#energy based lifeform

[peterkothe]

Inktober 2023 Day 9 -The ELECTROPHANT!

-Elephant scientist Prof. J. Voltusk, sought to cure himself of his terminal illness and gain immortality by becoming pure sentient energy! He succeeded, but the price to pay afterwards made him a walking disaster driven mad with and as LITERAL power!!

[earthstellar]

Earth Music on the Lost Light: Human Music That Cybertronians Like

we know for a fact that the Lost Light has access to human media, primarily movies, TV shows, and music-- and we know they generally seem to fucking love most of it, or at least find it interesting

but what would everyone's tastes be, in regards to Earth music?

time to talk about music for a long time!!! strap in, enjoy some tunes

we already know Cyclonus has impeccable taste and enjoys some of the best jams the 80s had to offer.

I can't help but imagine Rodimus being given a media archive of Earth tunes to approve for the Earth Dance would only result in chaos

(it's not like he would say no to anything, he absolutely blanket signed it all, it's just an obligatory thing-- or Ultra Magnus tells him it is, solely to keep him away from Important Captain Things that he would rather handle himself or hand off to Megatron, lmao. the shit that really needs to get done)

and this is how Rodimus discovers the somewhat questionable yet amazing genre of "mid-90s underground techno rave mix tapes"

(somewhat related, I still think Testarossa might as well be Rodimus' theme song, although it's not a 90s track and has more of an 80s synth vibe)

Rodimus would love that "computers are the future, fuck yeah let's make Digital Cool Future Music" mid-90s shit, there is no way he would not. it has the exact energy level that appeals to him and is also cheesy and weird and chaotic. and has like 500 different sub-genres, so his selection is endless, lmao.

he would probably find it cute that this is what humans imagined to be the peak of "digital sound" at the time. like lmao this was the best humans could do when asked to create music that sounds like it was made by robots or other mechanical space future cyber lifeforms--high concept!!! he would probably find it interesting and endearing. this is what organics think non-organic music is like!!

anyone acting as DJ at Swerve's on any given night would be so, so mad that Rodimus keeps requesting shit like "DJ MASSIMO ITALO DISCO BEST RAVE TUNES LIVE FROM LONDON 1995" or "DJ ARMPIT SLUDGE FEST HOUSE-RAVE-DRUMS N BASS SET 1996" for them to play, lmao

not individual tracks. the whole album. entire mix tapes of random, somewhat questionable mid-90s techno house rave bullshit.

that having been said, that good ass early 90s trance techno might send him into a spiral depending on his mood at the time, lmao (it's been known to happen)

but at the same time I can imagine him sharing tracks like Solar Quest - Space Pirates with Drift and they'd both just sit there and jam out, but quietly, thinking about shit while sitting in a port window next to each other (this was peak sleepover party techno, Back in My Day-- many deep conversations were had while listening to stuff like this, lol)

Drift would probably find some of Rodmus' recommended stuff to be pretty good for meditation-- although once he finds out about the human drug culture involved and certain concepts of experimental consciousness etc. that surrounded techno/rave and other related genres, it might cause him to pull back a little bit

(until he finds out about kandi culture, in which case, Drift would love the idea of hand-made unique bracelets and sentimental trinkets being made and exchanged at warehouse shows purely out of Good Vibes and Love for Fellow Beings and it turns out actually he fucking loves this shit, a chill vibes based "expand your mind" kind of music subculture appeals to his Spectralist sensibilities and he likes sharing tunes with Rodimus in return)

Drift picking tracks on his own would likely lead him down more of a classic rock road, but more of the chill side of things, more of the folksy type of classic rock -- I can see Drift really enjoying Spirit in the Sky - Norman Greenbaum or California Dreamin' - The Mamas and the Papas. or like, Incense and Peppermints - Strawberry Alarm Clock.

I mean, Drift might even go Full Earth Hippie and end up liking Green Tambourine - Lemon Pipers, lmao. in fact I am fairly certain of this.

I can see Drift loving Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In - The 5th Dimension. the whole vibe would probably appeal to him.

he'd quite possibly also like I Need a Dollar - Aloe Blacc, but it hits him in a place that still hurts to think about. so it's in rare rotation.

meanwhile Ratchet would probably be fine with classic rock too, like the good Dad Rock shit, just a lot of tracks from the 70s/80s -- a couple tracks he and Drift could probably agree on would likely lean more into the experimental/psychedelic rock side of things, like White Room - Cream or something like Wheel in the Sky - Journey

Rodimus tries to troll Ratchet by recommending Old Time Rock n Roll - Bob Seger, but joke's on him because it turns out Ratchet loves it, lmao

Swerve would go all out on classic bar jams for the evening playlist. Chill, good shit like Do It Again - Steely Dan.

Megatron would love Sinnerman - Nina Simone; He'd send it to Drift in a command crew level secured data packet, and they would both feel the hell out of this song. They don't need to talk about why. They never mention it to each other.

Megs would also probably love These Old Bones by Dolly Parton (mostly due to the lyrics, rather than the upbeat tune, but he would find it relatively relaxing), as well as 9 to 5 (of course), and similar music. Country from back in the day when country music was more about the struggle of poverty and the working life of rural people. Country music from back when songs told all the untold stories. He can respect that.

He'd listen to You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive by Patty Loveless and it would get him right in the fucking spark. Megatron is the Cybertronian equivalent of an Appalachian miner, god dammit. He understands.

Megatron would also like Johnny Cash; He would overthink Ghost Riders in the Sky and it would depress him, partly because it reminds him of Seekers... sigh.

I think he'd also like Cold War - Janelle Monae. He'd be way into good lyrics; What's being said in a song matters most to him. "This is a cold war, you better know what you're fighting for..." Indeed.

anyway I like thinking about what jams Cybertronians might like from their available selection of Earth tunes

[feyclowns]

a look at magic and the core system

the core system explanation and my loose idea of what magic is. this uh. this got long. this is a longass post.

my thoughts on magic

i have this idea that mother nature, while creating her earlier lifeforms, used magic as a sort of bind-all, something modeled after the overarching powers of time and creation, etc- giving them extra powers and extending their life (like a kid making their first ocs). most of her older creatures are on planes higher up and function on magic. as she got better with her craft she began to appreciate the complexity of making all those bits and pieces stuff on earth has, and the faster ebb and flow of life AND death. humans are one of her favorite creations.

magic is inherently chaotic. it exists in multiple forms, on multiple planes. it's something that touches things in a biological way and yet obeys physical laws set before it. it can be stored and used up. it can create more of itself. it can corrupt things. when mother nature realized it was a bad idea to give near-unlimited power to beings when she was creating ones of lower ability on the planes below, she changed magic and the creatures that used it- gave them weaknesses, sometimes bordering on the ridiculous, compulsions too. things to keep them in check.

i also like to think you can't entirely 1:1 seelie to humans on even a biological cell-scale. they just fundamentally are different.

magic's function

the more pure magic is, the more powerful it is- magic comes in all colors of the rainbow, but different colors have slightly different attributes. one can never truly filter one color out of magic entirely, as it needs all its components to function.

with the True Fey nearly extinct, the only beings that can use raw magic without the assistance of a device or sigil are genies, and i'd argue they got quite the short end of the stick considering their compulsion.

fairies, fey and their subspecies primarily function on purple magic. this stuff is filtered, diluted, as "neutral" as one can get. if you create magic rather than consume it, and your species functions on filtered magic, you cannot handle it raw. like, your body can't handle the extra energy. physically.

magical backup is when a fairy has so much magic in their system they cannot filter the chaotic energy that magic produces and explode.

filtered magic is also, simply, on paper, easiest to use. as a third party, non-seelie magic user- use raw magic while unprepared and get evaporated while changing the laws of physics. use overfiltered magic without the correct sigils and nothing happens except maybe a bitter taste in your mouth.

onto the core system.

the core system

the neural core is where magic flows freely up towards- the filter strains clean, purple magic from the magic produced by the central core. conscious wishes are also made from the brain connected to the core here.

the central core is where magic is generated. the central core takes calories and nutrients from ingested food (fairies have a stomach that is right next to their core) and converts it into magic. the core membrane acts as a storage for filtered magic in both areas.

the core pools are located at the base of the wrists of a fairy, which are where excess magic flows and stays in anticipation of use. when a fairy exhausts the magic from their pools, they must wait until they begin to refill from the reserves in the core membranes.

