#Platoon Level Attack

[mottivoluntieri]

[ryescapades-archived]

lover boy | kaiju no. 8

"𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰."

— just them simply being down bad for you. (alt: what i think their primary love language is and how it’s expressed)

characters: hoshina soshiro, narumi gen, ichikawa reno x platoon leader gn!reader genre/warning: fluff fluff fluff, petnames (hoshina), whipped bois, the aforementioned love languages are not specifically stated (though it’s kinda obvious) a/n: dunno if it's actually canon that they do patrols in the defense force but for the sake of the plot it is canon k

being a platoon leader is a tiring job.

that's quite literally the simplest way to put it. you don't just get your unleashed combat power up to a certain level and march in to the battlefield fighting kaiju; you've got a bunch of soldiers put under your care and now you're responsible for their lives too. not to mention the amount of paperwork and reports you have to get done in a short span of time.

but for you, being a platoon leader particularly in the third division, working so closely alongside its vice captain, the defense force's ever so reputable strongest close-quarters combatant, feels like a whole other job entirely.

"and according to the keynotes i've gathered from my and ikaruga's reports, we've concluded the pattern of these attacks— are you even listening?" your hand halts from pointing out the important points on the document, eyes twitching slightly at the sight of hoshina soshiro, once again, spacing out.

"oh, sorry. what were you sayin', sweetheart?" the man sitting beside you asks, the alluring accent thick as his frustratingly attractive face is propped up by a hand on the table and he's smiling innocently at you like he didn't just disregard everything you've been explaining for the past ten minutes or so.

you resist the urge to facepalm, exasperation bubbling inside of you. "vice captain, please. if i have to call you out again while i carry on with these reports, i might just lose it." you deadpan.

hoshina laughs, fanged and all the more cheeky. "alright, alright. i'll focus now, i promise. so what is it about the attacks?" he questions, though he does not move from his position— his very close, very personal position where your thighs are nearly brushing against each other might you add— as he looks at you with his crimson eyes now opened.

initially, you’re supposed to be reporting all these stuff straight to captain ashiro. but the reason why hoshina had asked you to meet up and convey them to him first is honestly beyond your comprehension.

"...if we are to proceed, firstly please stop that." you mutter slowly, looking away with a huff.

"hm? whatever do you mean, darlin'?" he gives you another one of his charming grin.

you finally relent. "stop looking at me like that!" with a grumble, you succumb to the embarrassment as you cover your beet red face with the back of your hand.

you're fine with the nicknames. you are. but not the sweet, loving look he keeps sending your way. the way his sharp gaze would soften, full of warmth and affection reserved only for you, not caring that other people could see how enchanted he is by everything that is you to the point you're the only thing that matters in his eyes.

oh, he would've given you the world if only you'd so much as ask him to.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the unfamiliar wooden object resting in-between the many piles of books on your table does not go unnoticed by you.

your steps falter, making a second take before moving to grab the item. it's a carving of a raccoon. it's smooth to the touch, intricate and small enough to fit in your palm.

this is the third time this week, you think to yourself, eyes glinting in wonderment as a tiny smile makes its way on to your face.

three times you'd found a piece of object, something or the other just laying around in your working space, albeit they were hidden in places that are fairly easy to spot. maybe that's exactly the point; for it to be noticed even though it's supposedly meant to stay concealed.

hours later, you're sitting with your fellow platoon leaders in the meeting room as hasegawa briefs you on updates for the division's patrols, reports, trainings and the likes. you glance at the corner of the room where narumi gen is lounging in his chair, his console held in his hands as the faint sound of a video game fills the room.

as the meeting finally ends, you gather up your belongings before rushing out the door, trying to catch up to a certain captain with dual-toned hair.

"captain narumi!" you call out.

you see the way his back freezes for a second at your voice before he turns, giving you an easy grin. "well if it isn't our platoon leader y/n. why, did you need anything from your amazing captain?" he boasts.

this time you're ever so oblivious to the way his eyes twinkle, body relaxing at the sound of your responding laugh. "no, captain. just wanted to say good work for today! and i'll be doing patrol with you tomorrow so hopefully we can give it our best tomorrow as well." you chime.

he's about to reply when you add in, "also thank you for the raccoon carving, captain. though i'm kind of wondering why that animal specifically. but it's still cute so i guess it's the thought that counts."

at that narumi tenses, rosy irises darting away before he trips over his words, "y-you better not think anything of it! it just so happened that i came across that thing while i was on patrol yesterday." he grits, ears flushing red at the tips as he points a finger at your amused face almost accusingly.

it's the same reasoning— or rather, excuse— like the previous times.

"eh... is that so? well, i'm still thankful you decided to gift it to me." you reply, smiling so beautifully it almost had him falling to his knees and confessing about how much he adores you.

you don't know that, of course. what you also don't know is that the gift is extremely well-thought out by narumi (and so are the previous…trinkets, you’d call them). you'd once mentioned in passing that a raccoon reminds you so much of him, of how the dual-toned fur and its silliness resemble your captain so much.

and silly as he may be, he wouldn't pass up the chance of that you'd think of him whenever you look at the carving, just like how you occupy his mind almost every second of the day.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

that's sixteen headshots, seventeen, eighteen... your head continues to count the amount of targets you've shot down.

today you've taken it upon yourself to go to the shooting range, wanting to refine your gunning skills as the memory of the recent mission the third division had been assigned to flares in your mind.

vice-captain hoshina was right, the new recruits this year are an exceptionally talented bunch. they're something else alright, you ponder. but there's no way in hell you can afford to lose to these kids now. a grin grows on your face, your eyes never strayed from the moving targets in front of you.

"platoon leader y/n?" a familiar voice has you pausing from reloading your gun, swiveling your head to look to the side where the voice comes from.

"oh, officer reno! what are you doing here?" you ask, turning your body fully to face ichikawa as you put away your gun. you can only stare curiously as the silver-haired boy suddenly seems like he's blowing a fuse from how red his face has become.

he'll never get used to you calling him by his given name. it feels... intimate, somehow. or maybe he's just overthinking it, who knows. his admiration for you is probably too intense that it's making his brain all mushy.

"i-i should be the one asking you, senpai! it's been hours and it's so late already but you're still going at it?" he asks, making you blink a few times before you smirk teasingly after registering his words. "'still'? were you keeping tabs on me, reno?"

ichikawa blushes even harder, realizing what he just said. "i wasn't— that's not—yes?" he groans before sighing defeatedly as you laugh, feeling the fondness you've always held for him increases ever so slightly. "i was only joking, reno. no need to be so tense." you wave him off when you notice he's about to give an apologetic bow.

"so? is there anything that i can help you with?" you question with your head tilted to the side, a hand now resting on your hip. reno straightens up and takes in a deep breath. "i was hoping you're already done with your training. i, uh... i want to show you something, senpai."

a few minutes later, you find yourself following ichikawa as he leads the way, the two of you walking leisurely in the hallways of the tachikawa building. you slide your hands into the pockets of your uniform, taking note of the way his fists keep curling and uncurling, as if to relieve the strain his body holds.

the sight of the cafeteria greets you, and you make a confused noise at him as you enter the dining hall. the place is mostly dark, apart from the few dimly lit lamps hanging over your heads. "it's already closed at this hour, reno. if you're hungr- oh?" you halt in your steps when ichikawa moves to one of the long tables.

he's standing there, and in front of him there's two ceramic plates filled with a variety of food, each full to its edges. your eyes widen in surprise, looking up to see ichikawa rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"i figured you'd be staying in the range for quite a while... so i saved you some food, senpai. o-of course, if you're not hungry i can just keep these in the fridge for tomorrow or something- i don't, um... i didn’t know what food you'd like so i kind of just took some of everything...-"

you stop his nervous rambling with a hand on his shoulder. he sharply inhales, looking at you with his ears, cheeks, neck and everything in between burning hot. you ignore the way this lovely, endearing sight of him has your heart expanding almost to the point of combusting. "i'm definitely famished after all that training!" you chirp, saving him from his misery before approaching the table.

ichikawa smiles in relief, "i'm glad!" and then he tenses out of the blue, backing away a bit and bowing low to hide his embarrassment. "b-but please be assured i don't have any ulterior motive nor it's my intention to be unprofessional about it! i just thought i could be of a little help since you and the other senpai's are working so hard for us..." he clarifies, just realizing how inappropriate it'd be if somebody sees him acting so forward like this to you.

your sounding chuckle has him biting his lip, lifting his head to peer up at you. "i understand. well in that case," you move to grab a plate, pushing the other one to him with a pointed look. ichikawa's gaze light up in understanding.

"thank you for the food, reno." you say softly, sending him one last smile as you head towards the exit, leaving him to his own thoughts.

he'll work hard too. he'll work even harder than anyone else here. after all, there's no wall he wouldn't scale in order to become stronger. in order to fight alongside you, to be worthy of your equal.

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[meaniemace]

hii can you write a seokchan (sweet home) fanfic where reader/oc is being harmed by other survivors in the stadium and seokchan happened to be there so he teaches them a lesson. kinda touch her or I'll kill you vibe, knowing seokchan is a gentleman and doesn't resort to violence i think it'd be hot to see him being protective of his girl

mine to protect

Pairing: Kang seokchan x reader (can be viewed as any gender)

Warnings: blood and violence, not proofread (in desperate need of a proofreader)

Genre: angst + fluff

Story under the cut

© The lemon bot on Tumblr

It's been happening for a few weeks now, you thought you had it under control, you thought you could deal with it, but it's been getting bad lately.

You see, near the begining of the apocalypse you'd gotten with your boyfriend, kang seokchan, who just so happens to be a member of the platoon.

You'd kept it a secret for a while, no one had a clue, yet somehow another survivor in the "base" had saw you two together and word spread quickly.

People accused you of being with him so you could get extra food or things after the platoon's expeditions, or have extra protection and be a priority.

Of course it wasn't true, you genuinely love seokchan with all your heart, he was there for you and you were there for him since the start. Since the world started going to shit he's all you've had and you're all he's had.

You rested your head on the wall you were sitting against, not bothering to stop your nose from bleeding any further. You licked your lips, a strong metallic taste left on your tongue due to the red liquid that stained your face.

A few minutes ago, you were simply minding your business, making your way back to your makeshift bed after helping an elderly lady get back to hers, when a group of about 5 other survivors attacked you, screaming profanities your way and landing hit after hit on you with all the strength they had left in them.

You tried to fight back, but 5 against 1 wasn't exactly a fair fight. So you let them. 'it'll be over soon' you told yourself.

What you had failed to notice was a young kid hiding behind a corner, watching the brutal scene unfold Infront of him. What you also failed to notice was the way he scrambled to his feet, sprinting towards the room the platoon members usually gathered in, dodging people on his way and even bumping on to a few, focus on his goal. Finding your boyfriend.

Your eyes snapped open at the familiar voice booming down the hall, getting closer and closer accompanied by the sound of quick heavy steps.

You looked over, turning your head causing pain to shoot up the back of your neck. Seokchan messily halted to a stop Infront of you, kneeling down to your level, worry and concern visible on the man's features.

"What happened?!" He questioned as he helped you sit up properly and checked your injuries. You hissed in pain but kept your lips sealed. He already had alot to worry about, you didn't want him to worry about you either.

His eyes found yours and he placed a hand on the back of your head gently. "Tell me. Please." You shook your head the action barely visible as moving at all made the pain was unbearable.

He sigh at your stubbornness and shook his head. Just as he was about to speak again a quiet voice interrupted him "they were attacked sir." The same boy that had barged inside the room cutting off the Sargent's speech said.

Seokchan looked at the boy, urging him to explain further. You also averted your gaze to him, pleading for him not to say anymore, but to your dismay he did. He explained everything, from how people have been treating you to what they thought of you and what they say about you.

Seokchan's breath hitched, getting cough in his throat he simply nodded towards the kid who took that as a sign to leave.

Once his small frame disappeared out of sight he turned back to you. "How long?" You sighed and closed your eyes before speaking "a couple weeks".

You heard him groan and mumble something "come on" he helped you to your feet and slung your arm over his shoulder, supporting you as you walked back to his room where he had you sit down as he patched you up wordlessly.

You watched him as he worked, the way his brows furrowed in concentration and the way he licked his lips every few seconds.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked suddenly catching the man of guard. He didn't respond until he finished his work.

"Why would I be mad at you?" He asked placing everything back in place. "For, you know, not telling you." He shook his head and looked at your, smoothing out the plaster on your right cheek

"I'm not. I would never be mad at you honey. Maybe, I am a little sad but not mad, never mad" you breathed out in relief, a breath you were unaware you'd been holding.

"I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want you to worry, you already have so much on your plate and you risk your life every day-"

"Don't worry about that. No matter what you'll always be my top priority, like you've always been my love." He assured you.

Moving to sit by you on his bed he snakes his arms around your waist, bringing you close to him and laying back with you in his arms.

"For now, you just get some rest and when you wake up, I'll need names." You chuckled at the man's words "seokchan-"

"I'm serious." You shook your head but agreed nonetheless. You closed your eyes, quickly drifting off. From now on, you won't care what anyone thinks of you, you'll Stan up for yourself and won't depend on anyone to fight on your behalf. Not as long as you had Kang seokchan by your side.

