describe as "perfect". This beauty, this attractiveness, also contributes to the assortative mating strategy.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, of course, but it could maybe be argued that the people carrying the ATA gene also do seem to be more attractive than average humans. Somehow even Joe Spencer of Citizen Joe had married a woman way beyond his pay-grade (and also, I'm not saying O'Neill was attracted to him but it's interesting that they cast Dan Castellaneta, the voice of Homer Simpson, as the guy with the Ancient connection to O'Neill).

We see several examples of strong sexual attraction between Ancients. Janus, we learn, had many lovers (there's an argument to be made that they were women and men).

Jackson: Several of Janus' peers suspected he had a "bastion of unfettered thought and experimentation" or -- as one of his lovers put it... McKay: He had lovers? Jackson: "...an isle of solitude within the city walls."

Orlin wanted Samantha Carter so badly that he was willing to give up his ascension. He wasn't in love with her in some pure platonic way, he wanted her.

People with the ATA gene seem to have somewhat of a lessened version of this. When McKay's body was occupied by someone that didn't consider Carson Beckett his best friend, she wanted him so badly that she basically sexually assaulted him (and once she was no longer in McKay's body, this attraction seems to have vanished).

Not saying McKay wants Beckett by any means, but that this genetic resonance exists between their bodies after he received the gene therapy. I'm also not saying that Sheppard wanted to bone Beckett, but he sure was drawn directly to Beckett in the Antarctic base, following the sound of his voice. And then there's Gen. O'Neill with his "if you can't give me a yes by the time we reach McMurdo, I don't even want you!" who has chemistry with everyone.

And finally, there's Sheppard and his "what is it with you and ascended women?" (and men, my guy), who attracted to himself both Arvid and Teer but also both Mara and Tavius, and even Harmony and her sisters (who possessed a diminishing ATA gene). These are all people who barely knew him but definitely wanted to bone him right at the offset.

Because he has an exceptionally strong ATA gene. Strongest we've seen in a human. It's not mere main character syndrome that these people are instantly attracted to him, and this would also explain this instant connection between him and Chaya Sar, especially from her side as she had not felt this kind of connection for 10,000 years. There are just way too many examples of this same exact thing for it to be a coincidence.**

So where does this leave Sheppard and McKay? Was Sheppard attracted to McKay before he got the ATA gene through gene therapy? It's impossible to say. Before he got the gene, we mainly see McKay being drawn toward Sheppard. We might be able to make a case for McKay having been attracted to Sheppard from the outset. Also the fact that Beckett is his best friend might suggest that he is drawn to people that carry the gene, although again, it might just be because they are attractive by design.

But as soon as the gene is activated in McKay, Sheppard is more and more pulled toward him. Sheppard physically gravitates toward him, and although McKay is wearing a personal shield at the time, Sheppard is comfortable being in his presence, touching him, manhandling him as soon as McKay has had the gene therapy. It's not proof but it is enough to speculate.

Would it matter if Sheppard's initial attraction would have been motivated by this? After all, that's not what sparked his interest in Rodney.

The thing is, all of this is just sexual attraction. It's a biological imperative. It's incentive, it's not fate.

Love is so much more than simple physical attraction and even by this time, we have seen what ever it is that exists between Sheppard and McKay develop into something much deeper than mere attraction, a mere physical pull. It may have started as attraction but it was through their deeds and sacrifices that the two of them started falling for the other. It was through getting to know one another, the good and the bad, through sharing experiences, of joy and fear and humour and anger, that they've started forging a genuine bond between them. And this is the lesson that the episode is building toward. We get to learn what it is that Sheppard so desperately needs. And we get to learn who he can find it in.

Continued in Pt. 5

.* So let's assume for a moment that you're a Kinsey (5-)6. You've never felt genuine sexual attraction to the opposite sex. Performed it, yes, but not felt it spontaneously. Then you come across a member of the opposite sex you have every reason to dislike for personal, interpersonal, philosophical, ethical, religious, and other reasons. But you feel a strong sexual desire toward her, all out of the blue. That would be confusing to you. You wouldn't even know what to do with it. It would probably make you kind of nauseous. It would feel wrong. Yes, Rodney is clearly jealous, but it's not the only thing that is going on there. He hates her, literally, with a passion, from first sight.

.** So, like. McKay actually kind of does have a reason to worry about Sheppard and his sister given how he has historically fared with siblings but, like. As long as she doesn't have the gene therapy, you're fine.

[potatoplace]

Omega Needs - Chapter 6

Feylin, eventual Feysand

chapter 5 | chapter 7 | series masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, not proofread

Words: ~6.3k

Author's Note: this came out sooner than I expected! It is only covering another day and a half, but there will be another chapter before Tuesday for the rest of Feyre's first week in the Night Court. I hope you all like it!

18+ only pls

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre was awoken a while later by Cerridwen knocking on the doorframe of the bathroom.

“Feyre? Lunch is ready,” She said gently, her eyes considerately avoiding her naked form, still in the bath.

“Oh, thank you, Cerridwen. I’ll be out in a few minutes, you can leave it there, for me,” Feyre replied, a sleepy smile on her face. The shadow wraith nodded her head, then turned and walked away.

Feyre got up once she heard the snick of the door, wrapping her body in a fluffy towel. Her skin was pruney, but she felt more refreshed than she had before getting in the bath. She returned to the main room and got into her wardrobe, looking for something to wear until it was time to sleep.

She rummaged through the drawers at the bottom that she had yet to look at, and pulled out a soft set of matching shorts and a tank top in a pale, minty green. The color reminded her of Spring, and she quickly dried her body off and slipped the items on, along with a pair of socks that went up to her mid calf.

Feyre then moved to the table, where Cerridwen had left a tray holding a soup, tomato, she would guess, and a grilled sandwich filled with cheese cut into two triangles. Feyre tucked in, loving the basil and slight creaminess the soup had, and the sandwich went perfectly with the soup.

She had just sat down in the plush armchair with one of the novels she had picked out earlier when Cerridwen returned for the tray.

Before Feyre could second guess the request, Feyre blurted “Would you be able to get me a sketch pad and some charcoals, Cerridwen?”

The wraith turned around, tray already in her arms. “Of course, Feyre. I’ll be back in just a moment with it.”

“Thank you,” Feyre said, grateful that the other fae hadn’t questioned her on her request.

Cerridwen returned a few minutes later, three differently sized sketch pads and an assortment of charcoals, blending stumps and erasers in hand.

Feyre stood up and excitedly took the items from the other fae. "Thank you so much, Cerridwen, these look perfect!"

"I'm glad you like them, Feyre," she said with a warm smile, one of the few Feyre had seen from her.

Feyre set the supplies down on the table as Cerridwen left the room, closing the door behind her. The only thing missing was...

Quickly, Feyre dragged the armchair she had just been sitting in next to the table, close enough that she could reach the extra charcoals and supplies. She moved one of the smaller chairs in front of the armchair so that if she was here long enough, she could put her legs up without needing to move anything or risk getting charcoal on the fine furniture.

Feyre sat down and grabbed the smallest sized sketch pad and a piece of charcoal. Then, she began to draw the glorious view that had been calling to her the past three days.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre had completed three renditions of the mountains in front of her, one on each of the differently sized pads of paper. With each one, she became more and more confident.

She had thought any ability to create, to make something new in this world instead of just taking away from it had been taken away from her when her neck snapped.

But that wasn't the case. With her fingers covered in black dust, she had made something beautiful again- Feyre had just needed some inspiration, something out of the usual dullness of her life in Spring.

She was happy with Tamlin, that was true, but the constant season and Ianthe's hounding of every move she made had made her rather tired. But seeing another court, the other beauty that this world had to offer had rekindled the spark in her, the part of her that she had thought so useless as a starving human.

Feyre might even paint when she gets home- she did have a lovely set of paints from Tamlin that he had given her last Winter Solstice for her birthday.

She was brought out of her thoughts by a few gentle knocks on her door, and Mor's voice came from the other side. "Feyre? Can I come in?"

"Yes, come in Mor," Feyre replied, standing from her place on the chair and turning to face the door.

More breezed in, her striking golden hair in soft ringlets and dressed in a flowy white dress. "Dinner is ready, I thought I would walk you down there!"

"That would be nice, Mor. Let me just change," Feyre said, looking down at her attire. She was definitely not going to eat dinner with Rhys and Mor in pajamas.

She pulled another matching set in the same cut as the one she'd worn this morning from her wardrobe, this one in a shade of pale blue. Feyre went into her bathroom and quickly changed, folding the pajamas and setting them on the counter for tonight.

Once she was done, the two of them made their way down to the table they had been eating at while Feyre was here. Rhysand was nowhere to be seen, and they took their seats.

On the table was a bowl of salad, a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and a small plate holding butter, as well as their place settings. There was an empty space in the middle of the table, and Feyre assumed that there was another dish that had yet to be put out.

Mor took to pouring them each a glass of wine, which Feyre gladly take a sip of. It was sweet, the flavor bursting across her tongue, far better than the usual wines they had with dinner in Spring, all chosen for their scents rather than taste. Why, Feyre could not fathom.

"Rhys brought out the good stuff, thank the Mother!" Mor exclaimed as she took her own sip. "I like the taste of wine and all, I just enjoy it even more when it tastes like there's no alcohol in it."

"I'll agree with you there," Feyre laughed. "Speaking of Rhys, where is he?"

"He's just bringing out the main dish," Mor replied, and as she did Rhysand came out of the darkness of the hallway leading to the kitchen. "Good thing you're here, Rhys, I'm starving."

Without saying a word, Rhysand set the bowl on the table and took a seat, dishing out food for all three of them.

"Thank you, Rhys," Feyre said gently after he had given her a piece of bread, her plate now loaded with salad and the creamy pasta dish he had brought. The pasta had mushrooms, onions, chicken, and pieces of crumbled bacon in it, and was absolutely delicious.

Rhysand said nothing, merely nodding his head in acknowledgment as he poured his own very full glass of wine, downing half of it in one gulp.

"So, Feyre, I saw you had some sketch pads...?" Mor prodded gently after a few minutes of tense silence.

"Oh." Feyre blushed, she wasn't quite prepared to talk about art yet, but she supposed now was as good a time as ever to start again. "I asked Cerridwen if she could, I hope that was okay."

"Of course, Feyre! Again, you can ask for pretty much anything you want and we will get it for you, it's no trouble to us at all," Mor interrupted with a sweet smile, and that combined with her scent, still calm, soothed Feyre's small bit of panic.

"Well, thank you. I just... the view out of my bedroom is so spectacular, I needed to commit it to memory."

Mor nodded, that smile still on her face. "I can understand that, our court is so beautiful. I wish I was any good with the arts, but I am rather dreadful at everything I’ve tried," Mor chuckled.