the inner cores are the most important part of the system; if this part of a fairy is damaged they will die. this part also holds the data for the rest of the body- if worse comes to worse, the inner cores will maintain the body parts left and rebuild the core system before completing the rest of the body. this is in part why fairies are so gd resilient. no inner core, no regeneration.

magic threads are what magic travels along throughout the body. they are thick, wide tubes that extend through the torso and extremities. the central thread is also called a nervous thread. during pregnancy, the body creates a sixth thread (and sometimes seventh) to deliver magic to the developing child's core.

fairies produce raw magic in their central cores. they have two cores- a central and neural core, which are connected to each other through the nervous thread and extend to their magic pools and flow magic through the body by the four magic threads.

anti-fairies are where all that excess magic goes when fairies filter it out. anti fairies don't need to generate magic or filter it- they can handle it just fine. they have a simpler core layout- a thick core membrane to hold their magic and the excess chaotic magic swirling about in their inner core. this enables anti-fairies to grant powerful rule-free wishes. anti-fairies tend to have strange colored magic threads, generally aligning with the color of their counterparts' eyes.

pixies are quirky things. pixies have the same amount of cores as their fairy cousins but do not produce raw magic. they instead need to feed on magical creatures (or take their magic supplements, as provided by pixies INC) to keep their core systems afloat. another issue is that most pixies' core filters still work- which would be fine if they produced magic. pixies overfilter their magic, leading them to use a highly complicated wand (along with several binding contracts) to utilize the magic still delivered to their core pools. (it's also a phone. why not toss that in for free? Head Pixie was feeling really nice when he made that decision.)

pixies have a very large core filter and membrane in their neural core, with a small central core and large magic pools. their magic threads are thin.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (IV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here and this is part four 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Our boy is recovering from Bad Stuff in the Watchtower (involuntarily). Danny gets a bandaid for a variety of wounds that definitely are not covered by a little adhesive bandaid, but hey! Bart’s trying.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Batman clicks on the projector screen. Everyone in the room has access to the slides and note-taking abilities on their tablets. The assembled heroes quietly select their app of choice, sit back in their chairs, and ready themselves for the meeting.

“Good afternoon. For everyone in alternate time zones, good morning or good evening as they apply. Before I begin the approved agenda for this meeting, there are developments on the base that everyone ought to be aware of.”

Click. The slide changes to a fuzzy image of an unusually dense collection of shadows in a typical medical-wing setup. The specific location isn’t clear, but the phenomenon itself is stark against the white walls and flooring. The static on the cameras is atypical for the quality of equipment used on the base.

“There is an extraterrestrial lifeform that has made Medical Wing C their territory. Yes, we know they are there. No, they cannot be moved at this time. Please do not try to take initiative in doing so. Please do not enter the aforementioned medical wing. If you see this entity outside of the medical wing, please leave, ignore them, or otherwise make your presence known. They are generally in search of isolation and seek to remain unseen. All known attempts at self-defense by this entity have been largely non-hostile so far, but we do not know how or if that behavior will change as they heal.”

Batman…takes a breath. Not sighs. The vigilante has more control than that.

“They are severely injured. The exact nature of their injuries are still unknown, based on their—unique physiology—“

Barry squints at the screen. Nope. The cloud still looks like a cloud.

“—But the identified fluids they secrete have been recognized as at least partially composed of red blood platelets and a modified plasma. Based on their aggressive self-defense, the persistent seclusion behavior, and their general lack of responsiveness, the injuries are considered deeply severe and require rest to treat. It is imperative that non-medical staff and on-base heroes maintain as little contact with the entity as possible. We are attempting both delicate medical treatment and non-verbal communication, which have both failed thus far. We have reason to believe that the extraterrestrial is sentient and capable of communication based on—“

Click. The next slide is an image of a nearly-obliterated craft of some kind—tinted glass, wings, debris everywhere, twisted shards of metal that look like they scrape like teeth. Charred black everywhere. Barely visible is a torn–through upholstered seat ten yards away.

A hiss breaks the silence in the back of the room. That’s nasty-looking wreck.

“—This craft. It is relatively rudimentary in its design, and would not have held up to prolonged space travel, but would have required complex intelligence to start and maintain transport. Basic testing has proven that its energy readings, while not precisely contiguous with the Speed Force, show that it has been in contact with extradimensional phenomena. A non-sentient life would not have been able to pilot it successfully enough to crash it—much less to avoid the farmhouse in its path. The result is that we have an extremely wounded entity with no shared form of communication. There have been worrying observations by their medical team, however.”

Click.

This slide is blank.

“We are now pursuing the possibility that the entity has been attacked or otherwise held captive by human organizations here on Earth. There are persistent triggers of aggression brought on by medical settings, adults, and more specifically, any present medical personnel and equipment.”

Batman pauses.

“Their medical team has informed me that their persistent fear has made treatment…difficult.”

There’s a snort from somewhere in the room.

“If you discover any evidence of possible extraterrestrial captivity or torture or experimentation among your usual cast of rogues, please forward everything you are able to base for further investigation. In this time period where the Lanterns are unavailable to return to Earth, Martian Manhunter has been notified of the need of his presence on the base, and will hopefully help settle this matter. In the meantime, as a reminder: do not enter Medical Wing C, do not engage with the entity in any way. Simply make your presence known, and they will flee.

“Now. Onto our agenda. First article: whoever has been taking the toilet paper from the supply closet, stop it. The league is not here to fund your lifestyle habit of two-ply toilet paper.”

*

There’s more food available more often.

It just appears at the foot of his bed. Like magic. Or, like…like a really, really fast human child.

Some of the packaged foods Danny can’t eat without swallowing them whole, wrapper and all. They’re just too fiddly to get with his claws—the solution is to just swallow it and let the whole thing dissolve in whatever weird ecto-acid is churning in his stomach at the moment.

The rest is fresh from the bakery—or, well the base, anyway, however this moon base gets their fresh foods. Muffins and croissants and sausage rolls and other things he would expect to see on a coffee tray or something.

…Danny prods his stomach.

He’s been too sore to notice, but this half-state of being a somewhat-physical half-ghost is super, super weird. He can eat, but it’s not processed like food is in his living body. Everything he can digest just gets incorporated. Everything he can’t just gets…

He looks down at the slowly growing puddle in his bed.

…Maybe ‘spit out’ is too generous a phrase. Expelled? Excreted?

Ew. Okay that thought is kind of gross and he doesn’t want to think about that while he can’t move away maybe.

He knows, instinctually, that he’s wounded, but this half-and-half state stops him from feeling the specifics. Knowing how, exactly, he’s hurt. Experiencing the majority of the pain and distress.

He curls up on his bed.

Danny hates it here. Not because it’s bad (it is) but because he wants to be home. He selfishly, desperately wants to be home. He wants his rocket sheets. He wants his room with its glow in the dark stars.

…He wants his dad to heat up soup and sit with him, like when he was little and had nightmares. He wants Jazz to sit on the edge of his bed and read to him.

Danny wants Mom.

 …There is some other company here, though.

Sometimes, if Danny is mostly sated and kind of sleepy, the quick human buzzes in with a few of its age-mates. The two don’t get as close as the buzzing human can, because Danny can at least read the Excited!! or Nervous!! or Booored! energy on the human, which makes him more comfortable with letting it in close. Its friends seem to respect his space, though. They don’t go past his curtain, even if it’s open. They talk, but they don’t yell.

Danny thinks he’s getting the soft little bones back in one of his ears, but he can’t fully tell. He can hear that they’re chattering and he can hear which sounds they’re making, but he can’t understand any of them.

Auuuuughhhhh. He pushes the pillow more underneath himself. Does he have brain damage?? Is he…is he missing pieces of his brain??

There won’t be a concrete way to tell until he solidifies again. Gross. He doesn’t want to do that yet.

Or soon.

…Or at all, maybe.

Mom was so mad at him. Maybe he’ll be safe and he can come home if she…if he can’t be touched…?

…No. He remembers. Mom makes things for ghosts.

??Concern?Con??cern?

Danny looks up. Oh. He made the human vibrate all nervously. Danny’s fine. Well—he’s not fine but he’s not hurting more than usual or hungry.

