#wisp plays brotherhood

[wispisstillverybored67]

Speak of the devil, it's Zokket.

Why did the camera linger to Connie.

Hehe, smother the world in loneliness... I take it Glohm's the sanitizing ink to make people violent hikikomori? I wanna see one such island with everyone like this.

[herald-of-aurene]

9 people i’d like to know better

TY for the tag @commanderthalys sorry it took so longg!

last song i listened to:

Rule #4 - Fish in a Birdcage

favorite color: Purple all the way!!!

sweet/spicy/savory: ohhhhhhgggg usually spicy but rn i have a sweet tooth

currently watching: Me and my sister in law have been watching Marry My Husband, and its SUPER good so far!

current obsession(s): ive recently gotten Morrowind and have been playing it constantly lmao. ive also hopped on Sims 4 a few times.

EDIT: last thing i googled: Morrowind Dark brotherhood assassin (I am very new to this game and was confused LMAO)

tagging (no pressure but ik a few of yall have probably gotten this before): @scourge-lover @lichymograine @artofzuhani @sunsrefuge @wisp-enclosure @ratasum @tinotika @uneclipsing @praise-joko

[supportivecircle]

i ran a sonic based dnd campaign for a year

my folders on drive and on my desktop are filled with so much crap

we didn’t get to finish it but the campaign document was sitting at around 130 slides and we still had a final stretch to go. it was post metal virus arc by a few months, sonic didn’t come back immediately (in fact he wasn’t sent to the Sol Dimension, he warped to the Twilight Cage. the players who knew Sonic expected Sol Dimension. i robbed their minds. i ROBBED them. THATS RIGHT. DARK BROTHERHOOD WAS BEING WORKED INTO IT. LOOSELY. WE CLOWN IN THIS MOTHERFATHER.) so Amy didn’t step down but Jewel did become her administrator of the Logistics branch of the Restoration, while Amy lead the Security branch. 

i made a custom warlock subclass (balance unsure) for wisps patron that had an experimental prototype variable wispon the restoration was testing based off of whisper’s

i pieced together a map of the main continent based off of: tabbing in and out of the sonic forces map screen to get the rough landmass and locations of “zones”; some work people online did to try the same thing; cream’s WRONG map (she says thats north but cuhLEARLY in forces this cannot be the case dear god help me you stYUPID CHILD); and amy’s Restoration map was of no help to me at all because it shows Central City on the coast where Seaside/Sunset would have been, and also on a northern shoreline while barricade town is on the end of an entire peninsula. so i FIXED it. i fixed ALL of it. also there is a small town named Degrassi near the snowline south of Winterburg. because we love Degrassi. make it canon Evan Stanley if you somehow stumble across this. whisper into Flynn’s ear like wormtongue and get this done for me, whatever it takes, because i know you can make it through. maybe name it like Dagrassy. idk you’re the talent not me.

we had started in 2020 and played for two months before taking a year hiatus to play a magical girl campaign in the FATE system. some highlights of the campaign:

at one point early on, a piece of the orbiting ruined Death Egg fell to the earth in an event known as a “Death Fall” and landed on Orchardville. the players got to team up with Whisper to infiltrate it and deactivate the systems onboard controlling the badniks coming out of it. mimic was also there to steal data for starline.

the Bad Guys didnt split up like in canon, instead eggman had been working real lowkey on finding where sonic warped to to finish him off, and starline became better at being a leader. mimic was still doing stealth ops. rough and tumble were given a task of leading bandit activity in the western part of the continent to keep the Restoration busy. honestly, i just didn’t want to think about what to do with the Zeti so they never came up. its a whole thing. probably not well thought out grand scheme but no one asked questions about the Zeti.

i stole the entirety of the death house from curse of strahd but toned it down to just make a spooky haunted house segment near windmill village and i played the instrumental loop of pumpkin hill for at least 30 minutes at one point as ambience.

one of the players had a truck that over time got suped up with upgrades to be a complete wrecking ball with a lightning cannon to shock badniks and an on-board AI the inventor made based off of his boss, Lanolin, named LAN who would activate with the phrase LAN-Online.

the players helped begin the healing of the Green Sand Hill Zone by uncovering the underground main hub Egg Pyramid that had been controlling the Egg Pyramids in Forces and were draining oil out from the earth. they fought Thunderbolt the Chinchilla there, who had been running the operation for Eggman while he was working on his grander plans.

one player was offered a FIST BUMP in the first session by Lanolin and refused cause the character was an old grouch. this stain on their character was never cleaned.

there were several starline’d versions of badniks that appeared the closer they got to his operations. incredibly obvious knock offs with a new color scheme. starline also freaking died by being outplayed by Eggman.

there was a recurring merchant they met in the first city and almost every major city afterwards who was actually a wizard who inherited wealth from their bastard father and decided to open up a series of pawn shops across the world called Thorne’s Tradery (her name was Juliet Thorne). she refused to use offensive magic out of an oath she took, but was doing her best to help the Restoration by supplying their agents (and civilians) with easy access to a fair place to trade and possibly get magic/advanced tech items (not for civilians).

i did what SEGdont and had Tangle and Whisper finally resolve their blatant romantic tension with the aid of the player characters. we stan these lesbian queens. tangle was a monk who had “determination” or something instead of Ki, and whisper was the same warlock subclass as the player character, but a lower level. i never got around to making an amy statblock but she was going to be a battlemaster fighter with some character feat type stuff akin to divination wizard’s portent, and would have focused around giving players advantages/extra actions in combat when not beating stuff with her hammer.

the finale was going to have the entire team go super-mode via chaos emeralds (screw the canon) and fighting a giant invasive monstrosity from the twilight cage threatening to destroy Central City, while Sonic was still dealing with REALITY SICKNESS from his time spent in the cage. they’d have had unique abilities, a theme song on their turn (Endless Possibilities Rockestrate My World version, Reach for the Stars, What I’m Made Of, and Knight of the Wind), and a one-time reaction called “We’re All Counting on You” that would have provided them with an emergency supply of rings from notable NPCs they had bonded with during the game. it was going to be hype.

i was far FAR too lazy to draw my own characters on top of maps and writing everything, so i used a freaking ton of OCs i found online as character pieces. possibly controversial to some, but i never passed them off as my own and knew i’d never be able to draw or show artwork of them in any posts online i made about the campaign cause they aren’t my characters. so unfortunately, i cannot make or post artwork of player character Periwinkle the Pangolin making out with her witch girlfriend Rosaline the Fox. i did make this little guy though: Georgie Greenhorne, the deer, and avid child scout. he has several badges.

anyway decided to finally make use of this account to post something of substance and then probably nothing else.

i also found this old meme i made about one of my player’s Forces OC (the brown dog) and mine, who appeared in the campaign as the CANONICAL BUDDY near the end to fist bump with knuckles. i also have this cursed lanolin with no fluff in the back. check it out. tell your friends.

[sepublic]

            Actually, I have a solution for Melding Teridax and the Shadow Takanuvas; Have them kill each other during the Battle of Bara Magna.

         We know the Bionicle team was uncertain whether the franchise would even get a proper ending, due to its poor sales; They even had to fight to get a measly climax in the form of Stars, rather than nothing at all. So I wonder if the reason why Greg set up characters like Melding Teridax and Tuyet’s survival, was simply as a failsafe in case the line was abruptly cancelled, and it went down to him to write the final battle against Makuta, via the serials.

         But as we know, we got some Av-Matoran builds and a comic that resulted in Mata Nui killing Makuta, somewhat by accident; Which meant Melding Teridax and Tuyet no longer had a purpose. Melding Teridax was introduced back in 2008, at the end of Brothers in Arms… Only to finally be brought back in Reign of Shadows, after the final Bionicle comic had been released, after Makuta was killed by someone else.

         So there’s no point to Melding Teridax, anymore, certainly not as a lynchpin against his prime counterpart; And I guess he could be used as a way to rebuild the Brotherhood of Makuta, but we already have Miserix for that. Unless Greg thought he was beyond redemption and/or planned to have Velika kill him off. So… may as well get rid of Melding Teridax in a weirdly poetic way, against the one who beat him in so many universes.

         And yes, I know Greg retconned Takanuva’s victory as Teridax throwing the fight, but I’m ignoring that. It undermines Mask of Light’s story, plus Greg confirmed that Teridax legitimately lost to the Toa Metru and that wasn’t part of some master plan, so why not have him legitimately lose to Takanuva as well? Especially since in 2008, he clarified just how utterly terrified all the Makuta were of him, to the point of drastic actions to prevent a Toa of Light (not that Tridax without an E seemed perturbed, since he somehow defeated Takanuva in other timelines).

         Mazeka asks himself, who can defeat Teridax? And decides… How about another Teridax? So how does OUR Teridax of the prime universe respond to this? Well, he remembers one of his last battles, the one that reduced him to a wisp of energy hopping from body to body, far too vulnerable for his liking. What can defeat a Teridax? How about a Takanuva that already has? Three of them, in fact, just to play it safe.

         It’s weirdly poetic; In the end, no matter what universe or combination of them, Takanuva defeats Teridax, in a manner that takes them both out. It’s not like Greg seemed that interested in picking up the Shadow Takanuva storyline anyhow; He sets up Vezon to lead them, only for Vezon to be immediately whisked away on an Olmak adventure, with no explanation or transition for him putting on that mask instead of awakening the Shadow Takanuvas. And aside from a brief bit of one waking up during the Reign of Shadows…

         Well, we have three unceremoniously massacred by Melding Teridax. We have two controversial, AU plot threads, resolved at once, in a way that echoes a classic Bionicle tale but in a very distorted, twisted way. Kill two birds, or two alternate selves, with one stone.

         Of course, our Teridax knows this match-up might not go the way he wants; After all, the elements are swapped this time, and Light works as a counter to Shadow. That gives Melding Teridax an edge over any Shadow Takanuva… So better even it out with multiple Shadow Takanuvas, if not all of the ones that survived Destral. 

       They strike down Makuta just like in the original story, and when he gets up, this time it’s framed as a moment of heroic valor, rather than a nightmarish villain who won’t quit. It’s a dark, or bright, reflection of the first movie; Takanuva and Teridax both fall, and it’s up to a third party to escape a rumbling cavern. Because unlike last time, Mazeka can’t bring anyone back, not the wielder of Light, nor Takanuva.

        This means Melding Teridax isn’t useless, because he’s at least good for taking down ONE unresolved threat, if not the one he was set up to do; And it’s a threat that he kind of has experience with, given what happens in the main universe. Same for the Shadow Takanuvas, who get to be a threat to someone worthwhile, and even kill them, albeit in a pyrrhic victory that comes across as a cruel mockery of Mask of Light’s climax. 

        After all, Mazeka, Melding Teridax, and the Shadow Takanuvas never show up after the battle in Ba-Koro. May as well make that their ending; Have Mazeka survive the second great cataclysm on his own, since most of the Matoran Universe’s population did. Granted, an ideal, alternate take on the story wouldn’t have any of these, nor would it have the ridiculous cop-out ending for Brothers in Arms... 

[knuxschaotix]

Ez • Mid-20s • xe/xem/xyr • Mixed Black

[Gif ID: Flying Knuckles gif from web graphics site. End ID.]

[Icon ID: Transparent Knuckles sprite from Sonic Mania. He’s in his default standing pose. End ID.]

[Header ID: Knuckles’ Chaotix title screen. The Chaotix team is standing and smiling, with the exception of Charmy, who is flying. Left to right: Vector, Knuckles, Espio, Mighty, Charmy. End ID.]

Main: entitledtofinancialcompensation

Former url: blkknuckles

Sonic sideblog to stop spamming my main. The movies drew me to the fandom, and now I’m going through the games, series, and comics. Og tag is “ez.post” and others are “ez watches let’s plays,” “ez reads comics,” and “ez watches cartoons.” Faves are Knuckles, Eggman, Shadow, Blaze, and Team Chaotix, so expect to see them a lot (Knux esp.). I use he/him for Blaze btw (noting to clear potential confusion). Blog is SFW.

Notes: I block people who sexualize any of the kids in the series or otherwise be weird about them, or ship inappropriate age gaps (e.g. S*nT*ils).

Media Tracking

There’s so much stuff that I’m writing it down to keep track. If you take a look, feel free to recommend media! I use Grabber Zone (with an ad blocker) to read comics and watch let’s plays by FCPlaythroughs. Shows I watch via streaming (e.g., Paramount+) or YT. (Here’s a playlist an awesome user sent me so I can watch things in order! Seriously wish I had this from the beginning.). Anything with a purple heart (💜) is a favorite of mine (ofc games are from a watching standpoint, largely). A controller (🎮) means I’ve played/am playing the game.

Finished:

STH SCU (1 & 2) 💜

STH: The Prequill

Sonic Boom (TV & comic series) 💜

STH 1, 2, CD, 3

Sonic Adventure 1 & 2 (Battle)

Sonic Heroes

Knuckles’ Chaotix

STH ‘06

Shadow the Hedgehog ‘05 💜

Sonic and the Secret Rings

Sonic Unleashed 💜

Sonic and the Black Knight

Sonic Colors 💜

Sonic Riders

STH OVA

Sonic Generations

Sonic Lost World

Sonic Mania Plus (& Adventures) 💜

Sonic Forces

Sonic Colors: Rise of the Wisps 💜

Sonic Advance (1 & 2)

Sonic Rush 💜

Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric 💜

Sonic Prime (S1)

Sonic Twitter Takeovers 1-6 💜

Sonic Frontiers 🎮 💜

Sonic Frontiers Prologue: Divergence 💜

Team Sonic Racing Overdrive

Chao in Space

Sonic X

Sonic R

Mario & Sonic Tokyo 2020, Sochi 2014, Rio 2016, London 2012 (DS)

Archie Sonic X 💜

Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood (Not canon)

Sonic Advance 1-3

Sonic Rivals

STH 1 (Game Gear)

Sonic Eraser

Waku Waku Sonic Patrol Car (Gotta ACAB the hedgehog now 😔)

SegaSonic the Hedgehog

Mar&Son Río ‘16 (DS)

STH 2 (Game Gear)

Sonic Chaos

SegaSonic Cosmo Fighter

Currently:

Archie Post-SGW

AOSTH (S1)

SatAM (S2)

Sonic Underground

Sonic 3 & Knuckles

Sonic Colors DS 🎮

Sonic Mania Plus 🎮

Sonic Rush Adventure 🎮

Sonic Boom: Shattered Crystal 🎮

STH Spinball (I got kinda bored 😅)

Future:

Rewatch SatAM S1

IDW Sonic

Paramount Knuckles series

Sonic: Night of the Werehog

Sonic the Comic

Sonic Battle

Sonic Adventures (French comic)

Sonic Manga

Sonic the Fighters

Sonic 3D Blast

Sonic Adventure DX

Sonic Channel comics

Sonic Stay (if I can find it)

Various one off Sega comics for the games

Tails Adventure

Tails Skypatrol

[that-sw-writer]

If you’re taking requests, hear me out...

Kylo x reader

Disney princess Mulan style. Reader is in the knights of Ren but no one knows she’s a girl! Kylo is the first to find out maybe by walking in on her changing or something idk whatever you think would be the best. I thought of this after reading intoxicated which both parts were awesome by the way!!

I’m so sorry that you’ve waited about a century for me to finish this... but I tried to make up for that by including a zesty meme to go with this lmao

Also I’m glad you enjoyed intoxicated, it’s literally one of my favourite things I’ve ever written!! I hope this one shot is what you had in mind!

MASTERLIST

Paring: Female Knight of Ren!Reader/Kylo Ren (Mulan inspired)

Word count: 4582

Warnings: mentions sex and kylo ren is briefly a bit of a dick

(context for the dank meme will be provided when you read)

I’ll Make a Man Out of You

You were struggling today, more than most months. Usually you managed to get through stomach cramps with a few painkillers, but today you were practically keeling over, and it hadn't escaped the notice of the other Knights of Ren.

"Nuren? You okay?" Kuruk had asked you in the midst of sparring, noticing that your movements were sloppy as you tried to ignore the crippling pain in your stomach.

"Yeah, I'm just feeling a bit under the weather." You tried to play it off, your voice coming off modulated due to your helmet. You were the only knight who always wore their helmet, the others took theirs off to socialise but you had to keep your secret safe, so you had told them from day one that you had taken an oath to never allow any sentient being to see your face, something you knew was common amongst the Mandalorian clans.