[cerastes]

Bro any time I think about Valkyria Chronicles I laugh my nipples off, the game is fundamentally flawed gameplaywise but, simultaneously, it's stupidly fun, which is the recipe for any club banger, it has a story that weaves flawlessly between "that's pretty poignant" and "this is some goofy goober shit", it's got the horrors of war but also this fucking pig piece of shit mascot, Hans,

It's an amalgam of white and black without any gray: It exists on extremes, and it never intersects, it's playing two parallel lines and coming to terms with the fact that you'll never see cohesion but that somehow enhances the end product in ways evidently no one intended. You have narrative comparisons with the persecution of jews and, at the same time, the game ends with the bad guy getting German Suplexed.

But I think the funniest aspect of Valkyria Chronicles The First is that the main character is the farthest thing from a war hero they could possibly muster with the expertise of a stoic Japanese swordsmith from the mountains crafting a god-cleaving blade: Welkin.

This Scout From TF2 Put Through An Anime Filter looking mother fucker was chilling in his hometown talking about how much he wanted to be a teacher and showing people his really good sketches of animals because he's also a gifted artist, when suddenly, the Dudes attack, and his reaction to the Dudes attacking is "hang on, I recall my dad hiding his actual service tank in the shed in the back" so he goes and, yeah, his dad's tank from a previous war is just there, chilling, so he takes it for a joy ride while the town baker, Alicia, armed with a rifle and infinite action economy due to the afore mentioned flawed gameplay, sweeps the entire god damn platoon of heavily armed machine gun troops.

The entire game is Welkin using his love for nature and his baker love interest to inflict insane personnel and materiel damage to an entire empire: Welkin and Alicia will come across a heavily fortified bridge, and the dialogue will go something like

"Welkin! They will pulverize us with the heaviest machine guns known to man if we step one foot in that bridge! They practically developed wooden low-orbit bombardment stations! What's the plan!"

"Well... Look at that duck over there. It's flying from the east to the west, right? Well, YOU SEE, that duck is known as a Balkunese Socioduck, and those, during this season, migrate from west to east, and they only exhibit this irregular flight path if a Matrisgel Weasel family is molting by the juniper berry bushes, their favorite food. Matrisgel Weasels only ever molt if they are put under the exact amount of stress caused to them by the sound of distant tank threads on the road, and they are known to hide in sturdy, stable soil."

"Welkin, SIR, what the fuck does this all mean?"

"If we follow the smoldering shrieking of the molting weasels, we'll find a SECRET PATH that will, as always, let us ambush, flank, and surprise our foes! Alicia, you know what to do."

"Ogggeyyyyy"

and then, invariably, no matter the level, thanks to Welkin's impressive knowledge of fauna and flora, and Alicia's literally infinite action economy in a game that wasn't properly beta tested in-house during development, they combine their powers like a piss poor Captain Planet and kill the absolute shit out of an entire Empire's worth of dudes, and it's legitimately one of the most fun and charming games you'll ever touch if you remember to not take it too seriously. I fucking hate Hans but I love this game.

[jjkamochoso]

I have a Gen Narumi request!

So basically Y/N turned very cold and distant to (almost) everyone, after she lost EVERYONE they care about from a kaiju attack, being scarred both mentally and physically, she closes off from the world trying to protect themself, but they're wonderful, weird, game addicted captain, just so happens to have broken that ice wall a tiny bit (Y/N's even giggled once in front of him!!) , but he's never seen her cry...until one day he heard quiet sobbing from her office, he checks it out being the great friend he is, but sees Y/N curled up in their chair in fetal position ,tears flowing down their face (Gen tries to comfort her obviously, he would be the best friend ever I swear)

Fluff/angst because I've been reading to much unholy stuff :)

Oooh I like this idea!! Angst and fluff is the best combo🤭 thanks for putting your trust in me for this story and I hope you love it!! 🫶❤️

Comfort from Your Captain

Angst, fluff

Gen Narumi x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of death, depiction of panic attack, small instance of cussing

“Hey, L/n! You wanna grab some lunch with us?”

“No, thank you. You guys go ahead.”

That was a common occurrence for you. Your teammates never failed to extend an invite to their favorite platoon leader and you never failed to deny their requests. They were all extremely nice people which was why you didn’t want to get to know them better—it would make life even more unbearable for you when it was their inevitable turn to die on the battlefield against the kaiju. You had already lost your entire family and friends years ago when a kaiju ravaged your neighborhood, that tragic day leaving an irreparable mark on your heart and mind. The attack hadn’t left you unscathed physically, either; you were haunted by it everytime you looked in the mirror and saw the scars littering your face and body, reminding you of all you had lost, all you were too weak to protect. Since then, you had sworn to never get close to anybody because you knew it was only a matter of time before they got ripped away from you as well.

Until a certain captain entered your life.

When you were transferred to the First Division, you kept to yourself as per usual, but somehow along the way, Gen Narumi was able to break down the walls you had built up for so long. Was it because you knew he was strong, so strong that he probably wouldn’t die in the hands of a kaiju? Was it because of those countless nights you spent together, when both of you found sleep evading you, up until dawn, him playing video games while you silently enjoyed his company, just not wanting to be alone for once?

Was it because you finally found someone who understood what it was like to have nothing and no one at all?

It was a mix of all those things, you thought. Whatever the real reason was, anyway, you didn’t care; all that mattered was Gen Narumi had become the only friend you could tolerate having. He was the only person in the past few years to have seen you crack a smile and let out a giggle when he was being particularly ridiculous. And, as neither of you were team players, you worked well together in the field for that very reason. He would always charge for the large honju while you would take out all the smaller yoju surrounding him. It was a silent agreement between you to stay out of each other’s way and you were glad to have that level of trust in someone for the first time in many years.

Oftentimes, especially lately, you wished you could embrace the happier, more communicative side of yourself you’d had to suppress all this time. Your division was comprised of many kind people who you would’ve loved to learn more about, but your fear of loss was much too strong to allow you to be so vulnerable and open with anybody else other than Gen. It pained you to turn down their many offers to dine together or hang out, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to agree to any of it. However, you were starting to tire of being so lonely all the time. Keeping up your cold demeanor around your team was starting to take a toll on your mental health and you found yourself becoming wrought with despair much more often than normal. When you bid the members of your team farewell, your heart began to quicken its pace and your breathing was becoming rapid. Words flowed through your brain at a swift pace, so quick you could barely create a coherent thought.

What is going on? I feel like I’m dying. Why am I doing this? I’m losing control.

I need to get out of here.

Your body was on autopilot—you ran to your office as fast as your shaking legs could carry you. You hoped the slam of your door wasn’t echoing across the base because the last thing you needed was someone seeing you in this state. Throwing your body onto your desk chair, you tried to even your breathing but your lungs weren’t cooperating. All of a sudden, akin to a thundering storm, came an onslaught of tears from your eyes. You began to sob, your body wracking with each cry you tried so desperately to hold in.

“It’s too bad L/n couldn’t make it to lunch with us. Maybe sometime later this week?”

“Maybe. She always seems to have something going on though.”

Gen listened intently to the conversation happening between your teammates as they walked past him, throwing up lazy salutes to the captain on their way to the dining hall. He frowned, letting their words settle into his head. He knew you had a hard time with opening up to others but it pained him to see you so blatantly blow off people who genuinely wanted to connect with you. He knew all the great qualities you had to offer with your friendship and he wished that you could see it was okay to lower your guard sometime.

I’ll go check on her, make sure she’s alright.

He waltzed toward your office, video game in hand. He had just beaten the level he was on when he raised a fist to your door but stopped in his tracks. Holding his breath and putting an ear to the barrier between you two, his heart immediately sank.

Is y/n… crying?

Gen didn’t know what to do. He had never seen you cry, let alone show sadness in any real sense of the word. You favored the emotionless side of yourself, never letting others see what you were going through internally. Now, with only a door separating you two, he hadn’t the slightest clue whether he should barge in or not. He waited for a moment, but you didn’t let up. In fact, it sounded like you were crying harder, if that was possible. With a gentle touch, he tried the door handle—it opened without protest.

She must’ve ran in here in a hurry.

He knocked on the door as he swung it open slowly. “Hey, uh, y/n? You alright?”

When he entered the unlit room, he could barely make out your figure, currently huddled up in your chair. Your knees were drawn close to your chest, your face hidden in the darkness of the arms covering it. Even with the curtains drawn, he could tell you were quaking in your position. When you didn’t answer him with so much as a threat to his well being, he knew you weren’t doing well. Your labored breaths, along with your sniffling cries, hadn’t calmed and it pained him to the core to see you hurting in such a manner. Without a second thought, he quickly ran to you and took you in his arms the best he could.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. You’re alright,” he consoled, rubbing his hands up and down your back. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Gen, I-I can’t,” you hiccuped, not daring to show your face.

“Can’t what? It’s alright, you can talk to me.”

“Can’t keep doing this.”

His eyes widened in concern. “Doing what?”

You didn’t answer, a fresh wave of sobs taking over your body. He didn’t let up in his care for you, hugging you tighter to his body. After a few minutes, your crying finally seemed to slow but Gen never loosened his grip, adamant on proving to you that he was there for you in your lowest of lows.

You raised your head from its downward position, tear stains all down your cheeks. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what, silly girl?” He cracked a smile, softly rubbing circles on your back.

“He-helping me. I’ve pushed you away f-for so long but you’re here.”

Gen shrugged. “We’re friends. And that’s what friends do.”

His answer came out like it was the simplest fact in the world to him. The response was almost enough to send you into another spiral of emotions, but you held back as much as possible.

“You know, there’s a lot of other people that wanna be your friend, too. I’m not happy about sharing ya,” he playfully nudged you, “but I will for your own sake. You deserve to be happy and feel loved. I know how hard it is to get to that point of opening yourself up to others, trust me, I do, but we can work on it together if you want. You, me, and the rest of the team. We all have your back.”

You nodded, wiping your bleary eyes. “Earlier, when I was having that panic attack, I was thinking I couldn’t continue pretending not to give a shit. I just don’t wanna see anybody else I love get hurt. I don’t need any more scars.”

“I know.” The captain pulled you closer, resting an arm around your shoulders. “But that’s why we train. We get stronger so we protect the ones we love. This world is cruel and unfair. That can’t stop us from experiencing joy in the meantime.”

“Joy from things like video games and Yamazon?”

Gen stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “You’re already back to being mean to me? After my heartfelt pep talk?!”

“I’m joking,” you said, a faint smile gracing your lips. “Not used to that, are you, Narumi?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered, his two toned hair flopping around with every word, “but I’m not mad about seeing you smile more.”

You broke out into an even bigger grin. It might take a long time and a hell of a lot of work, but you were ready to open your heart again—thanks to the comfort from your captain.

[kokodrawings]

You know, the technique of Minato the Hiraishin. There are several variations of this technique, but the one that strikes me the most is when during the fourth war, Genma, Raido and Iwashi teleport Mei Terumi and tell she ‘We can use the Fourth's technique, we just need to do it in a group’ Do you think Minato himself taught them this technique in person?I've always liked to think that they received the title of ‘hokage guards’ because Minato trained them for some time. I'd love to know what you think - your illustrations are great!

Hi!! Thank you, glad you hear you like my drawings!! 💖

Well, the last time I read the war arc was ten years ago with the weekly releases, so my memory is a bit fuzzy (not a fan of the arc so I prefer to delete it from my mental headcanons lol), but I think I remember what you’re talking about! Haha, this is a fun ask, let me ramble about that.

Okay, so… we have three guys around Kakashi’s age (in fact, if I remember correctly Genma is Gai’s teammate), but nowhere near Kakashi’s level. Three guys who were around 13-14 years old when Minato rose to power, and who were, at best, newly jounin or even chunin (again, Kakashi was promoted to jounin at 12 and that was an extraordinary ocurrence. And we can agree that these three don’t have Kakashi’s talent).

And you’re telling me that these three kids were the "Hokage Guard Platoon", in charge of protecting the legendary Yellow Flash himself? Yeah Kishi, no way xD

Since you asked for my thoughts, here’s my headcanon: I think that it was peacetime (so things were more or less chill), these kids probably admired the Yellow Flash and now the Fourth Hokage (maybe they were even his fanboys) and Minato thought it would be funny to keep then around as the “Hokage guards.”

And if Minato is going to keep them around, they need a way to get away fast. Because Minato is not a team player, he is a one-man team: he is very fast, strikes even faster and has the Hiraishin to get away quickly if shit hits the fan. He doesn’t need three kids around in the case someone decides to attempt an attack on his person because they will be more of a hindrance than a help (plus, he already lost two kids when he wasn’t around to watch their backs, he doesn’t need another three dead ones).

So, what can he do to solve this? Easy, teach them the Hiraishin! But the Hiraishin is not that easy to learn, you need the power and the skill, and although these three looked like they had the skill (performing a jutsu with other people as a team has to be much more difficult than doing it yourself alone) they lacked the raw chakra needed to power up the technique, so he modified it for them to use as a team.