“Oh, I’m sure you aren’t that bad Mor. Maybe you could try again? It does take practice after all.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ll leave it to you and the other creatives,” Mor said lightly. She looked over to Rhysand, who was still silently eating his dinner and on his second glass of wine. “Is there anywhere else you’d like to sketch, Feyre?”

Feyre thought about it for a moment before answering. “There’s nowhere specific that I can think of. Right now, at least. But I haven’t been able to explore much of the Spring Court, I’ve been constantly busy this past year. But maybe you’ll be able to show me a few of your own favorites here?” She asked, hopeful for the idea of more glorious view to put on paper.

“I’d love to do that Feyre! Between that and our Dawn Court trip, I am going to have so much fun planning!” Mor clapped her hands together in excitement.

The blonde was definitely living up to Feyre’s first impression of her. Very bright and friendly, just like her personality.

Rhysand stoop up abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone beneath them loudly. He grabbed his glass of wine and stalked off.

Feyre stared after him, confused. “What was that all about?”

Mor sighed, and it was the first time had heard her sound tired. “One of our temples was attacked a couple of hours ago, we lost some of our citizens. He’s taking it rather hard, after all of the losses from… well, you know.”

Feyre grimaced. “That’s awful… Have you caught who did it yet?”

Mor pursed her lips, eyeing the hallway Rhysand had disappeared down. “Promise you won’t tell anyone about this?” Feyre nodded, she wasn’t sure what use the information would be to her or anyone she knows anyways. “We caught the actual people who went through with the act, but we believe it to be the work of Hybern.”

“Hybern?” Feyre had never heard of such a place, only Prythian and the Continent.

“It’s a large island kingdom to our west… Amarantha was one of their generals, and we believe they might be planning something. What, we aren’t sure of, but Rhys’s goal is to unite Prythian to stop whatever conflict is brewing. But… Today hit him hard. None of us were expecting a seemingly random loss of innocent life.”

Feyre frowned, looking to where he had exited the room from. “I am sorry. I can’t imagine what it must feel like, losing people again, so soon after everything.”

Mor loosed another sigh, slumping back in her chair. “It is difficult, for sure. But seeing you- seeing someone be able to create good in this world reminds me that it’s worth it. No matter what comes, we will need people like you, more than ever.”

“People like… Me?” Feyre asked, unsure of what she meant.

“Dreamers, Feyre. People who can look at the world and see the good in it, no matter what they’ve been through. It might take them a week, a month, a year…” Mor paused and smiled at Feyre knowingly. “But people like you always come back to what’s beautiful and worthwhile in the world.”

The words brought a smile to Feyre’s face. “Dreamers, hmm? I like the sound of that…”

Mor jumped up from her chair, startling Feyre. “Dreamers deserve cake, don’t you think Feyre?”

“Oh, they do Mor!” Feyre hopped out of her chair was well, loving the idea Mor had suggested.

Mor dragged her down the hallway to the kitchen, the two of them giggling all the way like children sneaking food in the middle of the night. They slid to a stop in front of the massive fridge, and Mor swung the doors of it open wide.

“Cake, cake, cake,” Mor sang, pulling out a beautifully decorated cake. It was wrapped in a lovely blue-grey frosting, which nearly matched her eyes, Feyre noted, and topped with blackberries, raspberries, and blueberries.

“It’s beautiful,” Feyre breathed, surprised by how lovely a cake could be. None of the wedding cakes she had tasted in Spring had drawn her attention like this one did.

“It tastes as amazing as it looks, Feyre, I promise,” Mor said as she grabbed a large knife, two forks, and two plates out of a cabinet. She cut two generous slices for the both of them and led Feyre over to the breakfast bar on the other side of the island counter.

They both let out a groan at their first bites, the simple but perfect vanilla cake and sweet berry filling was absolute perfection.

“So, Feyre… I didn’t want to ask when Rhys was around in case it made you uncomfortable, and you are in no way obligated to answer me… But how’s this past year been for you? How’s uhm… How are things with Tamlin?” Mor asked hesitantly.

Feyre smiled awkwardly, swallowing her bite of cake. “It’s been… it’s been tough, for sure. There’s been a lot for me to get used to, not even just with preparing to be Lady of Spring, but… I have a new body too.”

Mor grimaced. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, Rhys said you had grown a couple of inches, right?” Feyre nodded her head. “That must have been so disorienting to get used to.”

“It was, it took me a month to stop stumbling around everywhere, and two months for me to stop mangling the silverware at dinner,” Feyre laughed, Mor joining her. “And as for Tamlin… well, it would have been nice if the ceremony had gone as planned but I… I had a panic attack, and well… Rhys stepped in at just the right time to not ruin our relationship entirely. I am looking forward to going home, though, and seeing him again. I… I miss my alpha,” Feyre admitted in a small voice.

“Oh, Feyre. You’ll be back to him in just a few days, there’s no need to worry. I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you too,” Mor comforted her, rubbing a soothing hand on her back.

“I know, I just wish we had been able to talk before I left for a moment… But there’s no point to worrying now, I can’t do anything from here.”

“Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable? Rhys mentioned… He mentioned that you might go into heat, or the beginnings of it during this week.” Mor was looking at her with soft eyes.

“I’m not sure,” Feyre said, biting her lip. “You mentioned there’s a catalog with nesting materials?”

Mor’s eyes lit up. “Yes, there is Feyre. Would you like me to show you which one it is?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of them ran with their half eaten plates of cake into Feyre’s room, Mor giving her plate to Feyre and rummaging through the catalogs before pulling out the one they were looking for.

“Can I help you look?” Mor asked with puppy dog eyes, and Feyre couldn’t resist.

“You can help me make sure I get colors that mostly go together.”

“Yes!” Mor jumped onto Feyre’s bed, patting the spot next to her.

They spent the next hour going through the entire booklet, Feyre picking out a plethora of different blankets, pillowcases, and cuts of materials that she knew would look and feel perfect in her nest from the illustrations and descriptions. She insisted on only getting items in varying shades of purple, blue, and pink, making sure to get pastels and darker versions.

Feyre could almost see her nest now, the top of it colored like the sunset and the bottom resembling the sunrise. She fell back into her pillows, letting out a happy sigh as she did so.

“You good, Feyre?” Mor giggled at her.

“Mhm, I’m just excited to have all of it…”

“Well, you won’t have to wait long. I’ll go right after breakfast tomorrow. Did you want to look at any of the other catalogs?” Mor suggested, already getting up to grab said catalogs.

“I don’t see why not,” Feyre said as she caught one- seemingly for clothing- from midair.

Feyre found a few dresses that she wanted- all in the same color scheme as her nesting materials. One of them was absolutely gorgeous, it was colored like a soft pink sunset, lighter at the top and fading into a lovely violet at the hem. It was something Feyre normally wouldn’t wear on an average day, but she figures that her time here hasn’t exactly been average, so she might as well go all out when she feels like it. She also picked two skirts and their matching long sleeved tops, both in deep jewels tones. The description promised them to be silk, one of Feyre’s favorite materials for clothing, and the beautiful sapphire and amethyst colors were too tempting to resist.

By the time they had gone through three more clothing booklets, the sun had long since set and the two of them were laughing, slightly delirious from tiredness.

“Feyre, dear, I think I’m going to head to bed,” Mor said, finally pulling her body off of Feyre’s bed. “I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast, alright?”

Feyre smiled, a bright and genuine thing, and nodded her head. “I’ll see you then, Mor. And thank you, for this. It was fun.”

“It’s no problem at all, Feyre, I had fun too. Sleep well."

And with that, the Alpha left her room, shutting the door behind her softly. Feyre got up from her bed, stretching her limbs before walking to the bathroom. She changed into her green sleep set from earlier, then tucked herself into bed, staring out at the stars over the mountains.

A few minutes later, the excitement and sugar wearing off, Feyre fell into a deep sleep.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre woke when a knock sounded on her door. She didn’t move.

“Feyre, darling? Breakfast is ready.” It was Rhysand.

Feyre merely rolled over in her bed, pulling the covers over her head. She heard the door open, and soft footsteps crossing the room.

“Feyre.”

She stayed still, trying to breathe as little as possible.

“Feyre.” Rhysand’s hand wiggled one of her feet, and she reflexively pulled away from his grasp. “Fey-ruh,” he said in a sing-songy voice, grabbing her other foot.

“I don’t want to get out of bed,” She finally whispered when she pulled her feet in towards her body.

“You only need to get up for breakfast, darling, we can do your training in here if you still want to be in bed afterwards,” Rhysand offered. Feyre groaned, but moved the blankets off of her face to look at him.

“You promise?”

Rhysand beamed at her. “Of course, Feyre. I promise. Now, will you change and meet me outside?”

“Fine,” Feyre huffed, waiting until he had left the room to throw the covers off of her body. She got up and went to her wardrobe, picking out a soft pair of leggings and a dark green sweater, then pulled on a pair of matching green knee high socks.

She felt nice and cozy, a decent enough substitution for her bed. Feyre joined Rhys in the hallway, and they made their way down to the dinner table.

Mor was already seated, pouring orange juice and some kind of sparkling wine into glasses for all of them, and on the table there were omelettes already on their plates, as well as a bowl of diced melons.

Breakfast was delicious, as Feyre was coming to expect from her meals here, and the bubbly mimosas Mor had poured made all of them relaxed and the time fly by.

Soon enough, Mor was leaving, heading off to go do Feyre’s shopping.

“Don’t worry, Feyre, I’ll be buying things for myself as well,” Mor reassured her when Feyre had voiced a concern about Mor spending her day shopping for her.

“Mor is fantastic at finding new things she needs, especially if you two looked over any clothing booklets last night,” Rhysand chuckled, and Mor flipped him off before she vanished. “So, Feyre, did you want to get back in bed or go to the training room?”

“Uhm… the training room should be fine, I was just so comfortable…” she trailed off.

“If you change your mind, just let me know, Feyre.” She dipped her head in agreement, and the two of them made their way to the training room, sitting in the same chairs they had yesterday.

“Let’s start with shielding again. Your shield from yesterday was wonderful, you might try adding in some defenses to ward away intruders before they try exploring the waters of your mind,” Rhysand suggested.

Hearing that she had done well again, Feyre beamed at Rhysand. “I’ll do my best.”

She thought of what might be able to protect her in the water. Feyre had never seen the sea, though her father had told tales of great beasts that would take bites out of a ships hull. She couldn’t picture what that might look like. Though… she did have one idea for a defensive mechanism.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Rhysand entered her mind, finding some resistance in the initial push inwards. He attempted to dive below the water, but it was solid this time, as though an inch thick layer of ice had covered it- so he smashed his way through, plunging beneath the surface. He made it a few yards down before her defenses found him.