It was a solitary life, lying every day to the people whom you cared about more than anyone else, but you were in too deep to tell them to truth now. There had never been a woman amongst the Knights of Ren, and that wasn't likely to change - at least, not as far as anyone knew. You would just continue to miss out on drinking and eating with your brothers, being forced to sit in the corner and try your best to join in with their merriment.

Even your leader, Kylo Ren, had no idea of the truth. For years now you had concealed your gender from them, but you had never intended for it to go this far. You had joined the knights when they had come to your homestead seeking your brother, who was Force sensitive. He hid when they had shown up and you sent the knights on a cold trail to look for him, but after they left you had considered things. You were desperate for an escape and for adventure, plus you were also Force sensitive, so you had decided to drop everything and chase after them in place of your brother. You had concealed your identity by donning simple armour, which was soon replaced once they had taken you on board.

You took on the name Nuren, which meant 'woman' in your planet's dialect - hidden in plain sight, and you had never looked back. Sure, nothing about it was easy, but you wouldn't dare quit, you quickly found yourself enjoying the training, missions and most importantly: the brotherhood.

"Perhaps we should call it a day." Kylo raised his hand to stop the sparring, his gaze unsurprisingly fixated on you. "Nuren, go to the med-bay if you need to." Despite being a terrifying Supreme Leader to most, Kylo Ren cared about his knights, although little did he know that you had just gotten your period - there was nothing seriously wrong with you.

Over the years you had learnt a lot about concealing your emotions, particularly those where Master Ren was concerned. There were thousands of people in the galaxy whom you could have fallen for, but you had to choose to fall for Kylo Ren - the one man you could never have, for more reason than one. Most obviously: he thought you were a man who could under no circumstances remove his helmet in front of other people. But aside from that, even if he did know the truth, how could it ever work? You were one of his knights. Although admittedly, you had spent a lot of time alone at night dreaming that it could work.

"That's okay Master Ren, I think I just need to rest." You stood tall as you spoke to him, despite the sharp pain that was still twisting your stomach.

"Very well." He nodded, dismissing you all, but you could see the look of concern still on his face.  Curse these cramps for ruining training for you.

You retired alongside your brothers after that, still trying to ignore just how much pain you were in, but they were unsurprisingly teasing you about it.

"One little stomach ache takes Nuren down? This is the same guy I once saw singlehandedly take on a Nightsister right?" Cardo gave you a bolshy nudge and the others all laughed.

"He's right, I knew the food they served up on this base was crap, by I didn't realise it was that crap." Trudgen then jested, and you laughed along with them, knowing that this was just how they behaved.

"You think I eat that shit?" You snorted as you all made your way back to your shared common area.

There was a large communal area where the knights all socialised together and attached were seven bedrooms, each sealed behind private blast doors.

"Since we're done for the day, who fancies a drink?" Ap'lek asked the moment you all stepped foot inside, moving over to produce multiple bottles of beer from the fridge.

The others all mumbled in agreement, moving to take off their helmets and make themselves comfortable. Despite knowing that you would decline, the knights never failed to ask you to join them and they had no idea how much that simple gesture meant to you, let alone how much you wanted to accept it.

"How about it Nuren? Nothing like alcohol to cure sickness." Ushar grinned, but you reluctantly shook your head.

"I think I might just turn in and take a nap." You said, your brothers all bidding you farewell before you disappeared behind the doors that lead to your quarters.

As soon as you were alone, you shed yourself of the heavy helmet, as well as the outer layers of your armour. Carrying around that much weight on your body whilst on your period should have been a crime.

Rather than collapsing onto the bed, you moved to dig through your drawers where you had a stash of painkillers hidden for these exact moments - hopefully they would at least give you a few pain-free hours so you could spend some time with the other knights before they got too drunk.

Swallowing down the pill, you knew it would take some time to kick in so you opted to soak in a warm bath until them, that usually helped. From your refresher you could vaguely hear the others all laughing and having fun together. It pained you more and more every day have to be such an outsider, but you feared that if you revealed the truth to them they would never accept you.

You tried not to let your thoughts dwell on negative things whilst you bathed, but it was hard not to. You had everything you ever wanted - but you didn't have it, as far as anyone else was aware your brother was the one living this dream. Could you really go on like this forever? The answer was: yes. You had no choice, you would die with your secret one day.

You eventually left the refresher, a towel wrapped securely around your body. Thankfully, this time your painkillers were actually working, so with any luck you'd be able to join your brothers and simply watch them drink and wish you could join in - just as you always did.

When you pulled on your undergarments you wrapped tight bandaging around your chest to flatten it. It was beyond painful to wear every day, but definitely easier than explaining why you had breasts...

You tugged on your slightly baggy trousers, and your even baggier undershirt. You found that clothes with less shape worked better. However, before you could sweep your hair back into a clean bun and put your helmet on, you heard the blast doors to your room open.

The knights knew to never walk into each other's private quarters unannounced, and there was surely only one other person who could possibly be in the knights' common area.  But why would he be in here?

"I wanted to check that you're okay-" Kylo began, clearly not focusing as he entered.  But when his voice trailed off you knew that he had laid eyes on you.

With your heart in your mouth, you slowly turned around to confirm your worst nightmare. Kylo Ren stood staring at you, his mouth slightly agape. Clearly he hadn't known what to expect, but this was far beyond the parameters of his imagination.

"I can explain-" you quietly said, your voice coming out as nothing but a mere whisper. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

Clearly just as unsure how to process what he had seen as you were, he simply turned on his heel and fled the room, quickly marching out of the knights' common area altogether.

There was no time for you to panic, you forced yourself to take a deep breath, pulled your helmet on and took off after him, still only wearing your under-layers. As you dashed out, your brothers paid you little mind, they were too caught up in their conversation to notice the commotion.

"Master Ren, wait." You called to him as he was striding ahead of you.

In one sharp motion he turned to you, pushing you against the wall, his gloved hand clasped around your neck where he could see wisps of hair falling out from beneath your helmet.

"I want you to leave this base, and pray that I never see you again." He was cutting off your airwaves, but nevertheless you still attempted to choke out.

"M-Master Ren, please. I-I had to lie." You tried to explain, your voice coming out as a  strained croak.

"And now you have to leave." He hissed, the betrayal in his tone was clear. Without another word he released you and went storming off down the corridor again.

You had no idea what to do, or who to turn to. Perhaps it was just best to heed Kylo's warning and leave. You feared that if Kylo's reaction had been nothing short of death threats, you would be met with a very similar reaction from your fellow knights, but part of you also thought that they deserved to know the truth before you abandoned them.

Besides, now you had nothing left to lose.

When you arrived back in the common area, the knights were all lost in their merriment. Clearly a few drinks down, you could tell they were slightly tipsy, although perhaps that would make this easier.

"I need to tell you something." You planted yourself in the middle of the room, and were immediately met by jeering, something you would've normally embraced and enjoyed, but now your reaction was stone cold.

"Hopefully you're telling us that you're ready to have some fun!" Cardo bellowed, "c'mon Nuren, loosen up a bit."

"No." You grumbled, "I wish I could." Before you open yourself up to more teasing, you reached up and unlatched your helmet, silently revealing the truth to the knights. "You came to my planet looking for my brother, but you got me instead." You quietly explained, dreading the reactions that were to come.

It was so silent that you could hear a pin drop, and part of you feared that they would kill you on the spot for lying to them. Slowly, your brothers rose to their feet, seemingly sobering up in that moment.

"So for all these years, you've been pretending to be your brother?" Ushar asked, his voice level, so much so that you couldn't read his emotions.

"Yes." You hung your head in guilt.

The ominous silence fell once more, and you couldn't bear it any longer. However, as you opened your mouth to speak, a stifled laugh broke through the crippling silence.

You whipped around and saw Kuruk with a hand covering his mouth. "Sorry it's just-" before he could finish there were more uncontrollable laughs escaping his lips. Clearly this laughter was contagious, because before you knew it it was spreading throughout the room.

"I-I can't believe you said you had taken an oath t-to not take the helmet off!" Ap'lek struggled to get his words out through the laughter, "a kriffing oath!" He exclaimed, leaning on Vicrul who was beside him, as they tried to regain their composure.

"This... is really not the reaction I was expecting." Entirely unsure of what to do, you just stood and stared at them all as they continued to crease in fits of laughter. But after a few moments you found yourself unable to avoid the contagious laughter, but you of all people really had no clue what you found so funny.

You were all in stitches for another few minutes before it died down, and despite the circumstances the laughter made you feel as though some of the weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Knowing that your fellow knights weren't angry at you was a much needed relief.

"So why not tell us the truth?" Vicrul eventually asked once they could form coherent sentences.

"The Knights of Ren was no place for a woman." You sighed, throwing yourself down on the couch with your head in your hands, "I wish I had told you earlier, but I always thought you'd be angry - I really didn't expect the laughing fit."

"C'mon Nuren, you should have known us better than that. No matter what, we're brothers... well, now you're our first sister." Ushar chuckled, giving you a solid pat on the back.

As the others echoed his sentiment, you appreciated more than anything that they weren't treating you any differently just because of your gender. There was still that sense of familiarity, and the brotherhood... it was just a shame you couldn't stay.

"So why tell us now?" Ap'lek eventually asked.

"Master Ren-" your tone immediately became more downcast as you remembered the gravity of the situation, "he found out the truth, and he told me to leave. I thought before I go I at least owed you all the truth."

Glances were exchanged, before Cardo spoke up, "no, we won't let you leave."

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest at the gesture, but you couldn't allow yourself to fall into that safety blanket. "Master Ren will have my head if I stay. I betrayed him, and you all know how he responds to betrayal."

"But you forget Nuren, you're a Knight of Ren, and we never leave a brother behind." Trudgen said. "...Or a sister." He then hastened to add.

><><><><><><><><><><><

It had only been a week since everyone had found out the truth. Whilst your fellow knights actually gotten on better with you now that you could drink and socialise with them, the same could not be said for Kylo Ren.

Firstly, he was less than happy about being undermined when it came to you leaving the base. Now you were a constant reminder of his own empty threat. But more importantly, what you didn't realise was that he wanted you gone more than ever because he was developing an inexplicable attraction to you. The worst part was, it wasn't just physical. Whilst he would sit moping in the corner he could see the way you were around the other knights - they clearly adored you, and the fact that a female presence was actually having a positive effect on the group made it even harder for Ren to despise you. He saw the way you could light up a room, and he couldn't help but want you. He was angry for allowing himself to feel such a way, and that unfortunately manifested itself as anger towards you.

The other knights, meanwhile, couldn't possibly look at you in such a way. Perhaps had they met you for the first time as strangers, they would have relentlessly flirted with you as they did so many other women. But you had all spent too much time together in too many awkward situations to ever see each other as more than adopted-siblings.

You were so relieved to finally be able to relax around the knights, but there was always that tension whenever you were around Master Ren. You had been desperately trying to prove yourself to him to show him that you were the same knight you had always been, regardless of your gender - although deep down you knew that it had nothing to do with the fact you were a woman, it was the fact that you had lied to him...

Although for Kylo it was none of these. He knew he had overreacted when he'd first found out the truth, and now he was relieved that the other knights had vouched for you and made him change his mind and let you stay.

You were all sat in the common area, your legs casually thrown over Trudgen's lap for comfort. You each had a drink in hand, as was standard practise for you all on evenings when you had nothing else to do.

"I seriously don't think I can go much longer putting up with him constantly glaring at me." You scoffed, discussing Kylo's apparent hatred of you.

"Sure he used to do that, but now I don't think he's glaring... I don't know, I'm just not getting the same angry energy off him that I was last week." Ap'lek pondered, shrugging his shoulders.

"What do you mean?" Your brow furrowed, but Kuruk was quick to catch on.

"No, Ap'lek's right. He's not glaring, he's staring." He playfully smacked his forehead, "I can't believe we didn't spot it sooner."

"Holy shit, you're right." Vicrul was next to chime in.

You all had a low-level bond through the Force, so you knew pretty much what they were thinking, but that didn't mean you agreed with them.

"Oh come on, Master Ren won't even talk to me anymore and you think that means he likes me? He literally had his hand around my throat a week ago." You snorted, rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, well maybe you enjoyed that." Trudgen teased you from the other side of the sofa, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, but you swiftly threw a cushion at his face to shut him up.

"It makes so much sense the more I think about it." Ap'lek laughed, shaking his head, "he won't talk to you because he doesn't know how to process emotions. Come on Nuren, when have you ever seen him flirt, or even be nice to a woman?"

Before you could reply, Vicrul summarised it, "it's because he doesn't know how!" At that they all hollered and nudged each other in agreement.

"You're all out of your minds," you laughed, "he wants me dead, not-" before you could finish your sentence with a crude joke, the blast doors flew open to reveal the man himself, and you immediately all fell silent.

It wasn't necessarily unusual for him to come and join you all in your living area, but he hadn't done so since he found out the truth about you. Not to mention, he had picked an awful moment to enter.

"What? You all look like someone's died." He huffed, helping himself to a drink before moving to sit down.

You meanwhile did the opposite and removed your legs from Trudgen's lap and stood up, retiring to your quarters without another word. You didn't particularly want to put up with his glaring, or 'staring' as the knights had now deemed it.

There was nothing to do in your quarters, and you immediately realised that you had just stormed off and now were stuck, so you made a point of dressing in some simple training clothes and heading back out to walk through the common area with your helmet in hand. You pulled it over your head before leaving the rest of the knights alone with Kylo and went off to your training area to run some drills alone.

In your absence, and after their apparent revelation, the other knights decided that that it was time to address the elephant in the room with Kylo.

"Master Ren, you know Nuren thinks that you hate her, right?" Ushar said, to which Kylo just tried to play it off with a nonchalant shrug.

"I don't hate her." He said, his tone not wavering. He certainly didn't want any of them finding out the truth behind his cold behaviour.

"Trust me, we know that." He replied, in a very pointed tone which made it clear that they had worked out the truth about Kylo's feelings, "but she doesn't know that." He then added.

He clearly wanted to protest, but it was obvious that the knights could see right through him and his nonchalance.

They simply all stared at him, expectantly, until eventually Kylo exhaled a heavy sigh, taking a long drink before speaking again. "Fine, I get the point." He rose to his feet, "I'll go and talk to her." He reluctantly agreed to do what he had been dreading. He had no idea how to process any emotion that wasn't anger.

As soon as he left, the knights began discussing every possible outcome. Little did you know that they had practically planned your wedding, since they had decided that not only would you be good for Kylo, he would be good for you.

Blissfully unaware of everything that had just happened, you were alone in the training room swinging a blunt training weapon against a dummy, who was taking the brunt of your frustration. You had left your helmet by the door.

When the blast doors opened to reveal a sheepish looking Kylo Ren, you were less than happy - and it was written all over your face. Nevertheless, you stood to attention.

"Master Ren." You nodded, "I thought you were with the others." You desperately wanted to replicate his bad attitude and make a cutting remark, but you knew that simply wouldn't help your case. No matter what, you had to show respect to your leader.

"I came to talk to you." He said, his tone coming out much darker than intended.

"With all due respect Sir, if you want me to leave that badly, it's the other knights you need to talk to - they're the reason why I'm still here." You relaxed your stance and went back to swinging at the dummy as you spoke.

"That's not it." He said, walking around to stand behind the dummy so he was in your eye-line, "I'm glad you're still here." He eventually admitted, practically through gritted teeth. Every muscle in his body had stiffened.

You stepped back from your training, brow furrowed, "you are?" You hated the way your heart rate increased at his words. Through it all, you still couldn't deny your own attraction to Kylo Ren, perhaps that was why his cold attitude had been so hurtful to you.

"Yes." He plainly said, having no inclination of what else he could possibly say.

"Then why are you acting so off with me?" You hesitantly asked, at which point he looked down at his feet. This had been the question he was hoping you wouldn't ask, because he was afraid to answer it.

"I-" he began, before sealing his lips again. Whatever words he wanted to say simply wouldn't form in his mouth. He was truly tongue-tied, but thankfully his body decided that it was ready to move again - actions did tend to speak louder than words.

Boldly, he moved towards you and captured your lips in a heated kiss, pouring all the words he couldn't say into this gesture.

You were stunned to say the least, your training weapon falling to the floor. But it wasn't long before your lips responded and returned the kiss. Kylo's arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him, your hands resting on his chest.

However, it didn't take long for your brain to catch up and you briefly pulled away from his lips for long enough to speak. "So you... like me, like me, and you tried to show me that by being miserable around me?" You asked him, just needing to clarify his odd behaviour.

Suddenly feeling much looser now that he had made a move, he responded with a smirk, "did it work?" He teased.