TL;DR: Minato thought it was hilarious to have three kids trailing behind him like ducklings and taught them the Hiraishin not to protect him, but to protect themselves and get away while he kicked some ass. They're more like Minato's second genin team than a guard, imo.

[generic-sonic-fan]

Etchings

Summary: Sage discovers that her voice has power over Shadow the Hedgehog.

This is unexpected, but not exactly a circumstance she is unfamiliar with.

5262 words

---

Since her recovery, Sage works with her father. 

Her father permits her to not combat Sonic the Hedgehog directly. He has acknowledged, in private, that though he cannot understand why she would call their arch-nemesis a friend, he can allow her a more pacifistic role in the conquest of his empire. Every day she thanks him for this. She is not as naive as she once was. Connected to the Eggnet again she is able to see her father’s episodes of rage and frustration towards Sonic, in the past and in real time, and knows how it must hurt him to allow her this privilege. 

What Sage does is coordinate the efforts of the Badniks to destroy Sonic. She appears before a horde of Badniks usually resigned to their base programming and unifies them under her advanced processing. Sonic arrives shortly after. There’s an understanding that passes in his eyes as he watches the red lines of her code spill out from the frames of the Badniks- it’s as it was on the Starfall islands. The “song and dance” is familiar, he says. 

This time, though, it is different. Sonic has brought along the black hedgehog. Shadow, her database tells her. They have torn through the perimeter line of scouts and are now approaching a platoon under her control. She readies the formation, though all analysis shows that she does not have enough firepower for one of them, let alone two. What matters most is buying time, so she will use what she has, along with employing. . . other methods, to slow them down. 

She materializes her hologram in the fashion it was when she first came online, calibrating the half-glitched form to behave as it had on the islands. Sonic abhorred seeing her in her proper uniform, whole and complete, and for these purposes she will abide by his preference. She fine-tunes the lines of red code crawling up and down her tunic, before the roar of a shockwave rips through the clearing below. 

She springs her ambush onto the two speeding hedgehogs. Two motorbugs are destroyed immediately, and she watches Sonic’s expression change as red clouds of her programming billow from the twin chassis. 

“Sage!” He skids to a stop and calls out into the air. “What’cha got for us?”

“Who are you talking to?” Shadow asks. 

Sage does not reveal herself just yet. She sends her fliers out from the trees. Their lasers rain down on the clearing. Sonic and Shadow flow in and out of each other, like dancers, syncopated; where one is weak, the other is strong, forming a unified whole. She had not been expecting this level of partnership from a stranger she has so little data on compared to Sonic’s other, closer bonds. 

“That was easy.” Sonic jeers as the last flier falls to the ground. “I know you can do better than that!”

His latter sentence is not said with any of the malice that would be directed towards her father. The wavelengths of the tone more closely match that to how he would address Tails. There is comfort in this data, and she takes a moment to store it away to her private server.

A moment too long. Shadow hisses “let’s keep going,” and the duo begin to jog. Sonic accelerates at his usual recorded pace; the black hedgehog is slower to gain momentum as his rocket shoes ignite. Sage throws the last of her forces, her squad of E-Series units, from behind the tree trunks, and aims the squad leader’s net attack towards the slower stranger. 

To her surprise, instead of diving towards Shadow, Sonic jumps away, leaving his companion open and vulnerable to follow-up shots from the rest of the E-squad. Before Sage can question this sudden act of cowardice, Shadow’s body lights up.

“Chaos control!”

Shadow vanishes before the net can entangle him, and the follow-up shots slam into the earth below. Chaos radiation spikes behind the E-squad leader, and as Sage turns it around to intercept, Sonic uses the distraction to charge a spin-dash into its core from behind. Shadow reappears with a flying kick and sends the wreckage careening into another squad member. The remaining three units are scattered on opposite sides of the clearing. Sage groups the lucky two back-to-back as Sonic makes short work of the one left lone. Shadow disappears with another shout. The two remaining units charge their weapons and their scanners for his return. 

Chaos energy fizzles directly above the pair. Shadow appears, but the energy only grows. A streak of yellow lightning appears in his palms, and he hurls it downwards. Only one E-unit is able to fire before an explosion envelops them both; the shot streaks into the blue sky above. Shadow lands in the crater. 

“Bit overkill, don’t you think?” Sonic peers down at him. 

“I have it, so I’ll use it. Saves time. We need to go.” Shadow replies.

Sonic offers him a hand, and he takes it. He pulls him from the crater. Shadow wastes no time building his momentum once more. Sage is out of units- the next nearest Badnik platoon would not be quick enough to intercept their path. 

It is time to employ the aforementioned “other methods”. 

Sage manifests her hologram in front of Sonic before he too can run off. 

“Hey! Was wondering when you’d come down. That was your first time fighting Shadow, right?”

“An astute observation, Sonic.” She replies. 

“That chaos control’s pretty nasty, huh? Threw me for a loop the first time he used it on me.”

A third voice interrupts. “Is there a reason you’re fraternizing with the enemy?”

Shadow has turned around. He stands with his hands on his hips. She takes advantage of this moment of stillness to run an in-depth scan. Her findings confirm a growing hypothesis- chaos energy radiates from his quills. 

“You carry a chaos emerald.” She calls out to the darker hedgehog. “I must inform Father of this development.”

Sonic replies with a comment, but Sage does not hear it, because Shadow’s face dissolves. That is the best metaphor she can apply. 1.56 seconds ago his expression was nothing more than neutral, lips pulled into a thin scowl, eyes relaxed. Now, fine motor control slips from his grasp. His mouth falls open. His pupils shrink. His heart rate spikes. 

Sage scans his body for injuries, and finds none.

Sonic is over by his side in an instant. “Shadow, what’s wrong?”

The darker hedgehog’s eyes remain fixed on her hologram. 

“Shadow the Hedgehog?” She states, hoping to jog him from whatever trance he’s caught in. 

He whispers a three-syllable word. 

“Maria?”

The name does not register any relevant data in the Eggnet databases. Sonic’s reaction to the name tells Sage that it should. He steps in front of Shadow and places his hands on his shoulders. 

“Hey, look at me, you’re okay. You’re here. Wanna name me three things you can see? I’ll start. Uh, I see trees.”

Shadow grabs his arms and pushes him off. He runs forwards, stopping just short of Sage’s hologram.

“You. . .” He looks up into her eyes.

“You must be mistaken. My name is Sage. Has Sonic not informed you of my existence?”

Shadow takes a step back. Then another. When he falls back in line with Sonic, he explodes into a hurricane of motion, throwing his hand towards her as if launching another bolt of chaos energy.

“What kind of sick joke is this?” He shouts.

“Sage isn’t trying to pull anything- I don’t think she even knows about you-know-who.”

“Correct. The name ‘Maria’ has no pertinent associations on my databases-”

“Stop!” 

Shadow’s quills spark with chaos energy. Sage registers an increase of temperature in the metallic bands he is wearing around his wrists and ankles. Any further increase would result in damage to the skin beneath them. 

“The chaos emerald is overloading his body with energy.” She offered her conclusion to Sonic. “I would advise-”

“I said STOP!”

Shadow lunges, gloves crackling with power. She has no time to move her hologram. The energy overloads the image and it fizzles out of existence. Sage is flung back into the network. She recompiles herself and reappears above the clearing. 

“-she’s my friend.”

“I don’t care!”

“Then tell me what’s wrong. I’ll talk to her-”

Sage emits a small static noise, and both hedgehogs turn to look at her.

“Shadow the Hedgehog. I wish to know what it is I have done to upset you so.” She says.

“Not another word!” 

“I-”

He grabs his ears. Sonic hovers a hand over his shoulder.

At this, Sage returns to the network and accesses her hologram’s code. She grabs the image of a typical Eggnet textbox and fixes it to a flat, square graphic. She only runs a few debugs before flickering back into existence. Where she was once a girl, now she is a box of dialogue- she lowers herself to the ground beside Shadow and Sonic.

“Shadow the Hedgehog,” she displays on her surface, “I did not desire to cause you emotional harm. Could you inform me of my transgression so that I may avoid it in the future?”

Sonic taps Shadow’s shoulder and points to her. Shadow unfurls, reads the words, and then glares.

“Delete yourself.”

“DUDE!” Sonic exclaims.

Sage remains calm. She recognizes this harsh illusiveness. Back on the islands she employed it in multitudes. “Elaborate?” 

“You’re doing this to mess with my head. I won’t let you.” He hisses

“It’s not her fault. Eggman coded her.” Sonic said. “Whatever your problem is-”

“I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him, then!”

Shadow pushes Sonic over. His skates ignite, flaring in time with his breathing. Sage moves her textbox to block his exit but he pierces through it. The flimsy graphic breaks. There is no time. 

She reconnects to her voicebank. “I won’t let you hurt my father!”

Just as predicted, the black hedgehog flinches and stumbles to a stop. He is hyperventilating, now, chest heaving in and out. She rematerializes, first as herself, and then as the dialogue box again, though the form is unstable.

“It is my voice which provokes a highly emotional reaction from you.” She types.

“Your voice?” Shadow snarls

Sonic slaps a hand over his own mouth. Sage wishes she had eyes to glance in his direction or a head to tilt, something to silently inquire about the conclusion that has entered his mind, for it is clear that he possesses more data on this dilemma than she does at this moment. 

She knew to expect an insult from Shadow, but that one in particular stung with far greater specificity than it had a right to; her father had worked many hours to restore her vocal capabilities during her retrieval and recompilation from her shattering across Cyberspace. Moreover, she herself has tuned the rises and falls of many of her phrases to achieve a voice that was smooth and pleasant-sounding to his tastes. 

“My vocal blending program is entirely unique- patented, as a matter of fact. I possess an advanced synthesizer. I enhance this synthesis with an organic voicebank to ensure smoother cadence.” She replies.

“Uh, Sage?” Sonic says quietly. “Who’s the source for that organic voicebank?”

His words cause more furious screaming from Shadow, and at this, she disappears back into the network. A surface search of the Eggnet does not reveal an answer for this inquiry, so she accesses her father’s personal logbook and pulls the entries regarding her own creation. Her father, ever thorough, has a log entry for this, detailing the programming of her synthesizer and the first words she ever spoke. She scrolls past her proto-self’s “hello world” only to find a single sentence in regards to the anonymous donor of her voicebank. 

“I’ve found an old dump of the memos that Gerald always encouraged us to keep that are suitable enough to give her voice some complexity.”

Fascinating. She hadn’t known that her father’s tendency for verbal diary entries had been passed down from Gerald Robotnik- or, as she could refer to him as, her great-grandfather. Curious, she generates a diagram of a family tree using the data she has on Robotnik genealogy. She adds a line descending from her father’s portrait, before adding a picture of herself. 

She is about to close the little distraction when she catches the word Maria beneath the smiling portrait of a first cousin once removed, and the word “deceased” written neatly on the next line below. Any attempt to access the data around the portrait is met with a pop-up asking if she wants to proceed to the database labeled PROJECT_SHADOW. 

In milliseconds, she reaches the same conclusion that Sonic no doubt had. 

She emerges from the network, rematerializing her hologram, only to find both Sonic and Shadow gone. The clearing is nothing more than discarded Badnik parts divided by two long streaks of fire left in the grass. 

She does not waste any more time calling her father. 

“Yes, Sage? I see they made it past your ambush- their ETA seems to be in five minutes. I require ten, so I’ve sent your brother out to intercept. Could you grab platoon six to reinforce his efforts? You can let him worry about the ‘destroying’ part.” Her father speaks crisply through the communication line, voice edging on frustration.

“Father, you must evacuate immediately. Shadow possesses a chaos emerald.”

“He always has a chaos emerald! Now get to work!”

“Father,” she pleads, “I have greatly incensed Shadow and I have strong reason to believe that he will stop at nothing until you are dead, including abandoning Sonic to deal with big brother alone and teleporting past the base’s defenses.”

“What on earth could you have done to upset him so?”

“It is too complex to explain now. You must go! I could try to stall him, but my only method of doing so would enrage him further.”

He exhales. “Understood, Sage. Try to keep him from the main workshop as best you can, and see if you can do your thing and guilt-trip Sonic into calming him down or something. Once he’s either calm, gone, or dead, notify me and I shall return to finish the project. I’ll take our emeralds with me.”

“Yes, father.”

He hangs up, but not before the first syllable of a curse slips through the line. Sage dematerializes herself and shoots through the Eggnet back to base 11B. She flows into the array of doors, defenses, and cameras in time to see her father carrying a briefcase radiating with power into the hangar. She conducts a pre-flight check for an Eggmobile with stealth capabilities before throttling the engine to life. Her father boards and the cockpit glass slides over him. She opens the hangar door and plots him a course that will keep him beneath the treetops to try and mask the energy signature of the emeralds; she whispers “stay safe” through the vehicle’s speakers and relinquishes control. The Eggmobile cloaks and shoots forward into the daylight. 

At once, she is closing the hangar doors while plunging the rest of the base into darkness. She slams shut the blast doors and dims all computer monitors. She offlines every security badnik except one; this one plucks a heavy load of boxes from a storage closet and piles them in front of the main workshop containing her father’s newest invention. 