He was face to- well, maw- with the Middengard Wyrm- the beast Feyre had nearly died slaughtering. They weren’t able to swim in the physical world, but the one in Feyre’s shielding was a vicious swimmer, propelling itself towards Rhysand’s power at a rapid pace, and just before it swallowed him whole, he backed out of her mind, breathless.

“Feyre- that was brilliant! I’m so proud of you, it takes most fae months to get to the level you’ve already achieved.”

“Rhys, stop it, you’re just saying that,” Feyre countered.

“I am being serious, Feyre. Most fae have trouble coming up with anything but a literal wall for their mental barrier, but you’ve already created an ocean and have a terrifyingly realistic Wyrm to serve as both protection and a warning to daemati that do manage to breach the initial barrier of your mind. It is amazing how well you are progressing already.”

Feyre looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were eager and truthful, and his expression was softened by them.

“Are you… okay?” Feyre finally asked the question that had been at the back of her mind since he had woken her for breakfast. “Mor, she told me some of what happened yesterday.”

Rhysand sighed, holding his chin in his hand. “I am not okay, Feyre, but I hope to be soon. It will take a while for the loss of my people to leave my heart. Thank you, for asking Feyre.”

Feyre merely nodded, then asked, “Again?”

They practiced a few more times, each time Rhysand pushed Feyre to make the initial barrier of her mind stronger, thicker. Harder for his power to seep or crack through. By the end of the second hour, Feyre was sweating and tired, her mind feeling a bit fuzzy at the edges.

“We’ll stop here for now with the shielding, Feyre. Here, drink this,” Rhysand said, procuring a glass of water with a straw from nowhere, and handed it to Feyre. She gulped it down, feeling more present and alert after finishing the glass.

“Thank you, Rhys. Are we going to work on my magic now?” Rhysand bobbed his head in confirmation.

“I’d like you to locate your magic again, and then attempt to draw it out, a good place to start with that is through the hands, they give more of a physical point to lead the magic to.”

Feyre did as he asked, closing her eyes and finding that slowly writhing mass of cold energy within her chest. It seemed more active today, wiggling in time to her heartbeat instead of every other beat. She tried to stretch it out, move it towards her arms, but it wouldn’t budge. She let out a frustrated groan and opened her eyes.

“It’s stuck.”

“Keep trying, Feyre. You’ll get it,” Rhysand encouraged her, and she shut her eyes and tried again.

She tried to move it more gently this time, in time with its natural pulsing. It expanded slightly in the direction of her arm before snapping back into place. Feyre brought a hand to her heart, soothing the ache the sensation had left behind.

“I got it to move, but barely,” Feyre grumbled, feeling discouraged.

“That’s great though, Feyre, just a few minutes ago you couldn’t get it to expand at all. Keep trying, practice will make it looser and able to expand more quickly and with less intense after effects.”

Feyre sat trying for the next hour, and managed to get the magic to expand through most of her chest and able to hold it there for around three seconds. She was exhausted, though, and drenched in sweat.

She went to try again, grasping at the power contained within her once again, before Rhysand placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Feyre, you should rest for the day.”

“No, I can keep trying Rhys, I’ll be fine-” Feyre protested before Rhysand cut her off.

“I know that you can keep trying, Feyre, but there is no need to exhaust your body any further today, it will most likely do more harm than good. Your progress in both areas today has been fantastic, you should be proud of yourself! I know that I am proud of you, Feyre,” Rhysand said in a caring tone, and the words of praise made Feyre’s omega so happy she was on the verge of purring aloud.

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre responded with a blush high on her cheeks. She stood from her chair and stretched her sore, aching muscles. Rhysand followed suit, and walked Feyre back to her bedroom just as he had yesterday.

“Mor will be back in around a half hour with lunch for you and multitudes of shopping bags I’m sure she is going to bring home,” Rhysand informed her with a chuckle once they were by her door. “Make sure you’re eating well when you practice, Feyre, magic eats through out energy stores very quickly, especially at the start of learning to wield it.”

“I’ll pay attention to that, Thank you Rhys,” Feyre said. Rhysand smiled and turned around, heading back in the direction they had come from, and Feyre slipped into her room.

Like yesterday, she made her way to the bathroom and stripped herself of her clothing, tossing it in the laundry basket before sinking down into the water. She relaxed for a few minutes, letting the hot water soothe her aching muscles before she began to wash her hair, then moved on to her body.

In about twenty minutes, Feyre had just dried off and slipped on a soft black sweater dress when a knock came on her door. “Come in!”

The door busted open, revealing Mor carrying at least ten different bags, all stuffed to the brim with various colors and types of fabrics. “Today was so much fun! I got everything you asked for plus a few things that I thought might be nice that weren’t in the catalogs.” She dumped the bags on the floor, before going back out to the hall and grabbing a few more bags, one of which was giving off a deliciously spicy smell. “I also brought lunch, it’s from my favorite restaurant, I think it’s some type of curry but no matter what it will be amazing!”

Feyre moved to the bags on the floor first, instantly spotting an amethyst fabric that she snatched away, bringing it to her face and nuzzling into it. Mor dropped the bags that didn’t hold food on the ground with the rest and moved to the table, unpacking the food as Feyre continued rummaging in the bags.

“Oh!” Feyre exclaimed as she pulled out a pair of violet thigh high kitted socks, thick and soft and everything Feyre needed right now. She slipped them on quickly, and returned to her post of sorting through the massive amount of materials in front of her.

Before she could do much sorting- into piles of blankets, pillow cases, hemmed pieces of fabrics, pillows, and clothes- Feyre was interrupted by Mor.

“Feyre, you need to eat lunch.”

Feyre ignored her, continuing to pull item after item out of the bags, rubbing each one against her face before placing them in the correct pile.

“Omega.” That got Feyre to stop and turn towards the alpha who was already seated at the table, dishing food out for the both of them. “You need to eat, Rhys said you did a lot of training today. Be good and follow his instructions, okay?” Feyre bit her lip, gaze moving back to the still unsorted bags. “Omega, everything will be there when you finish eating, I promise. You can even sit and stare at them while you eat, if you’d like, but you need to eat, Feyre.”

Feyre finally got up from the floor, a pout on her lips as she took her seat. It was quickly erased when she smelled the food again, that wonderful spiced aroma filling Feyre’s senses. She sat so that she could see the bags out of the corner of her eye, but was still able to look out at the mountains if she wished.

“How’s the training going?” Mor asked a few minutes after Feyre had begun eating the creamy yellow chicken curry and rice.

“Rhys says it’s going well, but I have my doubts…” Feyre confessed. “I haven’t been able to summon anything, let alone move my magic into my limbs.”

“That’s true, you are in the beginning stages of learning to use your magic. It is the hardest part, I promise you, but from the few details Rhys has told me that you are progressing quickly, especially in the mental shielding aspect.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Feyre. And if I’m being honest, being able to keep Rhys out for any amount of time is impressive, even for someone who has practiced for years. The fact that you’ve been able to shows just how capable you are for magic. I think you’ll get the hang of it faster than you think,” Mor said sweetly, and every word from the alpha’s lips soothed the tension that had built inside of her body since this morning.

Hearing it from Rhys was one thing, he seemed to prefer training with a gentle hand for the moment, but hearing assurances from someone else was helpful. Calming, even. Feyre shook her head.

“I can’t believe I was so worried about that, it’s such a silly problem.”

“Feyre, it’s not silly. You’ve been given magic after being a human all your life, I think it would be more strange to not worry about it.”

“I suppose you’re right, Mor.”

Mor flashed her a smile. “I know I am, Feyre.”

The two of them finished their lunch, staring out at the passing clouds. As soon as Feyre was done, she washed her hands in the bathroom and returned to the bags to continue sorting them.

“Do you want me to help, Feyre, or are you fine on your own?” Mor asked from where she was still sitting at the table.

“I can do it on my own, but you can stay if you’d like. Or are you busy?” Feyre looked up at the other fae then, worried that she had taken up to much of the blonde’s time.

“No, no, I have nothing else to do today. I can stay for a while,” Mor said soothingly, and Feyre relaxed. “I’ll try reading one of those romance books you have over there, if that’s alright?”

“Oh, of course,” Feyre said, already focused on sorting everything again.

In a few minutes, all of the bags were emptied and everything sorted, and Feyre sighed. That part was done. Now, to arrange it all on her bed and around the room.

Feyre began to assemble her nest, carefully choosing which spot each item rested in to make it as perfect as possible. Her sunset to sunrise pattern was stunning, if she had to describe it in any way but perfect.

Her nest is perfect.

Tears fill Feyre’s eyes as joy bubbles in her chest.

It’s the first time her nest has felt right to her; every time in Spring something had felt off, like she didn’t have the right materials or patterns to satisfy her omega.

But now? Staring at the beautiful nest, with fabrics piled around the bed on the floor continuing the pattern she had created, her nest felt so welcoming and lovely.

Feyre slid onto the bed, rolling around on it and relishing in the soft slip of fabrics against her skin.

The door clicked shut, and Feyre’s head swung towards it, then back to the table where Mor had last been.

She was gone, as were the containers from lunch and the shopping bags.

Oh mother, did she see me rolling around in my nest? Feyre thought, color creeping up her neck.

But in a few moments, Feyre was back to basking in the happiness of her newly completed nest, her omega feeling the most at peace she had since Feyre had been turned into one.

Feyre pulled a violet body pillow into her body, wrapping her arms around it and stuffing it between her thighs. A series of deep breaths left her as her body relaxed into the nest, and she fell asleep just a few minute after curling up.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

“Feyre, darling, wake up,” came Rhysand’s voice, soft and comforting and oh so alpha.

She opened her eyes, met with the sight of Rhys standing in front of her nest before the fabric starts on the floor, holding a tray.

“It’s time for dinner, and Mor said you might not feel like leaving your room again today, so I brought dinner to you,” he explained with a smile. “Is it alright if I set the tray down in your nest, Feyre?”

Feyre nodded, and he placed the tray down in front of her as she disentangled herself from the body pillow and sat up.

He then dragged a chair over to the side of her bed, being mindful to not interfere with the boundary of Feyre’s nest, for which she was grateful.

In Spring, most of the maids had been mindful of her space, but Ianthe had never shown any care to keeping Feyre’s nest intact. This was a welcome change. Maybe she should stand up to Ianthe when she gets home…?

“How are you feeling, Feyre? Not too tired, I hope.”

Feyre blinked at him, the violet of his eyes catching her gaze. “Oh, uhm, I’m fine, thank you Rhys. A short nap helped, and the food Mor brought me for lunch was so good.” She turned her attention to the tray Rhysand had set in her nest and pulled it towards her. “This looks amazing too,” Feyre said, and started eating the thick slice of lasagna and roasted vegetables. “It is amazing.”