"Not so much, I think you perhaps need to try being less of an asshole in future Master Ren." You responded with a snarky remark, knowing that you could definitely get away with teasing him now.

"I think from now on, just Kylo is fine." He exhaled a short laugh and leaned back in to kiss you.

It wasn't long before you either had to break away, or have sex right there in the training room and you both silently agreed that the latter wasn't really a practical option.

"Your quarters?"  You prompted, still tangled in his arms.  Really this whole scenario still felt surreal to you.  You had crushed on Kylo Ren for longer than you cared to admit, then when he had found out the truth about your gender he had reacted less than favourably... and now suddenly here you were.  Only he could react to developing feels for you by acting as though he hated you.

His face dropped and he grimaced slightly, "we-uh, we can't."  He sheepishly explained.

"Why not?"  Your brow furrowed, immediately thinking that taking him back to your quarters would be quite an embarrassing affair with all of the other knights being in the common area.

"There are technicians in there repairing Lightsaber damage."  He said it casually, but you could read between the lines well enough to know that 'Lightsaber damage' meant that he'd had a tantrum and trashed his own quarters.

"Are you brave enough to come to my quarters?"  You smirked up at him with an eyebrow raised.

"I think you're overestimating how much they'll care."  He said, and you definitely couldn't fault his optimism, but you knew that the knights most certainly would care.

With the steamy moment beginning to waste away you hastily walked side by side back to the Knights of Ren's common area.  You had your helmet on again as you walked, but as soon as you entered you removed it, and it still felt surreal that you now had that freedom.

"Nuren, is that you?"  Kuruk's voice was the first to call out, none of them turning around from where they sat, still with drinks in hand.

"Yep, it's me."  You quickly said, ushering Kylo into your quarters in the hope that none of them would notice.

"Did you and Master Ren kiss and make up?"  Cardo asked, clearly teasing you, but chose to turn around at simply the perfect moment to catch you in the act.

Halfway through the blast doors to your private quarters you and Kylo froze, and a sheepish grin rose up onto your lips.

"Oh so you literally kissed and made up."  Ushar then said, the smirks appearing on all of their lips foreshadowing some relentless teasing.

"Well... kinda."  You tried to play it off, but before you could make any poor excuses, Kylo simply pulled you through the doors and had his lips on yours as they shut behind you.

As you guided him back towards the bed, you could hear the knights outside loudly wolf-whistling and jeering.

You had only wanted to be able to take your helmet off comfortably around the knights - now you not only had that, you had Kylo Ren too.  In exchange for that you could definitely put up with the teasing from your brothers.

[warcraft-lore-archives]

Alliance Cultural Beliefs About the Afterlife

Night Elf

Although the night elves have extensive religious beliefs and practices, surprisingly few details are known about their concept of the afterlife. The elven afterworld has been described as little more than a “realm of wisps and shadows” [Elegy, Part Three]. Given that some kaldorei – especially those who form a strong bond with nature – transform into wisps when they die, it is not surprising that the elves associate wisps with the afterlife [Quest: Wisp in the Willows, Quest: Presentation is Everything, Quest: Coaxing the Spirits, Elegy, Part Four]. That said, wisps can die again for a second time, after which it is unknown where they are thought to go [Elegy, Part Four].

Despite the apparent lack of details about the night elf afterlife, there is no doubt that their moon deity, Elune, plays a significant role in their afterlife and helping elves pass on. The kaldorei widely believe that Elune’s Night Warrior aspect takes the valiant among the dead and sets them riding across the sky as stars, which she did with the green dragon aspect Ysera [Item: Necklace with Elune Pendant, Quest: The Fate of Val’sharah]. One of the elves’ most celebrated high priestesses, Kalo’thera, underwent something similar when she “ascended to the stars” from a temple of Elune many millennia ago, although it is unclear if she did so because she died [The Sundering, Chapter Three]. Details aside, one kaldorei maintains that they all ultimately go on to be with the goddess after their death [Quest: Coaxing the Spirits, NPC: Yalda Dialogue].

Having said all that, it is worth pointing out that many night elves end up in the Emerald Dream in one form or another after they die, although it is unclear if that has led the night elves to think of the Dream as their afterlife or not. Some night elf druids, the likes of which include Thaon Moonclaw and Elerethe Renferal, appear in the Dream as spirits directly after they die [Page: Thaon Moonclaw, Page: Elerethe Renferal]. The Dream is also home to a significant number of wisps, although wisps are not necessarily tied to the Dream and can travel to the physical plane at will [Page: Emerald Dream]. Despite that, there are innumerable night elf ghosts that are neither wisps nor druids, such as most Highborne spirits everywhere from Dire Maul to Azsuna. Therefore, it is hard to say with any certainty if knowing druids and wisps eventually pass on to the Dream means the night elves believe the Emerald Dream is the afterlife Elune created for them or if they think there is another place they go to when they die.

Human

Most humans actively follow the teachings of the Holy Light, but it is unclear what kind of afterlife Light worship supposedly leads to. According to the non-canon RPG, the Church of the Holy Light is not a religion and thus has little to say about the universe’s cosmological origins, let alone any afterlife. Instead, the Holy Light is simply a philosophy of life exclusively focused on the moral tenets by which one should live [RPG, pg. 124-125, Page: Brotherhood of Northshire].

This is corroborated in-game by the fact that hardly any humans ever make reference to an afterlife. When Wyll Benton, House Wrynn’s family servant, passes away, he mentions he can see his deceased loved ones, but nothing of where he is going [Before the Storm, pg. 132 – 133 (paperback edition)]. Moreover, when the noble Crusader Bridenbrad perishes, he doesn’t allude to an afterlife, although the three naaru who save his spirit from undeath comment that he will “taste paradise” and that the Light does not abandon its champions [Quest: The Boon of A’dal].

The only time in which the Light is ever mentioned in reference to an afterlife is not by any human, but a draenei girl named Uuna who died long ago on Argus. Barred from passing on for millennia, Uuna finally gets her chance and remarks that the “light” – which manifests above her as an actual beam of light – tells her to follow it. However, Uuna asks to stay on the physical plane a little longer, to which the “Light” supposedly says she can stay [NPC: Uuuna Dialogue].

Draenei

The draenei have never so much as alluded to belief in a conventional ‘afterlife,’ – that is, a separate realm the spirits of their fallen go to other than Auchindoun – but there is no doubt that the dead hold a place of high importance in their culture.

The draenei’s relationship with the spirits of the dead dates as far back as Argus, when the Wakeners began delving into the magical art of soulbinding [NPC: Vigilant Quoram Dialogue]. With their newfound knowledge, the Wakeners learned how to take the souls of their kin and place them in armored constructs, giving them physical form so they could serve as the protectors of eredar society. The constructs, or Vigilants, as they were to be known, were a privilege afforded to the eredar’s greatest warriors and most important figures [Dungeon Journal: Hellfire Citadel, Socrethar the Eternal, Dungeon Journal: Auchindoun, Vigilant Kaathar, NPC: Vigilant Quoram Dialogue]. It was not until the draenei arrived on Draenor that their relationship with the dead grew to take on a more religious and spiritual tone.  

The Genedar’s crash and subsequent injury of the naaru aboard the ship dramatically changed how the draenei treated their dead because of a unique phenomenon that occurred when the naaru D’ore died. The naaru’s remains, which began drifting into a void state, started attracting draenei spirits. Because of that, the draenei were able to communicate with the incorporeal spirits of the fallen for the first time ever in the history of their society [World of Warcraft Chronicle Volume II, pg. 54].

In short order, the draenei built a mausoleum known as Auchindoun – ‘a Home for the Honored Dead’ in the eredar language – to house their fallen, D’ore’s remains, and the spirits they attracted over the years. The draenei also went so far as to record the names of each and every draenei interned in Auchindoun in a book known as the Book of the Dead [Quest: Levixus the Soul Caller, Page: Levixus].

To protect the tomb-city’s spirit inhabitants from harm, the draenei formed a religious order known as the Auchenai and placed its members, led by Exarch Maladaar, in charge of communing with and taking care of the dead [World of Warcraft Chronicle Volume II, pg. 54]. Among other things, the Auchenai’s responsibilities grew to include calming the dead and performing exorcisms [Pet Journal: Nightmare Bell, Quest: Speaker for the Dead, Quest: The Exorcism of Colonel Jules]. They even had the power to call forth the spirits of the fallen to protect themselves and others if necessary [Beyond the Dark Portal, Chapter Twenty-One].

Those who sought to join the holy Auchenai order and become death priests were required, as part of their initiation, to drink a potion that would allow them to see the dead. The potion’s effects were permanent and, in some cases, even maddening [Quest: Vision of the Dead].

Custom dictated that the draenei pay their respects at spirit towers outside of Auchindoun at specific times of the day [Quest: Spirits of Auchindoun].

Kul Tiran

The Kul Tirans choose not to bury their people, believing instead that the fallen should be given to the ocean [Quest: Lost, Not Forgotten, Item: Soggy Treasure Map]. Because of that, they consider it taboo to retrieve a body lost at sea [NPC: Thomas Zelling Dialogue].

The prominent figure in Kul Tiran death mythology is a mysterious being known simply as the “boatman” [NPC: Roughneck Logger Dialogue, Warbringers: Jaina]. Unfortunately, little of him or his function is known.

[halfabreath]

idk if u still want requests for this but “we can’t do this” kisses and holsom?

I ALWAYS WANT REQUESTS FOR THIS.

so uhhhhhh we got a fast and loose Holsom Road to El Dorado AU here where they're still criminals who wind up in this situation but instead of looking for El Dorado/an indigenous civilization they're looking for a mythical ice kingdom/treasure and guess the fuck what they definitely find it and end up in a poly situation with a Helpful Local named Alexei Mashkov while grim hockey prince Jack Zimmermann looks on in concern 

i don't know much but i do know that instead of the mayan ball game it's hockey and instead of an armadillo buddy there's a wolverine and Holster has a melodica instead of a mandolin (I will pay someone real monetary currency to draw this but with holster in this verse) but i'm getting way ahead of myself anyway here's the thing

The sky is endless, and ridiculously blue, and annoying as fuck because it won't. Stop. Moving. 

Ransom's not sure how long they've been in this lifeboat. He knows it can't be more than three weeks because they don't have any food. The water lasted until yesterday or - no, the day before yesterday - or, wait, no. Ransom's not sure. They're still alive, though, inexplicably, but Ransom's not sure how much longer that will be true. 

Not long, probably. They both know that. Holster's a realist and Ransom understands the biological limitations. They're con men, not idiots. Well. They're going to die in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean, so they're definitely idiots. Ransom sighs, tips his head back to take in more of that big, beautiful, infuriating, nauseating sky that's drifting above them. He's back to back with Holster, head cushioned on his partner-in-literal-crime's big shoulder. They've sat like this a thousand times; back to back is the safest way to sleep on the abandoned buildings and sketchy taverns they frequent. Holster's back is a little bonier than usual, but still comfortable (Ransom doesn't think about how they've always fit together, even when they were gangly teens huddling for warmth, or when they're sharing a hiding spot that's only big enough for a normal sized human and they have to squeeze together in order to fit, or when Holster had grabbed his hand when they were fleeing the Law Abiding Xenacious Brotherhood all those days? weeks? ago. Even while they were sprinting through side streets and jumping over roofs, their hands had fit together perfectly). 

"Holtzy, did you ever imagine it would end like this?" Ransom asks suddenly, desperate to keep himself from thinking about Holster's hands, because if he thinks about his hands he'll think about his arms and if he thinks about his arms he'll think about his chest and if he thinks about his chest he'll think about his heart and if he thinks about his heart he'll - 

"The horse is a surprise," Holster cuts in, his flat, sarcastic tone breaking through Ransom's increasingly panicked thoughts. Ransom laughs, just a soft burst of air, but it's real, and for their present circumstances, that's almost a miracle. Then again, Holster always makes him laugh. 

They're quiet for a long moment, the waves and the horse's heavy sighs filling the background with a steady stream of white noise. He can feel Holster breathing; it's second nature to sync their breaths so they move together. When Ransom closes his eyes and focuses he can almost convince himself they're safe. 

Being with Holster always feels safe, even though they're in danger more often than not. 

"Rans?" Holster murmurs, deep voice soft and raspy. It's amazing how one syllable can fill Ransom's chest with warmth and joy and make him feel like a lifeboat is home. He hums, just a quick up-down sound so Holster knows he's listening. "If I do something, will you promise not to hate me?" Holster's voice is small, unsure. Holster's voice isn't ever small and unsure. It sets Ransom on edge, tension creeping up between his shoulder blades. 

"Only if it's not something stupid, like abandoning ship." Ransom replies honestly. He doesn't know what he'll do if Holster gets any ideas about sacrificing himself. Holster's quiet for a moment. Ransom can feel his muscles shift as he tips his head to side the way he always does when he's considering his options. Ransom half expects him to say We can make a play out of this -  

"It might be stupid," is what Holster says instead. At least he's being honest. There's another stretch of silence.

"But it might not be?" Ransom says, because he knows Holster is thinking it. He wouldn't have brought it up if he wasn't. Holster nods, hair brushing against the back of Ransom's neck. it's just a wisp of contact, but it fortifies Ransom's nerves. He trusts Holster. It's the one constant in his life besides inconsistency. For the first time in a long while he isn't sure what Holster's going to say or do, but he trusts him enough to sigh, press back against Holster's shoulder, and say,  "Okay, do it."

It's quiet for a moment, which Ransom expects, but then Holster twists around, which he doesn't. He reaches over Ransom, propping himself up with a hand by his hip, the other hovering between them for a long moment before it settles, feather light, on Ransom's cheek. Holster leans in and - fuck, it's happening, it's happening, Ransom's only fantasized about this a million times and sure, not a single one of those fantasies came anywhere close to their current situation but Ransom can't even care because the man he's been in love with for years is about to - scratch that, he's kissing Ransom so, so sweetly, and it's somehow exactly how Ransom imagined it. Holster is big and loud and obnoxious but he's always been quiet and soft and gentle when Ransom needs it and right now he needs it more than ever. 

Holster tilts his head, slotting their lips together just so, and Ransom's pretty sure he stops breathing when he nibbles on Ransom's bottom lip. Ransom always knew it would be good, if it ever happened, but he didn't expect it to build the way it does. Neither of them pulls away, neither of them backs down. They surge together, pressing closer and closer as the kiss grows deeper and deeper. Ransom tugs on Holster's shirt, his hips, his hair, turning him around and pulling him down until Holster's entire body weight is pressing down on him and his tongue is behind Ransom's teeth. 

Ransom's not proud of the sound he makes when Holster suddenly pulls away with a ragged gasp. It's a groan that tapers into a whine - or maybe it's a keen? What's a keening sound, anyway? He needs to kiss Holster some more, do some more research to see if either of them makes it, but when he tries to pull Holster back down he doesn't come. His cheeks are red, thick eyebrows drawn together, swollen lips turned down in a frown. Ransom can’t bring himself to look away. They're both breathing hard, one chest rising when the other falls. When he pulls Holster again he falls forward, but he tucks his face under Ransom's chin. 

"We can't do this," Holster gasps, the words muffled against Ransom's skin. He's holding onto Ransom so tightly, hands trembling, but he makes no effort to move away or untangle their legs. "We're going to die, we - " 

"Adam," Ransom breathes. He cups his partner's face in his shaking hands. Holster tilts his head, pressing a kiss to his wrist, his thumb, his palm. Ransom's wanted this for so long and it might be the worst possible timing but he's not going to look a gift horse (or the real horse directly to their left) in the mouth. He pulls Holster closer and presses their foreheads together. "If we're going to die, we can do whatever we want. And I've wanted you forever." 

"Me too," Holster gasps, and the next time he kisses Ransom, deep and full and somehow perfect, he doesn't stop.

Ransom's not sure how long they kiss before he pulls back to catch his breath, his head hitting the bottom of the lifeboat with a quiet thunk. Holster's above him, gorgeous and flushed and real. Ransom's imagined this a million times and there might be a hoof digging into his back and Holster's cheeks are hollow from hunger and his face might just be red from the sun but he's staring down at Ransom with so much love, eyes as clear and blue as the still sky above him and - 

The sky is still. 