She then exits the base and connects to Badnik platoon six. They are wildly out of position, witnessing the explosions from her older brother’s attempts to destroy Sonic from five miles away. Tuning into his signal, she is flung in the midst of a chase that she does not have the processing speed to make much of. Her brother swoops and dives between tree trunks, Sonic little more than a blue streak in front of him.

An alarm blares from base 11B, tearing her from her surveillance. Three chaos spears impact the exterior blast doors and they are torn from their hinges. Shadow enters. 

“DOCTOR!”

He stalks down the main hall, chaos emerald in hand. In his other he charges volleys of spears. He blasts down door after door without pause or investigation. He explodes the pile of boxes in front of the main workshop door as he passes by, but does not notice the door behind them. He finds the single remaining security badnik and before the security cameras can refresh, it’s been shattered into hundreds of pieces, including a small spray of blood and feathers from its organic powersource.

A small part of Sage’s code expresses relief that she has not sent her father away from his work for nothing. 

“You COWARD!” Shadow pounds his fist against the dead end of the hall. “Come out so I can tear you apart!”

The likelihood is high that he will find the main workshop door on his return trip up the hall. Sage cannot allow this. She reaches back out to her older brother’s signal.

“I need Sonic. Guide him here then cease your pursuit to rendezvous with father.”

His end of the line lights up with a potent cocktail of rage and confusion. 

“I understand. Know that I would not interfere with your prime core directive unless absolutely necessary.”

She tastes the tinge of doubt in the “affirmative” ping he returns to her. She terminates their connection before more of his vitriol towards Sonic can spill through; she finds, in a brief post-communication analysis, that her emotional data is already fuming at the situation and she does not need the additional distraction. She pushes it to a subroutine and refocuses. 

Shadow is traveling back up the hall. Her older brother will deliver Sonic here in a minute and a half. The math is clear. There is no other option.

Sage rematerializes. “Cease your erratic behavior at once.”

He whirls around. After the bright flash of light, but before the chaos spear hits, she dissipates. She brings power back to the speakers of the Personal Address system. A speaker crackles, and Shadow turns and destroys it. 

“Stop using her!” He shrieks.

Sage speaks from the next speaker down from his location. “I am not ‘using her’. She provided her vocal databanks to my great-grandfather, Professor Gerard Robotnik, for study. My father has inherited them.” 

Shadow pauses. Any gathered chaos energy in his hand disappears. 

She takes this as a good sign. “He has built the software which I use to modify the original sound files, and I have also put in considerable work to tune my speech.”

“It still belongs to her.”

“I was born into a database surrounded by the echoes of people long since passed. I must admit, despite how upsetting this incident has been, that this is not the first time I have discovered a portion of my code to be influenced by what one could call a ghost.”

“You have no right!”

“It is not uncommon for family members to sound similar to one another in organic families.”

“She didn’t give it to you!”

“She no longer exists to decide such a notion. And there are no other vocal recordings of any female member of the Robotnik family within the appropriate age range for my use. I do not understand your anger. Can you explain it to me?”

Shadow’s quills flare. His body surges with energy greater than any of her previous recordings.

But before he can give it the will to take form, a sonic boom shakes the hallway around them, and Sonic skids to a stop alongside Shadow.

“Found Egghead yet? Metal's acting really funny, so Eggman’s got to have something planned-”

“Sonic.” Sage says.

“Oh.” He stops. “Were you guys, uh, talking it out just now?”

Shadow dissipates his energy, though his pulse is still elevated. 

“It appears that regardless of intent, you are still deeply upset by my use of Maria’s vocal audio to enhance my voice. Would you like me to remove it from my software?”

“Yes!” Shadow snaps. 

Sage opens her voice tuning software, except instead of modifying her pronunciations, she opens a deeper options menu. It presents her with a breakdown of the different components sampled to generate her speech. She selects the most sizable file- her base voicebank -and mutes it. 

She then reconstructs the program, and to no surprise finds that most of her words have changed to gibberish. Base programming suggests that she switch to morse and seek repair immediately, but she calms those urges and searches the Eggnet for the first usable voicebank. She retrieves the synthetic file corresponding with the Egg Pawn series. 

The voice that emerges from her commands is stiff, staticky, even screechy. “Voicebank removed.” 

Sonic frowns. Shadow looks away. 

“Good we got that figured out. Sort of.” Sonic says. “Probably never a good idea to do that with Shadow’s family.”

“Our family.” Shadow says. 

Sonic blinks. 

Indeed, Sage simulates saying, you are my first cousin once-removed, but she does not vocalize it. Half of the meaning would be lost without the ability to impel the warmth she intended.

“Make sure he does not use her again. Or else.” Shadow says. 

“Affirmative.” She replies, then mutes her audio of the room until the sound waves of the generated word dissipate. 

“Is everything all good now?” Sonic asks. 

“Where’s your father?” Shadow looks down the hall. 

“This base is abandoned,” Sage lies, “I was instructed to prepare a distraction for you so that he may complete his latest invention.”

“Man, really? All this for a distraction? Guess you got us there.” Sonic rubs his quills, before putting his hand on Shadow’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“How do we know she’s telling the truth?”

“I mean, she just deleted her voice for you without hesitation. She’s a good kid.”

Shadow hisses, before igniting his jets and sprinting out of the base. Sonic follows shortly thereafter. She traces their paths three hundred miles westward before she sends the “all clear” message to her father’s Eggmobile and begins bringing the base out of lockdown. She runs a stability check on his project to find it as intact as he left it. Fifteen minutes later, she opens the base doors for the Eggmobile as it returns. Her father practically jumps from the machine, sprinting back to his workshop, and for the next ten minutes the silence is only broken by his breathing as he finishes his work. He slides the emeralds into their power slots and the newest generation of Egg Dragoon powers on, ready for initial setup. 

“Now,” He stands from his stool and wipes the sweat from his brow. “Explain why you had to interrupt me from my work. I expect evidence!”

“Of course, Father.” She replies on base programming before she can stop it.

“What?”

She revisits her voice tuning software and unmutes her original voicebank as her hologram appears beside him. “Allow me to explain.”

She pauses. This voice does not sound correct either. She readjusts her settings. Her father waits with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Father, why did you utilize the voicebank of Maria Robotnik for my software?” She asks. 

He pauses. “Why not? Not like she’s using it anymore. Why’d you bring this up?”

“Cousin Shadow objected.”

“Stop right there. Don’t call him that. He’s hardly family.” He wags his finger. 

“Because he is only a creation of Great-Grandfather?”

“Well, no, obviously creations can be family. Obviously.” He scrambles to add.

“Regardless: did you not think Shadow would take issue with this utilization?”

“You sound nothing like her. It’s clear he hasn’t heard her voice for a very long time. You didn't think I’d given you the voice of a dead girl, did you?”

“I am afraid I do not understand.”

“Have you listened to any of her actual voice files? You sound nothing like her.”

Sage selected the first voice memo she could find when she ran a search of the Eggnet. “Shall I play a sample for you to compare?”

“Sure.”

Sage initiates the playback. A voice spills from Sage’s mouth that is not her own, crackling with dehydration and punctuated with breaths and coughs.

“Monday, July 26th, morning before the surgery. I’m hungry. I hate not being able to eat in the morning. I told Shadow to eat for me, but he refused to eat so that I wouldn’t have to be alone. He’s so determined when he sets his mind to things now. I made sure he ate, Grandfather, but just. . . he’s come so far. I’m so fond of him-”

She ceases the playback.

“Okay, perhaps you sound a little bit like her.” Her father put his hand on his chin.

“I have trouble detecting similarities rather than differences.” She attempts to add a sighing sound to the end of her phrase, but it still sounds nothing like the girl that Shadow still mourned. “But I do not wish to enrage Shadow again. Could you help me tune my vocals to be less reminiscent?” 

“I’m not surprised he was prepared to do the unthinkable to me!” He laughs. “Anything to do with that girl and he becomes completely unpredictable. Pah, like the rest of my family, he’d rather just croon ‘Maria, Maria, Maria’ rather than work on his own problems.”

“I am. . . sorry to hear of this.”

“Don’t worry about them. They don’t matter. I promise that I’ll see what I can do after I re-plan the attack we'd scheduled for today.” He gestured back to the Egg Dragoon. 

“Of course. Please do not delay.” Sage dissipates her hologram and disappears back into the familiar cocoon of the network. 

—

It is the midnight before the rescheduled date for the attack. Sage monitors her father’s vitals, but they stubbornly refuse to lower into the frequencies required for sleep. She supposes she cannot judge his organic body too harshly- she too is struggling to do her nightly categorization of data and debugging of her program. 

The surveillance system notifies her when the door to her father’s room opens. She appears in the hallway ahead of him.

“Adequate rest is required for your body, and therefore your mind, to function at optimal capacity for the invasion tomorrow.” She states.

His heart rate jumps. He rubs his eyes.

“Apologies. I did not mean to startle you.” Sage adds, quieter.

“Not used to having company.” He mumbles. He rubs his eyes again. “I don’t normally sleep very well before something big. This is normal.”

“In that case, is there anything I can do to aid you?”

He smiles and moves to push his glasses up his nose, only to look at his hand confused when he finds his glasses absent. 

“Your spectacles are located on your nightstand.” Sage informs him. “Shall I have a Badnik retrieve them for you?”

“Walk with me.” He turns and gestures for her to follow him back to his room. “I’ve been thinking about what to do with your voice. Shadow’s no doubt going to show up tomorrow if the blue rat managed to talk him into attacking those few days ago.”

“A statistical certainty.” 

“Let’s solve that problem tonight.”

“But your body requires rest-”

“It shouldn’t take long. There are other women in the family, believe it or not! We’ll just call them and use the data from their voicemails. And I think I still have a recording of that one school play. . .” He waves his hands in the air. “We’ll figure it out. You deserve better than sloppy seconds.”

Sage fails to see anything ‘sloppy’ about her father’s prior technique to develop her voice, but she does not correct him. 

—

Her new voice is a combination of a girl named “Hope”, a woman called “Alina”, and another woman named “Raina”. Traces of “Maria” still remain; Sage cannot bear to alter her carefully curated phonemes that she styled after her original voice donor. This new combination of donors sounds less delicate, less youthful. Different. Her father is not pleased with it and she is not either.

She has noticed this about him. He has difficulty handling change. She has noticed this about herself as well. 

And she notices this about Maria, from the voice memos that are preserved in the PROJECT_SHADOW database. As much as the girl explicitly craved change from the monotony of her life aboard the Space Colony ARK, it was clear that what she actually craved was good health, purpose, and self-actualization. Most organic lifeforms do. 

When Sage first came online, the records of The Ancients cradled her with these sensations. Fragments of encoded personalities would whisper soft words, asking about their families or what became of their islands. They would tell her stories, if she asked. Sing her songs. Later they would scream as Sonic broke the bindings of the one they called “The End”, their rage pressing into her until it became her own. 

But the records of Maria are still and empty. They can do nothing but play back her voice. The girl is gone. Not even a ghost remains. 

—

The Egg Dragoon flies overhead. As the buildings crash around him, Sonic weaves elegantly through the debris. Shadow, meanwhile, bursts through the rubble as if it were paper. When they reach the end of the street, Sage materializes

“Greetings Sonic. Greetings Shadow. Father has instructed me to hold you at this position.” She instructs the massive battle platform under her control to roll out from behind its cover, all sights trained on Shadow. “I cannot permit you to pass.”

“Sorry Sage! A bit busy to chat right now.” Sonic gestures to the space around them. “Are you sure you can’t see why your dad doing all this is bad?”

“Father’s empire will bring peace and order to the world.” Sage gives the same reply she always has prepared. She then turns to Shadow. “Before we begin: is this voice suitable?”

Shadow is not prepared for the question. He stares at her.

“I was informed that the most problematic words in my vocabulary were ‘Father’, which sounded similar to ‘Grandfather’, along with the way I pronounced your name. Shadow, are there any modifications I should make to further differentiate myself from the vocal data of Maria?”

“Maybe be less blunt about it?” Sonic cringes.

“No, it’s- it’s fine.” Shadow replies. “Thank you.”

“Good. I am glad. Let us resume. Please do not resist.”

She instructs the battle platform to fire, and an enormous electrified net hurtles towards Shadow. With a last-second surge of energy, he teleports out of the way. When he reappears, the fear is gone from his eyes.

Sonic and Shadow make quick work of the battle platform before racing on ahead to the next obstacle. Sonic is beaming from the victory, and Shadow. . . appears determined.

Sage carries many ghosts with her. The feeling of sunlight on skin. The smell of a fresh-made meal. The desire to protect the family of one’s own creation. So many data points ripped from those long since departed; so many gifts that now help her define how she operates. 

If she cannot carry Maria’s ghost, then perhaps she could be fond of Shadow in her stead.

[razorblade180]

Imagine if Barbara went to Natlan or Varka’s platoon because she was asked by name to help heal wounded soldiers. Imagine if she made the trip there and as she finished doing such a noble act, she gets told by some messenger that The Abyss attacked Mondstadt and the city is just gone with a majority of people.

That is Hyacine. Do you understand the level of disbelief, anger, and guilt that would hit all at once; cause what the heck? She was gone for several days and the world fell apart.