Rhysand chuckled. “It’s one of my favorites, lasagna was always a special meal for my brothers and I growing up. It meant we had done a good job that day, good enough for my mother to spend a few hours preparing the dish, all to put a smile on our faces,” he reminisced, a wistful look on his face.

“That was very kind of her, she must have cared about the three of you a lot,” Feyre said, thinking back on her own mother, who had hardly lifted a finger for Feyre’s well-being before she passed.

“She did. She did.”

The rest of their meal was spent in a comfortable silence, with Feyre still brushing her fingers against her different nesting fabrics every few seconds.

“When did you want to return home, Feyre?” Rhysand asked after they had both finished, a serious look on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re obviously nesting, I want to make sure that you still feel comfortable being away from Tamlin.”

“Oh. Normally I… don’t actually go in to heat for at least three days, I should be able to make it to the end of the week.”

Rhysand considers it before adding, “Let me know if you do feel it starting, either Mor or I can take you back to Spring immediately. And there no need to worry, I won’t add any extra time to your future stays, Feyre.”

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre replied with a smile.

“Now, I think I’ll leave you to sleep, I’m going to head off to bed myself,” Rhysand said as he stood, gathering all of their dishes together and heading out of the door. “Goodnight, Feyre.”

“Goodnight, Rhys.”

The door snicked shut, and Feyre stood from her spot in her nest.

Pajamas. Then she can go to bed. She rifled through the wardrobe before pulling out a pretty purple nightgown that matched the soft she was wearing, made of a smooth satin that Feyre was dying to have on her skin all night. She removed her dress and slipped her nightgown over her shoulders. The fabric felt just as lovely as she thought it would.

Feyre stumbled back to her nest, falling into the middle of it. She pulled the body pillow back to its previous position and wrapped a soft, pink blanket around herself.

Between the food warming her stomach and the soft fabrics surrounding her, Feyre fell asleep in just a few minutes, floating on a sea of clouds in her dreams.

Series taglist: @icey--stars

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Doom Prompt 14: Old man Sunwalker

A writing prompt from my Doom Discord, tied into the Garnets story. old Crucible is just...grumpy old man . 14: “Old man Sunwalker being slightly grumpy at Lily holding him”

The old crucible woke up not against its chosen wielder, and for a moment was confused. The Slayer was not far, but also… calm.

There was a low deep rumble that turned into a chuckle at a frustrated sound from… someone else? Sunwalker shifted their attention and found that other, new living weapon alike to himself, but they were settled and sleeping still needing that mental rest so to say. Still very much connected to the Slayer King….and for the first time Sunwalker found out who was also connected to the younger weapon.

He had to take a phantom form to look around on his own, finding himself sitting at the head of a bed. Argenta made but the big royal room had been filled with the oddest assortment of things to Sunwalker. The living weapon could hold this form for a good long while, just not many could see him.

A glowing blue eye opened to look over at the phantom. The Slayer was stretched out on his front in his bed, arms crossed under his chin and though his body language was deceptively relaxed… Sunwalker knew better. He was connected to this one after all.

He also blinked red shined eyes back as the crusible’s phantom clearly picked up the warning glare. 

There was a bit of a pulse from a healer’s wraith gift, drawing Sunwalker’s attention and he jerked a bit in shock. Confused as to why a child would be in the Slayer King’s rooms. She was sitting back on her knees, on his back before huffing and sat up to plop her weight onto the heels of her hands on one spot. Frowning in concentration, her wraith gift was still so new but flared a bit in time with her emotions. In this case, trying to get something to work.

The child had to be just starting to learn her healer’s gift, no fine control one could say. It was like someone smacking a papercut with a non-stick gauze pad to see if that worked.

…actually it was exactly like that. 

The Slayer had many small cuts on his back, no longer bleeding and would heal on their own in the next day or so. Yet he was just letting this child try to heal, knowing she just was not at that level? 

This amusing sight was what got Sunwalker’s attention, but what held it was the living weapon realizing that his chosen’s own energy, power? The Slayer’s energy was threaded and mixed into this girl’s soul, his power skimming over top of her in a way that was like a shield. A way that almost seemed intentional to hide her. But there was no Mark on her. Just one little mark on a bit of jewelry, and on her wrist, something not even like the Sentinel's own to use some aspects of his power.

“Why… do you… have… to be… built… like… a brick… shite… house…?!” The girl growled out, resorting to bouncing as the Slayer laughed lowly. Lily was not really trying to heal the cuts at first but to work something out. She sat back and glared at the scarred back, then pounced forward on the heels of her hands as if a surprise attack would improve results. 

Sunwalker just stared, taken aback at the strange insult. Watching as the Slayer shifted and somewhat started to get up, making the girl laugh and yelp as she fell to his left, away from the side of the bed. It was like watching a wintherin stretching in the nest as the Slayer got up just enough to rotate his shoulders before settling down with a groan. The girl sat up, Lily checked and then tossed up her hands as the knot she had been trying to work out and heal, had been forced into accelerated healing by the demigod.

The Slayer rolled over and reached out, grabbing the child with a playful growl. Getting a yip and an attempt to kick before wrapping his arms around the small girl. Sunwalker jerked as he stared and then suddenly realized that sort of connection he was seeing should not be from just a gift through a mark-

When did his chosen wielder have a child?!

Sunwalker could only stare in a now confused, shocked state, not sure what was going on as the Slayer loosened his hold to start using that silent language. The girl responding the same way, as if raised with it?

The Slayer was sitting up a bit, then rolling onto his back and reaching upwards. Not so blindly reaching to grasp the hilt of Sunwalker. That warning look was leveled at the phantom he could see even if his child could not. Then the Slayer was offering it to the girl as she sat up in the bed. 

“That’s… the new… old one? That’s older than dad?” the girl, Lily asked, getting a nod back as the Slayer sat up. He took her hand and carefully set the hilt into it. Both her hand and the crucible hilt fit in his own.

The Slayer signed carefully with his free hand. Aware of the almost instinctual reaction of the crucible, but there was a solid, though unseen hit of the Slayer’s will at the living weapon. He broke reality once, he would break Sunwalker in half again if the living weapon hurt his Flower.

“...feels weird.” Lily said, unaware of the momentary battle of wills. Being careful on instinct, knowing she could not trigger the blade but still gentle as she turned the crucible over. “...it …it feels warm. Almost like you… not the same kind of heat.”

The Slayer asked a question in sign.

Lily thought about it, still being careful, the edges of the crucible felt sharp unlike her dad’s. Like it was bristling at her almost. “It… feels like just before a sunburn. You feel like… well right now you feel like the heater on a boat. Nice and hot but don’t touch it.” she set the crucible in his hand again, and then playfully touched her fingers to the demigod’s head.

The Slayer chuckled, eyed the new-old weapon to make sure it would keep behaving before reaching to grab Lily. Grinning at the squeak as he lifted her up, pressing his head to hers to make sure to drive home to the crucible that this was his. His daughter, and Sunwalker was not allowed to lash out in any way. He sat back to free a hand and sign another question, the hilt set back on the bed.. 

“...yes! Spaaaace!” Lily cheered, getting picked up and carried over to the not really but ‘open’ balcony.

…when did the Slayer have a child?!

[kyleraynermybeloved]

Wedding Day

Pairing: Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x NavySEAL!Reader Summary: Your wedding day arrives and as usual there’s bound to be some playful banter with those you love. Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff. Word Count: 903 A/N: It's my birthday and I wanted to post this fun little drabble as a gift to y'all! Hope you enjoy! TWAHF Masterlist

To say you were nervous would be a complete understatement. The nerves kept you up much later than you would have liked, keeping you groggy for the better half of the morning.

You were just glad you had Mickey’s mom to help you get prepared. Once you were finished you looked at her through the mirror as she hugged you from behind, smiling with tears in her eyes. “You look breathtaking. Just as kind and beautiful as the shy little girl Mickey had been excited to bring home for the first time.”

Your dress was gorgeous, beyond anything you’ve ever dreamed of with the beautiful necklace she had gifted you in the morning.. It was a family heirloom that’s been passed down for generations, usually to the first married woman of the family. With Mickey being the oldest of two siblings and his younger sister not planning on getting engaged any time soon, it went to you, no matter how much you declined.

A few tears slipped as you hugged her tighter to you. “Thank you so much for everything. I don’t think I’d be where I am now without you or the family, you mean the world to me.”

The remaining hour went by in a flash. The venue was decorated with an assortment of fairy lights, giving it an ethereal glow. You both had invited a handful of people, a few family members and your closest friends, wanting to have a small wedding. Mickey was beaming with joy while trying to contain his crying as you both said your vows, you were no better. His best man and best friend Reuben had subtly handed you both tissues causing your heart to soar as you thought about your now husband having wonderful people in his life that cared deeply for him.

Your first kiss shared as husband and wife had completely swept you off your feet, your friends and family cheered loudly with a few hoots and hollers coming from the back. You were so enraptured by the kiss you didn’t realize Mickey had swept you up and carried you towards the reception area. The group had followed heading to their seats as all the food was being served.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Garcia?” Mickey beamed at you.

“Absolutely in love, Mr. Garcia.” Winking at him, you leaned over and gave him a peck. It was so easy to get lost in each other. After all, you two had practice since you were five. You had a whole life together and were ready for more, greedily taking what you could get.

“You two are so sickly cute it’s disgustingly endearing. Remind me to nausea meds when I’m around the both of you,” Reuben teased you both. He was sitting at the table next to Mickey, shoving food in his mouth with a grin.

“Oh, I second that. It was bad enough I was forced to see her read the novels he sent her but now I have to see them interact in person.” Casey, your best friend who was your maid of honor chuckled. She sipped on her drink next to you with her date on the other side hiding a laugh with her hand.

“Hey, I wasn’t that bad. And those letters were sweet.” You grumbled under your breath causing the whole table to laugh. In all honesty, you were down bad.

She raised an eyebrow at you, “Need I remind you of the events leading to your callsign, Wraith?” She had got you there, not even your loving husband knew about that.

“Nope!” You squeaked, cheeks turning a dark crimson color. Reuben gave a questioning look to Mickey who shrugged back. He knew of your callsign, just not the story of how it came to you.

“Now you have to tell us. You can’t expect us not to bite the bait you’ve just thrown at us.”

Casey opened her mouth to speak but stopped at the look you gave her, instead she shrugged. “Sorry. Lips are sealed.”

“How wonderful,” you replied dryly, shaking your head at her. The others protested, wanting to hear the story that managed to ruffle your feathers. “I promise it’s nothing too interesting. She’s just making it out to seem like more than it really is.”