"Holtzy," Ransom rasps, hands scrambling over his partner's back. He thumps over Holster's ribs, legs jerking as he jolts upward. "Look - the sky, Holster, look." He pleads, desperately trying to untangle their limbs so he can see over the edge of the boat. Holster tips back, over, narrowly avoiding a knee to the stomach, twists, stands, sputters, and falls, almost kicking Ransom in the face when he topples over the edge of the boat, ass over teakettle, knees still hooked over the lip of the lifeboat. Ransom scrambles up and launches himself over the side of the boat to follow him (he's followed Holster into gambling dens and poorly constructed get-rich-quick schemes and jail cells and stunningly intricate escape plans and hungry nights and desperate winters and if he's honest with himself, if he's really, truly completely transparent then he knows he'll follow Holster anywhere and, well, that's how he ended up on the road to a mythical treasure in a lifeboat with a horse) and he lands face first on wet, solid sand. 

"Fuck," Holster groans, somewhere to Ransom's left. There's a soft pressure between Ransom's shoulder blades as Holster pats him once, twice, then smooths his hand down his back in a quick once-over. "You okay?" "Yeph - fhuck," Ransom spits out a mouthful of wet sand. "Yeah. You?" He asks, and Holster pats him again, humming a quick affirmation. Ransom opens his eyes, and all he can see is muted shades of graygreenbrownredtan overlapping over a vast, open space dotted with mossy rocks and low, scrubby plants.

It looks desolate, and unwelcoming, and foreign, and Ransom has never been happier to see rocks in his entire goddamn life. 

The boat creaks as the horse stands. He huffs, blowing a quick burst of air through his nose, and whinnies softly. Ransom rolls, tearing his eyes away from the tundra to confirm he makes it out of the lifeboat, then continues rolling until the horizon shifts and all he can see is Holster and the vast, dark ocean behind him. 

Holster's knees are still hooked over the edge of the lifeboat and his arm is still stretched out towards Ransom, fingers now curled into the fabric of his ragged shirt. Ransom can feel the warmth of his knuckles on his stomach through the thin material. His other arm is flopped on the sand, his entire palm enveloped by the wet sand, fingers digging deeper into the earth. Holster likes to anchor himself like this: one hand on Ransom, the other on something solid and safe and his.

The earth is solid. The tundra is safe. And Ransom is his. 

Ransom scoots closer to curl around him. "We need water." He murmurs against Holster's shoulder. "Firewood. Food. Shelter." Holster opens his eyes, gaze sweeping over Ransom's face. "Are we still...?" Holster trails off, but his eyes settle on Ransom's lips. The reality of the situation is still grim. They're not trapped anymore, but they're in a new place with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a disgruntled stallion who's quite frankly an asshole, but for the first time in days they have hope, and while they've always had each other, now they have each other. 

"Hell yeah," Ransom says, and he kisses Holster's smile until the horse starts munching on the back of his shirt. 

Like I said, he's an asshole. 

[matsuoclan]

Pairing: Colt x MC Rating: Teen to Mature Category: Angst(ish) with a Hopeful Ending Tag List: @sibella-plays-choices​ @desiree-0816​ @liamzigmichael4ever​ @twin-skltns​ @choicesarehard​ @euphonyinestetica​ @navigatorholmes​ Notes: My study of Colt Kaneko for RoDAW! This is a HUGE departure from my usual style and was a bitch to write but I’m proud of it lol. Enjoy!

[ masterlist ] [ fic vibes playlist ]

His father wears anger like a second skin.

Teppei Kaneko’s rule over his shop is absolute, quiet until it’s not, and even as a kid Colt knows that when his Pop gets that look in his eyes it’s either hide or get caught in the blast. When Pop’s angry, he’s not the Pop who puts on car movies and makes popcorn and nudges Colt so he doesn’t miss the next part. When Pop’s angry, he’s Kaneko: dangerous, terrifying, and king.  

He loves his Pop.

He fears Kaneko.

People tell him he has his father’s eyes, but sometimes when his little body shakes with so much rage it threatens to break him, he thinks he inherited something worse.

-

-

The part he hates most about falling is the wild feeling in the pit of his stomach as he plummets. The next is the impact.

Or maybe he just hates falling in general.

The water is freezing under overcast skies. It’s nothing like the pool his mother sometimes takes him to on weekends he doesn’t see his father. Instead it’s murky and agitated and his imagination kicks into overdrive, feeding him image after image of sea monsters in the depths below, ready to pull him underneath and eat him while he drowns.

He thrashes between the waves, looking up at the cliff, hoping against hope that he’ll be able to see his Pop peering over the edge to make sure he’s ok. 

Pop isn’t looking down from the cliff. Colt was stupid to think otherwise.

His teeth chatter when he heaves himself out and climbs all the way back up to the top, shivering violently in his sopping clothes. Pop’s in the same position as before, arms crossed and eyes trained on the horizon. Again, he tells Colt. Jump again.

This time when he surfaces, he can’t tell if the salt on his tongue is from his tears or the sea.

-

-

At 8, Colt’s deepest secret is he wishes he had a different dad. His darkest is he doesn’t wish that at all.

-

-

Sometime between growing up and spending more time at the shop, he learns what his father actually does for a living and it’s an exciting, new world. It’s his family history, the family business, and one Colt wants more than anything to be a part of and one he thinks he’d be good at.

His father disagrees. His father disagrees vehemently. Maybe not in so many words at first, but it’s not hard to guess why Colt’s only allowed in the shop on some weekends and not others, why some conversations abruptly come to a halt whenever he draws near.

The moments etch themselves unpleasantly into his skin, because he doesn’t understand.

Pop shares every other aspect of his life with him -- teaching him to drive, to drift, anything he could ever want to know about cars -- but not what he wants most. Every time he asks, Pop gives him a short “no” with a crease between his brows and a downturned mouth as if Colt’s asking for something painful and impossible.

He barges in on a meeting once when they’re preparing for a job to demand they let him in, sick and tired of being left out, and it’s the beginning of the end. Never has he seen his father so furious, and it’s never, ever been directed at him.

In the moment, Pop and Teppei Kaneko cease being two people. Colt stops being scared altogether, opting instead to stand his ground and demand respect for being his father’s son.

Teppei laughs bitterly, and throws him out.

-

-

His mom moves away a month later, and he goes with her. She insists it’s because she found a better job in another state with a great school district and cheap in-state tuition. Teppei calls it an opportunity to explore his options and his future, but Colt can recognize exile when he sees it. There’s so much wrongness in leaving California and it pulls at him with every step he takes, leaving a hollow feeling between his ribs that he can only fill with rage, because if he stops to consider how hurt he is over being abandoned, he’ll break.

He can’t do much from where he is, not yet, but Teppei doesn’t get to decide he wants a son instead of an heir when he raised him at the foot of his throne.

-

-

Colt grudgingly does the school thing because his mom asks him to. 

It wouldn’t be a bad life. He could get his degree, get an office job and benefits and a 401(k), wear pressed button-ups and wingtip shoes and go out with friends on the weekend. Many people do it, and they seem content enough. For over a year he throws himself into college, losing himself to classes and classmates alike in a blur of secondhand textbooks and shitty beer and sloppy hookups, pretending he’s there because he wants to be, just like everyone else.

To his credit, he does try. But in the end, it feels like suffocating little by little, and Colt has no interest in dying before he’s lived.

-

-

He roars back into California on his motorcycle with a different state’s license plate, carrying nothing but a rucksack and an axe to grind. Los Angeles is mostly the same: smoggy skies, congested freeways, construction on every other street. It’s comforting in its familiarity, that he can spend years away and LA will be just as much of a shithole when he returns.

The savage pleasure he gets from the shock on Teppei’s face is a good enough welcome home.

Logically he knows his father runs a crew and needs people to be in it, but it’s another thing entirely to see that most everyone is the same except for the one he’s been replaced with. Logan’s a simple pretty-boy who Colt is surprised can string more than two words together and he’s more than a little insulted that this is his replacement, but at least he’s not sent away like he expects.

What he also doesn’t expect is her.

-

-

She’s a pretty wisp of a thing that sticks out like a sore thumb and Colt hates her on sight. He’s an ass to her but she gives as good as she gets, meeting him barb for barb with a pointed glare. If he was at all inclined to fall in love with a tourist, that would do it.

He doesn’t understand why she’s there at first. By all appearances, she’s slumming it at the shop instead of spending her days studying or hanging out with a father who actually wants her around. Unlike the rest of the crew, she’s got a great future already laid out for her.

It’s not until he’s sitting in her passenger seat before her license test, observing the way she comes alive when she masters drifting and upends his entire worldview in a single breath, that it clicks, and.

Oh.

After, she bursts out of the DMV in a flurry of excitement, waving at him like mad and grinning so wide it blinds him, and his traitorous heart skips a beat.

-

-

Colt can count on one hand the number of times he’s been genuinely frozen in terror, but none come close to finding his dad slumped over in a pool of his own blood. Suddenly he’s a little scared boy again and he forgets himself in that moment, forgets that he’s supposed to be furious at his at his father, because words like blood and injury and weakness shouldn’t exist in the same sentence as Teppei Kaneko.

His bloodied hands won’t stop fucking shaking. Distantly he registers someone’s arms around him but all he knows is terror until his father wakes, and then he learns he has the Brotherhood to hate.

It is, after all, easier to be angry.

-

-

“It’s okay to admit you’re worried.”

“It’s okay if something just takes your breath away.”

She says things like that a lot, like it’s that easy. For her, it probably is. She wears her heart on her sleeve in a way Colt envies, so free with her thoughts and emotions it’s almost painful for him to watch.

Anger is his oldest, most comforting friend and the one that’s easiest to run to when the other emotions start creeping in. But she sees right through his bullshit and calls him out on it and then some and he’s left floundering, thrown off his axis by someone he thought would cut and run if he just insulted her enough.

It’s kind of nice, being proved wrong on something like that.

They jump off the cliff together, her for the first time and him for the first time in years, and the water closing in around him is different somehow: more like a friend welcoming him back after a long absence than a monster waiting in the wings to devour him. Maybe it has something to do with how he’s changed, but he thinks it has everything to do with the girl squeezing his hand.

When she kisses him, it’s clear she’s never kissed anyone before. Her mouth is clumsy against his but like each new thing he’s seen her try, she masters it quickly with the next kiss and the next and steals his breath right out from his lungs.

For the first time since returning he allows himself to want something besides what he came back for, and at the first hint of guilt instead of reaching for anger, he remembers her words.

Like she said.

It’s ok.

It’s ok to want her.

-

-

Coming up with this plan in tandem with his father is not so much crossing a line as it is setting the world on fire and dancing in the flames. Teppei looks at him differently now, has done so since the Grapevine job, and it is everything Colt has ever wanted to be trusted with his family’s legacy the way he deserves.

He takes a moment to look at his Pop, tracking his eyes over new wrinkles and larger eye bags. There’s more gray in his long strands, and a tattoo he hasn’t seen before on his forearm. Pop catches his eye and gives him a ghost of a smile.

It’s a strange thing, to relearn his father at the same time Pop relearns him. 

Bitterness is not a new feeling. That he has to relearn his father at all leaves a foul taste in his mouth if he thinks about it for too long, so Colt ignores it in favor of the task at hand. He has Pop’s trust now, has a chance to prove he belongs, and the first step to doing that is to make sure the Brotherhood disappears forever.

-

-

Against all odds, the first part of the plan goes beautifully. When Mona suggests they all go dancing, it’s the promise of their freedom within his grasp that makes him say yes.

-

-

Colt isn’t a stranger to falling.

He’s been falling for as long as he can remember. But this time, he is in love with a girl with little recollection of how he got there. All he knows is the swooping feeling in his belly started before they leapt off the cliff and didn’t disappear the way it was supposed to when they hit the water. Instead it’s made itself a home inside him, growing in size until he feels he’s in perpetual nosedive every time he so much as looks at her.

The part he hates most about falling is the wild feeling in the pit of his stomach as he plummets. But in the darkness of the warehouse with each press of her mouth against his, he thinks maybe it isn’t so bad.

-

-

Love doesn’t blind him to ugly realities, and the reality is loving her doesn’t make him any less of an asshole.

There’s naked hurt on her face when she bolts out of the shop, crushed by the revelation of his father and Logan’s deception, and yet he can’t stop smiling because she finally knows the way they’ve been using her.

He doesn’t regret what he did, but he does regret how he did it. Hurting her was never on the agenda, or at least that’s what he tells himself when he catches up to her and convinces her to get in her car.

When she kisses him, he can forget just how he’s used her too.

-

-

The crew falls apart. Anything that can go wrong does. Their one chance at freedom disappears like smoke in the wind and he transforms into something ugly and jagged in the fallout, barely able to contain the fury in his voice, searching for someone to blame as he escapes with her on his motorcycle.

It is, after all, easier to be angry. Especially when he goes nauseous at the thought of finding her lifeless body in the vault had his plan continued the way it was supposed to.

But then, it doesn’t matter anymore. Any relief that she’s still alive burns up with his father and his family’s shop and then all he knows is pain and pain again. All he wants is for it to stop, barely able to hold it together in front of the others, traitorous thoughts screaming in his mind that this is somehow his fault, because it was his plan, and the awful realization makes him want to pull over and empty the contents of his stomach onto the street.

Teppei Kaneko’s blood has been on his hands in more ways than one.

-

-

He makes it somehow to the cliffs after leaving the others and it’s there in the dead of night with only the sound of waves for company that he finally breaks. Grief rises in the back of his throat as he collapses at the edge but rage, his ever-present friend, comes to his aid. 

Only this time, instead of one beating the other into submission, they ally and forge a different monster altogether, taking root in his lungs and choking him from the inside out as the explosion replays over and over in his mind.

He is abandoned, all over again, by a father who thought he knew best.

Life cannot possibly be this fucking unfair but even as he thinks it, Colt knows it is. Hot tears spill messy down his cheeks and he sobs, wounded and wild, demanding for the universe to tell him where he went so wrong that his own father would think he would be better off in a world without him in it. 

The universe does not answer, because the universe does not care.

He knows this, but demands anyway.

-

-

In the aftermath there is no body to bury and no shop to return to, but the ghost of Teppei Kaneko lingers in every breath of his son. Colt pieces himself together out of ashes, and begins anew.

-

-

Maybe it’s harebrained to see her when there’s a price on his head, but her surprise when he appears at her friend’s doorstep is a memory he’ll keep tucked inside his heart for a long time: shock, then wonder, then awe, and the brightest smile she’s ever given him.

He’s sure he had his reasons for not going to his own prom, but it’s hard to remember any of them when she descends, a vision in pink, down the stairs.

If she wants to go to prom, he’ll give her the best damn time he can.

It’s all so normal, this glimpse into her life, seeing her teachers, friends, classmates. She stands out from all of them in his eyes, miles above where any of them could even aspire to reach, so radiant in her happiness that he can do nothing but drown helplessly in it. 

So it’s everything when he cuts himself open for her, more raw and more vulnerable than he’s ever been in front of anyone, and tells her he loves her with a shaking voice.

The more amazing thing is, she says it back.

-

-

He’s been with people before, but no one he wanted. No one he loved. He sinks into her, feeling her breath stutter out of her lungs, and whispers it over and over into her skin like a mantra, worshipping at her altar, because now that he’s said it he’s never taking it back.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

-

-

It’s not completely unexpected that the Brotherhood finds them. Like everything good in his life, as soon as he’s granted a moment of happiness it’s interrupted or snatched away. What’s different this time, is her.

He’s learned his lesson. Keeping her out of the loop for the first plan didn’t end well for anyone and in the week following his father’s death, he’s run over every little thing that went wrong hundreds of times in his mind until his heart was numb, and it all came down to secrets and lack of trust.

Too little too late, but he knows better now.

Their plan is risky, with more room for error than he’s comfortable with, but it’s the best they can come up with on short notice. His nerves shot, he squeezes her hand before she gets into her car and drives off, unable to force any sort of words out of his throat.

She squeezes back, understanding.

-

-

Everything comes down to this last showdown, what’s left of the Mercy Park Crew congregated in a high school parking lot with guns trained on them. His pulse still pounds in his ears from seeing her car roll over and over before coming to a stop roof-down, but she crawls out of a window, alive, and the tightness in his chest loosens where it sat like a stone underneath his sternum since they parted ways at Vaughn’s house. 

And then it’s finished. The Brotherhood is defeated, and it is all because of her.

She goes with him to Ladera Heights and together they watch as the FBI pushes that bastard, handcuffed, out of the house. Relief and triumph and something else war inside him and it’s all he can do to keep from keeling over into the street. It’s over. It’s done. His father is avenged, and he is free, and there is nothing left to do but rebuild.

The Mercy Park Crew may be no more, but he remains, and with him, the legacy of his father and his father’s father before him.