The human is careful not to touch him when he doesn’t want to be touched, but Danny’s feeling generous. When the human puts its hands on the bed, Danny willingly brushes his knuckles up against it.

No claws. A peace offering.

The human goes suuuuper still.

…Uh. Did he break it?

And then it zoooooooms away faster than Danny can comprehend (he jolts) and sprints back with a whole lot of stuff in its hands, and a few things thumpthumpthump ono his bed. And.

Well. None of it smells like food? When he bites it, it doesn’t taste like food either. In fact the texture is…

Danny frowns. Turns over the object so he can see it better. (It doesn’t help.) Is that plastic?

Wait. Danny twists it in half. His wrists ache but the pieces rotate.

…It’s a rubric’s cube.

…Huh.

There are other puzzles too—things that taste like plastic and one that tastes like wood, which he might have dented with his teeth by accident. Whoops. Danny puts that one farthest away, in the hopes that he doesn’t accidentally damage it a second time.

…Huh. That’s. That’s nice.

Danny surprises himself and the surprised!surprised! human with a purr.

It’s not a lot. Not even monetarily is this little offering a lot.

But it’s more than Danny’s had in a long time.

[the-stolen-century]

Raine and Eda's gem fusion (TOH / Steven Universe crossover)

Their fusion dance is just the scene in Eda's Requiem where they play their instruments back-to-back, but then they glow and fuse - but continue playing, because now they have 4 arms, Raine's arms on top playing the violin and Eda's arms on the bottom playing the cittern.

Their combined gem is sphene/titanite - base colour gold (eda) with green (raine) and red (both of them) sparkles. More designs and AU description under the cut:

Separate designs for them (Eda is big and shaped like Garnet because she's a fusion between Eda and the corrupted Owlbeast. Her harpy form is the harmonious fusion that happens after the Owlbeast's corruption is healed):

Alt design for the fusion, with merged/faceted eyes instead of separate ones - I just love how perfectly Eda's pointy eyes fit under Raine's round ones!

I imagine their combined personality might be like a rock star, because Eda's brashness and showmanship overpower Raine's stage fright, so they can finally be a star musician together. I love to think about how elated they would be after their first performance!

Plot (?):

So titans can travel through space, just because they're so magical. Several hundred years ago a titan arrived on earth to hide from the Archivists, carrying with it a lot of refugees from its original planet. The titan died, exhausted by the stress of the trip, but the refugees whom he protected survived and started a new life. They are protected by shielding magic from curious humans. They are a little different from the witches and demons of the boiling isles - they're gem-based lifeforms who form visible bodies around their gems, and they have very long lifespans.

One summer, Luz the human (obsessed with gems and magic) accidentally goes through a portal that Eda has made, ends up on the island and decides to live there instead of summer camp.  She meets Eda, whose gem has become fused with the corrupted gem of the Owlbeast, so sometimes the Owlbeast takes control of their shared body.

Luz becomes best friends with King (King is basically Steven and doesn't know he's actually a titan/diamond), who didn't have any friends before her because nobody has seen his type of gem before so everyone thinks he's weird. (The gem society in Steven Universe is kind of obsessed with roles, ranks and hierarchies, so seeing an unknown gem is unsettling). She basically becomes Connie to King's Steven (non-romantic, lol).

Luz has some adventures learning about the island. She gets to know Willow, who is an "overcooked" jasper and insecure about it just like Amethyst, but v. powerful once Luz helps her overcome the insecurity. And Gus and Amity.

Meanwhile, on the titan’s home planet, Belos (not a human in this AU) has formed a deal with the Archivists to be allowed to rule the planet in a way that the Archivists approve of in exchange for trying to find the escaped titan. And now they have found earth somehow. Raine, who leads an underground rebellion against Belos, manages to be the one sent to earth. Unfortunately for them, Belos sends Hunter (Belos’s pearl - Hunter has big pearl energy, right?) along with them.

Once they arrive on earth Raine keeps trying to secretly sabotage Hunter’s attempts to find the island so they can find it first themselves and warn everyone.Don't know how that goes, but eventually they find Eda - maybe even in the human world and not on the island? So they finally meet again after a long time. Back then she was too afraid to tell them she's a fusion but now she doesn't give a fuck, which leads to them rekindling their relationship!

[lowlydogs]

PROMPTS. (cod dudes and shenanigans)

Some weird amalgamation of prompts, drabbles, and headcanons all at the same idea. This threeway may not quite be the best idea. Varying from sfw, crack to nsft. Gender neutral.

> PETNAMES. (and pets.)

Ghost: Petnames are not his suit. Dear, darling, it's words that simply don't come out of his mouth. Likewise, not affected by pet names. It's not about the words that matter, but the cadence, the intent, the intonation. Distant and cold, or respectful and playful? You'll need to get a master's in Ghostology to discern those small, imperceptible changes. The slight pause before he drops a name, the loudness of his restrained voice, the most fickle of reserved affection.

His true weaknesses lie not in the words, but in how you speak them. Softly, gently call him "Simon" in the morning for the desired effect. (Blatant black cat who knocks over mugs. Could present him with the most luxurious bed and he'd be found sleeping in a moldy box. Looks utterly uninterested when given affection, but wait for you the entire day when you go to work)

Konig: This man. This man is a raving hopeless romantic and an obnoxious clinger. A severe case of "Baby's first serious relationship", he's launching all romcoms he watched onto you with the boasting energy of ten suns. For a long, long time, prior to meeting you, repression was a good antidote of his. In the face of failure, in losing things for devoting himself to his career, he jarred those fears and strode with silence.

With that gone, he comes to feel. And boy, does he feel. The man clumsily, enthusiastically, impulsively showers you in love. Schätzchen, Schnuki, and of course, Liebling. Would try to learn endearment from your native language if you’re foreign. Even amidst the honest blunders and overbearing presence he has, certainly, you won’t be in any short supply of loving talk around him.

However. You’ll need to learn some restraint around him. One simple endearment, even something stupid as bae, would have him explode on the spot. Buckling knees, gleaming eyes, near heart attack from dopamine hyperdose. Treat with caution. Lovingly. (Octopus. The big majestic sea beast with knack for vengeance, but deep down, in his most authentic self: A dumbo octopus. Would cling to you for hours on end with those big, dumb eyes looking at you reverently the entire time)

Roach: Would call you pookie. (Cockroach with a bow tie who somehow has an personality and follows you around) (I just love him, he deserves an entry)

> ALIENLOVERS.

It's a flying saucer! It's a green blob with sexy abs! For a game of switcheroo, this round, you're the monsterish, ghastly alien this time. Various scenarios toying with this idea, described below.

1. You are an alien. An alien who, out of all things, takes the shape of a broom. A simple broom with a wooden handle and a hay head.

You may not speak or harbor sentience in your form, but one thing could be certain: You're a smoking hot dreamboat. Ghost is suddenly very adamant about janitorial duties. Soap leans against you, tilting you against his shoulders, asking if you come around often. Konig sensually holds you down and lowly murmurs to you about the time he got beaten with a broom when he was a kid. The entire team that retrieved you can't help but bend a knee, and the only one spared of your charring good looks is Price.

In the tiny tinfoil hat that protected him from whatever mind herpes you seeped, he is very stressed and disturbed, trying to ensure no man-on-broom action happens on base. Crack, can nearly include everybody on the list. Potential crack smut.

2. You are an alien. You are big and grotesque, a pulsing form of lifeform assembled of veiny, thick tentacles, resembling the mythological werewolf- And, yeah, yep yep, you fuck.

Think you understood where this was going the second I dropped the word tentacles. A different scenario, where the team sent to retrieve you gets poached one by one, until there's only one man left standing.

Each different soldiers get a different last standing. [ Saucy content and Dubcon on forward. ]

Ghost would defy till the end, keep running till he's literally slammed down by the throat. All "last moments" bravado, spatting venom and clocking even his empty rifle, all unit; a tentacle ram down his throat. Heavy Dubcon, lots of fighting, blood kink and fuck-and-die situation. Eventually, it lasts for ends and Ghost's adrenaline fades: Orgasm torture sets in. Where Ghost wilts from an unshaken, respected serviceman to a convulsing, jolting, fucked out mess on the floor.