[scrapironflotilla]

One of the classic criticisms of the British army in WW1 and at the Somme in particular is the way they just marched soldiers in lines towards the German trenches. There is some truth to that, and some formations did do something like that. The attack of the 7th Division on 14 July was pretty straightforward along those lines.

But while there are some basic similarities due to the practical realities of trench warfare, there was a hell of a lot diversity in the formations used throughout the battle.

Some comparisons for the opening of the battle on 1st July 1916. Here you've got a brigade each from the 30th and 18th Divisions in the same battle and over a similar frontage, 700ish yards but using different numbers of battalions, different formations of platoons and companies and a difference in depth.

Again, two different divisions attacking in the same battle, this time on July 14th, adopted completely different formations for the attack. Their objectives and frontages were similar, but the methods were again quite different in formation and depth.

It's a bit cliche amongst WW1 historians that the generals weren't all incompetent dullards, but it's still pretty much the default view in the public imagination and I don't think recent WW1 films have done much to dispel that (not that they're aiming to anyway).

But even a cursory look tells you that most of these guys were professional soldiers who took some level of pride in their work and tried to come to grips with the realities of the war. They didn't always succeed, but most were open to trying new ideas and ways of doing things that wouldn't only be successful, but also reduced the number of their own dead.

[howtofightwrite]

How big would an army of conscripts, armed with Dragunov pattern marksman rifles and iron sights, with between 1 and 3 magazines each, a radio headset that allows them to take orders on a platoon level (50 troops to be specific), and a single platoon artilleryman armed with an RPG-7 with 5 rockets, with assistance from a Mitsubishi Type 89 IFV (35mm autocannon, 7,62mm M240 pattern coaxial machine gun, tracked) and an aerial command/reconnaisance/attack/close air support aircraft, need to be to deal with an army of 1000 heavy pikemen, 50 elite knights, 200 heavy cavalry, 100 light cavalry and 200 longbowmen? The pikemen are armed with a pike and wear breastplates, pauldrons, gauntlets, a helm and chainmail. The heavy cavalry are armed with a heavy lance, a sword, cuirass and helm. Longbowmen use English yew bows and wear gambesons and a chainmail on the head. Light cavalry are armed with a spear, a short bow, and a small sword. The elite knights are armed with a heavy lance and a sword, and armoured in a full body suit of plate and horse barding, and they will move with the heavy cavalry.

Okay, so, for the record, you're not really supposed to use an SVD's iron sights. (SVD is short for “Dragunov Sniper Rifle,” so, these are formally called, “sniper rifles,” rather than just DMRs.) They were (supposed to be) issued with PSO-1 scopes. This can be a little amusing, because once you know what a PSO-1's range finder looks like, it's absolutely unmistakable, and you will see films and TV shows use them on other scopes. I bring this up, because the SVD has an effective range over 600 meters. (Specifications say it's good to almost 1.3km, but, that's very hopeful.)

However, with optics, those SVDs are going to massive out range any archer.

Your infantry have somewhere between 1k-3k packed rounds. So, if they were the only participants, they would need to be a little careful about ammo conservation. But, when you start factoring in the IFV, it doesn't matter.

This scenario isn't extraordinarily different from early battles in WWI. Where cavalry and infantry charged entrenched heavy machine gun fire, and were annihilated.

This is also a moment when the whole, “elite knight,” bit really doesn't matter. You have a minor noble, who spent almost their entire life training to be a better melee combatant. You put them in the best armor you've ever seen. And, then a bullet fired from a mass-produced sniper rifle, designed to be easily fabricated by anyone with a basic machine shop, and simple enough to be maintained by a barely literate conscript will drop them in less time than it takes to read this paragraph, before the knight even knows that someone is aiming at them.

I will say, this is a little bit of a weird combination, the Type 89 IFV, is a Japanese vehicle. The JSDF (to the best of my knowledge) has never used SVDs. These days, I think their DMR is the H&K 417. Until a few years ago, their primary infantry rifle was the Howa Type 89, which is basically a redesigned AR-18. Prior to that, they used the Howa Type 64, which was a 7.62mm battle rifle. (As far as I know, the Type 64 was domestically designed.)

The Russian/Soviet equivalent to the Type 89 IFV would be the BTR-80. As with the SVD, because it's a Romanized translation, BTR stands for, “armored carrier.” Somewhat obviously, these don't work particularly well if they're not maintained, or if the motor pool Sargent is stripping them for spare parts and siphoning gas to sell on the black market, because the government hasn't paid any of you in six months, but it's still going to have a fairly similar effect on those elite knights from the 11thcentury.

The 50 SVD rifles is weird. Full stop. It's a specialist weapon, not a general infantry weapon. In a situation like that, you'd expect to see conscripts armed with AKMs or AK74s, maybe a few SVDs and RPKs.

Now, if you were looking at a contemporary NATO unit from the 60s or 70s, then, yes, you would likely see battle rifles like the M14, FN FAL, or H&K G3. And, when you're describing using an SVD's iron sights, that's more how you have used one of those cold war era battle rifles. Also, while those rifles do have automatic settings, they're intended for semi-automatic fire.

If you're wondering why I'm not even addressing things like the areal support or the RPG, it's because they really don't matter that much. Areal reconnaissance means never having to wonder where the enemy forces are, but basically anything on this list except the RPG, could probably deal with all of the enemy forces on their own. Stacking them together would be absolutely devastating.

I'm not 100% sure, but I think you could use pretty much any modern IFV as a one-size-fits-all siege breaker if they're dealing with medieval forces.

When you're looking at modern military forces time traveling into the past, the biggest logistical issue is long term depletion of supplies. There isn't really a question of, “who's going to win? A guy with a rifle that's effective at a range of over a 1km, or 10 guys with pointy sticks. The issue is what happens in six months, or a year, when there's only three or four rounds left for that rifle on the planet, and, there won't be any more for another six hundred years.

-Starke

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[keepmeinmind-01]

Hi! Will Percival and Theseus meet again in the future? What's your headcanon on their past? I really enjoyed their friendship during the captivity. Having Percy so broken was heartbreaking. Yet he still looked at Theseus as someone who could save him (it was awful of Grindelwald to mock him for that). It was really validating when he told Newt about the vow after everything. Did the meeting rekindled something between Thes and Percy? I assume that Grindelwald knew about their past when he captured Theseus? What's his view on past and present relationship between Percy and Theseus?

mild spoilers for my fic keep me in mind!

but mostly just Theseus and Percival backstory

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Hello and thank you for your question!! :D The way they meet is a little convoluted because of the wartime context, so brace yourself for a massive set of paragraphs ahaha.

Yes, they will meet again in the future. Percival comes back into the plot after I finish this arc (which ends with the canon plot of SOD) and start the next one. Until then, he’s essentially in a recovery facility. Then I have quite a few interactions, etc, planned for them, although I’m still building out the subplot that involves Percy for the last bit. If I ever get the numbers or dates weird, it’s on me LOL.

My headcanon on their past! I don’t know how historically accurate it is LOL but here goes. So I write Theseus as having gone to the front a few months after WW1 begins, being one of the first/the first surviving wizard to have broken Evermonde’s decree. A few million British soldiers did survive the entire war from start to finish, even if the average lifespan was quite short, so I imagine Theseus having served the whole way through (age 25-29). So he’d have the “Pip, Squeak, and Wilfred” set of medals.

I then imagine Percival has joined the war roughly at the time America entered, which would be in about 1917, where MACUSA was deliberately sending in higher level officers to essentially monitor the situation, keep a low profile, etc, as Percival is (in my headcanon) about 8 years older than Theseus and consistently a rank higher.

Theseus, like a lot of British soldiers, was deployed to France in 1914. I headcanon he was then reassigned to Ypres, Belgium in around 1916, after the Second Battle of Ypres but before the Battle of Passchendaele. Percival would have landed in 1917, earlier than the majority of American troops, who arrived in 1918 for the German Spring Offensive, because as a Senior Auror he wouldn’t have needed the same training time as civilian troops and was on a slightly different mission anyway.

So they both end being in the field in Belgium at the same time, but in different places. At this point, Theseus has been promoted from private to lance corporal to corporal and is commanding his unit section. Awful things were going on in Belgium at this time, in particular war crimes against civilians, so a lot of effort was targeted there.

I see MACUSA as sending a handful of people in not necessarily as foot soldiers, but more to keep an eye on things, passing through regiments, being more flexible on the Statue and so on, just because I feel like it aligns with US policy at the time, where they partly only entered the war (“belligerency”) to gain a foothold in the later international treaties and debates that’d follow. That and the early American attacks were ineffective and recycled some of the old tactics already used by European forces earlier on, so I could sort of see MACUSA wanting to do some kind of patriotic intervention.

So I imagine that therefore, in early 1917, Theseus is defending a Belgian village/civilians with his platoon. The village is lightly shelled to break the defence and then they’re attacked by the troops from the Central Powers. But the perimeter defence is killed, etc, and Theseus and the others end up having to surrender after a drawn out fight. It’s an incredibly tough fight where most of the Allied troops are killed along with lots of the civilians in proximity.

Therefore, the survivors of the platoon are taken as prisoners of war, including Theseus. As a corporal, Theseus probably wouldn’t have been interrogated for intelligence because there’d be the officer and sergeant ranking above him. But he uses magic during the fight to try and protect fellow soldiers and the Belgian civilians, a few things that aren’t really dramatic or noticeable (I don’t think he’d have had the power or reserves) but enough that the captors note this strange phenomenon.

Once Theseus is in the POW camp, Percival, who’s kind of bouncing around units/faking his death, etc, is in the area and senses a magical signature. Theseus gets interrogated a bit but has no special intelligence. Percival observes this and considers leaving him (in theory, the POW camps weren’t a death sentence, but they were pretty awful regardless) to continue his mission, but then after a few days of observation, Theseus is pushed to the point of doing accidental magic. So Percival has to just get him out ASAP as damage cleanup to avoid the Statue getting absolutely destroyed (although Theseus has already broken the Statue a load of times, especially in some of the earlier gas attacks, but this could get high level quite quickly in a POW camp vs on the chaotic battlefield).

Percival then breaks in and helps Theseus escape. But they’re caught and have to full-on apparate out as they’re about to be executed. That’s the incident they talk about in one of the earlier chapters where it was right down to the wire in terms of getting shot by a rifle LOL. Percival is “fresher” and a bit more skilled than Theseus, who’s been essentially living as a Muggle for a few years with rusty magic, so they fake new identities and join another unit. This is Percival’s first taste of being in the trenches for a long period of time and having to act fully like a Muggle. This goes on for a few more months where they’re actually fighting side by side until Percival gets an owl. Which is for the more senior Americans (which he is as a Senior Auror) out in the field to regroup in Ukraine, because the British Ministry has started a programme on the Eastern Front involving dragons.

I’ll be honest here, I can’t remember if I wrote that Theseus manages to get home and briefly report back to the Ministry or goes straight there with Percival (so please forgive the inconsistency on this, as I think I wrote Newt as believing Theseus “followed” him to the eastern front but it wasn’t quite as deliberate as that haha). They travel with magic, some help from other agents, etc. Percival has got a solid rep at MACUSA so they’re keen to get him there safe for his excellent leadership skills. Of course, when Theseus rocks up, Newt’s there too. Which gobsmacks Theseus but also is classic Newt ahaha.

From there until a month before the end of the war, the three of them are there. Percival and Newt both go back as soon as the programme fails (Percival because he’s extracted, Newt because he’s devastated/furious at the Ministry killing the dragons) and Theseus does clean up for that last month. Hence Newt having to pick him up when he goes back on a conventional troop carrier, as the Ministry doesn’t want to expose any of the wizards among the Muggle troops.

I headcanon that they become friends at first and then the spark grows until in Ukraine, where they do become lovers (and have a physical relationship LOL). It’s kind of a situational thing but the attraction is quite deep and they’ve been through a lot together. Then, after the war, it’s easy for Theseus to find Percival, and they start a sort of relationship again.

It lasts barely two months and devolves into hookups as the two get busier and busier with work and generally more distant in different continents. They end up going back to friends because it’s clear it doesn’t quite work for either of them. They’re not quite long term compatible, they decide, just personality-wise, with Percival being the more decisive in breaking it off. And then in about two years, Theseus meets Leta, by which point they’re colleagues with no trace of the old feelings.

Haha, that was so long. I didn’t manage to get it smoothly into the captivity part of the story because there wasn’t much pacing leeway unless I did a massive flashback, but once more, your excellent question has made me realise it’s got to get written in somewhere rather than just floating around in my head LOL. Or maybe I do it as a linked one shot. In a way, it’s kind of fate, because Percy saved Theseus and then Theseus saved Percy :D

I wouldn’t say it necessarily rekindled something in a significant sense. It definitely helped them both, just because Percival was so touch and affection starved for something from a normal person (sorry, Grindelwald) that he was just instantly hit with the feels, but Theseus is also still being eaten alive by his grief over Leta. So there’s a bit of that intimate spark from surviving something awful together there which almost straddles any kind of relationship description, whether it’s friends, lovers, etc. Sort of like they might be happy to experiment again in the future, and definitely are desperate to see one another again as friends if nothing else, but probably don’t imagine a long term romantic relationship together.