In the moment that’s enough.

-

-

She leaves like she’s always planned to and takes half of his heart with her. Colt accepts it despite himself, because this isn’t abandonment. This isn’t about him at all. As much as he wants her to stay and rebuild with him, he doesn’t begrudge her choice to find herself and figure out her place in the world, because it’s more than anyone has ever afforded him. When she returns -- and he has a gut feeling that she will -- he will be here.

She is his driver, forever, and he will wait as long as she needs.

The taste of their good-bye is still on his tongue when he pulls up to the cliffs, parking his motorcycle to the side and trudging over tiredly to sit with his feet dangling over the edge. It’s early in the AM now, and he watches the California sky turn from midnight blue to orange to pink as the sun rises over his back.

The remainder of his heart beats slow and steady within his ribcage, finally at peace, and then he exhales and lets the sunrise take his breath away. 

-

-

In the end, she finds her way back to him, and he is whole again.

-

-

Fin.

[violetganache42]

tails, knuckles, eggman, espio, mighty and ray

Tails: In any continuity, games, comics, etc., who is your favorite character?

This one is going to be a doozy because I have a shit ton of favorites, and in most continuities (depending on who is there and how they are portrayed), my top favorite is easily Sonic. Some of my other faves include Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Shadow, Silver, Cream and Cheese, Eggman, Cubot and Orbot, Team Chaotix (Vector, Espio, and Charmy), Blaze, the Babylon Rogues (Jet, Wave, and Storm), etc. Of course, each continuity has their own exclusive set of characters, so I'm going to list—on top of my head—some of my favorites from each continuity based on what I have watched/read and what content I have seen (screenshots, posts, etc.) from anything I haven't gotten a chance to properly watch or read.

Archie - Sally, Nicole, Scourge, Rosy, Breezie, Cassia and Clove, Nigel, Jules, Bernadette, Uncle Chuck, Fiona, Mina, Lara-Su/Jani-Ca, Julie-Su, Lien-Da, Dr. Finitevus, Janelle-Li (Thanks, @sally-mun!), Enerjak, Professor Von Schlemmer, Gold, Eclipse, Razor, Coral, Pearly

IDW - All the characters introduced thus far have been so charming, but my favorites may have to be Tangle, Whisper, and Dr. Starline.

Fleetway - I haven't even read STC, but based on what I've seen, my favorites would have to be Fleetway!Amy, Tekno, and Fleetway!Super Sonic.

Animation - Cosmo, Helen, the Metarex, Decoe, Bocoe, and Bokkun (Sonic X); Scratch, Grounder, and Coconuts (Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog); SatAM!KnotholeFreedom Fighters, King Acorn, Naugus (Sonic SatAM); Sonia, Manic, and Aleena (Sonic Underground); Sara (Sonic OVA); Perci, Zooey, Sticks, Team Cyborg Sonic (Sonic Boom)

Game - Shade (She is the only pro I can give to Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood because she looks so cool.), G-Merl, Mephiles, Infinite, Yacker, Cyan Wisp, Ivory Wisp, the Chao

Knuckles: What's your favorite game?

Classic - Sonic CD, SegaSonic the Hedgehog, Sonic 3 & Knuckles, Sonic the Fighters, and Sonic Mania/Sonic Mania Plus

Modern - Sonic Adventure 2, Sonic Unleashed, Sonic Colors, Sonic Generations, and Team Sonic Racing

I haven't played any of the Boom games, but I will say that the cartoon is definitely my favorite from the Boomverse.

Eggman: Who's your favorite villain?

Eggman is definitely one of my favorites. I'm also partial to Mephiles and Infinite. …Oh, how could I forget Finitevus and Starline? Those two are quite the good choices, along with Rough and Tumble. You know what? Let's just say my favorite villains are those seven.

Espio: Which game(s) has your favorite style?

Sonic CD, Sonic Riders, and Sonic Mania. I mean, have you seen the opening animations for these games? Their respective styles look so breathtaking!

Mighty and Ray: Who's your favorite "forgotten" character?

Obviously Mighty and Ray… though I highly doubt they actually count since they appeared in their first game in over 20 years, especially considering the huge reception they got when Sonic Mania Plus was announced. XD There is also Honey because Sonic the Fighters is literally the only game she is in, both as a scrapped character in the original and as a playable character in the re-release; then again, she was fleshed out nicely in the Archie comics, along with Fang, Bean, and Bark… Now that I think about it, part of me feels like there isn't enough Team Hooligan content. Aside from those six, I'm also gonna have to say Tiara because she was set to appear in a game of her own, Sonic X-Treme, only for it to be ultimately cancelled. It honestly would be interesting to see how she would play out if the game got released. Makes me wonder if she would have ended up joining the main cast, either in the Classicverse, Modernverse, or both. Heck, aside from a cameo in an Archie Sonic issue I refuse to mention, what role would she play if she appeared in any other continuity? 🤔

[wispisstillverybored67]

Cozette, huh? What a nice name.

Wait... Zokket... Cozette...

[cursedmenagerie]

ℒ𝒶𝓈𝓉 ℛ𝒾𝓉ℯ𝓈

　　　A harsh gasp leaves the Penitus Oculatus soldier, garbled and spraying bloody spittle as they wheeze their final breaths. Their attacker draws back the spectral blade embedded in their neck and steps casually around them when they slump, lifeless to the deck of the ship.

　　　“On me! Don’t let them breach the Emperor’s ca- Hrk!”

　　　The tip of a wicked, obsidian sword pierces through the lieutenant’s chest before he can finish the order. Behind him a Dremora snarls. It wrenches back to cast off the deadweight from its blade and wastes no time gleefully rushing the nearest soldier. Another Dremora, slimmer but more agile, beats back a line of men attempting to block off the stern with ease, laughing at their futility. 

　　　Draped in black and red leathers the lone noncombatant marching the length of the deck could almost be mistaken for another of the daedra in the rush of battle. But they pay little mind to the fray unlike their bloodthirsty allies, focus narrowed to the far door leading deeper into the vessel. One brave fool breaks through the Dremoras’ ranks to charge the figure. A flash of sickly green blinds the woman. Her body seizes in place, dropping like a stone.

　　　“There’s no need to be hasty,” The figure chides her. Flames replace the green wisps around their outstretched hand. In her paralyzed state the soldier can’t even scream as fire sears her flesh. 

　　　Nearer to the galley door the corpse of the ship’s captain lays against the wall, and they pause long enough to rifle through the dead man’s robes to fetch a ring of keys. “Vas! Motal! Leave no survivors! It won’t do to have my appointment interrupted.”

　　　The only acknowledgement they receive from the Dremora are war cries.

　　　Inside the belly of The Katariah the sounds of fighting are deafened to a dull roar. Not a soul stirs in the immediate area, and every door stands flung wide as a testament to the frantic dash made to defend the ship; all save for one. This and its sturdy lock tell them all they need to know of what lies beyond. With keys in hand and the crew thoroughly distracted by their allies, breaking into the Emperor’s quarters is child’s play.

　　　Once inside, however, their tidy plans to murder him without mercy or misgivings fall to the wayside.

　　　Despite the years spent living in the Imperial City they had only seen the Emperor’s face a handful of times, and seldom within such proximity. After thirty-five years of ruling the Empire he was starting to show his age. Thinning hair gone gray, faint wrinkles that contrasted sharply to the last time they’d seen him. Youthful, for a grown human at least. But he still carries the same weight of responsibility that they recognized in his father before him, in the high-ranking soldiers tired of war, and that they now recognize in themselves. He stands at a wide desk, unassuming as he watches the figure enter.

　　　“And, once more, I prove Commander Maro the fool. I told him you can't stop the Dark Brotherhood. Never could.” Titus nods as if to himself, stepping around the desk. “Come now, don't be shy. You haven't come this far just to stand there gawking.”

　　　Every modicum of sense inside them screams that this must be a trap, and yet they step forward. Swayed by curiosity as to how he can face his would-be assassin with such calm. A question sits on the tip of their tongue, but the words fail to coalesce into a coherent sentence. The Emperor, oblivious to their attempts at speech thanks to the mask obscuring their lips, continues on. “You and I have a date with destiny, it would seem. But so it is with assassins and emperors, hm? Yes, I must die. And you must deliver the blow. It is simply the way it is. But I wonder... would you suffer an old man a few more words before the deed is done?”

　　　Disbelief floods through them. For all the killing they had done for the Brotherhood a scarce few targets had ever resigned themselves to their deaths. Certainly none had ever asked to chat before being killed. Bold to the end. They could respect that, and so gave a nod.

　　　“I thank you for your courtesy.” He then begins pacing the length of the room. “You will kill me, and I have accepted that fate. But regardless of your path through life, I sense in you a certain... ambition. So I ask of you a favor. An old man's dying wish.” A pause to look back to the assassin. They move to lean against the desk and motion with a hand for him to continue. “While there are many who would see me dead, there is one who set the machine in motion. This person, whomever he or she may be, must be punished for their treachery. Once you have been rewarded for my assassination, I want you to kill the very person who ordered it. Would you do me this kindness?”

　　　Kill Motierre? The task would be simple. Simpler than killing Mede, certainly. But betraying their employer wouldn’t go over well with the rest of the Brotherhood. The organization’s reputation was already in tatters, and if it became known that they’d killed the man who had put a price on the Emperor’s head the Brotherhood would have a harder time convincing the public of their trustworthiness. 

　　　Still, there’s something to be said for putting a corrupt and uppity member of the Elder Council in his place. Were it not for Motierre’s greed the Brotherhood might still thrive, even if it would be under Astrid’s leadership. 

　　　“Very well. They indirectly led to the weakening of the Brotherhood, and so we have as much motive for retribution.”

　　　Titus slows in his pacing until he stands before them. The two meet gazes, and though they know he only perceives the illusionary disguise they had conjured up before infiltrating The Katariah they struggle not to squirm under his scrutiny. “Thank you. I can pass on to the afterlife with nothing left to regret. Now, onto the business at hand, I suppose.”

　　　“Do you have no desire to know who was the cause of all this?”

　　　A resigned sigh leaves him, and he inclines his head. “I must admit, when Maro revealed that he had a tip about the Dark Brotherhood being contracted to assassinate me I was curious to know who had ordered it. The idea of the Aldmeri Dominion being responsible was unlikely. They would want to take full responsibility of the feat. The Commander had even considered that the contract was made by a member of the Stormcloak Rebellion, and there were inquiries made, agents sent east to seek out who had hired you. But in the end I knew we would not find the person responsible.” He offers a genial smile. “Anyone intrepid enough to have the Emperor assassinated would thoroughly cover their tracks. If you feel willing to divulge, however, I would appreciate the gesture. For as little time as I have left, that is.”

　　　They fold their arms over their chest, letting their gaze wander around the ornate cabin. The sound of fighting that was faint in the main hall has since died away. Whether it is because their daedric companions have prevailed or because the thick walls mask the noise is uncertain, but they nevertheless feel at ease continuing to indulge the Emperor’s desire for conversation a bit longer. “You were right that the Thalmor are not involved. And Maro’s assumption was incorrect. He did not share much information about himself, but we know that he is an influential man from the Empire, wealthy and powerful. His name is Amaund Motierre.”

　　　For the first time since the assassin’s arrival Titus’ neutral demeanor wilts. The wrinkled lines of his face harden, though there is an absence of anything near to anger in his expression. Only disappointment. “Amaund… I can't say that I am surprised to hear it. He always had high aspirations, though he hides his unrelenting avarice well. And with Cassius so young… I imagine he believed the Elder Council would be free to take control of the Empire as they had in the past. Or perhaps he planned to vie for the position of Potentate. I can think of only a few Council members I would trust less with the fate of the Empire. Thankfully those few have never had the same sway as Motierre. Still, there will be squabbling all the same while they settle the chaos following my death; for years to come I would wager.”

　　　A wry smile tilts their lips behind the mask. “Nothing ever seemed simple when it came to the Council.”

　　　“Never indeed.” He raises a brow. “Have you had experience with the Elder Council? Ah, pardon me. I failed to consider you might not be at liberty to share. Though I suppose your secret would be going to the grave.”

　　　“That it would be,” They muse. They reach up for the mask, tired of the impediment in their conversation, but hesitate. Would this be a step too far? There still remains a chance that the Emperor has only been stalling for time, waiting for an opportunity to gut them when they have their back turned. They wouldn’t dare show their face on any other job, but so long as Vas and Motal do their jobs well, no one on The Katariah will live to tell the tale. And Titus has a point: anything they wish to share would die with him. 

　　　The mask and hood fall away with some difficulty, both made to hold their positions in any situation, but the illusion is easy enough to dispel. No longer does the mysterious leader of the Dark Brotherhood stand before the Emperor but an altmeri woman, crimson hair falling down her back to bleed into the red of her armor. “My experience was brief. My father became a member just before the Great War, that would have been the year 164. Perhaps you remember him. His name was Colnuril Nivuran.”

　　　“I believe I do. He was one of the more welcoming members of the Council when I ascended to the throne. I was disappointed to hear of his retirement so soon after the war, but I understood his decision. More than twenty-five years since and still there is distrust aimed at those who had nothing to do with the atrocities wrought by the Dominion.”

　　　“In the end it killed him.” She studies his expression, watching his eyes darken at the news. “He and my mother found a home in Riften; it’s hardly more than a shanty town, in truth. He contracted Blood Rot, Divines only know when. My mother encouraged him to visit the temple daily but there was little they could do by the time he admitted he was sick. He passed away three years ago.”

　　　“Ah… Such a pity. I hope his passing was peaceful, and that your mother is still well.”

　　　Sweet, ever obstinate Pyria, who had always been the most well-informed of their family, masking her interrogations with kindness and gifts. The assassin doesn’t realize she’s smiling until she sees it mirrored on Titus’ face. “Better than would be expected of a widow. Father was still fresh in the ground when she took up work in a friend’s shop, and after the rebellion began she was contacted by the Imperial Army to become an informant. Despite my advisement, she accepted. Mother has always had too big of a heart, and a great deal of loyalty to the Empire.”

　　　“But you do not?” He asks. His voice lacks any judgement.

　　　“I thought I did…” She turns away, memories of a chilly morning and rope around her wrists in her mind. The jeering, the glint of a steel axe, a sound like distant thunder. And then an inferno. “Maybe I still do, but I felt… Jaded. We spent weeks helping families flee across the border to Morrowind when the Dominion took the Imperial City. And I returned to it when the war had ended, wanting to help where I could. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Entire districts were burned or crumbling to pieces. So few would look me in the eye. And there were always more families looking for lost loved ones, begging for food that the shelters could barely provide. I couldn’t stay. And I hoped that by moving to Skyrim I could get away from the war, but a year later they were crying in the streets that Ulfric Stormcloak had killed High King Torygg. If you weren’t throwing your lot in with the Stormcloaks you were as good as an Imperial.

　　　“And then I made the mistake of saving a couple of soldiers’ lives. A pair of fools who had joined the Stormcloaks looking for glory in the wrong place. But I couldn’t leave them to be eaten by a sabre cat, so I intervened. They brought me back to their camp hoping to reward me, only to be ambushed by Imperials when they arrived. Everyone they didn’t kill was taken captive, including myself and Ulfric of all people. General Tullius did his job well. Maybe too well. If not for Alduin…”

　　　Her voice trails off, unwilling to relive that day in full. 

　　　“I recall the reports.” Titus nods. “An upsetting setback to find that Ulfric had escaped in the chaos. Tullius was furious, even if he did not say as much in his writings. But as far-fetched as the tale is these things happen, and in the end it revealed a rather important figure I believe the people of Skyrim owe a great deal to.” He levels an expectant look at the assassin. “Do they not, Aesatel?” 

　　　She winces, though she should have known he would be able to identify her. “They do. But I don’t feel much like a hero these days.”

　　　“Why, because you work for the Dark Brotherhood? Because you are here to kill the Emperor? I will admit it is hard to reconcile the different versions of you in my head. The daughter of an Elder Council member, then come to find that she is a Dragonborn like the emperors of old, and now revealed to be part of a murder cult.” Despite his grim words he surprises her with hoarse laughter. “But they are all part of who you are. Tell me, did being part of the Brotherhood inhibit your slaying of Alduin?”

　　　“No.”

　　　“And when you resolved to kill him what motivated you to do so?”

　　　Aesatel blows out a huff of air through her nostrils. “Because no one else was willing to. Not the Empire, not the Stormcloaks. And even when I found allies willing to help, I discovered that no one else could hope to defeat him but me. If I didn’t stop Alduin from destroying the world as we know it no one could have. By then… It wasn’t even a question of ‘why’.”