Konig on the other hand, similarly fights, but not to the sheer ferocity Ghost does. Mostly because he's shaken by the death of his crew, and the fact that he, a nearly 7 ft tall man, is held down like he's a frog. His stature had assured him the comfort of leverage, where any one-to-one scuffle leveraged to his favor. But now, even the simple act of turning his head and looking up at you is revoked.

He's chest-down against the floor, wrists bound behind his back by tentacles and so much more over him. He can't even breathe. The sheer futility, the complete constriction of his form. You can see where this goes. Heavy Dubcon, bondage, and potentially, oviposition/breeding. Potential tears and choking included.

Many more examples and characters would've been written (Keegan, Roach, etc), but for the sake of not stretching this section too long, I'll cut it here.

---

It’s 2 in the morning and for now, have these thoughts that’s festering in my mind for a month. Would come back next morning to fix this up, since you could probably tell I wrote this sleep-deprived.

Except some of these tangents to be expanded into an actual full story someday, or get an electric boogaloo to this post where I explore other characters I missed instead.

Entirely feel free to hijack some ideas and write them: The only thing I'd ask is you to tag me so I may read them.

[yousadclownofaman]

BOGGART

Boggarts are one of many Faerotten organisms produced by lifeforms on the primaterial plane being exposed to Abyssal rifts. With significant enough inundation, small avian lifeforms begin to lose their feathers and congregate near the bases of trees or large stones for shelter as the Abyssal Fae energies continue to poison their systems. Faerot reroutes normal life processes to produce grotesque deformities which, in turn, give rise to magnificent and wildly misunderstood anomalous powers.

Boggarts are an extreme nuisance. Along with creatures known as Hobs & Pixies, spawned from former woodland toads or frogs & bats respectively, these small Faerotten lifeforms make their homes in the walls and foundations of frontier homes where they feed off of psychic and emotional energy. When enough congregate together in a tight enough radius, clusters of Boggarts can impact the emotional wellbeing of a household to the point of ruin. Even homes built into the sides of mountains or those with solid stone foundations are not safe, as one of the Boggart’s abilities allows it to soften stone to the point of crumbling like dirt; Boggart warrens can run as far as the warrens of the average rabbit, with less organization & more overlapping passageways. These tunnels often collapse with passing drakes & other large wildlife, and can drastically exacerbate soil erosion.

Many small animals that dwell in woodlands are quickly crushed and twisted by the violent mutagenic powers of the Abyssal rifts which open in the lonely corners of Crodecca, where settlers and mystics alike shun the land. Overland expansion across the contiguous continent of Crodecca has forced citizens to come into contact with such beasts as Gouls, Beholders, Vampyrs, Hobs, Lunanthropes, Wyches, Boggarts, Pixies and the dreaded Skinhounds. A new chapter of pseudoclerics pioneering in anti-Fae inventions have become well known in the Deng region of Daidara & wide reaches of Doshov. These “Wychunters” are called warlocks by some in passing as their worship of a fallen saint of their faith has seemingly granted them keenness of sense for the Fae & their ilk far beyond clerics of the known faiths.

[bolithesenate]

Thoughts? I don't have a penny, but I want the thoughts.

you wanna know what i think about all the time?

the jedi service corps.

they are so cool and so sexy to me. imagine having a direct line to the glue that holds the universe together and you get to do science about it!

i wanna know what that looks like!! show me the daily life of an exploracorps member who needs to find a scientific way to formulate 'yeah, that strange rock actually was an egg of an energy-based force-entity. after we made sure that we all were cool, we helped hatch it by hogtying it to the exhaust of one of our mid-size cruisers and going to hyperspace. its mother will recommend our services to their peers. that experience started another theological debate about the nature of the force itself and also about whether or not stones should be considered organic lifeforms'

gimme agricorps members who create the most fucked up franken-tree by grafting a hundred different branches from all across a system to a host tree. Gimme a medicorps member who then postulates that the same thing should theoretically be possible with a neti

give me a neti knight who immediately offers themself as a test subject. for 'science'

give me the educorps people trying to get all of this written down in a way that is not only understandable for future generations, but also carries added value for future generations (it's mostly cautionary tales of what not to do, lbr)

just,,,,

more people should get into the strange and exciting ways that the jedi experience the world around them and interact with it. i think there's so much joy and so many stories in there and i wanna read them all

maybe write some of them too

[evil-no-good-overlord-jojo]

I was rereading chapter 8 of Paranatural, so time for some deranged theory crafting.

Fauxbia, Phantomime, and Sockpuppy are all fragments of the same spirit.

Let's start with establishing some facts.

-Davy Jones's sword/hook has the power to split things into constituent parts. By turning Riptide into a grudge, he powered her up so she'd be able to apply this power to Wights, turning them into far weaker spirits. -Spirits born from this effect have "fragments" of the Wight's original power, and look similar, as if related. We know this thanks to the Sphynx Litter, who were all born from the Great Sphynx. -Of note, the powers of the shards don't necessarely add up to the Wight's power when brought together, they merely keep the same loose theme. We know that according to Cherub, the Great Sphynx's power allowed her to command anyone and anything who could hear her words, giving unbreakable orders.

Of the two Sphynxes we've seen, Truth passively compels anyone to speak unbreakable truth, including herself, and Games/Rules makes rules into laws of reality. While similar in theme ( words turning into unbreakable laws), adding these two powers together with other similar-ish powers wouldnt exactly result into the Great Sphynx reborn anew.

Therefore, the qualifiers for "fragments of a spirit that was split" are as follows : -powers must be similar, derived from the same concept

-designs have to be similar.

Now, let's get into what made me start crafting this theory. The latest page. Where the name of Fauxbia's ability is revealed.

Uh, that seems familiar. Where have i seen this before ?

It doesn't seem like a coincidence that Phantomime and Fauxbia's powers have their names called out in universe before they activate their abilities, AND they just so happen to be similar. It doesnt seem like a coincidence that both their designs feature strings and a large number of hands. It doesn't seem like a coincidence that theyre both themed around theater and puppets.

Not to mention, "can copy abilities if feared", and "can copy abilities if trusted" are very similar in and of themselves. Up until this page, I chalked it up to this chapter being focused on mimics (Cherub, Fauxbia, Phantomime, Razor Rex), but with this idea in mind, one of Fauxbia's earlier thought makes more sense :

"Why should he fear the sundered scraps of one's abandoned aspirations ?"

In my opinion, the original spirit was trying to become one of the Great Wights, by using its power. I wouldn't be surprised if rather than a power copier, it was a power thief, being able to permanently rob a spirit of its power if it met the activation condition of its ability, whatever it was. This is pure speculation on my part, thought.

With that in mind, I went looking for other characters that might fit "copycat with a theather / puppet theme". And well,

This one is a bit more of a stretch, but come on. His design is very similar in theme to Fauxbia's, he has pink spectral energy like Phantomime, and he's called out as an "anomalous spectral lifeform" which I feel like a shard of a split spirit would count as such. The fact that both he and Phantomime shares a color also gives weight to the idea the original spirit they were born from wasnt yet a Wight, otherwise I feel like the fragments would all have different colors, like the Sphynxes.

It is also my personal belief that Mina Zarei used Sockpuppy as a sort of base for her artificial "control things" spirits, due to the Witch's thought on the split Hijack.

All seems to point in the direction of these three being related. And I think that this all comes back to

The Witch is very, very close to her endgame.