“I beg to differ,” Casey said behind her glass, smirking at you from the memory but relented in the end. It wasn’t everyday she got to tease you endlessly which had been payback for all the times you’ve done it to her. But she knew her limits and didn’t plan on crossing that line lest it fall back on her.

Reuben perked up at the exchange, “You’re not getting out of it that easily, I will expect an explanation some time in the future. As for now, go have your first dance you two lovebirds.” He and Casey had all but pushed you and Mickey out of your seats towards the makeshift dance floor. 

Giggling at their antics you grabbed Mickey’s hand in yours pulling yourself into his embrace as the music played after the announcement of your first dance. 

Finally having a moment to yourselves without any interruptions before the rest of the party joins you.

You looked up at him, completely love-struck, eyes shining with emotion. “I love you, Mr. Garcia.”

“I love you more, Mrs. Garcia.” He smiles, leaning down and pulls you into a kiss.

[coldheartxd]

prompt 12 | “not all of us get to be ghosts.”

he comes back to very little. or nothing at all. only fragments and pieces, basics and blanks.

[ the cabin ] it is sparse. an artic vault instead of the furred, warm place he previously had, with little to no personal belongings. it is a survival bunker: walls erected as thick as ice, a horde of canned foods, and yellowed local maps. the herbs he had planted in the windowsill pots no longer exist, or were never there at all. no man ever walked these dusty floorboards, only a wraith. the northman who lived here, never truly did.  

[ the past ] he doesn’t know whether she is alive or not in this universe until he finds the wedding ring, still kept hidden under a loose floorboard. he remembers attempting to bury it and the memories of her altogether. only the ring stays truly buried, of course. and there’s no tusk, either. it makes sense. if they were both alive, he would have never left his house at the end of the snowy avenue, forever basked in firelight. he would have never endured, or perhaps even survived, the winter.

[ the forest ] one of the satyrs tells him of it. haven’t seen you around the woods lately, thought you left. from there, he tracked the prints of his old self as if he were a creature beyond the campgrounds. the findings happen to be equally beastly. him from this world enjoyed the wilderness more than civilization, it seems, as he comes upon leafy shelters, modest hideouts, and other manholes. a better hunter he was, too. left him a wealth of cured meats, both ordinary poultry and other kinds he has yet to identify.

[ the secrets ] a crescent moon over a snowflake. the symbol was crudely etched onto a tree near one of the hideouts he found, perhaps as a mark of some kind. then it was scrimshawed onto a piece of animal bone. then the letters. he found them encased in ice, which he thawed to read. the ink had been marred by frost, yet the contents of them remained clear and true. love letters they were, exchanged between two souls that never seemed to have truly opened to each other. perhaps that was why they had been frozen. or had he mean to preserve them forever?

[ the rest ] bearskins, stone knives, tanned hides. an assortment of equipment and tools for a man who seemed ready to take off and be away from the world. he was ready to disappear here. to walk into the forest at winter and never come back for spring. to surrender to the loneliness, be numb to it forever. what a lonely way to live, or to not live at all. and suddenly, he is glad for the choices he had made and the people he had let in. what he finds, at last, is the determination for more connections. people he can talk to and be around when the first crocuses break through the winter frost, a riot of colors after a litany of grey. life after the cold.

[supernovadragoncat]

“These lands are more malevolent than they appear,” Mildred warned and combed out Sansa’s loose curls. “There’s beauty, to be sure, but at the heart of all tales is a kernel of truth. The wraiths do not sup on naughty children and the banshees do not rap at the windows on moonlit nights. That does not mean there are not foul things that might do you harm. Since your arrival, the shadows are in chaos and long-forgotten haunts are roused from their rest.” Mildred encouraged Sansa to stand and dabbed the inside of her wrists with perfume. Sandor had sent for the fragrant oils that arrived in a small, oak chest from Lys. A whole assortment came; some sweet and airy, others intoxicating and heady with exotic spices. “Why because of me?” Sansa asked. She tried not to be a nuisance and couldn’t imagine what she might’ve done to cause such a disturbance. Mildred took her hands in perhaps the warmest gesture Sansa had received from the woman yet. “Because you are his and he is yours,” she whispered as if sharing a secret the walls themselves were not meant to hear. “You both have righted an ancient wrong. Together, the pair of you shall be unstoppable.”

☩ Read Chapter IX ☩

[tornrose24]

Examing episodes for the ‘Scratch is a wraith’ theory and details I collected. (Possible spoilers up to season 2, episode 5).

So I decided to rewatch some episodes of Ghost and Molly McGee that featured Todd for some careful observing. Especially regarding the whole ‘Scratch is a wraith theory.’

Season 1

Getting the Band(shell) back together

–Todd’s first appearance. We get to see a bit of the exterior of his house.

–This is the first time Molly meets Todd when she’s collecting money, but he just shuts the door in her face.

Monumental Disaster

–Todd thinks bringing cups to a potluck is a good idea. He seems happy about them or maybe the idea of being included…. Or getting to eat.

–Todd is white and as luck would have it he is seen next to other white townsfolk. However, it’s clear that his skin tone is grayish and a bit more on the pale side compared to the healthier complexions of those other townsfolk.

–The mayor snaps at Todd that cups don’t count. They didn’t count at his 8th birthday and they don’t count then. Apparently, the mayor knew Todd as a child. (This could be important in the future).

–Todd is pretty dejected at being rejected. He walks away… And Scratch pops up seconds later.

–Around the time this episode aired, it was easy to notice the similarities for a keen observer, but I assumed that Todd could have been a living relative/descendant of Scratch’s.

–Seen again with his cups when they reveal the new statue. Seems to be the only person who isn’t smiling/not happy. This is likely the second time he’s seen Molly.

The Festival of Lights

–Todd is seen with a book called Bill and Bob’s OK Adventure. It’s an obvious reference to Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure about two friends time traveling and meeting historical figures. (Hmm, two friends meeting historical figures…. That rings a bell). It’s likely he was going to buy it.

–As pointed out by another, Todd seems to be happy at the mention of food and is ready to grab some of Leah’s creations. (What is something that Scratch really likes again? That’s right, it’s food).

–“I’ll have one.” Do I detect a faint hint of eagerness? However, despite sharing the same voice actor, he doesn’t sound like Scratch here. (Unlike how it’s pretty obvious with Molly and Darryl’s bodies.)

– Unfortunately Scratch beats him to it.

Citizen McGee

–Can be seen in the crowd close to the reporter at the start of the episode. Yet another one of the few times he was in Molly’s presence.

The Internship

I lucked out in seeing this mentioned in regards to the wraith theory.

–This is perhaps one of the most notable times Molly is onscreen with Todd and the most they’ve seemed to interact together. He tells her to “Take my old junk” and we see the following from the pile:

The Bill and Bob book (guess he didn’t like the book or was he just done with it?)

Book on plants opened on a warning about needing to water them.

String of lights

Pyramid

Mason jar

Flashlight

Vase (?)

Toolbox or lunch box with what seems to be his name on it

Box with stars on it (That’s an interesting object)

Cup

Additional brown boxes

Rusty pliers and fork

Rusty pipe (I HOPE that’s all rust)

Basketball with a crown on top

Eyeball attached to spring (hmm, that’s an interesting object too)

Strainer

Some sort of cheese grater?

Opened lock

Robot that says “You are my best robot friend” (voice box was used to create a top secret project). The robot looks like a kid’s toy, looks like something a girl might have owned, and has a rare voice box.

–Actually he’s got a weird assortment of ‘junk.’ Some of it IS junk, but others seem to be possible clues.

–He doesn’t seem to be looking right at Molly and doesn’t seem to care much about what he’s doing.

–He’s also not that tall looking. In fact, he seems close to Molly’s height.

–“I’m Elated.” That line sounds apathetic and slightly irritated. His expression at this line IS similar to a face Scratch might make.

–Again I admit it’s tricky to tell that Dana Snyder is voicing him in this one, despite being credited as his VA (Dana Snyder was listed for additional voices (seperate from Scratch) in the Festival of Lights, but he wasn’t in this one). He doesn’t sound too much like Scratch. (But if the theory is correct, then it’s likely to keep Molly from recognizing his voice.)

–The ghost intern looks a little like a young Scratch, speaking of coincidences. (By the way, I’m going to be mad if the intern is Todd’s soul instead of Scratch.)

–If the theory is correct, then the pawn shop might become important later.

The jig is up

–I almost don’t need to go into too much detail on this one since this one is too obvious. But I will do a few:

–Scratch not only straight up says that Todd acts like he has no soul and is pretty miserable, but the two are seen in the exact same shot together.

–Also Todd’s reaction to getting his lunch down his pants is to just walk awkwardly away. He’s not even freaking out over it. (His behavior reminds me a little of Darryl’s soulless body just taking orders without question).

Season 2

I Wanna Dance with some Ollie

–Todd doesn’t appear in this one, but Scratch is seen reading the same Bill and Bob’s OK Adventure book. I find this detail HIGHLY interesting.

Davenport’s on Demand

–appears during the song and ordered a huge bag of ‘old grapes’ raisins that he has trouble holding up. Well… he’s able to hold the huge thing in the first place. (A few seconds later, the song switches right to Scratch. Kind of interesting that he’s sandwiched between a Molly part and a Scratch part.)

Of course, while Todd isn’t in Molly vs the Ghost World and Double Double Darryl and Trouble, they are very crucial for the theory–in fact, Molly vs the Ghost World was what lead to the creation of the theory. Both siblings’ soulless bodies are discolored and act pretty apathetic… sounds familiar? And of course, Darryl’s body just goes through life and does whatever he is told, as well as do things that aren’t entirely characteristic on his own, like helping the principal in one scene.

So my take on Todd is that he is someone who is apathetic and just goes through life. However, he does seem to want to be included in events at times, especially when food is involved. I admit, the scenes where he is seen with Molly are of interest especially since those are the few times I caught him talking. He’s also mostly been a background character, but some of the stuff I’m seeing adds up and does point to the theory being true. If not, he’s making for one hell of a good red herring.

If anyone has any more from any episodes that I missed to add to this, please let me know. 

[gods-and-monsters04]

So, I thought I’d finish showing off the last pieces of concept art for Van Helsing the video game.

Here’s a piece of art showcasing a new enemy in the form of the Wraith. A ghastly hooded spectre, it’s face obscured in darkness by its hood.

There’s also pieces of artwork showcasing different types of Wraiths. Each one using a different element to attack Van Helsing. Of the three showcased here, there is a ice, fire and lightning Wraith. They also have far more elaborate designs than the previous design. Wearing masks evocative of masquerade, with fancy headdresses and robes to create almost dignified creatures.