　　　Nodding slowly, he rests a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. “We all possess flaws, and we all find ourselves at times misguided or on paths that may not align with what we perceive as moral. But at the end of the day we are defined by much more than our weaknesses. You, my dear, are blessed with a great many years left to define yourself. Do good where you can, and hold fast to your convictions.”

　　　For a moment it’s like the weight of two years has lifted from her weary shoulders. But the moment is cut short by the door being forced open and Motal’s guttural voice breaking the silence. “My Lady, soldiers approach from the harbor.”

　　　It was only a matter of time before the bloodbath would be noticed by the locals. Standing straight, Aesatel motions for the Dremora to leave. “Delay their boarding but stay out of sight. Once I’m finished here I will return you to your realm. Neither of you are to harm them, is that understood? I will not have the blood of Solitude citizens on my hands.”

　　　They make no show of hiding their disappointment at having to refrain from slaying the guards but do as commanded. When Aesatel returns her attention to the Emperor she finds he wears a look of fright mixed with awe. “There is so much more to you than meets the eye. I thought I had no more regrets when I accepted my imminent death, but I do. I regret that I will not be able to discover more.”

　　　Her breath catches in her throat. “Perhaps if we meet again in Aetherius.”

　　　“I should like that very much.” 

　　　She moves behind him and conjures up a spectral dagger. Already a fog has begun to settle in her mind. The haze of focus that has helped steer her towards what needs to be done for the Brotherhood, like an automaton guided by its programmed directives. But before it completely overwhelms her Aesatel speaks up one last time. 

　　　“Titus Mede II, may the Divines bless your soul and guide it true to the realm of Aetherius. By this blade your spirit be released, wielded by Aesatel Nivuran, the Sonorous Dovahkiin, servant of the Dread Father Sithis.” The dagger is raised, its phantom flames flickering in the dim light of the cabin. She wraps her free arm around his shoulders, partly to brace his body when the deed is done and partly to ground herself. Her voice drops to a shaky whisper. “I will kill Motierre. A life for many lives. I will do what I can to steady the Empire in your absence, though I fear it will not be enough. And I will end this war. Even if I have to kill Ulfric myself. On these oaths I swear my soul.”

　　　The Emperor breathes his final words of gratitude and surrenders to the dagger that pierces his heart. 

　　　What follows Aesatel remembers only in a blur. Steadying Titus’ corpse and placing it carefully in his regal bed. Fleeing to the aft balcony and being hit by the sound of shouting in the distance before turning herself invisible and plunging into the icy bay. But for as much as she would later try to forget the day of the Emperor’s death their final words and her promise to him would never fade from her memory.

[nuka-nuke]

|Lorna May Euler |

Name: Lorna May Ellis Euler-Wilson

Nickname:  She tries to get people to call her “Ellis”, but so far it hasn’t stuck. She thinks “Lorna May” makes her sound too country.

Age: 28 (3 at the time of the Great War)

Birthday: April 12, 2074

Height: Around 5’8

Weight: 155

Specials: Str 11 - Per 1 - End 10 - Cha 1 - Int 3 - Agi 1 - Luck - 1

Eyes: Dark brown

Hair: Messy, shoulder length and sunny light blonde. She often pulls some of it back into a ponytail, but it’s cut to so many different lengths that it wisps all over around her face anyway. Jolene used to cut her hair when she was younger but as she got older, she just neglected it and chopped it herself.

Body type: Lorna May is tall and all legs. She is extremely strong and constantly active, preferring to run pretty much everywhere she goes for no real reason other than it's fun. She can probably lift a grown man with one arm. Probably has before.

References: Here

Status Pre-War: She was 3. Her mother Jolene and her Uncle Ford raised her through the aftermath of the war and did their best to keep her safe. She lived, so she assumes they did a good job. She remembers almost nothing about the world before the bombs, except that everything was a lot more colorful and clean.

Status Currently: All these Vault dwellers are suddenly appearing in Appalachia all at once, she is very glad to have more humans to talk to besides her cousins and the scorched. Punching Red had started to get old (Just kidding. It never gets old).

Relationship Status: Kind of taken, not too sure, she's too dumb to know that she's actually in a relationship

Spouse(s)/Partners: Jimmy

Sexuality: Pansexual

Gender: Female

Ethnicity: ????

Family: Her mother is Jolene Euler-Wilson, who dropped the “Wilson” after the war due to her shitty ex-husband Ezra writing her and Lorna May off his Vault 76 paperwork so they would be left out in the wasteland to die. Jolene is very quiet and gentle and kind of spacey, but surprisingly strong and extremely protective of her brother Ford and her daughter. Jolene is still alive at 53, but mostly leaves the adventuring to Lorna May and the boys and stays home with her wife and Ford.

Francis “Ford” Euler is her uncle, who also helped to raise her. He is really nervous and shy, which isn’t helped by Jolene basically being his voice in all social situations so he never needed to get over this debilitating anxiety (and then Lorna May doing the same thing as soon as she was old enough to speak). When it is just their family though, he has a very dorky sense of humor and often would tell her stories about his and Jolene’s siblings who were lost to the war. He taught her everything she knows about mechanics and repair work. His twin sons, Elijah and Edsel, are basically like brothers to Lorna May.

Ford has mostly become ghoulified at this point; Red also shows the beginning signs of ghoulification in his face, but they don't talk about it too much because it scares him.

Languages: English

Disabilities/Illnesses/Injuries: None.

Allergies: Those seasonal allergies in Appalachia can be brutal…

Scars: She has countless scars all over her legs, shins, and knees from falling, climbing, and just generally being reckless. She also has many on her hands and forearms from close-quarters combat.

Physical traits: Lorna May has very large sleepy looking brown eyes with long eyelashes that just make her look even sleepier, a wide nose with a crooked bridge, huge pouty lips and a babyface. She's constantly sunburned because of her pale skin, and also covered in freckles from burning so often. She also almost always looks like she was punched in the eye because her allergies are so bad.

Voice: Her voice is sweet and bubbly, often pretty raspy just from natural strain, and she has a soft southern accent. She doesn't hear it, but Vault dwellers she has met have pointed it out, much to her chagrin.

Clothing: She is always either wearing scavenged jumpsuits of any variety, overalls, or dresses with her favorite boots. She loves dresses but with the amount of running and jumping and climbing she does, it's… not too practical.

She has a pipboy that she got from a Vault dweller they came upon just a little too late to rescue. Elijah and Red gave him a proper burial.

Fashion Style/Lifestye: She cuts her hair herself so it is always a mess and she never really seems too aware of what it is that she is wearing. Usually it's just whatever random thing she can scrounge, but she does love to wear dresses. Always with her big boots though, so she can stomp.

Weapon of Choice:  Her favorite weapon is a broken ski that she screwed a bunch of random sharp chunks of metal on to. She also carries a shotgun that used to be her mother's.

Skills: Strength, melee of any kind, and fearless in battle.

Weaknesses: Lorna May has pretty bad vision and sometimes wears glasses when she can find them, but because she does a lot close hand to hand combat, they often get broken, and a lot of the time she will just give the ones she finds to Jimmy instead. She also has little regard for her own safety and will run into dangerous situations without adequately surveying the opposition first.

Poor skills: Perception, she has terrible vision and also can be a little spacey like her mom always was and just walk off the side of a cliff or something. She is not particularly agile and will just trip and fall on her face a lot.

Affiliations: Vault 76 dwellers.

Former Affiliations: None, her family remained distant from the happenings of the cities.

Enemies: She is afraid of the Brotherhood of Steel. Raiders, though they seem mostly gone now.

Neutral Affiliations: Responders, US Military personnel who visited their farm often when she was very young.

Religion: Agnostic

Likes: Blackberries, punching Red, climbing trees and other precarious spots, listening to the radio and singing along (especially to “Wouldn't It Be Nice?”), and Jimmy .

Dislikes: Traveling through the old mining land. It's spooky and scary and smells bad.

Hates: Squirrels. Fuck those guys.

Friends: Jimmy, who she really loves to spend time with. She absorbed him into their family when he was right out of the Vault. They might be dating? She doesn't know.  But they hold hands and he kissed her and she gave him a beer hat. Also he tells everyone she's his girlfriend. But still, unclear.

Lena Riggs, another Vault dweller. Her favorite person to cause mayhem with, and Red’s girlfriend (so he says).

Red Euler, her younger cousin. Red likes to try to play-fight with Lorna May… and that's how he ended up with a broken nose. They are best friends and are equally ridiculous, and love to shoot at cars and annoy the life out of Elijah.

Elijah Euler, Red's twin brother, her other cousin. She and Eli have a good relationship, as good as he is able to have with anyone, but his negativity can irritate her at times. She also doesn’t like when he is too harsh about Ford, because like her mother, she is highly protective of him. But they do get along and still travel together almost all the time.

Acquaintances: Gilroy O'Niell, Lucian Cartier

Former friends: Only those who passed away due to the scorched plague.

Enemies: None.

Pets: A million Mr. Fuzzy cats. Seriously, she hoards them.

Personality: Lorna May is very energetic, talkative, and always relatively positive despite the awful world she grew up in. She is curious to a fault and will dive into unknown situations just out of a driving need to figure things out. Her mom always told her she'd make a great detective in the Old World, but she isn't too sure what that actually is. She loves her cousins and her family fiercely, and just like Jolene, seems to have an extreme need to protect her Uncle Ford since his anxiety is often completely debilitating; which also extends to anyone else she gets close to as well.

Favorite color: Red, yellow, and orange.

Favorite foods:  Red makes great opossum bacon! She also really loves stew, especially the kinds her Aunt Alyce used to make with radstag and tatos.

Favorite drinks: Vodka, moonshine (which Red makes), Nuka Cherry, blackberry juice.

Favorite Sweets: Anything with blackberries, especially pie!

_____________________________________

Other info: Lorna May's father Ezra remarried while living in the Vault. She has a half-sibling out there somewhere, but she doesn't know anything about it.

Thanks @madddraws for the profile format again!

[sepublic]

Night Wraiths

           Comprised of a tenuous balance between Light and Shadow, these glowing, light-blue energy orbs are the latest, quickly-growing addition to the Brotherhood of Makuta. As beings of Twilight, they can readily access the Light and Dark Worlds at will, and with additional experimentation, Night Wraiths are also capable of accessing the dreams of their victims to torment and even kill them in their sleep.

           Having heard legends of the split between Light and Dark, and the presence of the Para-Realm, Makuta desired to create a being that could access both realms with ease. Knowing that a fusion between the seemingly-contradictory forces of Light and Shadow were possible, Makuta set to work; Gathering Light was simply a matter of extracting the energy from whatever was around, as Makuta was operating within the World of Light. Shadow as a far more elusive substance; Regular shadows could not be interacted with and would be far too weak in essence.

           Makuta eventually found a definitive supply of Darkness through Shadow Traps, the creations of Umarak the Hunter utilized to pin down the Elemental Deities. Ordering Fenrakk to capture a few, Makuta experimented on the Shadow Traps in his possession and succeeded in isolating the power of Darkness within them. Initial attempts to combine Light and Shadow were disastrous failures, resulting in powerful explosions; Makuta learned from his mistakes and made sure to disaster-proof the next few rooms for such experiments.

           Through trial and error, Makuta succeeded in creating a tenuous balance between Light and Shadow amidst a few of his prototypes, although it was not perfect; The Proto-Night Wraiths were incorporeal, made of energy and lacking physical substance. Exposure to more Light or Shadow could threaten to jeopardize the careful ratio that Makuta had created, resulting in the destruction of his prototypes.

           Nevertheless, it was good progress; Makuta rejoiced in his own brilliance and continued. He succeeded in transporting a few of his prototypes to the Para-Realm, although they lacked the will and intelligence to return to him. Additionally, Makuta researched into the subject and matter of dreams, noting from his studies that they could apparently be accessed from both the Light and Dark Worlds… His initial prototypes, while successful, were impractical; They could kill victims by entering their dreams while they were asleep, but at that point, why bother entering the nightmare when a creation could just kill their target physically? Especially since accessing the dream would leave a creation’s physical form similarly vulnerable…

           But if dreams COULD be accessed from the Para-Realm, then the ability of nightmare-assassination might prove useful just yet; Makuta’s minions could enter dreams from the Dark World, their normally-vulnerable bodies unable to be accessed by enemies from the Light World. As a result, entering the dreams of those with awake guards nearby was now viable thanks to the Para-Realm… And if Makuta was going to rely on the Para-Realm for his planned dream assassins, then he may as well merge two projects into one, and combine his prototypes with those designed for accessing the Dark World at will.

           By sacrificing a portion of a Mask of Fear’s energy, Makuta combined it with his current prototypes, merging two experiments in one. He finally succeeded with the first, ‘finalized model’ of these Twilight Will-O-the-wisps; The original Night Wraith, Yagavo. Testing Yagavo’s abilities, Makuta granted the Night Wraith a mind, personality, and will by fusing a portion of his soul into it. Yagavo immediately proved loyal, obedient, and desperate for approval.

          Tests were a success, as Yagavo was able to readily, easily warp between the Light and Dark Worlds at will. Subjecting a few victims to his experiments, Makuta was pleased to see Yagavo not only infiltrate their dreams, but even harm the subjects by transforming into nightmares and attacking them from there. Further test runs yielded the same results from the Dark World as well; And with the Dark World more practical for ambushing unsuspecting opponents, Makuta celebrated his success.

           Makuta sent Yagavo out on his first missions, using the Night Wraith to spy on the Okotans as they tried to defend themselves from the Skull Spiders. Yagavo’s intel proved vital in curbing Okotan efforts to fight back, and enabled Fenrakk to capture and harvest many more souls. Yagavo himself was disgruntled at playing second-fiddle to Fenrakk, and desired to prove himself in combat, but Makuta forbade him. The Lord of Skull Spiders was already doing a brilliant job at his task; Yagavo would remain content with his current assignments.

           Like with his other Rahkshi, Makuta eventually granted Yagavo a larger, exo-skeleton body that granted him additional abilities. Yagavo continued to function as a spy, liason, and occasional assassin for his father, even operating on Xia. Since the Para-Realm lacked the Light World’s hurricanes, this meant that it was easy to travel between Xia and Okoto’s shadows, before emerging onto the Light counterparts of either island.

           Despite being a brilliant success, Makuta only succeeded in creating a few more Night Wraiths before production stopped. The reason for this was a lack of Shadow; Umarak was noticing the Skull Spiders’ capture of his Shadow Traps, and incensed, made maneuvers to better avoid the Brotherhood, even destroying several Skull Spiders. Although Makuta was insulted by the challenge, he could not risk making an enemy out of the Deity of Shadow; And with his plans already going smoothly, he saw little reason to mass-produce the Night Wraiths if doing so would make a powerful enemy.

           Centuries passed, with Yagavo and his small team of Night Wraiths continuing to operate. However, Makuta would eventually be contacted by his ties within the Nynrah Ghosts, and learn of the Kraahl; Mysterious, Twilight beings from the Para-Realm. Fascinated, Makuta succeeded in bartering a Kraahl into his possession, and after analysis, realized that his captive was the perfect, corporeal balance between Light and Shadow!

           Recognizing the Kraahl as the perfect package of Light and Darkness, Makuta converted his captive, harvesting their body to create a few Night Wraiths. The Mask Hoarder immediately offered to buy more of the Kraahl that the Nynrah Ghosts had captured, but the organization refused, valuing their unusual prisoners.

           A frustrated Makuta would later learn of the presence of Kraahl on Okoto through Fenrakk’s observations, who had witnessed the beings briefly warping into existence on the island. Makuta sent Yagavo to hunt down these Kraahl, but thanks to Umarak’s warnings, they chose to head back to Dark Xia before the Rahkshi could capture any of them.

           Even as Makuta made plans to one day harvest the Kraahl and make an army of Night Wraiths from their bodies, he also busied himself with other matters, projects, and experiments. His broods of Energy Leeches ended up taking priority, and eventually he almost forgot about the Kraahl…

           But when the island of Xia was transported next to Okoto, Makuta was elated. The Kraahl were now easily accessible, and with his alliance with the Barraki, the Brotherhood could use Kahgarak to open portals to the Para-Realm! Likewise, the emergence of Kralta as the Toa of Shadow led to a more aggressive campaign by the Kraahl, who began to appear in the Light World more frequently, thus making it easier for the Brotherhood to capture more of them.