[bestworstcase]

One has to wonder how giant sandworm Grimm survive in Vacuo, given it doesn't exactly seem like Vacuo's the most abundant place for food, and I don't think lost humans in the desert are a good diet for something that big.

what grimm actually seem to need from their prey is aura—in 'before the dawn,' there's a scene where gillian recalls a time when she tried transferring aura to a grimm to see what would happen, and the grimm latched on to the connection and kept drinking aura until she severed the connection.

gill's semblance seems to be touch-based, in that she needs to touch a person to drain aura (although she is able to maintain these links at a distance once they're formed). so she must have gotten close enough to this grimm to touch it at least briefly, and in the passage there's no mention at all of it being aggressive or attacking her. which... would actually make a lot of sense, if from the grimm's perspective this human walked up to it and began to feed it. they're smart. why bite the hand that feeds?

we also see that with e.g. the beetle and the grimm arm that at least some types of grimm can suck aura out of living things without killing them. and humans/faunus aren't the only beings with aura—it's a life force running through all living creatures on remnant, including animals (and presumably plants and fungi and other lifeforms, although this isn't confirmed). everything except grimm.

what makes humans/faunus unique is their ability to amplify and project aura outward. if grimm have a physiological need for aura and no ability to produce it themselves, then humans/faunus are their most efficient food source by several orders of magnitude but not remotely the only one.

if the ability to drain aura from living beings is a general trait that all grimm have, then i'd imagine grimm just do that passively all the time, drawing a little bit of aura out of everything they touch as they roam the world. they obviously can't sustain themselves this way (because they hunt humans, who are both their most efficient available source of aura and also the most dangerous, so they must have high enough energy needs for that trade-off to be worth it) but it would surely lessen the burden. similarly, just because grimm have never been observed hunting or eating wildlife doesn't mean that they don't ever do that.

another thing we've seen is that grimm have a 'dormant' state where they kind of just... turn off. this is probably some form of power-saving mode. if the wyvern wasn't petrified under that mountain, it had probably been in a dormant state for a very long time, and that could suggest that extremely large grimm might hibernate for years or even centuries at a time. so that's one possibility: perhaps giants like the blind worms are very energy-efficient and spend most of their time dormant or sort of dozing, to conserve energy, so they don't need to hunt very often, and when they do they're big enough to catch many humans at one time, which can last them for a while.

a second possibility is that blind worms and other giants might be more akin to, say, filter-feeding whales in that they're built to feed on millions of tiny organisms all the time and only resort to hunting larger / more energy-rich prey like humans in lean years when there isn't enough, waves hands, sand krill or whatever to sustain them.

but my favorite possibility is that. well. in after the fall, coco gets swallowed by a blind worm and she's like... fine:

It was pitch-black inside the Blind Worm. Coco took her glasses off, but that didn’t help at all. Maybe that’s why they called it a Blind Worm, because if it swallowed you, you couldn’t see inside its stomach, or whatever this was. Or maybe it was called a Blind Worm because you never saw it coming. Only she had seen it coming, and she’d ended up inside the damn thing, anyway. She had pulled Velvet out of the way, only to take her friend’s place. Coco figured sacrificing your life for your teammate was one way to be remembered as a good leader, but maybe that was just cheating. The air was warm and wet and foul smelling. And the darkness was even more disorienting because the worm was moving—fast. She was inside a living, runaway train with no idea how to get out.

while she's stuck inside it, this thing thrashes around, spins, plunges in and out of the sand, etc etc. and coco isn't harmed at all because she's "cushioned by the spongy lining on the walls." there doesn't seem to be anything in the way of digestive juices or... well, anything in there, just some ichor near the tail leaking from where her bullets injured it.

so blind worms can swallow people whole and alive, and keep them alive in there for at least a few days before they die of thirst. maybe a lot longer if aura can compensate for thirst. remember that point about grimm passively siphoning aura from living beings? 😶 depleted aura regenerates... if all a blind worm needs to survive is aura then jonahing a couple nomads every once in a while and then spitting them up again when there's no aura left is . probably a pretty good hunting strategy.

fuckin terrible way to go for the people, though.

[hnm-tech-support]

.....

Data recovered from disks taken from the labs of HNM Biotech's Dr. Yeva.

[Decryption failed, most files corrupt. Accessible data shown below]

HOLY NIGHTMARE CO. BIOTECH 04175401 DARK MATTER RESEARCH - SUMMARY - CATEGORIES - EXTERMINATION PROTOCOLS - IMMUNITY PROJECT

HOLY NIGHTMARE CO. BIOTECH 06305206 14-5566-0009 PROJECT LOGS - COLD FLAME - FALLEN STAR - WHITE OBLIVION - TROJAN MARE - RISING TIDE

DARK MATTER RESEARCH SUMMARY Dark Matter is the colloquial name given to a virus-like lifeform that needs to infect other living creatures to reproduce, feeding off these hosts like parasites. The basest form is a mere particle with no intelligence or will of its own. Lesser than even a single ant and more like a bacterium, it needs to mass into larger quantities, becoming a sort of "colony" that communicates through a hivemind. It reproduces through binary fission while infecting another living creature, releasing excess Dark Matter to split off into more copies. Other methods of reproduction are suspected but have not been recorded. Naturally more animal-like and instinctual in nature, only by infecting hosts of sapient species is it able to develop intellect of its own. However, as infected hosts no longer feel emotions such as fear, Holy Nightmare is devoted to preventing the spread at all costs to protect Nightmare’s continued control of the known universe. Hosts are infected when particles of Dark Matter enter the body through wounds or orifices. The infectious dose is quite high- most can fight off casual exposure. It doesn't spread well through the air and prefers physical contact. Host becomes part of the hivemind and will try to spread to other victims. This form is the primary way they spread but also the most obvious, as feral Dark Matter doesn't have the intelligence needed to hide itself effectively. They often start with animals and other less intelligent beings. WARNING: When threatened all forms can cause rapid mutations in the host to increase defensive ability, such as growing sharp claws or new mouths. They can heal the host if injured as well, but in extreme situations will evacuate the host to escape. This is often fatal.

CATEGORIES

They have a social structure superficially similar to eusocial insects, with each lower form being subservient to those higher. They advance in stages over their lifetimes, with the speed they grow seemingly based on how many and the quality of hosts they’ve consumed. Feral/Massed - As Dark Matter multiplies, smaller parts will gather into undifferentiated masses. The most numerous form, presenting as little more than inky black ‘blobs’ with varied numbers of eyes. They have little individuality at this phase and tend to join and split at random to create larger masses, but can't hold complex forms. Without a more advanced individual to control them, these will default to a simple 'spread and infect' mode of attack. Drones - Massed Dark Matter eventually begins splitting off into smaller and more stable colonies with a single eye. Notable are the orange orbs they form around the center mass, although the purpose is unknown. They become capable of hovering flight in this stage. Higher level Dark Matter can also spawn small versions of these from their own bodies by sacrificing a small amount of their own mass. Soldiers - Dark Matter drones that have infected many hosts of more intelligent species can begin to gain something akin to sapience, perhaps through a form of horizontal gene-transfer. They can keep more complex forms, often wielding weapons on their own. They're also better at hiding their presence in a host. Regents - The oldest and most powerful, their bodies turn pure white. Highly intelligent and extremely rare, they are believed to control all other Dark Matter.

EXTERMINATION PROTOCOLS- Dark Matter is resistant to cutting and bludgeoning weapons, and requires high energy to be damaged. Fire is effective, as is electricity. Focused light-based weaponry is the most effective counter when they're outside of a host. Inside a host they're more difficult to deal with- complete obliteration of both is recommended. Advances in destabilizing technology block the ability of individual particles from cooperating and cause a temporary loss of form. This hasn’t been tested on more advanced types. Current protocol when dealing with heavily infected planets is complet- [...the rest is too corrupted to access…]

IMMUNITY PROJE%55C77T000--- $F2r33r Ce&b2w~r9p/g 6G(eb*w#n<a $Z6+ne3r+

----------------------------

PROJECT LOGS - COLD FLAME - FALLEN STAR - WHITE OBLIVION - TROJAN MARE - RISING TIDE

-------------

PROJECT COLD FLAME [COMPLETE] PCF-01 [DECEASED] PCF-02 [DECEASED] PCF-03-A [MIA] PCF-03-B [KIA]

Selecting PCF-03-A and B show images of two tiny, almost cute blue lizard-like creatures, alongside what are presumably their larger adult forms, covered in icy spikes, alongside information describing developing and enhancing their ice powers and removing previous weaknesses. 03-B is described as being killed in battle with Galactic Soldiers, while 03-A's body was simply never found.

------------- PROJECT FALLEN STAR [CANCELED] PFS-01-A [DECEASED] PFS-02-B [DECEASED] PFS-03 [DECEASED] PFS-04 [REPURPOSED] PFS-05 [REPURPOSED]

DATA INACCESSIBLE

-------------

PROJECT WHITE OBLIVION [COMPLETE] PWO-01 [STASIS] PWO-2 [MIA]

PWO-01 describes the lab working with a creature said to modify memories, and how this can be weaponized. The creature is interchangeably called 'Erasem' or 'Oblivio'- apparently different HNM scientists disagreed on a name. PWO-02 just seems to be an improved version of the last, actually getting used a few times on the enemy to sew chaos among the GSA by rendering important individuals forgotten by their comrades. However after one much later mission it is said to go missing entirely, and the project is put to an end due to difficulty in managing the creature.