The last creature takes the form of what appears to be some kind of spectre or revenant. Wrapped in a form of mist or similar vapour. Perhaps similar to the Djinn from the previous entry. Perhaps it could be capable of teleportation or having invulnerability to physical attacks?

And now for something completely different! Concept art displaying a new weapon for Van Helsing, a gun that can weaponise electricity! The design is very interesting, especially in its unconventional form. I’d imagine this would be a deadly weapon capable of killing any monster that crosses Van Helsing’s path. Well, maybe for one exception…

Next is a concept of the grapple gun. Not much else to say about this one. Although I do love the addition of the shoulder strap.

Here’s a source of concept art showcasing the Tojo handsaws in their whirling glory! I just really love these weapons, they’re just really cool.

Here is a assortment of other gadgets that Van Helsing uses. I especially find a bladed boomerang to be a great touch. Plus I love the spike tipped boots and hands. Naturally I would imagine these wouldn’t be useful to scaling up walls and other hard to reach places. I guess there must be situations where the grappling hook can only take you so far.

Finally to cap off this series we have this absolute masterpiece of firearms. A multi purpose firearm known as the “Creep Stopper.” And I must say that this is one cool weapon. It’s got that cool Swiss Army knife look that makes it look absolutely formidable and dangerous. Plus it doesn’t have half bad a name.

Annnndddddd I am DONE! That’s everything cool that I found in regards to Van Helsing’s video game adaptation. Hope you enjoy looking through this gallery as much as I did. Happy Spooky Season 🎃

[technomaestro]

Bunch o fantasy asks for fun: Elf, unicorn, ghoul, vampire, werewolf, wraith, magic, visions, hexes

Fantasy Asks

Elf- What are you proud of? 

I'd like to say I'm proud of myself - I spent so long as a kid dreaming of working on games, and now... I'm here, working on an incredible game doing my best to make the experience for players enjoyable. I get to directly contribute to making someone else's day better, which is all I wanna do.

But I feel that I've got a long way to go still before I can truly be proud of myself, and who I am as a person. I'm getting there though.

In all actuality, I *am* really proud of getting my apartment a bit closer to a home than just a crash pad, by hanging some new art on my walls instead of procrastinating. I finally checked something off my list of "things I want to do" by getting a bunch of Video Game Travel posters (like the kind you'd see in travel agencies back in the day) of various places, like Cinnabar Island, the Southern Air Temple, or Piltover.

Unicorn- Who do you look up to? 

I don't really have role models. I used to look up to people, but either that sort of mentorship ended and I'm equivalent to them now, or I learned never to meet your heroes.

Ghoul- Who is someone that makes you laugh easily/who’s company you enjoy most of, if not all of, the time? 

@gryffy-ayyy, @why-the-nightingale-sings, @catacombhecatomb, @dildo-tbaggins, @rosafledermaus and @willow-xander-madetheshow-blog are all delightful and wonderful people whose company I could not do without.

Vampire- Are you currently reading any books? If so, what book(s)?

I answered this earlier, but I'm also reading the Final Fantasy Ultimania Archive that I picked up, which is part art book, part making of book of all the Final Fantasy games, showing why they made a bunch of artistic and design decisions that they did. It's a fascinating look at how the series evolved.

Werewolf- Who is your family? Who do you live with?  

I live alone, and have for years. I kinda like it that way, having my own space is pretty important to me.

Wraith- Any scars? 

A few - one on my hand from where someone threw a gate shut while I was riding through it and I flipped head over handlebars, and my ear is still kinda scarred up from when I accidentally misfired a potato cannon next to it, and an assortment of others on my arms from being a fool.

Magic- Describe your crush without saying their name. 

Like I said earlier, I have too many crushes. But another one is this lovely person I met up here in the PNW recently, who is an absolute badass of a person; super into Stargate and spicy food, we've been on a few adventures and I have absolutely adored spending time with her learning more about this city I've moved to.

Visions- Do you miss anyone? 

More than I can possibly say. There are people back east that I am craving being able to see again, and there are people who have exited my life whose absence is still felt and I often wonder what went wrong and if they're even alive. There are also the occasional pangs of loss for the the version of folks I thought I knew before I learned who they really were, but I'm oft reminded I'm better off without them.

Hexes- What’s your favorite smell? 

Another of my favorite smells is Eucalyptus - it reminds me of my family back in Australia, of gum trees and fresh pies and ocean spray down on the Mornington Peninsula.

[analiavs]

Some headcanons for dol villians

(Long)

Briar

Like Whitney would pimp out their partner and has mean girl energy.

I think he’s a bored hedonist, think picture of dorian grey.

Down for anything in the bedroom as long as the partners hot or novel enough (He broke the fucking machine after taking it for “inspection”)

S rank seduction, dance, and all the other assorted sex skills. Sometimes likes to tease his partners by acting submissively, but he’s a total dom (mainly for appearances). And punishes people who “lose the game”

Leighton

He’s either a rich/preppy type whose always been abusing his power over others or was a kylar in school and now takes revenge/likes to feel powerful over his current students (either way a pathetic loser)

Got bullied by the other villians in school. Still gets bullied by Briar at the brothel.

Nobody likes him except for his dog. If its a dogboy/girl has a questionable relationship with it.

Was divorced because his wife found out just what he was doing to his students, but he pulled strings and got her sent to the asylum before she could blow the whistle.

Has blackmail on all the teachers (even or except winter depending on my mood)

Has pathetic sub with a humiliation kink energy, and overcompensates with people he feels he has power over

Bailey

Him charging his adult wards is part of a conspiracy to make sure none of the young blood can afford to leave the town. (the town also has you can walk forever and end up back at the start energy.)

Something lotus door, something lotus-eater adjacent entity.

Part of the big conspiracy that really runs the town, keeps the fog of degeneracy going. Does the twilight thing where he pretends to be a young adult every few decades

Because of that I have reasons to believe he’s a freak in bed, but wouldn’t bust it wide for just anyone

Used to stick by Eden for protection.

Has been to prison energy but as the mastermind he must be phenomenal at getting charges dropped

Remy

My beloved size queen.

Has his favorite cows, but wouldn’t violate his principles without outside influence

Gets jealous easily

May or may not disguise himself and enjoy the biggest schlongs at glory holes and cruising spots

Horse boy/girl

Best horse rider in town

Has spent thousands of dollars on luxury dildos

Has several sex rooms in the mansion

Has a fat ass… fyrom all the riding

Middle aged twink

Is a bottom, hates that

Harper

Used to experiment on other students. Ended up in the asylum when the then science teacher reported him. Leighton was like we can use this and pulled strings to get him out. Freeing him to be the menace he is now.

His diplomas are riddled with spelling errors and forged onto plain paper.

Modded out his dick

If given the opportunity he may be the only person in town that could genuinely work with the entity, because he has no ulterior motives/external drive

Inhumanly strong

Not very charismatic, off-putting, has a vague chemical scent. Only made it this far because of his utility for the bigger players

Could take over the town if he wanted too.

Quinn

Loser. Thought giving up his cheeks for power was a good exchange (press x to regret)

Keeps antagonizing the various entities trying to get more power. If his cheeks weren’t so good he’d have ended up like Kylar’s parents. Bailey threatens him with it sometimes.

More of a puppet for Bailey than anything (press x to regret)

Knows everything going on, but doesn’t have real power to do anything. Probably corrupt enough to not want to change anything

Has gallons full of well cared for tentacle babies (another reason why the entities keep him around). Soon to include wraith babies. Usually wears belly hiding clothes

Spends way to much time in the tentacle realm when he should be mayoring.

Either a shitty mayor or Bailey refuses to allow him to fund public works (thus maintaining his fogs influence over the town) rich pc leaves him with no excuses regardless and he got reamed for it

🌚

Regrets his life’s decisions but enjoys tentacles too much to give up his position

~some of these have probably be debunked but they’re fun to imagine regardless

[blazedrawsstuff]

Claire Globin, daughter of the Plasm Wraith:

TW: Mentions of stalking and obsessive behavior below, yup she's one of those characters...

Claire Globin Daughter of The Plasm Wraith

Parent

The Plasm Wraith

Age

16

Killer Style

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to hues of gold, as well as cubic patterns.

Freaky Flaw

I’ve been told I’m crazy, even overly obsessed.

Pet

While I do have a massive collection of bugs and assorted vermin, my favorite is my Bulbmin, Paris.

Favorite Activity

I enjoy trying to get to know my peers by any means necessary. Even if it means watching them when they’re unaware.

Pet Peeve

Separation. Doesn’t matter if it’s through restraining orders, force, family trips, or worse of all; being taken away from me!

Favorite Subject

I very much enjoy biteology. Especially when it’s dissection day!

Least Favorite Subject

Monster Psychology. The professor almost always tries to refer me to a therapist, and insists that something is “wrong” with the way I act.

Favorite Color

Gold

Favorite Food

I love fruit salad. The blend of the flavors is simply divine.

Friends

Unfortunately, every creature at this school fears me, including my own flesh and blood. One day though, someone will understand me…

Abilities

Shapeshifting

As the daughter of the Plasm Wraith, Claire can alter her body in numerous ways, including taking on the forms of other people. However, she can’t copy voices or the other person’s eye color, meaning her disguises can be busted quite easily.

Skillset

Collecting

Claire has a knack for collecting vermin and insects

Personality

Claire can charitably be described as creepy. More honestly, she is extremely unstable and obsessive. It’s to the point where her own cousin is afraid of her. Claire is persistent and will go to great lengths to befriend those that catch her eye and act very aggressively should her person of affection be harmed, insulted, or “taken away” from her. If there’s one redeeming quality she does have, it’s that she is caring towards her cousin and those she’s fond of (even if, especially for the latter it’s a smothering and obsessive degree.), but that’s it.

Trivia/Additional Information

Claire’s headcanon voice is Stephanie Sheh, who voices Tharja from Fire Emblem Awakening.

Her birthday is July 3rd, coming from both the release date of Pikmin 3 and that it’s the third game. This (fittingly) makes her a Cancer.

Claire has 16 restraining orders against her from her kindergarten classmates and teacher. Claire is the cousin of Brooke Vapor, daughter of the Water Wraith.

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Siege II, Pt. 6

Sheppard, Colonel Everett and Weir continue their discussion on the plan to send remote controlled jumpers into the hives, Sheppard suggesting that they could approach the Genii to get more nukes. Given the kind of history he personally has with them, this is no small matter to him. It's a sign of desperation that he's even willing to entertain it. He blinks between telling them that he has an idea and that he thinks he knows where to get one, emphasizing how uncomfortable just saying it out loud makes him.