           With each captured Kraahl, Makuta has converted their bodies into more Night Wraiths. With a rapidly-growing army of these energy-orbs, Makuta is now sending them into the Para-Realm en masse to attack the Kraahl, capturing their bodies and sending them back to his lair of Mangaia. Yagavo is fervently leading such efforts, seeing parallels between his campaign and Fenrakk’s harvesting of the Okotans; He hopes to prove himself better than the Lord of Skull Spiders.

           Now being mass-produced thanks to easy access to the Kraahl, Night Wraiths are being used to not only harvest the Twilight beings, but also assist Makuta in his war against the Okotan Alliance. Night Wraiths’ appearance on the battlefield of the Xian-Okotan War is turning the tide, with their ability to warp between worlds and access dreams turning them into efficient assassins.

          Although Kraltarak is now targeting the Brotherhood in retaliation for these harvests, Makuta has calculated that the costs of mass-producing Night Wraiths no longer outweigh the benefits. He now hopes to expand his conquest not just across the World of Light, but the Para-Realm as well, and use the Dark World in his plans to take his rightful place among the gods.

          Night Wraiths can slightly vary between the size of a watermelon, or a bowling ball; They have beady eyes, jagged mouths, and jutting fins to attack with. In combat, their mouths open to shoot forth bolts of energy, and they can spin around as their fins stretch out to slash enemies. When moving, Night Wraiths constantly emit a gas-like aura of Twilight energy from their forms.

          Night Wraiths are incorporeal; They are mostly comprised of energy, and thus largely resistant to physical damage. Sufficient amounts of physical force can still disrupt the form of a Night Wraith enough to unravel and destroy it, however. Although they are beings of Light and Shadow, their balance between such forces is tenuous, compared to the Kraahl they are usually born from; Adequate amounts of Light, or Shadow, can disrupt the precious ratio that Night Wraiths consist of, leading to an imbalance, conflict, and destruction.

          As a result of this weakness, the Okotan Alliance has taken to using Lightvines provided by Morbuzakh, with the sacred plants emitting powerful Light that is able to access the Para-Realm as well. These Lightvines and their radiance serves as a deterrant for Night Wraiths, keeping them from accessing locations in neither the Light nor Dark Worlds.

           Like their progenitor, Night Wraiths can warp between the Light World and Para-Realm at will, and access the dreams of victims, transforming into lethal nightmares. As they lack an exo-skeleton like Yagavo does, the typical Night Wraith doesn’t have access to his abilities of elasticity, or slowed-down perception of time; Similarly, their powers of Twilight and Dream Assassination are weaker and less efficient than the Rahkshi’s, and their sight into the Dark World and vice-versa is more limited. When utilized en masse however, the Night Wraiths more than make up for their individual deficiencies.

           Night Wraiths are ideal assassins, able to approach targets from the Para-Realm. From there, they can either warp into the World of Light and ambush enemies, or wait for them to fall asleep and then access their dreams from the Dark World. Their Dream Assassination relies on the connection between the mind and soul, with the former as a manifestation of the latter. As Fear affects the mind, it can affect the soul by consequence, and through trial and error Makuta has created beings who can damage the soul by infiltrating nightmares and attacking the mind within.  

           As a result of their ambushing abilities and stealthy tactics, Night Wraiths are the ultimate agents in paranoia. Enemies have a difficult time sleeping, for fear of a Night Wraith infiltrating their dreams and killing them; At least one guard has to be kept awake and watching not just the area but their allies as well, in case they need to be woken up.

          Similarly, Night Wraiths can’t be detected from across the veil between worlds, being totally obscured to those in the opposite realm. They can infiltrate nearly any fortress, and have the ability to levitate, making height a total non-issue for them. Night Wraiths are most often utilized in missions of reconnaissance, sabotage, disruption, assassination, etc. Even outside the realm of dreams, they manage to instill a fear into their enemies that other Brotherhood creations don’t. To both their Okotan enemies and Xian allies, Night Wraiths are ghosts and specters that have come to life from myth.

          Their intelligence is similar to that of the Kraata; They are sentient, able to understand and carry out orders, and strategize to an extent. They can adapt to sudden changes in situations, but otherwise the Night Wraiths seem to lack individual self-awareness. They are entirely obedient to Makuta, and lack emotions; They have no fear and cannot be persuaded into betraying their cause, nor do they prioritize their own self-preservation. It seems that amidst their abilities, the Night Wraiths have also inherited their progenitor’s unyielding obedience for Makuta.

          Fun fact- If an Energy Leech were to drain a Night Wraith, it would begin to glow with a light-blue coloration, to reflect the Twilight energy inside! Similarly, an Energy Leech can then use the absorbed Night Wraith’s power to warp between the Light and Dark Worlds, but this can only work once; After that, the energy is used up. Energy Leeches weren’t designed to utilize Twilight energy, and are thus far more inefficient with it.

          Night Wraiths can also be used as a means of torture, as well as interrogation; Captured prisoners can be forced to fall asleep by a Kraata of Sleep. From there, Night Wraiths will access their dreams, exploring the labyrinthine psyche of a subject in the hopes of accessing elusive information. Alternatively, they can simply be used to repeatedly terrify and torment a subject with nightmares, either to force them to divulge information and/or as a form of sadistic torture.

          [To put it bluntly, Night Wraiths are based off of the Shadow Leeches from G1, particularly in appearance.]

[andromacheofappalachia]

Acceptance | Edward Kenway x Reader

~Imagine: Edward comforting you after you learn of your father's death.~

The letter had arrived during the night and as the sun began to rise you regretted opening it.

Your hands began to shake, the paper creasing, and you suddenly felt sick. Your stomach rolled and the letter fell from your fingers as you ran from the tent to the back of the campsite emptying your stomach onto the sand. Leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you stumbled back. Crawling away from the edge of the campsite and towards the edge of the sea. Tears were building in the corners of your eyes as you tried desperately to keep them back. You couldn’t afford to be weak, couldn’t afford to let anyone see you being weak. Pirates, let alone Assassins, were not weak. That was what you told yourself when the offer to join the Brotherhood had presented itself and that was what kept you going as the days of hard labor as a pirate began to consume you.

Bringing your hand up to your mouth you fell back onto the sand, staring up at the sky above you, the clouds leaving light wisp in the clear skies. The air felt heavy and humid as it settled around you with the assault of the sea hitting you. You didn’t know if you could ever find the energy to move ever again. Simply laying there was the only thing that felt right, but the even heavier knowledge that you would have to get up weighed you down. A burden in its own right as the sand slipped between the creases of your boots.

“Y/N” The gruff voice coming from above you finally snapped you out of the cloud of numbness you found yourself in. You did manage to lift your head and look behind you finding Edward Kenway looking down upon you. In his hand the letter from before was gripped, he knew why you were here, knew what had happened. He saw the pain that you had so desperately tried to hide. It was evident in those eyes that looked at you with something akin to pity.

He came over to you and sat down on the sand beside you, arms resting over his knees, as he stared out at the sea. Tension built, hitting you like waves against a ship, the inevitable crawling up your throat as anxiety set in.

“You alright?” He asked, cutting his blue eyes at you, an eyebrow raised.

“No." Was the only word you could get out of your throat. The words coming out sounding just as rough as the sand that was beginning to find itself in your boots and gauntlets.

Edward wasn’t great at comfort, he never had been from what you had seen, although no pirate seemed to be. He wasn’t particularly good with any emotion either that didn’t involve the less than subtle sarcasm that he gave. He did, however, love you, you knew he did and he showed it in other ways that worked for the two of you.

How he would deal with your grief though was something you’d never had to experience before. For that was what was on the small piece of paper still in his hand. A few sentences, the only words you had to read before the knowledge became as clear as day. Your father was dead. Written by your mother in shaky letters to such a formal extent that it sounded like nothing more than a shopping list. Telling you that even more of the small family you had wass gone.

“He thought I hated him,” you got out wobbly. “That I ran away from home, came here and became morally corrupt. That was our last words to each other.”

“Y/N” Edward started looking torn. “He was your father. I'm sure that he thought the best of you."

“But he did,” you insisted rising up finally to sit beside him, “he hated this place and hated the fact that I fell so in love with it and you.” Your voice hitched and tears could be heard in them. “I failed him in so many ways Edward and now I’ve failed him again. I wasn’t with him in the end. Wasn’t there to tell him that I loved him, that he wasn't as bad of a father, and now I won’t ever get the chance again.”

"Y/N."

Edward grabbed your face between his hands as your breath started to come fast and harsh. You were going to have a panic attack if you continued. "Stop it. Calm yourself." He snarled, glaring at you, yet his eyes still showed that same pity. The same sadness.

“I can’t," you gasped out as your words became choked up again, "he’s dead Edward. My father is dead. Gone and my mother will be all alone because of the choices I made. My choices."

“I know that." Edward admitted softly, loosening his grip until he finally let go. “But you must understand that he would have died whether if you were with him or not. You must understand that with any marriage is an understanding of being alone one day that is never spoken of. Your choices didn't bring this onto you, Y/N."

“What do I do? What do I do next? Now that what I knew is slipping from me.” It was a desperate question filled with desperate words. A final plea before the absolute of it all.

“You carry on. There’s no other option. Living is a curse as much as it is a blessing and when the time comes we all die. Our choices play only in how it is carried out, yet we can never control the end. "

The truth was harsh, but so was the acceptance that you would have to face. The only feeling that helped was that you wouldn't be alone with what was to come.

“Comfort isn’t your strong suit.”

Edward in his own way was right despite any remark on how he dealt with you. It had been four years, you could only remember the faces of your parents, the memories that you held dear and the dark ones that you tried to forget. You had made your choices, going to Nassau, joining the Brotherhood, becoming a pirate, loving someone you could never have been with otherwise. Leaving your parents behind was just one of the consequences and deep down you knew that one day you would have to let your past die. Fading away just as it did with the others who took it upon themselves to start new lives. It didn’t change your grief though to remember the joy, the sadness, and the anger. It didn’t make any of it truly go away, but it was inevitable in a way.

“What do you need?”

“Just to sit here. To accept it. Maybe as the sun rises, once we get moving again, I can let go completely."

"And until then?" Edward questioned curiously. That glint that always seemed to be in his eyes returning.

"Until then...until then we can hold on for once."

[saintsnsinnersbdb]

Deal with the Devil: The End of the Beginning (Part 6)

Written by @Lassiter_SASBDB.

https://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1srinhn

It was a normal, blue-collar suburban neighborhood, filled with 1950’s ranch homes and split-levels. Mature trees lined streets that were probably filled with kids on bikes and dog-walkers during warm weather months, although now they were barren except for a couple of people shoveling snow off the sidewalks and a few toddlers playing in the white stuff with a stay-at-home parent in their respective yards. Shortly the Catholic K-12 down the street would let out and younger kids would trudge their way home while teens tentatively navigated the slick streets in 200,000+ mile Subaru’s and Nissans that had been purchased not by their parents but by working summer and after-school jobs and saving their money to do it themselves. Yeah, this was that kind of human neighborhood. So why was Devina here?

Short answer is hiding out. After I’d rousted her from that obnoxious ode to regentrification in yuppieville she’d gone deep. So deep I’d thought for a while she’d left Caldwell. But I knew I couldn’t be that lucky, so I’d kept looking. The easiest way to find her was to focus on missing persons. Not the bodies, although there would be plenty of those, but she was smart and careful. She wasn’t going to leave any of those where I might put together a pattern. But I’d been looking for the wrong /kind/ of missing persons.

Devina’s preferred prey was male and not too sober. A horny, drunk man was a sitting duck. She’d take females, too. Had all too often, but her bait for them tended to be emotional support or some such shit. She “bonded” with them when they were at low points. So I’d been looking for singles. People who had gone missing from bars or been depressed and just ghosted. I’d been over hundreds of missing persons reports…yeah, computer hacking isn’t my bag, but when you can go invisible and look over a cop’s shoulder for an afternoon it’s a piece of cake to get the right passwords. Then it’s just a little late night B&E into the police station and an empty office. But I’d looked for months and hadn’t found anything I couldn’t track down. And yes, some of them had been dead, but a few inquiries “up top” had let me know the souls had made it where they were supposed to. Obviously not Devina’s victims, as taking the souls was the whole point for the bitch. So I’d finally backed off that angle, taking a wait-until it-smacks-me-in-the-face approach.

For a while I’d turned my attention to the problems of the Brotherhood and the race. That whole deity-in-training thing was turning out to be a full time job. I kind of liked it. Who knew I had it in me? But while “tending my flock” I’d stumbled across something that sent me in a new direction.

Now,I’m not big into the whole “organized religion” thing, even for the race, but I tried to keep tapped into this one particular Catholic church. Most of the brothers aren’t big on prayers to the Virgin Scribe unless shit is going down hard, but Butch was a regular, so long as he could do it in a Catholic church like his human mother had taught him and this was his one of choice. I wasn’t 100% sure prayers not directed to the VS would get to me through the whole ethereal call-forwarding system the Creator had put in effect, so sometimes I went to hear Butch’s in person. I know, I know, I could have just tapped into his head when he was in the manse or the pit, but it seemed like an invasion of privacy to do it in his personal space. A church was basically public, so it felt more acceptable to go invisible and sit in the pew behind him while I listened in. I didn’t wanna neglect him. And it was a beautiful place. The serenity there was on par with my place in the forest so sometimes during the day, after my morning deity duty, I’d go back to the church and hang around and kinda veg in it while the Brotherhood slept. Or whatever. With all the shellans these days you never knew. Or, given the volume level, sometimes you did, but you didn’t /wanna/ know, feel me? So some days I decided to be missing during the fireworks and this place was calming. Ellen and Maury only relieve the stress of being a deity so much, you know? And if I followed the priests back to the rectory, well, hey, the nun who cooked for them made killer snickerdoodles. I kept trying to snitch the recipe for #Fritz but she did it all from her head and man, I am SO not going to pick a nun’s brain.*shudders at the implications* It was while I was looking over her shoulder as she baked that I overheard the three priests that lived there talking.

They’d lost a family from their parish that week. I mean literally LOST them. Dad, mom, and four kids, ages 4 through 9. Just vanished. The kids all went to the parish school and when none of them showed up four days running and the voicemails to the parents weren’t being returned one of the priests had gone to check on them. All he had found was an empty house. He’d called the police and filed a missing persons report to start a preliminary investigation but essentially both mom and dad had called into work one morning and said they were taking a week off, and since it’s not illegal to take vacation time, the cops had done nothing. But it was odd that the school hadn’t been contacted at all. So I did a little digging of my own and what do you know...a pattern.

Six families from different parishes in Caldwell had disappeared in the last four months. Thirty-seven souls in all. All the families had been Catholic. All the families had young children, one just a few months old. And the mother in all the families had attended a stay-at-home mom support group that met every Thursday night in the gymnasium of St. Phillip Neri’s Church and Catholic School. The same one that was just down the street. And the group was open to people from all parishes in the archdiocese, which explained why the missing families were from all over the city.

It hadn’t been hard from there. I’d stationed myself outside the gym two Thursday nights ago and waited and lo and behold, who should walk out, but Devina, bundled up in a puffy white coat that made her look like the Pillsbury Doughboy and fake giggling with a human female. It was “soooo tough to relax when the kids couldn’t get out much because of the cold” she said and then she said her condo on the beach in Florida was “sooooo relaxing” and such a help. And then she offered her nonexistent condo to the frustrated mom and her family for a stress-free vacay. And bingo, bango, done, I knew how she was luring the families in.

She’d left the woman in the parking lot as others came out, getting into a predictably boring, yet originally expensive, used Volvo, thereby confirming her image as a middle-class mom who could afford a few luxuries and putt-putted to the last house on a street that dead-ended at a dense woods with a “no trespassing” sign on the the fence that separated it from neighborhood. That gave me a good idea what she was doing with the bodies.

I’d done my recon in the past two weeks. While she hadn’t brought any new victims home, she did have a routine she invariably followed. In the mornings she made a public appearance with a pair of toddler-sized gollums she glamoured into looking like rosy-faced children. Playing in the front yard, a walk with a stroller in the park, going to the grocery store… it was always carefully planned to give her maximum exposure to her victim group without allowing them to get too involved in interacting with the “kids”. Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon she put the golems in carseats and left the house at 1:58 PM. I’d followed her those days and found Devina had a standing 2:30 appointment with a therapist. Good to know somebody else knew what a neurotic bitch she was. She’d deactivated the gollums and left them in the car in a parking garage while she had her appointment, magicking the rear window tint to opacity so no one noticed them there. Afterwards she indulged her inner compulsive shopper for an hour or two and then headed back home.