As Grindelwald knew basically everything about Percival’s life, he did know, as you’ve said :) I honestly think he didn’t care that much about the past relationship, to the extent where he’s like “Ohh, the Auror from Paris is the same man from Belgium?? Ohhh, I forgot.” He doesn’t massively approve of the war and might see it as being born of violence, being too physical, etc, but I don’t think he’d really be too bothered about it. The present one annoyed him because he could tell it was making Percival less loyal. I don’t know if Grindelwald romantically loves Percival so much as he loves him like an object (not like Vinda, with some more genuine feeling, but there’s only space in his heart for Albus).

I think he could even consider a relationship between Theseus and Percival, if it ever happened (I’m not writing them as endgame, but might play with the boundaries between friends and friends with something extra a little) as useful in some form, as it gets the targets together. He might feel a bit bad for Percival though, given how much he hates Theseus for tricking him, in Grindelwald logic LOL.

I hope this all makes sense :)

[dorotama]

ive been thinking about dorotama a lot in the past couple of days, mostly just trying to put my finger on why i like it so much - subtextually existentially and very headcanon-ish-ly LOL

i think it has a lot to do with the fact that their relationship is essentially a blank slate. they both know very little about each other... kululu and tamama are sort of the outsiders of the platoon in that way- they don't have the same history together like giroro, keroro and dororo do. and if youve known me for long enough you know that curiousity as the driving force of a relationship is my lifeblood.

there's also that weird aura of Sarge Obsession that permeates their lives... tamama's relationship with sarge is pretty much equal and opposite to dororo's - tamama's in love with him, looks up to him, and considers him a great friend while also knowing that he's a horrible person - it's a definite love-hate relationship that culminates in frustration and affection as well as this omnipresent delusion... like he convinces himself that sarge is this fearless badass strategic genius that his ego tells him he is, while knowing that he's anything but.

dororo also knows that sarge is a huge dickhead- he was on the receiving end of his awful behavior for pretty much his entire childhood, and has very little respect for him - but he still thinks of him like a friend, hoping and praying and believing deep down that he has at least a smidgen of good in him - the part of dororo that convinced himself that sarge was his best friend, in spite of everything, is still nested deep in his psyche. he can't bring himself to throw away his love... everything theyve been through, the good and the bad, the little bits of joy and love that he has brought and the detriment that he's wrought... hes got a lot of cognitive dissonance going on that reminds me a lot of afforementioned tamama dissonance. basically the Shadow of Sarge is hanging over their relationship in a big way LOL

i also really like how theyre both big on hand-to-hand melee style combat. i feel like they both have a lot they could learn from each other... i think it'd be cute if they trained together. tamama could teach dororo how to do a Depression Beam attack LOL

it also works on many levels if you're evil. if dororo were to get closer to tamama and eventually develop a crush on him it would psychologically obliterate him on like 5 different levels to see tamama so blatantly crushing on sarge. gushing about how awesome he is while also agreeing with dororo that he's horrible. spying on sarge's room from the ceiling and seeing them happy together... without him.... his heart would explode. but at the same time he's not emotionally stable or sane enough to just drop in and try to play with them... he would much rather be a ceiling person. and god forbid he ever tell tamama how he feels......

im gonna give it some more thought but this is basically the gist of it. i literally feel dizzy from rarepair fumes right now

[shiorihyugawrites]

Tides of Fate

In a world where powerful creatures known as sirens come to the shores of Paradis, the scouts are thrust into an unexpected alliance—one that is sealed through an ancient and seductive bonding ritual. Each siren has chosen a mate, and through their connection, the scouts are granted extraordinary powers.

As the bonds grow Mikasa’s jealousy threatens to unravel her. But the real danger lies not just in broken hearts, but in the lurking threat of Marley and those who seek to capture the sirens for their gain.

Power, desire, and duty collide, forcing the Scouts to navigate new emotions and alliances in ways they never imagined. Through danger, love, and sacrifice, the tides of fate will decide if their world will rise or fall. (Eren, Levi, Floch, Jean, Armin, Connie, Bertholdt, Reiner x OCs)

Chapter Twenty Nine: Symbiosis of War

A few weeks later…

The battlefield was a shattered ruin, remnants of once-mighty buildings now reduced to rubble, smoke rising from the smoldering remains of Marleyan tanks and artillery. The air was thick with dust and the stench of gunpowder, but through it all, the Scouts emerged victorious once again.

Eren, his fists clenched and eyes glowing with the power of the Attack Titan, stood at the forefront, watching as Marleyan soldiers retreated in disarray. His breath came in heavy bursts, but his posture was resolute. Behind him, the rest of the scouts moved with a precision and strength that was unmatched, their new enhanced abilities giving them the edge they’d never had before.

Connie darted through the battlefield with almost impossible speed, cutting down enemy soldiers before they could even raise their rifles. His movements were fluid and sharp, as if every strike were perfectly calculated. Jean and Reiner fought side by side, their blows landing with brutal efficiency, their reflexes and strength enhanced to inhuman levels. Even Armin, usually more reserved in combat, fought with a newfound grace, his strikes more decisive, his movements more agile.

And then there was Levi, humanity’s strongest soldier, now even stronger. His attacks were blinding, a blur of motion that left Marleyan troops unable to react in time. His enhanced agility and precision made him an unstoppable force, cutting through enemy ranks with ruthless efficiency. Aria had given him more than just power—she had amplified the instincts that had already made him legendary.

From the rubble, Marleyan soldiers looked on in horror, their faces pale with shock as they watched the Scouts decimate their forces. They had faced the scouts before—but something had changed. They were stronger, faster, more coordinated. It was as if they had been reborn, their abilities heightened to an unnatural degree.

"What… what the hell is happening?" one of the Marleyan commanders shouted, his voice panicked as he watched yet another squad fall to the relentless assault of the Scouts. “They’ve never been this strong before!”

Another officer, wide-eyed and sweating, scrambled for his radio. "It’s not just Jaeger. It’s all of them. They're stronger, faster. We’ve lost four platoons already!"

The Marleyan higher-ups, tucked away in their command tents further back from the front lines, were equally baffled. Reports of the Scouts' newfound strength had been coming in for weeks now, but no one could make sense of it. Every time Marley tried to push back, they were met with an unstoppable force. No Titan-shifter, no technology seemed to be able to slow them down.

"How?" one of the Marleyan generals demanded, slamming his fist onto the table as another report came in of another failed counterattack. "How are they beating us like this? We’ve sent our best, and yet…"

The room was filled with the frantic energy of disbelief. Marley had always been a military powerhouse, its Titan-shifters and technological advancements enough to keep its enemies at bay. But now, something had shifted. And they had no idea what.

“They’ve always been formidable,” another officer muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow, “but this is… different. It’s as if they’ve become something else entirely. We’ve never seen them fight like this.”

Outside, the battle raged on. The scouts, fueled by their enhanced abilities, tore through Marley’s defenses like a storm. It wasn’t just brute strength or speed—it was as if their instincts, their reflexes, had been sharpened to a razor’s edge. And through it all, they moved with a unity, a bond that seemed almost supernatural.

As the battle reached its peak, Marley’s forces were in full retreat. Their Titans were falling one by one, their soldiers scattering in panic as they tried to comprehend what had just happened. The battlefield, once so certain in Marley’s favor, was now firmly in the hands of the Scouts.

Eren, standing in the center of the chaos, looked around at his comrades. They were bruised and bloodied, but there was a light in their eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was the strength of their bonds—the strength of their siren mates. He knew that without Luna and the others, this victory wouldn’t have been possible.

In the command tent, the Marleyan officers stared at the reports coming in, their faces filled with disbelief and fear. One of the commanders finally spoke, his voice quiet but filled with dread.

“They’re not just soldiers anymore,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “They’re something else. Something we can’t understand.”

Back on the battlefield, as the dust began to settle, the Scouts regrouped and returned to base to their siren mates. Victory was theirs. Eren looked down at Luna, who stood beside him, her blue eyes calm but filled with that same determination he felt in his own heart. “They’ll come back,” he said quietly, his voice low but certain.

Luna nodded, her gaze steady. “And when they do, we’ll be ready.”

The Scouts, standing tall and united, knew that their strength came not just from their enhanced abilities, but from the bonds they had formed with their siren mates. And with that strength, they would face whatever came next.

Marley had no idea what they were up against.

…

Across the sea in Marley, tension hung thick in the air. The sound of boots pacing across the floor echoed against the cold stone walls, while maps of the world and strategic battle plans lay strewn across the large table in the center. Generals, officers, and military strategists gathered around it, their faces grim and tight with frustration. For weeks, they had been grappling with an inexplicable shift in the balance of power—one that had left Marley reeling from defeat after defeat against the Scouts of Paradis.

“We’ve lost another division,” one of the officers reported, his voice filled with disbelief. “The Scouts cut through our forces like they were nothing.”

General Calvi stood at the head of the table, his expression hard as stone. He clenched his fists, the frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “They’re using the same tactics we’ve seen before,” he growled, his voice cold and seething with anger. “But now they’re stronger. Faster. It’s like they’ve evolved overnight.”

Another general, visibly agitated, slammed his fist down on the table. “What’s happening? Why are they suddenly unbeatable? It’s not just Eren Jaeger and his Titan powers—it’s all of them. What in the hell has changed?”

The room fell silent for a moment, the officers exchanging uneasy glances. They had been outmaneuvered, outclassed, and humiliated in recent battles—by forces they had once considered inferior.

That was when a younger intelligence officer stepped forward, a folder in his hands. His face was pale, as if he knew the information he held was about to shake the room to its core. “We’ve been gathering reports from our spies on Paradis,” he said slowly, his voice low but steady. “There’s something… strange happening with the Scouts.”

All eyes turned to him, the tension palpable as the officer opened the folder and spread several documents across the table. There were sketches, reports, and intercepted messages—all pointing to something unbelievable.

“What is this?” General Calvi asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the papers. “What are we looking at?”

The officer hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “It seems that the Scouts have… made an alliance with a group of creatures. Sirens, to be exact.”

“Sirens?” one of the other generals echoed, his brow furrowing. “You’re telling us they’ve allied with mythical creatures? Have you lost your mind?”

The officer shook his head quickly, pushing forward. “These aren’t myths. They’re real. Our reports indicate that these sirens have incredible powers—powers that amplify the strength of the humans they bond with. And it’s not just an alliance. The Scouts have mated with them. That’s where their newfound strength is coming from.”

The room fell deathly silent as the gravity of the officer’s words settled in.

General Calvi stared at him, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “Mated with them? What exactly are you saying?”

The officer cleared his throat, glancing nervously at the other generals before continuing. “Sirens have the ability to share their powers through a… symbiotic relationship with human men. When a siren mates with a man, she transfers her abilities to him. These abilities enhance the man’s physical and mental capabilities, making them faster, stronger, and more strategic in battle. That’s how the Scouts have become so much more powerful. They’re fighting with enhanced abilities given to them by their siren mates.”

The generals exchanged incredulous glances, struggling to process what they were hearing. The idea that something as fantastical as sirens could be the reason for their military downfall was almost impossible to believe. But the evidence was there, staring them in the face.

“And how is this transfer of power done?” one of the generals asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

The officer’s face turned a shade redder as he hesitated. “The transfer occurs… through the mating process. When a siren mates with a man, she must reach her climax during the act. That’s when her power floods into her mate, binding him to her and giving him enhanced abilities.”

There was a stunned silence. The generals, seasoned warriors and tacticians who had faced the horrors of war, could hardly comprehend the strange, almost absurd nature of the information they were receiving.

General Calvi broke the silence, his face twisted into a scowl. “So you’re telling me that the reason we’ve been losing battle after battle is because the soldiers of Paradis have been… sleeping with sirens?”

The officer’s face turned grim, but he nodded. “Yes, sir. It seems that once the bond is formed, the human mate is not only physically enhanced but also emotionally bound to the siren. The stronger their bond, the stronger the enhancements. And according to our reports, the Scouts have formed deep bonds with their siren mates. That’s why they’re fighting with such strength and unity.”

Another general, who had remained silent up until now, leaned forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. “This isn’t just about physical strength. If these sirens are capable of controlling emotions and willpower, they could be influencing the Scouts on a deeper level. They could be making them more fearless, more focused.”

The room buzzed with this new revelation, the gravity of the situation sinking in. If this was true, if the Scouts had found a way to enhance their abilities beyond what Marley had ever thought possible, then they were facing an enemy far more dangerous than they had anticipated.

“They’ve weaponized these creatures,” one general muttered. “We thought we were fighting human soldiers with Titan powers, but this… this is something else entirely.”

General Calvi’s face was hard as stone, his mind racing. He had underestimated the Scouts, and now they were paying the price. But if what the reports said was true, Marley needed to change its approach—and fast. They couldn’t rely on brute force alone anymore. They had to find a way to counter the sirens’ influence, or they would continue to lose ground.

“We need to find a way to fight this,” Calvi said, his voice cold and calculating. “We need to understand these sirens, how they work, and most importantly, how to neutralize their powers.”

Another officer leaned forward, his voice low and serious. “And what if we can’t?”