-------------

PROJECT TROJAN MARE [DEFUNCT] FORMERLY [REDACTED] PTM-01 [DECEASED] PTM-02 [DECEASED] PTM-03 [DECEASED] PTM-04 [DECEASED] PTM-05 [DECEASED] PTM-06 [DECEASED] PTM-07 [DECEASED] PTM-08 [DECEASED] PTM-09 [DECEASED] PTM-10 [DECEASED] PTM-11 [DECEASED] PTM-12 [DECEASED] PTM-13 [DECEASED] PTM-14 [DECEASED] PTM-15 [DECEASED] PTM-16 [DECEASED] PTM-17-A [DECEASED] PTM-17-B [DECEASED] PTM-18 [DECEASED] PTM-19 [DECEASED] PTM-20 [TERMINATED] PTM-21 [DECEASED] PTM-22 [DECEASED] PTM-23-A [DECEASED] PTM-23-B [TERMINATED] PTM-24-A [REPURPOSED] PTM-24-B [REPURPOSED]

DATA INACCESSIBLE

------------

PROJECT RISING TIDE [DEFUNCT] PRT-01-X [DECEASED] PRT-02-Y [DECEASED] PRT-02-X [TERMINATED] PRT-03-Y [TERMINATED] PRT-03-X [TERMINATED]

Describes a project to turn a planet's native sea life into demon beasts.

@kirbyoctournament

(This is from a roleplay session over at the Discord! I figure I'd share it for more people to see if you're curious about figuring stuff out about Techie)

[treel]

I love selpa and all, but i really love to see insmeeth instead. Anyways, since you seem to like meekrob, do you have any headcanons about them? Or insmeeth?

Meekrob: A species of energy-based lifeforms that inhabit a binary star system planet of the same name. Each Meekrob is composed of two or more singular beings making up one whole. The separate beings within the gestalt are identical and share a mind, though they also may have slightly different personalities. Meekrob are never alone – the separate halves often engage in conversation with one another, and thoughts are constantly cycled between the two minds.

Each part of the Meekrob has its own individual name that are combined to make their full given name; for instance, Insmeeth’s halves are, separately, named Ins and Meeth.

Biology: Meekrob are functionally immortal. As energy beings, they never grow old or succumb to illness. Death is extremely rare – but on the other side of the coin, Meekrob births are also. Meekrob are genderless and asexual, and though they can procreate, it typically results in the death of the parent. The halves of the Meekrob combine their energies into birthing a new life, and the energy expenditure often results in the parent Meekrob living just long enough to witness their creation before perishing.

They are made of plasma and can control their temperature, though you risk being burned or zapped if you touch one! They feel like soft gel.

The entities within a Meekrob CANNOT be split. If they are more than a few feet away for more than a few minutes, both halves will deteriorate, fall apart, and perish.

Leadership, Religion, and Life: The Meekrob are governed by The Eight, two ancient Meekrob, each made of four beings. Theirs is a peaceful society, that encourages friendly relationships with other species in the galaxy. They are very spiritual beings as a whole, believing in the energy of the universe itself as a higher power.

They gather in large numbers and “dance”, moving like jellyfish undulating through the ocean. They are very fond of music, and tend to change colors with the beat.

Abilities: They are adept shapeshifters, able to use their telekinetic powers to “read” other species and accurately assume their forms. They are also able to discharge electricity. Meekrob communicate with one another through telepathy, connected through a psuedo-hivemind; this method of communication gives them the ability to read the thoughts of most other species as well, including many lower life forms.

Insmeeth: Young, angry and violent, Insmeeth is an abberation among their more peaceful kind. They possess a sadistic side that only grew worse the more their society shunned them. They learned to brawl from visitors to the planet, and later in off-planet fight clubs – their cunning, vicious instincts, and experience fighting are all things that contributed to their survival when Meekrob fell to the Irkens.

Bad at shapeshifting, but good at making people feel terrible about themselves, most would say that Insmeeth has few redeeming qualities. But they are also intelligent and introspective, and more than willing to risk death to protect the few they care for.

Bonus Insmeeth Snarlkitty

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Fifteen

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

...................................

Author's Note

Leona and the small group gather information so that their adventure can take them further towards their new friends.

Hello!

I don't have an explicit trigger warning for this chapter! I'll link the map, just so you know where the characters are going!:)

Map

Have fun! :D

I.M.L. - Infected Mammalian Lifeform. I.H.L. - Infected Humanoid Lifeform.

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Fifteen

......................................

The door of the dark little room creaks open as Alejandro leads us into the small room chosen as the scene of the interrogation, which is painted in a ghostly green shade by the light of a single neon lamp on the wall. The smell of dust and mold settles in the air, and with the keenness of a trained hunting dog, my nose recognizes the faint, barely perceptible smell of blood, which lurks as a subtle reminder between the worn walls. This is probably not the first information-gathering discourse that takes place within the confines of the unsettling room, but it will give the right atmosphere to the important conversation that will soon begin.

As Alejandro, with not the least bit of care, places the woman's unconscious body on the chair in the middle of the room, for some reason, the restrained temper inherent in the movement immediately reminds me that there may be a much older and different acquaintance between the two of them than just the cat-and-mouse game between the criminal and the Hunter at her heels. From the way he firmly grabs the shoulders of our target who turned into Cinderella, so that she doesn't fall off from the sitting position, for some reason I get the feeling that he'd rather wrap his gloved hands around her neck to crack her spine before she can start telling her story. But despite the fact that I somewhat understand his reluctance, unfortunately, we need her to be alive at least until she decides to talk. Therefore, I approach them with measured steps, breaking the Hunter's rather tense focus on our bandit, and sweeping aside the woman's dark hair, I smooth my palm over her forehead covered with cold sweat. My energy travels along my fingers in slow waves, and when it reaches the damp skin, it begins the humble work of dragging my unfortunate victim back into the real world so that we can get down to interrogate her as soon as possible.

Her elegant eyebrows meet as she finally begins to return from the peaceful land of dreams, and I'm filled with undisguised pleasure as I feel the intrusion of nausea running through her body under the touch of my energy, because although she deserves more than this little discomfort for trying to tear a new hole in me, but I'm content with this for now.  Because based on the heavy air that is slowly settling in the room, I have a hunch that the feeling of sickness after passing out will be the least of her problems if my companions start asking questions. Her eyelashes flutter and her eyes open, and as she tries to focus her them, blinking confusedly, I just back away and lean against one of the cold walls to give the stage to my more experienced friends. For I suspect that they are already burning with the desire to have a chit-chat with her.

It takes a few seconds for our captured thug to fully collect every shred of her consciousness, but as soon as she manages to regain her vigilance, her gaze glides across the room with cold indifference, and when her dark eyes catch Alejandro standing opposite her, then the corners of her mouth curl up in a sneer. And in the smile she puts on her face, there is such a wicked joy, which makes it quite obvious that these two certainly have quite an interesting shared past behind them.

"In the end, you managed to catch me, Vaquerito." The woman speaks up, and although her voice is still hoarse due to the forced sleep, I can clearly sense the malicious edge with which she turns to the leader of the unit. And I find it quite impressive how, despite the fact that she is sitting in a completely obvious tight spot, she still has the desire to assume superiority, as if she had not been cornered by predators. But maybe it amazes me even more how she makes herself comfortable in a minute, crossing her legs in front of her with graceful laziness, because that's exactly how I reacted when karma caught up with me. Even if the situation doesn't seem bright, she clings to her self-esteem with tooth and nail, and if she can irk her enemies with this, that's even better.

"Fate catches up with everyone sooner or later, Valeria." Rodolfo aptly remarks, hiding in one of the dark corners as he fixes his disdainful gaze on the woman, taking on the same unfriendly aura as his leader. And based on this, the dislike between them is probably not just the work of a casual encounter, but rather the result of some deep-rooted betrayal, which can provoke such a violent temper from these two Hunters. Interesting.

"How do you know each other?" The question breaks out of me, giving voice to the curiosity that is awakening in me, because I'm more and more interested in what could have been the affair that went wrong, which laid the foundation for this chilly climate. The woman is a mystery anyway, as she seems too harmless for an entire colony to fear her, but I have seen enough of her in the past few hours to know that she is very good at covering up the unique abilities that earned her position. To be the head of a band of thugs, whose name they only dare to utter whispering, she has to be quite an extraordinary bastard.