As they hash out the plan, they hear Teyla in the gate room trying to get to Weir to inform her that she can sense the wraith within Atlantis. Note that both the Colonel and Weir take steps to get closer to the source of her voice where Sheppard only turns his body, and not even all the way at that. Even though McKay and Zelenka had already left the room, there's a magnet pulling him in the exact opposite direction from her.

There is another time-skip and a large number of marines have gathered in the gate room, prepared to sweep the city to take care of the problem. Sheppard keeps glancing at the men as he passes, probably assessing the capabilities of the soldiers that are unfamiliar to him.* Something interesting happens then, as Sheppard shows the Colonel their Ancient life-signs detector:

Sheppard: How many darts crashed? Everett: Between twenty and thirty. And internal sensors are still down. Sheppard: Well, we have this. It can't differentiate between wraith and human but if we confine all base personnel to designated areas, the blips that show up out of bounds will be the likely targets. Everett: Let me see that. Sheppard: Won't do you any good. You need the gene. Everett: I got the gene therapy too.

Col. Everett getting the gene therapy successfully is interesting because there is a notable change in him, his disposition toward our main cast changes the further we go. Obviously it's possible this is just because he gets to know them better but later he seems almost... sheepish, especially with regards to Weir. One might describe him even as smitten, to use Weir's own term. Now, Weir doesn't have the gene so Col. Everett's gene therapy would not have made him take an interest in her unless he held no interest in women previously and the gene also makes the carriers bisexual or more open to bisexuality. I have theorized that the Ancients were all effectively bisexual because of their assortative mating strategy (as there were so few of them, they all found each other powerfully sexually attractive to ensure the continuation of their species, so much so that it transcended gender). Janus--being the god of the doorway that swings both ways--for one seems to have been bisexual, he had "many lovers".

There's a case to be made for all the authentic ATA gene carriers exhibiting varying levels of bisexuality or bicuriosity. For them, it is natural. For the people in whom the gene is artificially activated, not so much. So, depending on how good of a friend we think Colonel Marshall Sumner was to the man with whom he served many years together, a budding interest in a woman such as Weir might be an entirely new experience for him. This is highly speculative, however, and probably only relevant to McKay and "the weirdest thing about that timeline," which will come much later.

It's also interesting that they make mention of Teyla's special ability to sense the wraith in the very same scene, as Sheppard and the Colonel are walking much closer to one another than Ford and Radner behind them, and when they come to a stop they stand with their heads bent together, the Colonel turning his entire body toward Sheppard to talk.

It's entirely possible that the Colonel, having received the gene therapy successfully, is just as drawn to Sheppard as everyone else with the gene seems to be. The gene is exceptionally strong in him so it kind of makes sense for other people carrying the gene to find him attractive. He is something like a beacon for them. After getting the therapy, Col. Everett also seems to be open to suggestion from Sheppard, agreeing to arm the Athosians and let them help sweep the city for wraith.

Also, not to make a whole thing out of it, but Sheppard does also check out the Colonel's ass not once but twice probably just because it's right there. This man is so in love that he thinks McKay has actually hung the moon but he still has a pair of eyes on him. Eyes that he can't quite seem to be able to keep to himself.

But Sheppard's attitude here is also curious. He seems nonchalant as he displays the piece of Ancient technology to the Colonel, as though it's not a big deal, he just happens to posses the gene. Only, he seems much too casual about it for it to not mean anything to him. The gene is what makes him special. Having the gene is what has brought him here. The gene is what makes him their best line of defense since he is the one that can manouver the command chair.

It is possible that the gene is what has made it possible for him to break certain rules, to take certain liberties with regulations and standing orders, because they need him. While it may not be the gene that makes him feel like the rules don't always apply to him, it's something that he can always use to justify it to himself.

While Sheppard and the marines start hunting for the wraith, Weir informs them via radio that the Genii have agreed to meet with them, demanding that only one unarmed representative be sent. Weir offers to go by herself, which Everett commends. In fact, he offers to buy Weir a drink if she pulls this off, which is an indication that the Colonel is growing a sweet spot for her. But I'll also draw your attention to the fact that Sheppard has no problem with this plan. We get no reaction from him whatsoever. If Weir is the best person to get them the nukes, he's perfectly fine with her going to the lions' den alone.

Obviously he doesn't wish that anything happens to her but Weir's life is not a priority for him. Weir's safety is an abstract concern and he finds clearing the city from the wraith a more important task at the moment, apparently especially the part of the city where McKay is because he is taking care of that personally (cf. further on). There is not a chance in deepfrozen hell that Sheppard would ever have let McKay go to the Genii homeworld alone. Let's just put that out there. There are many times over the seasons that McKay has to go places without Sheppard and every time, every time, Sheppard makes sure he has a security escort.

And this is important when we come to the resolution of the episode because many people will hear Sheppard's exchange with Weir just before he boards the jumper and come to the conclusion that she is his motivation for doing it. She is not. Sheppard tells Weir that she knows why he has to do it which is very different from doing it for her. For Sheppard, Weir's life is an acceptable loss. They grow closer over the years, Sheppard is much affected by losing her as he does multiple times, but she still continues being an acceptable loss for him. Losing McKay, however, is not acceptable. He is willing to kill, die, cheat, lie, threaten, manipulate, bully, weather sand storms, dive the ocean, he is willing even to give him up when he thinks it would make him happy, and this is just beginning of the list of things John Sheppard is willing to do to make sure that he does not lose McKay.

While Sheppard and the marines are hunting for the wraith, McKay and Zelenka are working on getting the jumpers to work remotely, trying to make something come out of Sheppard's plan. It's interesting that this scene also picks up the concept of having the gene and how it makes one special, Beckett in this instance. Noteworthy is that McKay has a P-90 on him while he works. Yes, he has his own gun that he has used on missions but it is not customary for him to work with an assault weapon. The way he's holding on to it, Sheppard has probably put it into his hands. He seems unable to let go of it.

McKay also seems to be extremely exhausted. Colonel Everett called attention to this earlier, but it seems he can barely stay awake. This also is relevant for how the ending of the episode plays out. McKay appears to be entirely engrossed in solving the problem, which is what Sheppard was going for, but he is still showing signs that he is distraught. He has to manhandle Beckett onto the chair:

Beckett: There's other people on this base that possess the Ancient gene. Dr. Kusanagi, for example. I'm sure she'd relish the opportunity to help. McKay: I am exhausted and starving, so sit down. Carson, it's out of drones, you couldn't do any damage if you wanted to. Thank you. --OK, we're in business. Head down to the Jumper Bay, radio me when you get there.

So, first of all, we learn that Dr. Kusanagi is a woman so she is very likely the Japanese Dr. that had a crush on McKay from Letters from Pegasus (S01E17). Second, McKay clearly does not want to be around her and tries to avoid having to work with her, which is understandable since she seemed much too keen on him. Third, they make a mention of McKay starving here. He's hypoglycemic but we haven't really had any references to him eating for a very long time beyond the sandwich that someone had made for him in his lab. Further, Afghan chutney, a type of relish one might put on a sandwich often contains cumin which McKay seemed not to enjoy very much. Using the verb 'relish' in this context might be a covert reference to the sandwich business.

From this scene we find out that McKay has not had time to eat in a while because he has been working non-stop and probably has been too anxious to even feel hunger. McKay really seems to have lost his appetite at some point in the season which frequently happens when a person falls in love. Many of the hormones secreted when people fall in love suppress the appetite, and given the gusto with which we saw McKay eat in the beginning of the season all the way up until Underground (S01E07), something has definitely caused a change in him in that regard. They are also calling attention to the fact that McKay is not just exhausted but also starving which combined with the drugs Beckett administers for him later all contribute to how he responds to Sheppard later. And finally, we should note that once again, McKay says thank you. He actually seems to say thank you more than the other characters combined which makes Sheppard's comment about him never saying it pretty interesting.

With Zelenka in the jumper bay, they attempt to get remote control by using the chair working. McKay is guiding Beckett through it, seeming to take great care that he gets it right.

McKay: Okay, give it a test. Zelenka: Standing by. McKay: Carson, I need you to clear your mind and think about the Puddle Jumper. Think about bringing it online. Zelenka: Come on, come on, come on. Any time now! McKay: Carson. Look, I know you can do this. Just activate the Puddle Jumper. Zelenka: Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Rodney! Rodney! It works! McKay: Thank God!

While Sheppard's intention may have been to take some of the pressure off of McKay and to get other people involved with saving their asses, McKay still puts all the pressure on himself to solve everything and save everyone. And it's especially important for him to get this to work because it was an ask from Sheppard. In his mind, Sheppard needs this to get done and that's why he's going to do his damnedest to see that it gets done.

But McKay is also exhibiting the kind of patience and understanding we rarely see in him as he tries to guide Beckett through the ordeal. It's likely that the way McKay is here, now, with Beckett, is much more like his previous tests with Sheppard would have been like that we never got to see. And now, because this is important for him and because he is doing this for Sheppard, he is using the same tone with Beckett. Sheppard is his motivation for getting this thing to work.

The relief McKay exhibits when they get it to work brings it home to just how much pressure he has been under. He feels exhausted, sitting down by the platform while Beckett is still working the chair. This is a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it doesn't matter how much Sheppard might try to ease his burden, he is working to save Sheppard just as hard as Sheppard is working to save him. McKay's respite is short-lived because as soon as he has closed his eyes, he gets a message from Weir that they have the nukes from the Genii that he needs to start working on.

Meanwhile, Sheppard himself is hunting the wraith, having paired up together with Ford. They seem to be using Ford as bait which is beginning to chafe on him:

Sheppard: You OK? Ford: Yeah. How 'bout next time, you can be the bait? Sheppard: Yeah, maybe. Next time. OK, this way.

Sheppard tells him next time but does not appear to mean it. He seems to only be half-listening to Ford anyway, focused on taking out the wraith in this part of the city. He barely takes his eyes off of the life-signs detector to look at him. Obviously there is no point in jeopardizing the superior officer but Ford seems to think Sheppard could at least offer out of solidarity. But it is significant in that this is another indication that Sheppard does not have a death wish, he is being careful with his own life because he has something, someone, to live for. He has a reason not to want to put himself needlessly in jeopardy because he has someone he needs to take care of, and making sure he is around to take the wraith out is a requisite for that. And he is being extremely cautious with the wraith, even shooting it while it is dead on the ground several times for good measure.

When it comes to Sheppard's motivation here, let me run this by you real quick:

Because these views of the city are shot from different angles and there are two scenes (of Col. Everett's group in the central tower and Teyla's group in another tower in the centre part of the city), it is easy to miss the fact that Sheppard and Ford are clearing the wraith out of the exact part of the city where McKay is. Because everyone else had been ordered to get to the central part of the city so that they could flush out the wraith, McKay and Beckett were the only non-military personnel that were on one of the promontories. And while both Col. Everett and Teyla had larger entourages with them, Sheppard had taken only Ford with him. This was a personal mission for him.