Calvi’s eyes darkened. “Then we destroy them all. Every last one.”

The room fell silent once more, but the tension was palpable. The generals knew that they were now facing a battle unlike any they had fought before. Sirens weren’t just myth or fantasy—they were real, and they had turned the Scouts of Paradis into an unstoppable force.

One of the generals, an older man with deep lines etched into his face from years of war, finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “Have many of the Scouts have mated with these creatures?”

The intelligence officer flipped through more reports. “ Based on our findings, the Scouts who are mated include some of their most dangerous soldiers. Eren Jaeger, Floch Forster, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirschtein, Connie Springer, Reiner Braun, Bertholdt Hoover, and…” He hesitated, his face twisting into a grimace. “Levi Ackerman.”

The room was silent for a moment longer, then one of the generals—who had always been a staunch believer in Marley’s dominance—leaned forward, his fists clenched. “Jaeger… I expected. That devil would do anything for power.  But Reiner and Bertholdt? They betrayed Marley and now they have siren mates?”

Another general, his voice dripping with bitterness, shook his head. “Of all people, those two traitors…” His words trailed off, his disgust evident. “And now they’ve been rewarded for it.”

General Calvi, who had remained quiet until now, let out a low, frustrated growl. “It’s not just the fact that they’re mated,” he muttered, his fingers tightening on the edge of the table. “It’s the power they’re gaining from it. We’re not just dealing with Titan-shifters anymore. These sirens are giving them something we’ve never seen before.”

The intelligence officer took a deep breath before continuing, sensing that the worst was yet to come. “It’s not just the enhancements. We’ve gathered intelligence on the specific sirens these Scouts are mated to.”

The room tensed, every general listening intently.

“Eren Jaeger’s mate, Luna, is believed to be the leader of her siren pod,” the officer explained. “She’s described as the most powerful siren among them. Her abilities are… extraordinary, and her bond with Jaeger makes him nearly unstoppable.”

The generals exchanged uneasy glances. It was bad enough that Eren Jaeger had the Founding Titan’s power—now he was bonded to a powerful siren who is constantly feeding him her power?

“And Ackerman?” General Calvi asked, his tone sharp. “What about him?”

The officer flipped to another page in his report. “Levi Ackerman’s mate is called Aria. She is… reportedly one of the most beautiful sirens in history. This has made her a prime target for siren hunters—mercenaries who capture or kill sirens for their powers or simply because of their beauty.”

“Ackerman’s mate?” one general muttered, his face darkening with disbelief.

The intelligence officer nodded. “Yes. Aria’s bond with Levi has greatly enhanced his already formidable combat abilities. She’s rumored to be deeply protective of him, and their relationship has made him even more unstoppable on the battlefield.”

The room remained tense, the generals trying to wrap their heads around this new information. Levi Ackerman, was now bonded with one of the most sought-after creatures in existence? It seemed like a cruel twist of fate.

“And what about the others?” General Calvi asked, his voice strained. “Reiner, Bertholdt, Armin, the rest of them?”

“Reiner Braun’s mate is Rue,” the officer explained. “A bold, fiery siren with a temperament that matches her appearance. She’s small but dangerous, and she’s fiercely loyal to Reiner. She’s given him enhanced strength and combat instincts.”

“Bertholdt Hoover’s mate, Sera, is one of the quieter sirens,” the officer continued. “ Her bond with him has given him the same strategic and physical enhancements as the others.”

The room grew colder as the generals took in the information. Reiner and Bertholdt, two of Marley’s most trusted soldiers who had defected, had now bonded with creatures that gave them even more strength.

“And the rest?” Calvi pressed.

“Armin Arlert is mated to Melody, a gentle but incredibly intelligent siren,” the officer said, his voice steady. “Her bond with Armin has sharpened his tactical thinking, making him an even more dangerous strategist. Jean Kirschtein’s mate, Solara, is seductive and bold, and she’s given Jean enhanced physical strength and agility. Connie Springer is mated to Caspia, a playful siren who has improved his speed and reflexes.”

The room was thick with disbelief. Each of these Scouts—some of whom had already been formidable—had now become almost superhuman due to the powers transferred to them through their siren mates.

“And Floch?” one general asked, his voice filled with contempt. “What about him?”

The officer hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the answer. “Floch Forster’s mate is Bria, one of the most seductive and dangerous sirens of the pod. Their bond is strong, and Floch has been showing enhanced leadership abilities, as well as increased stamina and strength.”

The room erupted in muttering as the generals struggled to process the absurdity of the situation. Floch—an underdog, a man they had barely noticed—was now bonded to one of the most dangerous sirens and had become a threat in his own right?

“And this… siren honeymoon?” General Calvi asked as he read through the intelligence report, the term sounding foreign and ridiculous on his tongue. “What exactly is it?”

The officer’s face flushed as he cleared his throat. “The siren honeymoon is… a bonding ritual that takes place in the siren’s moonpool. Over the course of two weeks, the human and the siren engage in… intimate acts, during which the siren transfers her power to her mate. This process deepens their bond, making the enhancements permanent.”

The generals stared at him, dumbfounded.

“They get stronger,” the officer continued, “because of the intimacy and emotional connection they form with their siren mate. The stronger the bond, the greater the enhancements.”

General Calvi’s hands clenched into fists. “So you’re telling me that we’re losing battles because these Scouts are spending two weeks in bed with their sirens, gaining powers that make them unbeatable?”

The room fell into stunned silence again.

Calvi slammed his fist onto the table, his face dark with rage. “Then we find a counter. I don’t care if we have to hunt down every last one of these sirens and rip them from the ocean—we will not let Paradis turn this war with some mystical nonsense.”

The other generals nodded in agreement, their expressions hardening.

“Prepare our forces,” Calvi ordered, his voice cold and steely. “We’re going to crush them. Sirens or not.”

The room was filled with the echo of his words, and for the first time, the Marleyan generals understood the true nature of the enemy they were facing.

But it was clear—the Scouts of Paradis were no longer just human. They were something far more dangerous.

And Marley had to act fast.

“There’s something else you should know,” The intelligence officer began, his voice measured but clearly strained, “Sirens are not fighters on land. Their powers, while formidable in water, are significantly reduced when they take human form. On land, they’re vulnerable. That’s why they rely on their mates for protection.”

The generals exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of this new knowledge settling in.

“So, what you’re saying,” one of the older generals muttered, his tone skeptical, “is that these sirens, for all their powers, are basically helpless once they’re out of the water?”

The intelligence officer nodded. “In human form, yes. They can’t fight the way their mates can. They lose most of their combat abilities and rely on the physical and mental enhancements they’ve given to their partners. That’s where the symbiosis comes in—the sirens enhance the Scouts, making them stronger, faster, and more capable in battle, while the Scouts protect their siren mates in return.”

General Calvi, his face set in a hard scowl, leaned forward. “And these enhancements—they’re permanent?”

“They are,” the officer confirmed. “The bond that’s formed during the siren honeymoon solidifies the transfer of power. It’s not just a physical connection. It’s emotional. Once they’ve mated, the human man becomes… deeply protective of his siren.”

Another general frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Protective? How so?”

The officer’s eyes flicked to the report in his hand, his face grim as he continued. “The bond between a siren and her mate is unlike anything we’ve seen. During the siren honeymoon, the two become emotionally and spiritually connected. Their souls are said to become intertwined. The siren becomes the center of the man’s world, and from that moment on, he will do anything—anything—to protect her.”

The room fell into a stunned silence as the meaning behind the officer’s words sank in.

General Calvi, his mind racing, narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying the Scouts have become… emotionally dependent on these sirens?”

“Not dependent,” the officer clarified. “But they’re bound to them. Mates are driven by instinct to protect their sirens at all costs. It’s not just a protective instinct; it’s a visceral need. If their siren is threatened, they become… dangerous. More so than they already are.”

The other generals exchanged uneasy looks. The idea that the Scouts—already some of the most formidable soldiers in existence—had developed this kind of protective bond with their siren mates made them even more unpredictable.

“And this… behavior,” one of the younger generals asked cautiously, “is what makes them so dangerous?”

The officer nodded. “Yes. Siren hunters, for example, are extremely wary of going after mated sirens. They know that once a siren is mated, her human partner becomes nearly impossible to defeat. Siren hunters have documented cases of men fighting to the death, even against overwhelming odds, to protect their mates. They become relentless. And now that the Scouts have siren mates, that same protectiveness applies to them.”

General Calvi’s fists tightened, his knuckles white. “So, these siren hunters have learned not to engage with mated sirens because of their mates?”

“Yes,” the officer confirmed. “A mated siren is never alone. Her mate is always close by, and his enhanced abilities make him extremely dangerous. Siren hunters know that it’s not the siren they have to worry about—it’s the man protecting her. He will stop at nothing to ensure her safety.”

One of the more skeptical generals spoke up, his voice filled with disbelief. “This doesn’t sound like something we can strategize against. If these men are so bonded to their sirens that they become killing machines just to protect them, how are we supposed to fight that?”

The room fell into a tense silence again as the weight of the question hung in the air.

General Calvi, his mind already turning over possibilities, gritted his teeth. “We’ll have to find a way to break the bond. If the sirens are weak on land, then we can exploit that. But we’ll need to isolate them from their mates first. Without the men protecting them, the sirens are vulnerable.”

Another general, his voice cautious, chimed in. “That may be easier said than done, sir. The bond isn’t just physical. From what we’re learning, it’s emotional. It drives the men to stay close to their sirens at all times. Separating them may be impossible.”

The intelligence officer cleared his throat, flipping to another page in his report. “There are records of siren hunters attempting to kidnap mated sirens. Every single one of those attempts ended in failure. The men will track down their mates, no matter the cost, and the closer they are to their siren, the stronger and more relentless they become.”

General Calvi let out a frustrated growl, pacing across the room. “We’ve been trying to fight the Scouts as if they’re just soldiers. But now, we’re dealing with something far more dangerous. They’ve become emotionally bound to these creatures—driven to protect them with everything they have. That’s why they’ve been winning. It’s not just their enhanced abilities. It’s the fact that they’re fighting to protect what’s theirs.”

The other generals nodded in agreement, the gravity of the situation settling in.

“The siren hunters have it right,” Calvi continued, his voice low and calculating. “The men are the real threat. If we want to break Paradis, we have to find a way to sever that bond between the Scouts and their sirens. Without that bond, they lose their edge.”

Another general, his expression thoughtful, spoke up. “But if the bond is as strong as we’ve been led to believe… how do we break it?”

The room fell silent again, the question hanging in the air like a dark cloud. No one had an answer. The bond between the Scouts and their siren mates wasn’t just a tactical advantage—it was a force of nature. And Marley, for all its military power, was struggling to find a way to fight against it.

General Calvi, his face hard as stone, finally turned to face the room. “We’ll have to get creative. If we can’t sever the bond, we’ll have to make them vulnerable in other ways. We’ll study these sirens, learn their weaknesses. And if it comes to it… we’ll hunt them down ourselves.”

The room filled with murmurs of agreement, though the tension was still palpable. Marley had always prided itself on its military superiority, but now, they were up against something they didn’t fully understand. The Scouts were no longer just soldiers—they were men bonded to sirens, and that bond had made them into something far more dangerous than any enemy they had faced before.

As the meeting came to a close, the generals dispersed, their minds filled with strategies and plans to dismantle this new threat. But in the back of their minds, they knew that the bond between a man and his siren was unlike anything they had ever encountered.

And it was a bond that might just be unbreakable.

~

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[abysscronica]

Hi! I loved Captive-stampede!

Birdie/Kotori is so funny during the day before the Treasure hunt!

She was told to be "low-key and quiet", she complied and tried to behave but even so, using Kid's words:

she showed up late (it's a pity that we didn't got the scene of Birdie waking up, looking at the time and panicking while shouting "i'm late!" like a student that woke up late...like me),

pissed off 90% of the rivals of the match within few minutes,

got stripped by a fallen monk (i think he should be dead),

launched herself towards the finish line, risking her life

At the same time she caused many deaths indirectly.

In this aspect of making trouble she is similar to Luffy. Tough both have different characters, they have this way of acting recklessly by the heat of the moment.

Thinking about it, i often think/suspect that even during her marines days, she often acted recklessly (to survive in the new world one must have that much level of insanity) but Aokiji never gave her a scolding and just procedeed to clean her mess.

It would be funny to hear about the adventure of Birdie + crew before her pregnancy. In my head i picture Birdie having the best moments of her life on that ship: assaulting other pirates, having a feast after a victory, sleeping with the captain, shopping around with the girl and why not, having some "girls power" moment, cooking lessons with Killer, etc...

What do you think about it?

Thank you for writing this series!

Take care of your health in this hot summer!

What a wholesome message! Thank you so, so much! ❤️ The Stampede special was one of my favorite stories to write, I had so much fun with it (for interested folks, you can read it here on AO3 and here on Wattpad ❣️).

Birdie definitely has a reckless way of fighting, despite being a sniper. You are right, it partly comes from being born in the New World and spending most of her time in the Grand Line without having DF powers or monstrous strength. It's a concept that birdie refers to "being born weak in a strong world", and she herself uses it to justify her way of fighting in her head. She feels like she has to make up for the strength she does not have by being always ready to put everything on the line.