"She served as a soldier in the liquidation unit. She soon got tired of not having enough power and left instead." Alejandro shares his answer with us succinctly, spitting the words almost with disgust, and even in this small explanation, all his contempt is concentrated, which is moving through the man with the ferocity of a raging storm under the surface.

And this is just enough information for me to piece together the picture of how this con artist was able to slip out of the eager hands of the authorities for so long. She knew exactly how the system worked because she was lucky enough to have firsthand experience, and that's exactly how she sniffed out its weaknesses, which she shamelessly exploited. She knew how and where the patrols were conducted, she knew how to evade them, and she knew how to steer clear of the monsters that inevitably crossed her path. So it becomes quite clear why she was able to attack me with such deadly efficiency. Because she was trained to survive against tougher opponents than me, and so my intuition was correct, that if I gave her a few more minutes, she would have finished me very easily. Or at least she would have incapacitated me long enough for her to escape.

"I had to resort to more violent means to assert myself in a world that only revolves around you, right?" Valeria retorts, scrunching up her nose with such disgust that it's easy to deduce how much joy she found in being able to serve in the unit. And I can somewhat understand her loathing, because in teams specialized in killing mutants, the life of ordinary mortals is more than difficult. The training is the least of their problems, which in itself is terribly taxing both physically and mentally, but the fact that in most cases they are used as living shields in front of the beasts is valid a reason to be angry. Although it's presented as an attractive occupation within the walls of the colonies, and they try to advertise to the many frivolous idiots how well they will do if they join, the reality soon catches up with everyone. Safe accommodation, five meals a day, and a suspiciously high salary sounds good, but it doesn't change the fact that in the eyes of the government, they are nothing more than expendable chess pieces, that they aren't afraid to sacrifice to defeat a few beasts. But the woman would have had the very simple choice, if she was so cunning, that after suffering a tactical injury, she could have requested to be transferred to one of the many enforcement units operating in the colony. But obviously, then she would have lost the authority that comes with the noble task of serving in liquidation units. And this garbage seems ambitious enough, that once she has tasted the good life, she will only want more.

"What a clever little Healer you managed to catch for yourselves..." She suddenly turns to me, and as her eyes zero in on the dry blood-stained tear on my vest, her mouth stretches into a foul grin, as if she was proud of the fact that she was able to harm me. And I suspect she is. But there are no hard feelings, because she is sitting in some deep shit thanks to me. "They would kill for her on the black market."

And this one comment of hers covers the room in frozen shock so spectacularly, as if winter had arrived between the walls shrouded in darkness. She measures me up with such confident malice, as though I were nothing more than an animal destined for slaughter, and I don't doubt that she would be able to frighten anyone with this performance. But unfortunately, her tactic won't work against me, because she uses the same dirty little strategy that I like to apply when I want to get under someone's skin. I poke at where I know it will hurt the most, and I'm certain my provocation will reach its destination the soonest. She has chosen the wrong person to frustrate by explaining the bitter reality, because I have been aware of this fact for a very long time. More than one horror story circulated in the colony, in which defenseless Healers were ambushed in the open street and never found again, and this was just enough of a threat in the eyes of the general population that the newly screened Healers voluntarily waltzed into the open arms of the first unit they saw. Because it's much better to voluntarily end up in a parasitic relationship than to sink to the level of a disposable tool after being taken to god knows where. This doesn't mean that official units are any better, but maybe fewer people die miserably there. And now I'm at least not afraid to admit that I have got real lucky with my little team, because I'd probably be a thousand times worse off anywhere else.

The superiority on the woman's face fades in an instant, when I simply fold my arms in front of my chest with a comfortable calm, and with my chin held high, I stare back at her with a biting smile, holding her increasingly serious gaze. I only need to observe the downward curve of her mouth to know that she is rather annoyed that her petty taunting is not achieving its goal. But I get it, it annoys me too when my current mean stunt fails. Perhaps we have disturbingly more in common than I'd like to admit, but that's okay. This makes it easier to outmaneuver her. 

"Where's the serum?" Riley gets to the point, putting an end to our little stare-down duel, and as my ears are hit by the rough irritation hidden in his voice, I forcefully suppress the surprise that tries to sneak onto my face. Because although I know that his patience is probably just running thin from listening to this empty chatter, I can't exclude the thought from my mind that I might have something to do with the way his shoulders fill with tension. It might be possible that the excited little voice in my head wants to see more into everything now, but I want to deprive myself of my fun and delusions less and less.

"I was just an informant, I didn't steal that junk." She shrugs lightly as she tears her attention away from me and directs it to my rather formidable companion, radiating careless indifference with every cell in her, about which it slowly becomes clear that it isn't just a part of a charade befitting a cocky criminal. This woman is truly self-centered enough to believe that the fame and authority she had gained in the wilderness had accompanied her here as well, and will protect her if one of my buddies decides she has stretched their patience enough. Brave, but foolish.

"What kind of informant?" Alejandro snaps, and apparently, already at the beginning of the conversation, his patience with the game of the woman's sharp tongue begins to run out, and considering the hazy but complicated memories they share, it's not surprising that the man finds it progressively difficult to hold on to the threads of his nerves that are slowly wearing thread-thin. And when the woman only responds with an amused snicker and pulls her hand back to prop her elbows on the back of the chair, she gives the man one more reason to follow through on the threats in his head. 

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to put myself on the line?" Valeria remarks, and based on her emphasis, she labels the Hunter towering menacingly above her as the half-witted one, outrightly enjoying the way the red clouds of rage pass through his eyes. "Someone saw Alviar when he came back with that monster, and rumor started spreading in the colony that he was hiding something valuable. I just had to have a little chat with one of the workers and that was it." She explains her clever little machination, confirming the assumption that had already been formulated in my head. Although the poor fool didn't reveal the juicy information on their own accord, it doesn't change the fact that they indeed coughed up what was being hidden in the institute in the mountains.

"And you immediately passed the info on to someone else, huh? You low life…" A disbelieving, bitter laugh erupts from Alejandro as he fixes his furious eyes on the ceiling, perhaps hoping that observing the mold blooming on the plaster would restore self-control to his veins laced with fiery blood. And I have to admit that our pretty outlaw manages to get under the Hunter's skin in a really remarkable way, because she twists every word she says in just the right way to provoke another reaction from him. And while others may not understand what her goal might be by infuriating a person much stronger than her, who could rip her head off her neck with his bare hands, I know what the game is about. Although she risks her safety by getting her interrogators all riled up, she knows that no one will touch her if they want information, and thus she easily controls the conversation, because the focus shifts from important matters to anger. And this only confirms the fact that, even if the serum is not, the major information is in her possession.

"Why would I have kept the information to myself if I found a buyer for it?" The woman argues back with feigned indignation, as if the assumption that she wouldn't take advantage of this business opportunity would be insulting to her. "If this shit gets out, it's only good for business." She informs casually, as if she wasn't stating why it was beneficial to release a substance that could cause the end of humanity. And this is where her first sentence laced with misconceptions is uttered, because if she were really that intelligent, she would know that no one would be safe if the serum fell into the wrong hands. And she's no exception either.

"What the hell are you talking about?" The head of the unit snarls, and every cell of his body is filled with tension ready to attack, as if with each passing minute less and less would hold him back from squeezing the woman's graceful throat, if I only take a closer look at his posture in addition to his words. His hands clench into fists and his shoulders instantly stiffen with fury like a tiger about to pounce. And there is no doubt that the woman crushes the last crumbs of his fragile self-restraint when she heatedly leans forward and spreads her hands wide, as if she had to explain how the world works to a complete idiot.

"Use your head, you idiot!" The exasperated yell bursts out of Valeria, jamming her index finger into her forehead with almost painful force, thus emphasizing the use of which she wants to recommend to the man's attention. "The more monsters there are, the less time they have for us."