We also get a close up of Sheppard's life signs detector and it is showing two dots but they are blinking out of sync which seems to indicate a different depth, i.e., the life-signs being on different floors. Sheppard and Ford are standing closer together than the dots are from each other (they are at the centre of the screen; Ford is also standing at Sheppard's '5 o'clock' so he can't be the dot to their '1 o'clock'), and McKay and Beckett were also in close proximity. It blinks four times, counting four people, two and two.

Also, between Col. Everett saying the words "get some weapons for these people" and when we see McKay and Zelenka on the chair platform after that, McKay is holding his P-90. Ergo, Sheppard probably went directly from the gate room to the chair platform and shoved that weapon in McKay's hand before he did anything else and here he is with Ford, the only other people in the same part of the city as McKay and Beckett, making sure it's wraith-free.

John Sheppard is not taking any chances with McKay's life. He is quite literally going to keep that man alive even if it kills him.

Now, I doubt anyone would have caught this when the episode aired on television. I would be really surprised if they had. It's obscured by having several scenes in between and the panoramic views of the city shifting quickly from one view to another. And yet, it's there. It's not just editing and direction, they actually had to computer generate these views of the city. Actual considerable effort (and real money) went into making this happen and yet it was intended for most people to completely miss. It flashes by so quickly, most people are going to miss that Sheppard and Ford are the only people in the same part of the city as McKay and Beckett, that Sheppard is personally making sure McKay is safe. But it's there. It's there. The subtextual goddamn narrative is there and they were doing it on purpose.

John Sheppard is protective of Rodney McKay in particular. We see this play out again and again and again. And this is crucial for understanding the ending of the episode.

If McKay was relieved when they finally got the remote control on the jumpers to work and knew they could go ahead with Sheppard's plan, Sheppard himself seems extremely relieved once they have cleared out all the wraith in the city. He too has a short moment for a breath of relief.

Their relief is short-lived, however. It turns out the Genii nukes are incomplete and McKay takes his emotional support P-90 to Weir's office, which she seems to be sharing with the Colonel at this point, to inform her of this. He is still none-too-sympathetic toward the Colonel, sounding much more abrasive toward him than he had with Zelenka and Beckett earlier. He also flat out ignores the Colonel's first comment, as he is wont to do when he doesn't deem something worth responding to, as he often does e.g., with Ford.

The fact that McKay is not letting go of the weapon, he is not setting it down when the wraith have now been cleared out of the city and where any of the other scientists only seem to have thigh holsters for hand weapons that none of them have actually been seen using in any capacity, just seems to confirm that it was Sheppard that put the gun in his hands and told him to keep it with him at all times. Because if Sheppard tells him to do something, he is damn well doing it. And if this was the case, holding on to the weapon would also keep the comforting thought of Sheppard with him the whole time.

Both Sheppard and McKay seem to do doing what they are doing primarily for the other man. They are trying to protect the other, they are trying to keep each other safe. And while they are concerned for each other's well-being, neither of them knows how hard the other is working toward the same damn goal.

Continued in Pt. 7

-* It might also be possible that the men he checks out as he walks are the ones that have successfully undertaken the gene therapy. If we've seen anything throughout the first season is that McKay is the actual centre of his universe but it would nonetheless be interesting to see the ATA gene have this kind of an effect. It's never spelled out and yet we see it play out again and again.

[acherys]

how does zo feels about other organizations, such as the blood knights, the twilight hammer, the cenarion circle, the uncrowded, the illidari, any/all that are relevant to her. which ones does she see more positively, if any? which ones does he like the least or sees as more of a threat? and also, does this change when he becomes deathlord?

It’s a complicated assortment of “ hate you, hate you, don’t know you ” !

Broadly, Zoen considers every organization a potential threat to the Ebon Blade. While he generally does care about cooperating with them on behalf of Azeroth --- being one of the idiots who lives on Her --- he doesn’t tend to … trust them an inch beyond that? Considering their initial reception from the Capital cities ( rotten fruit & jeers ) , Koltira’s abduction and the stone silence from all other sectors regarding it , and the depth of atrocity that the Ebon Blade sunk to during Legion … Zoen has little faith in anyone ever having the Ebon’s back. 

Let the Highlord worry about protecting Azeroth --- the Deathlord will protect the Ebon Blade.

For the most part, her precise feelings for each of these organizations did not change overly as a result of her ascension. She’s very honest in her dealings with others, and while her reasons for liking or disliking particular groups might have deepened, little has happened to entirely alter them. Undeath has not left Zoen particularly open to change. 

The Four Corners of the House of Troubles

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Zo gets along with the other sketchy bastards best of all. The Illidari, the Council of the Black Harvest, and the Uncrowned rank highest in terms of who she interfaces most easily with. These are the nasty lads.

He gets along best with the demon hunters! Due in no small part to her excellent rapport with Eri’thaes Grimfall, but also because they’re hot and mean and she’s got simple tastes of compatible temperaments. The Ebon Blade understand intimately what it means to make the most of monstrosity on behalf of those who are not monsters. Whether the monstrousness was by choice or by tragedy matters less than what they are now. 

For similar reasons, he has a lot of fondness for the Council of the Black Harvest. In addition, Zo was raised by a warlock! She remembers vaguely a lot of old theories and rituals, and can still speak Eredun quite fluently. They’re a very nostalgic crowd for him to hang around --- PLUS, they appeal to his own tendency to moonlight as a mad scientist. If anyone can understand the thought process that led her to turning herself into a weird little Wraith monster, it’s the folks who dabble with Metamorphosis. 

Though the Uncrowned undoubtedly rank higher than the vast majority of the other class orders in Zoen’s books, she’s not quite as fond of them as she is the two flavors of demon up above. Quite a bit of this is sheer arrogance. What do a bunch of warm-blooded fleshy mortals know of the dark? Posers. Lilian Voss can’t make up for all the living in those ranks. Crawling around in the sewers does not a shadow make.  

Another cause is that Mathias fucking Shaw is in that number, and Zoen. fucking. hhhhhates that guy. so much. 

But they count Tess Greymane among their number, so. Can’t be all bad, can they?

The Righteous and the Meek

Surprising no one, Zoen still hates the paladins. That’s a grudge that will outlast the stars. You can only ruin a kid’s life so many times before their ghost holds it against all of you for eternity. Prior to his ascension to lordship, Zoen despised them as a bunch of self-righteous fanatics. Nowadays, they’re a bunch of self-righteous fanatics who may hold a completely legitimate and Acherus-destroying grudge. Zo’s not stupid. He knows he’s committed sins as grave against them as they’ve committed against himself. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t still hate them, though.

While the flavor of enmity depends upon the particular order ( with Silver Hand ranking barely above Scarlet Crusade ) there is never anything less than the utmost derision in her demeanor towards them.

The Blood Knights specifically are an interesting case, though. She’ll die her final death before admitting it, but for the longest time Zoen found them unspeakably spooky. They were warlocks using a Naaru! That’s hardcore! He’d almost admire it if they hadn’t stopped, but also it’s just a reminder that the Light is a tool --- an extremely powerful, extremely flexible tool that her kind cannot stand. Paladins are the greatest threat to the Ebon Blade, and the Blood Knights remind him of that particularly well.  

His relationship with the priests’ Conclave is a little more complicated. He respects their willingness to stare straight into the Void and even utilize it to their ends. That shows a depth of character he doesn’t tend to expect of wielders of the Light. On the other hand, they also wield the Light. She’s never not going to find that unspeakably lame and discomforting.

There’s also a shred of tanks vs. healers drama going on here --- Zo’s enough of a jock to think folks who stand in the back of the fight flinging spells are lamer than those in the thick of it getting bloody. She kinda wants to shove them in a locker.

Other Class Halls

No one Zoen has a strong enough opinion to loathe or like, and thus are treated with a general attitude of disdain and sneering. The Unseen Path and Valarjar don’t really pop up on her radar very much. She knows they exist, probably has to interact with the Battlelord and Huntsmaster not uncommonly, and that’s about it. Unnoteworthy. 

Even when her mother was at the head of the Kirin Tor, I can’t imagine Zoen ever developing much of an opinion on mages. The vanilla cousins of warlocks. She’s got a tendency of trying ( to various degrees of success ) to access their restricted archives on behalf of whatever new nightmare science project she’s currently fiddling with, but otherwise --- eh? Again, jock mindset. 

He'd care about the Order of the Broken Temple a lot more if they'd invent an alcohol that can get the undead properly drunk. Until then, eh?

The Earthen Ring and Cenarion Circle are two groups Zoen very rarely deals with … mostly on their behalf, strangely. This is almost exclusively a personal inclination which has continued onward into his lordship. Zo knows he’s an abomination against the natural order, and while that generally doesn’t concern him … much … he does retain a certain fondness for certain things. Flowers, for instance. He’s never quite been able to shake that soft spot in his rotten heart for bright, fragile blooms. 

Zo can’t touch a living flower any longer without immediately killing it. Little lasts long in his grasp. But he retains that affection, and keeps his distance. He tries to leave a space between himself and the things he loves so they may thrive. 

He doesn’t talk much to the Farseer or Archdruid.

The Old Gods’ Factions

Twilight’s Hammer are a joke. Zoen cannot take them seriously. She’s unable to hear the Old Gods’ call due to the Lich King --- she doesn’t get the whisper translations when we fight Old God servants, all she hears is squid noises. They are the lamer cousins to the Cult of the Damned, and the Cult of the Damned is as lame as it gets! Who even are these guys? Ridiculous. Your aesthetics are weak and your gods are dull. 

( Now, note --- Zo hasn’t had a lot of serious exposure to the Hammer, even during the Cataclysm. She participated in the Fall of Deathwing, but she was by no means one of the big name heroes in that expansion. Drop him in front of Cho’Gall and see how long that arrogance lasts. )

This opinion is specifically for the Twilight’s Hammer; Zo can get along disconcertingly well with other factions of Old God forces. During Mists of Pandaria, for instance, she spent a great deal of time in the Dread Wastes aiding the Mantid. She really enjoyed her experiences with them! It was very easy to lull into a feeling that they were similar to the Ebon Blade, a ruthless band fighting against their wretched monarch. 

Then came the “ your gods are not our gods ” reveal. She was deeply distressed to have to fight them all in Orgrimmar later on, however. It’s not something she’s ever entirely come to terms with. She got along so well with them … and then this was where their hearts led them? Against Azeroth, on the field with that monstrosity of a Warchief? She’d become so fond of them. They wormed their way into her heart.

Her rotten, rotted heart …