And now, on /this/ Thursday I was standing across the street from her modest hideout waiting for her to leave. Like clockwork, at 1:58 the garage door rose and the Volvo backed out of the driveway. I had stayed invisible while I waited for her to leave -- even though I’d taken the precaution of tucking my long black and blonde streaked hair down inside my coat with a black watch cap shoved over my head and added shades and a black scarf to obstruct most of my face, I’d decided discretion was the better part of valor here. While it was obviously a friendly neighborhood, 6’7” of unknown muscle encased in black leather standing on a dead end street would make anyone take notice and I did/not/want to be noticed. And I was glad I had. Devina must have sensed something off. She stopped the car after she’d backed onto the street and looked up and down it. She’d paused as her gaze fell on where I was standing and squinted. I simply stood there watching. If she saw me and we did this the hard way, it was no skin off my nose. I’d just thought it would be simpler if I searched for the souls and released them myself before deciding what to do about her this time. Finally, she’d given up and driven down the street to turn onto the main drag. As the last wisp of frozen exhaust from her car disappeared, I turned my attention to her house.

It was a tidy little brick ranch. No gargoyles or garishly macabre door knockers this time. The front lawn was fenced but otherwise unadorned. The curtains were drawn on the large picture window as well as the jalousies that were probably the bedrooms’ windows to the world. Down lower, hopper windows told me there was a basement. All in all, even if the basement is finished, there’s probably only 1400 square feet absolute max. A huge comedown for her. Devina liked luxury and lots of it. This probably was very nearly Hell for her. *smirking as I fold my arms across my chest.*

Getting inside wasn’t a problem. Although Devina knew how to keep me out she was just arrogant enough to assume this was enough of a change to keep me from finding her and maintaining warding requires power that she doesn’t have an abundance of right now. Thirty-seven souls weren’t going to be enough to keep it powered up and maintain the glamour that kept people from seeing the evil hellbitch she really was. But she could have put in ADT and that was going to take some finesse. I didn’t want her coming back before I was ready for her. As I dematerialized just inside the front door I took a moment and looked around. To the left, just behind where the door would hide it if I’d opened it was a control box with a steady green light. It was either set to trigger when the door opened or had motion sensors connected to it. Either way was no big deal. While it might have caught an unwary human, all I had to do was demat from room to room and stand still while I scoped them out.

As I stood in the doorway looked through the small living room it was apparent that Devina was maintaining her cover well. There was nothing here to indicate she wasn’t what she seemed. A photo of her in a wedding dress with a man in a tux graced the foyer wall surrounded by pictures of the “kids”. On the table beneath it lay a scrapbook, conveniently open to an obituary for National Guard Captain Alan Veckman, KIA in Afghanistan. A wife and two kids were listed as the only survivors. That explained why she hadn’t gollumed up a spouse for her image. She’d just tracked this guy down, photoshopped herself into their wedding picture, and probably taken the wife and kids as her first victims this time around. Instant sympathetic widow.

The house had had some modernization done on the inside. Instead of closed off main rooms the dining room walls had been knocked down to open it up to both living room and kitchen, forming the more-currently-popular “great room''. From here I could see all the public spaces were clean. No macabre art work on the walls, no horrific but trendy sculpture. Just a few framed prints on the walls and the typical kid’s finger paintings on the fridge. I popped into the kids bedroom and the hall bath, doing a quick check, but finding nothing then moved on to the master. It had been remodeled too, probably taking out the third bedroom to enlarge it and add the spa-like ensuite. This space, small by Devina’s norms, still felt more like her. Where the great room had been “Leave It To Beaver” tidy, this place was an overpacked disaster. Her shopping addiction was apparent in the overstuffed closet and bags of clothing laying on the floor. Jewelry strung haphazardly across the dresser and the unmade bed completed the total mess. The bathroom had every known brand of cosmetic, perfume and skin treatment known to man represented, and that was just a waste of money, given she relied on magick to maintain her outwardly pretty face and body. Lots of scented bath crap around the tub, too. Keeping the stench of evil down must require some heavy maintenance. But still nothing that hinted at her new well of souls.

Only one place left to check. The basement. I’d spied the door to it in the kitchen. If any door was going to be wired to alert her, it would be that one, but if it was her gateway to hell, ADT wasn’t going to be her alert system. Dematting to the kitchen, I look at the door and open my senses. There was nothing alive in that basement but there sure was a lot of pain coming from it. I dematerialize to the otherside of the door and flick on the stairwell light. The smell hits me immediately. The odor of death is distinctive. The odor of death by torture even more so. Blood, feces, spilled intestines, vomit….and the residual agony...I had to stop on the steps and take a deep breath to steel myself. I’ve seen a lot, done a lot, been on battlefields. But I never get used to this.

Jaw set grimly, I focus on the details of my surroundings to get me down the stairs. The walls are painted yellow concrete blocks, the ceiling exposed floor joists. The floor at the bottom of the stairs is smooth concrete. My eyes follow the slope of the concrete to the center drain, beginning to take in the blood and viscera still laying on the floor. She must have magicked the whole damned place to keep the smell down here. Nausea rises in my throat, but I force it down as my gaze rises to the table over the center drain. It’s a steel autopsy table, the kind sits on a pedestal and raises and lowers for the user's convenience. It has a sink attached to it and channels that run down the sides to let blood and body fluids drain away . But unlike standard autopsy tables this one also has straps attached. Ones for wrists, ankles and forehead as well as thicker ones that run over the chest and thighs. I guess Devina wanted options. Staked to the wall behind it is the mutilated body of a female. Early 30’s, blonde, fair skinned where the corpse wasn’t ripped open or stained with red. Before moving towards it, I flip another switch that lights the corners of the basement. I take in the empty cell in the corner. Makes sense. If she’s taking families she can’t work on them all at once and holding them immobile takes power she doesn’t have. And on the concrete wall that runs behind the staircase I see it. Instead of a well she’s created a wall this time. Faces frozen in agony are embedded along it. Male, female...children…

”Creator,” it’s a scream in my head “she did this to CHILDREN!” I can feel His pain, but the whisper enters my head “She has a part to play. She must live.”

I choke back an agonized cry and move towards the woman staked to the wall. Gently I close her already clouded eyes, murmuring “I’m sorry. I was too late for you and your family. But I’ll set you free.” I know she’s not in there anymore. She’s on that god damned wall. The body is just the alarm system. Devina will know if it’s moved. Well, I’ll get to that.

Moving to the wall, I let my wings become visible. The basement ceiling is too low for me to spread them fully, but I can feel the souls’ pain and terror. Going full angel will help calm them, I hope. The white light I normally suppress to a dim glow that can be at least partially explained by the light catching all my piercings is fully released to become a white light so brilliant it would burn the retina’s of a mortal.

“𒂼𒅈𒄄.” Release, in ancient Summarian, the language taught to humans by the angels. “Ama-ar-gi. Release,” I repeat it again and again as the souls gradually disengage from the wall and come to stand before me. Fathers, mothers...little ones, all confused and fearful. But even as they shimmer into existence, the rheapers come. I knew they would. As I serve the Creator, they serve Death. I help mortal souls find their way in life. They help souls move on and find their way once their mortal bodies can no longer serve them. And, like me, they’ve seen it all, but also like me, this sickens them. After the initial shock of pity passes, compassion settles on their faces as they begin to take the souls. Somehow they know which souls belong together and they take them as families.

After the last has gone, one rheaper remains. She’s small and dark-haired, her 5’3” frame barely reaching chest high on me, but she comes towards me, pounding her finger into my chest and hissing,

“They weren’t supposed to die yet! Take. Care. Of. This. Or we will.”

“I can’t. The Creator says she has to live. For at least a little longer.”

“Good thing we don’t answer to Him, then isn’t it? My boss doesn’t like waste of the life spark and this is incredible waste,” she shoots back at me. As I look at her, not a little shocked, she shrugs “What, you didn’t know? Everything dies. Even at the Creator’s level, there’s balance. Balance for Life is Death. Two sides of the same coin. So,” putting her hands on her hips and squaring off with me,” handle this before we do.”

“The demon has a part to play. I don’t like it, but I’m forbidden to kill her.” My frustration must be showing in my face, because she softens a little bit.

“Then get creative with it. Because the rheaper way won’t be creative. Just final.”

She disappears in front of me, a fine black mist swirling into nothing. ‘Get creative,’ she’d said. Biting my lip, an idea I really don’t like hits me, but one of the Creator’s early lessons pushes back on my initial rejection. ‘Being a deity often consists of doing things you don’t like.’ Yeah, this qualifies. With a sigh, I go to the body staked on the other wall and gently remove it, laying it on the autopsy table. The sudden drop in power when the souls were freed would have been enough to alert Davina there was trouble. At this point moving the female’s body was just respect for the dead. But I wouldn’t face the bitch over it.

As I go back up the stairs, I open the door to the kitchen and cross to take a seat at the table just as I hear the garage door go up. As she bursts through the door from the garage, she shrieks,

“YOU! What have you DONE?!!!!”

“Hello to you, too. Long time no see.” Everything in me wants to slam a lightning bolt through that glamored body just to see it twitch, but that’s not the plan. “You knew I’d still be looking for you. Did you really think hiding out in this hovel would be enough camouflage? You have a very distinct signature.”

“Those souls were MINE! They came to me freely. You had no RIGHT!” The last comes out as an angry wail and ok, I’m done with diplomacy. Rising from my chair I slam my hand thunderously on the table.

“I have EVERY right. You broke the rules. You took innocents…children. Babes in arms. You’re only allowed ones that have the ability to make their own choices.”

She glares at me, then crosses her arms and simpers, “The parents made their choices for them. Children have such power, You know, the more innocent the soul, the greater the energy. I’m short on that, thanks to you, so kids were a quick way to restore it. And the pain of the parents as they watched their brats die...it was sooo delicious. That kind of pain is almost as powerful as the kids' souls. So I’m stronger now than I was the last time we faced off. Whatcha’ going to do about it?”

Motherfucking bitch….Oh, so not getting away with that. Holding a hand out, I release a bolt of electricity that knocks her back against the refrigerator and spears through her body to pin her to it.

“What am I going to do about it?” I repeat. “I can do a lot of /very/ painful things to you Devina that won’t result in your --immediate-- death. You’ll just wish it did. I’m not that naive angel boy you once knew and betrayed. Deity-level upgrades come with deity-level thinking. And you aren’t strong enough to break free even from that,” nodding at the electric bindings holding her to the fridge, “Now are you? So I have a lot of pain in store for you. Maybe I”ll use your own autopsy table. But,” materializing a silver handled angel’s dagger, the blade flashing blue fire, “I think I’ll bring my own tools.”

The thing is, while I really would like to end Devina, torture isn’t my thing. It makes me wanna throw up. But ‘get creative’ the rheaper had said, so creative I was being. Devina doesn’t know what the kind of changes the Creator made with me when he agreed to bring me up to a deity, might have done to my psyche. In her fallen, psychotic brain the Creator is a cold, distant daddy figure capable of enjoying causing His children pain and she’s getting back at Him by embracing the dark side. So I can see the doubt growing in those dark eyes. She’s asking herself if I’m still the same egocentric, soft, gullible angel-boy toy she used and killed centuries ago or am I growing up in Daddy’s image? Have I turned into a being that is detached enough to use pain for my own ends? Thing is, I hope I am becoming more like the Creator. Because He’s nothing like what she thinks He is and nothing like who I used to be either. He’s just….more. But the doubt is good for my plan.

The energy trapping her against the refrigerator is doing its job. Not only is it keeping her immobilized, it’s sapping her strength enough that her true appearance is flickering through. Time to move to the next step. Calmly, I take the tip of my dagger and clean a nail with it before pointing it at her.

“You’re losing your mojo babe. Your face is showing. I don’t think all those creams and cosmetics are helpful for decayed, oozing skin.”

“OH!....Lassiter, please, don’t do this to me. To us. Remember what we were…”

Oh, I remember all right. In my nightmares. But this tact plays. I heave a sigh and look at her sadly, as though remembering something bittersweet.

“We did have some good times didn’t we. You were something special back then. We had something special.” Oh gag me, this is more likely to make me puke than torturing her. But she seizes on it.

“We did, yes, we did. Let me go, Lassiter and we can again. I never stopped loving you, I just got caught up in it all. It’s so dog-eat-dog on the dark side!”

Christ, how do I not kill her when she spews shit like this? But be creative. Creative. Think of it as an acting job. Ok… Sadly, I shake my head.

“Too much water has passed under that bridge for me to cross it again Devina. But…” pausing for effect, “for old times sake, maybe we could come to an agreement. Something that lets me not have to kill you.” Right now. Not have to kill you right now…. She makes a major effort to hold the glamour and pours a combination of pleading sensuality into her eyes that should have won her an Oscar.

“Oh, baby,” I cringe inwardly as she calls me ‘baby’, “I’m so sorry. But,” And there it is, the self-interest speaking…. “What kind of agreement did you have in mind?”

Bingo. Gotcha hooked. “If I let you go, you have to promise not to go after innocents. You have to leave them alone. And that includes their parents. And,people who are kind of lost, too. You can’t use that emo bonding thing with them to lure them in anymore.”

“But, but…,” she makes a pout, “what does that leave me with? I have to have /some/ leeway or I’ll die.”

And this is the part that irks me most. It goes against everything in me. But she’ll fuck it up, probably sooner that later and I won’t have to keep my end.

“Go back to trolling for your prey in bars. If they choose you, really choose you, you can keep them. You’ll have to work harder for it. A quick fuck in the backseat of the car isn’t going to be enough to get their souls. But if you can get them obsessed with you? You can keep them.”

“It will take me forever to restore myself that way!” It comes out as a wail but she’s almost there.

“It will take time,” I agree. “But meanwhile you won’t be stuck in suburbia living in a 1400 sq ft. dump. You can indulge yourself in the highlife again and I won’t hunt you. Think of it. A luxury loft, being able to wear Prada and Coach without blowing your image…think of the time it takes you to build back up as doing penance in the demonic equivalent of Club Fed. Payment for the innocents you took. All the perks, just a few restrictions. It’s the best I can offer you.”

“Fine,” she spits out, and I have to struggle to keep the uniquely male satisfaction of knowing that whenever a female says ‘fine’ it’s absolutely not fine but that she has no other options, off my face. “But you’re going to have to let me out of this restraint.” And then she coos “We’ll seal it with a kiss.”

Oh, hells no to that. “I’d rather we seal it with this.” Holding up my hand I materialize a contract containing everything we’ve talked about. And some very special wording. “You’ll sign it in your blood.” Laying the document on the counter, I release the energy restraints and grab her arm. Using the dagger I slice her arm as she howls in both pain and outrage, but not fast enough to do anything about it.

“Here. Use this. It’s appropriate.” My wings materialize and I bend one forward towards my hand. Managing to pluck a silvery secondary feather, I dip the tip in the blood running down her arm and hand it to her. “The magick in my feathers will make it doubly binding. Break the agreement and I’ll know. Immediately.”

If looks could kill, she’d be frying an angel right now. And with her, at full power, looks could. But she doesn’t have the juice right now and we both know it. She scrawls her name on the document and thrusts it at me, but drops the hand holding my feather. “Here. Take it.”

“Uh,uh uh...not so fast. I’ll take that feather back too.” Can’t let her keep it. No telling what kind of evil she’d use it to conjure up on me. Taking both feather and contract back, I step back from her and add, “You should have read the contract. In addition to specifying how you can attract souls it also specifies only /human/ souls.”

Dropping all pretense of cordiality now, I narrow my eyes at her. “I know you were imprisoned and I know how you were freed and by whom. Stick with taking the human souls agreed upon in the way we agreed upon and we don’t have a problem.” Until she breaks the contract. Then all bets are off. But one thing at a time.

“I’m going to make you pay for this Lassiter!” She yells as she grabs for the contract.

“Oh, please, bitch,” dematerializing contract and feather back to my room at the manse, “stop with the evil super-villain talk. It’s really cliche and Darkseid did it better.”

Walking to the door, I jerk it open, setting off the alarm system she’d neglected to turn off when she came in. As the earsplitting siren split the neighborhood quiet, I added...

“Oh, and if you want to avoid the police, I’d be vacating this place PDQ. I’ll be phoning in a dead body in the basement as soon as I’m out the door. Laters, babe.”

The resounding crash of what had to be the blender off the countertop hitting the door makes me chuckle as I dial 911.

“911? Yeah, I want to report a dead body….”