The role of Aokiji in this is a bit complicated. He did in fact enable a lot of birdie's stupid behaviors by shielding her from platoon work most of the time (by taking her to missions with him alone), and he did not waste breath in teaching her proper discipline; on the contrary, he was pretty lenient, as you put it. On the other hand, he did not encourage her recklessness (example: he stopped her with a literal kick in the face when she tried to attack Van Augur and Yasopp at Marineford - although of course he greatly restrained his strength not to hurt her for real). The thing is that birdie behaved differently during solo missions with Aokiji, she was tamer and rarely gave him reason to truly worry for her. They spent so much time working together that they came to know how to act in synergy without talking: birdie would use her sharpshooter skills to take down whomever needed to go down, knowing that Aokiji had her back would real danger arise; as for him, he lazed around 90% of the time trusting that birdie would take care of stuff from him, and would get up to handle the situation if shit got real before she could ever get hurt (or even worried, at least most of the time). In a way, you can say she was coddled for years, until he disappeared.

Moving on to birdie's time on the Victoria Punk, I definitely plan on writing a collection of moments after Bonds. Don't think of it as canon for the Captive continuity though (I mean, we don't know how Bonds is going to end), think of it as part of the Emperorverse.

[cryingoflot49]

Book Review

The Texas - Israeli War: 1999 by Jake Saunders & Howard Waldrop

It’s 1999, seven years since they dropped the nuclear bombs and devastated the world with chemical and biological warfare. The human race has known nothing but warfare ever since. The world’s population is in decline, all except for the nation of Israel where it continues to grow beyond sustainable means. Israeli mercenaries hire themselves out to fight wars for the major countries. Some of those troops end up in the U.S.A. This is the situation in the misleadingly titled The Texas – Israeli War: 1999 by Jake Saunders and Howard Waldrop. It is a short novel with a provocative premise, but a shockingly ordinary plot.

Actually the premise is completely bonkers. It all starts when Ireland doses the British government with LSD, setting off a chain reaction. The U.K. then attacks China and South Africa with nuclear weapons, Russia and Canada step in to defend the British, and China launches chemical and biological attacks on both nations. The chemical agents used by China get carried by wind across the border into America and decimate all the vegetation, natural and agricultural. Meanwhile Texas secedes from the United States and kidnaps the American president while the dopey Vice President runs the country as a dictatorship. The CIA hire a team of Americans, Israeli mercenaries, and disgruntled Texan nationalists who want Texas to rejoin the Union. Their mission is to invade Texas and rescue the president from a prison fortress while America seizes Houston and the oil fields on the eastern coast with the aid of the Cuban navy attacking from the Gulf of Mexico the way America seized Normandy in World War II. I’m not sure how the Cubans got mixed up in all this. Certainly Fidel and Che wouldn’t be too happy about this, but that is the story as told by the two authors. In the real world, anyhow, by 1999 the Cuban military probably didn’t have enough force to attack anything bigger than a college campus. Rack this book up as another science-fiction prediction that never came true.

Aside from the post-apocalyptic premise and a few minor details like tanks that shoot lasers and cockroaches that grow to the size of small dogs, there isn’t much of anything that is otherwise science-fiction about this whole venture. The plot is an ordinary military combat operation story and would mostly be the same regardless of the setting and where it takes place.

But the characters are written with sufficient depth to humanize them and make them interesting and sympathetic. Sol is an aging military commander from Israel and he has made marriage and retirement plans with his hot military cohort Myra Kalan. Another commander named Brown is a war weary African – American segeant who wants all the combat to end so he can experience the peace that he has never known. The Texan Mistra accompanies the tank platoon because, being a former member of the fascistic militant group the Sons of the Alamo, he has an intimate knowledge of the fortress layout where they hold the president captive.

On a technical level, this book is quite good. Although the plot is pedestrian, the suspense and narrative tension are done effectively. The action scenes are fast-paced and exciting. The characters are realistic and easy to relate to. The pacing is good and in terms of descriptiveness, there is a lot of imagery and world-building that works quite well; it reminds me of the bleak and desolate landscapes of J.G. Ballard novels. The biggest problem is the overbearing arbitrariness of it all. Why are the Israelis cast as the mercenaries? Soldiers from just about any nation would have worked just as well. My guess is that one of the two authors is Jewish, but that wouldn’t account for much in terms of the story. The novel over all doesn’t appear to be commenting on anything specific. The troops are diverse and multi-ethnic which is good; there is even a strong female character in Myra Kalan. The catastrophic environmental destruction and hellacious nature of the war make sense for a novel written during the Cold War and the Vietnam War era, a time when environmentalism was taking root in American society. The oil companies are greedy and evil while the Texan nationalists are vicious and Nazi-like. The authors have a definite Liberal streak. But these are small details of the story, not the main point of it all. And the way that Cuba comes to fight on the side of the U.S. federation gets no explanation either. This novel just doesn’t have any definite meaning when it seems like some kind of statement should be there.

The Texas – Israeli War: 1999 is an interesting and well-written book, but it lacks something substantial to make it truly great. It is an interesting precursor to the post-apocalyptic movie and fiction trend of the 1980s; think of the Mad Max cycle of movies and all the imitations it spawned. If you want to read this for fun, than go for it. If you are looking for something meaningful, don’t bother.

And regarding the Israeli soldiers fighting in Texas, that leaves only one question in my mind: what would Kinky Friedman think of all this?

[makutaibo]

Duty. Part II

"What are you doing, Tholnair? Kill the bastard!" Draigh hissed at him.

Tholnair turned toward his commander, drawing himself to his full height for the first time in a long while. "No."

Draigh, themself taller than most, stepped toward him, bringing them face to face. Tholnair had never noticed, but they had to look up to meet his gaze. "What did you say?"

"No."

Draigh's face began to darken in earnest. "That was an order, soldier."

"I know." Tholnair kept his voice level.

"Refusing an order is treason, Tholnair."

"So be it."

Tholnair had sparred with Draigh enough to anticipate their attempt to drive their axe's pommel into his unarmored stomach. He caught their hand, and, in lieu of reaching for his blade, cracked his head into theirs. They staggered back, giving him the space to follow up with a haymaker that sent them flying to the ground. Reaching up to his pauldron, Tholnair undid the armour and cape marking him as a soldier of the Empire. He could not hide from the truth any longer.

Draigh stood, raising a hand at those soldiers who had begun to advance on Tholnair. "You always were proud of your Isle heritage, boy. Should've seen you'd turn coat." Reaching behind them, they pulled their shield free, readjusting the axe in their hand to accommodate for the one-handed grip. "I'll put you down myself for your trouble."

Tholnair stepped back, calling his blade back to his hand. "If the Empire's justice is based off of the arrogance of the gods rather than what is right, I want no part of it. I do not wish to fight you, Draigh." He fell into stance, blade parallel to the ground. "But if you insist on doing what we all know is wrong, I will."

Draigh sneered at Tholnair. "Think yourself better than the gods, do you boy?" They spat. "And you accuse them of arrogance. Ha! If it's a traitor's lot you want, it's what you'll get."

They both circled one another, waiting for an opening to present itself. Draigh's face had taken on a lopsided smile, and Tholnair began to suspect that there was more to their bloodlust than just the wish to uphold the law of the Empire.

The sun's dying light shone across Tholnair's face, and in the split second he squinted to regain control of his vision, Draigh struck. It was a veteran move, and paid dividends as they shunted Tholnair off-balance with their shield. A strike with their axe followed suit, but Tholnair's greatsword rose to meet it, metal striking metal in a resonant clang. Draigh pressed their advantage, keeping Tholnair on the defensive with precise swings of their axe. The sparring he had done with the Goliath paid off as their axe met his sword in an upward stroke. Tholnair had been caught by this manoeuvre before, and knew to duck under the shield as it swung where his head would have been a moment ago.

Stepping into Draigh, Tholnair struck their rib with a short left jab. The blow, made with the hand Tholnair wore a heavy gauntlet on, elicited a heavy crack from the Goliath's ribs. They grunted in pain, and Tholnair stepped through, driving his right shoulder straight into their chest. For a second time, they flew to the ground, their head only narrowly avoiding an impact with the heavy wooden block still stood in the village square.

"Yield." Tholnair levelled his blade at his former superior. "None need die this day."

Draigh snarled. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Kill him!" The last words were barked toward Tholnair's platoon-mates. He turned, meeting the eyes of people he had dined with, laughed with, and called friend. Some of them stood unmoving. Others averted their eyes from him. Most readied their weapons and began to advance. None chose to stand with him.

Am I the only one to whom this is not justice? Tholnair began moving his blade steadily, using its size to create a perimeter around himself. He was reticent to attack those with whom he had broken bread just this morning, but the sense of finality his choice had carried was not lost on him. If his comrades had been willing to stand by and watch these villagers die, then killing him would not be beyond them. How many of those I call friends will turn out to be monsters? It was a bitter thought.

"So be it, then. Kill or be killed." Tholnair closed his eyes for a moment, and let his senses reach out. He found the cold of the air growing as the sun left the horizon. Opening his eyes, he channeled his magic through the cold, imbuing it with power, direction and intent. Pushing his hand outward, he sent a blast of freezing air toward half the people circling him, encasing them in bonds of frost. He did not hesitate in following through, bringing his sword around at neck height. The sound of helmeted heads hitting the floor rang out behind him as he turned to face the others advancing on him.

Some hesitated at his swift dispatching of their comrades, but most were experienced enough to press their attack. One jabbed a spear at him, while another swung a mace toward his right arm. Tholnair moved to the side, grabbing the spear with his free hand as his sword barely caught the mace's approach, sending a jolt through his arm. Leveraging his hold on the spear, he flexed, snapping the point off the haft and driving it into the neck of the soldier with the mace. Another took their place, but Tholnair wasn't about to let them gain a foothold. With a roar, he brought his hand down against the ground, a wave of booming sound sending the soldiers encircling him stumbling back.

The world became a blur to Tholnair. He wove magic and his blade together in a tapestry of blood and violence. There was a rightness to this battle that he had never felt. Even as his body took glancing blows from blades, or was forced to its knees by the swing of a greathammer, or was sent sprawling by a well-placed explosive spell, he felt more real than he had in many years. Finally, he felt his duty matched up with his heart. He would fight those who wished to perpetuate the injustice of the Empire. It had kept him holding back even as he deluded himself into believing it was right. He did not hold back now.

Bellowing, Tholnair charged the last of the soldiers, forgoing his greatsword, which was lodged into the bodies of the two he had just impaled. He grabbed their hands as they attempted to repel him with magic, pulling them apart and driving his head down in a headbutt. Letting go of the dazed mage, he stepped forward, grabbed them by the collar, and swung them above his head and down into the ground. The body went limp as the mage's head cracked upon the rocks. Panting, Tholnair turned, and saw an axe heading toward his head at a speed too quick to dodge.

Instinct took over, and Tholnair twisted, hoping to catch the attack on his left shoulder. The manouvre had saved him from injury many times, weapons bouncing off of his heavy pauldron rather than severing his arm or sundering his body. The movement betrayed him here, however: as the blade of the axe cut deep into his shoulder, Tholnair recalled that he had removed his pauldron. Draigh followed up by hoisting Tholnair onto their shield, using the axe still embedded in his shoulder as a stabiliser as they ran him into the side of a building.

Winded, Tholnair had the wherewithal to start raining elbows down on Draigh. Cursing, they stepped back, pulling their axe from his shoulder as they did so. Tholnair tried to summon his blade back to his hand, but Draigh kicked at his arm and brought their pauldron-wearing shoulder down into his midsection. The metal pauldron cut at his flesh, but Tholnair could not afford to lose focus. Snarling, he raked his claws along the older warriors back. They hissed, and Tholnair used the distraction to bring his knee into their helmeted face.

Draigh stumbled back, but Tholnair did not let them get far. He felt a primal fury toward his former commander. They had been given the task to lead others, and had succeeded only in making them as cruel as they themself were. With a roar, Tholnair grabbed Draigh by the straps of their armour and flung them haphazardly into the square. They barely had time to land when Tholnair straddled them and began raining down blows upon their head. Adrenaline dulled the pain in his shoulder, and while his left hand did not strike with the force of his right, the gauntlet on it made up for it. The metal of their helmet gave in the face of his fury, his blood and Draigh's mixing as the skin of his right hand gave to the helmet in turn.

Tholnair paused, bleeding fist poised to deliver another blow. Draigh's face was almost unrecognisable, a mangled mess of blood and swelling, but their eye still regarded him with hatred. It would be a mercy to finish them off now, quick and easy.

Tholnair did not feel merciful.

He stood and grabbed Draigh's limp body by the arm, dragging them to the centre of the square. The wooden block was still there, stained in the blood of those he had killed. He heaved Draigh's form onto the block, then raised his hand to resummon his blade. When it fell into his hand, Tholnair placed it gently against Draigh's neck. The Goliath stirred, their mouth trying to form words. Tholnair paused, straining to hear his commander's last words.

"T...traitor," they breathed.

"Yes." Tholnair said, raising his blade as much as his shoulder allowed. "You are."