And from this rather logical justification, an icy atmosphere of gloom descends on the room at once, because this fatal stupidity is truly a compelling argument for such a woman who is corrupted to the core. And given the fact that she fled from a liquidation unit, it's no wonder she believes she has all the tools needed to protect herself when the goods she sold the intel about will find a new owner. But she didn't see what we experienced, and she has no idea what kind of world-shattering potential lies in that substance. Because if she knew, she wouldn't be digging her own grave by helping someone steal a chemical weapon capable of kicking not only the world's, but also her ass. And don't get me wrong, I understand the selfish interests behind her actions, since she just wants to make her business flourish, while the Hunters and everyone else are fighting for their lives. But nothing proves her blinded narcissism more than the fact that she doesn't take into account that if her customers die, the business will collapse faster than she has time to realize what's happening. 

"You filthy... " Alejandro breaks the stunned silence that has set in, and he charges towards Valeria, who is still sitting with easy calmness, with such suddenness, like an enraged bull, in front of which the red veil has been waved. And if it wasn't for MacTavish appearing next to him to hold him back, he would undoubtedly wipe the knowing, smug smile off her face with his own hands.

"Calm down, hermano!" The Scottish Hunter tries to calm his fuming friend, and as the muscles on his forearm tense, it becomes clear that this isn't as simple of a task as it seems. But Alejandro forces his cool composure back into its place with the skill of a leader, and as he fills his lungs with oxygen with a few quick breaths, he lets the man with the mohawk pull him back. "Who was the buyer?" MacTavish now takes over the lead of the investigation, and although his deep voice sounds relaxed, there is an edge of threat in it, which warns the woman that if she continues to play, then he won't be kind enough to prevent the violence that comes her way next time.

"You'd like to know, huh?" She grins, and it seems that she doesn't feel the seriousness of the situation, because she raises her head defiantly, as if one of her captors wasn't about to rearrange her physical integrity. And even though I also share the strange masochistic fetish, during which I challenge fate against myself with my irksome behavior, I'm not this stupid or brave either. However, someone who wants to hold an entire criminal organization in her hands certainly needs this audacity. What a pity that it won't achieve the expected effect here.

Because Riley, who has been watching in silence until now, runs out of patience in an instant, and as he stomps closer to Valeria, each step is filled with such ominous heaviness, that makes our little criminal's lips press together into a thin line in an instant. And as the man bends down to her, and almost hides the body of the hitherto confident woman in the shadow of his burly figure, it must become painfully obvious to her that she is now facing an opponent who isn't afraid to tear her jaw off, if he finally can open her mouth with it.

"If you don't start talkin', I'll break every fuckin' bone in your body one by one." The masked Hunter threatens, emphasizing each word of his promise, and his voice, which plunges into the frightening depths, is the perfect proof that the woman has one more sassy remark before he makes his warning come true. My eyes slide to his broad back, and I discover the straining material of the uniform, which stretches between his two shoulders almost in agony, as he towers over his victim with the keen attention of a predator about to pounce, and my stomach jumps excitedly, because my dubious feelings about him flash in my mind again at the most inopportune moment. But unfortunately, there's something maddeningly attractive about seeing the threads of his restraint snap in his head. I'm really sick.

However, it seems that the message interwoven with painful vows has reached its goal, because even though a few minutes filled with suffocating pressure pass, Valeria finally folds her hands in front of her with a tired sigh, submitting to the not-so-discreet urging of my dangerous companion. When the masked man sees that he has managed to break the gangster's relaxed mood, he just turns around with satisfaction, only to settle down next to me and advance again into a scary ghost, who only intervenes when absolutely necessary.

"A separatist group called "Vulture" bought the information." She shares the first useful knowledge with us, at least as enthusiastically as if we pulled it out with pliers. And it's not surprising that she isn't eager to give up the identity of her customer, because it could give her a very bad reputation in the dubious circles where she operates. But she has to swallow this bitter pill now if she wants to keep the ability to walk, which will allow her to stroll out of here when we're done with her.

"Where are they now?" MacTavish continues his determined inquiry, searching our prisoner's face with his eyes, probably scanning for a lie in every twitch of her face. And good thing he does, because we can't rule out that she will try to screw us over. It would be a pretty brave thing to do, but we won't know the authenticity of her information until we check out ourselves, and by then she may have disappeared from the radar a long time ago.

"Everywhere." Comes the short answer, which leaves much more dissatisfaction than certainty. It's clear from the faint, amused wrinkles gathering around her eyes that she's having quite a good time even in this predicament, as if she has nothing to lose by continuing this mysterious act. And that makes me wonder what she could be playing at. Why is it so important to her, in addition to her reputation, to preserve the intimate details of her customer's identity?

"Ya shouldn't be foolin' around right now." The Scottish man warns her, and gestures towards his masked bosom friend with one of his hands, reminding our criminal once again that no matter how much Riley hides in the background unnoticed, he hasn't vanished into thin air, and is still very much close by, waiting for the opportunity to make his threat become a reality. And that would make any sane person feel like talking, but this woman is something different, and she just distorts her mouth into a contemptuous pout and tilts her head to the side, as if she would just feel sorry for the Hunter for cooling his mouth out by trying to extract more valuable knowledge from her.

"I'm not kidding." Valeria shakes her head, conjuring up the act of false innocence in her features for a moment, not trying to make her play seem credible even for a minute. "That group is constantly on the move. Good luck finding it." She elaborates, and there is such a caustic sneer in her voice, as if she still has something up her sleeve that no one else knows. And when the gruff voice of annoyance breaks out of Alejandro again, the diabolical grin on the woman's face makes it evident that this is indeed the case. Because although she could fool anyone by pretending that she is just happy that she cannot serve us with more interesting facts than this and that is what fills her with morbid glee, it doesn't escape my attention as she imperceptibly checks her surroundings with her black eyes, as though she is waiting for something. And then the realization hits me that she is not protecting her unknown business partner, but is still hoping to get into a bargaining position that will allow her to dance back to her underworld businesses unscathed. How very sneaky.

"She knows where they are." I interrupt the ever-increasing tension with my clever little remark, fixing my eyes on the woman with unflinching calmness, because even though she may try to trick others, I know these tactics too well not to see through them. "She's waiting for a deal." I mention this detail, drawing a pitiful half-smile on my face, because although I think it's infinitely naive that she still sees a chance to get away from our little meeting as a winner, but, nevertheless, it’s remarkable how shrewdly she clings to every trifle that she can turn to her advantage.

"And she's smart too." Valeria comments on my observations, and now she doesn't even try to suppress the malicious grimace that appears on her face. Every delicate feature fills with a sly edge as her mouth curves upwards in a superior smile, communicating with her entire being that we are about to get to the point where she is back to taking control of the entire conversation.

"She won't get it." Alejandro barks almost immediately, and the intensity of his barely restrained fury comes to life in his voice, as he takes a few threatening steps towards his enemy, perhaps hoping to awaken fear in the woman. But it leads to nothing, because Valeria leans back in her chair with laziness and swings her crossed legs with sincere carelessness, as if she wouldn't be affected by the outburst of the Hunter, who is getting more and more agitated in front of her, even for a minute.

"Oh, but you need me to start remembering." Our gangster states, and her emphasis conveys the unspoken message that whether or not we can move forward and prevent the impending disaster depends on her goodwill. And I have to admit, it's quite brilliant how thoroughly she played her cards up to this point, because from the moment her eyes opened and she realized the corner we helped her back into, she immediately worked to turn the situation into her own favor. "I'll tell you where they are if you release me after."

And this one demand momentarily helps to unsettle the firm and fearful aura of my friends, because the woman presents a very simple problem. Either we give her what she wants, or she dies holding the knowledge to herself. Because I have no doubt that this sick bastard would be able to hold back the information out of defiance if she could fuck with us until her last breath. This dilemma is exacerbated by the fact that even though our allies here have helped us until now to prevent the risk of potential mass murder, it's also quite clear that Alejandro has no intention of releasing the hard-earned criminal from his clutches. The outlaw has been playing on the man's nerves for years, and I don't think that he would like to add another couple of years to this game. And as the Hunters look at each other and engage in a silent debate, I see the sparks of disappointment and venom rekindle in the unit leader's eyes, with which he acknowledges that, unfortunately, for the sake of the greater good, he will be forced to release his twisted opponent.

"All right." Riley finally agrees to the deal, turning his dark eyes on our hostage again, and for some reason, I get the feeling that the calmness with which, after the aggressive warning he gave not long ago, he now allows Valeria to have our conversation according to her whims, is beyond suspicious. Because it's quite strange for a man who can torture me for months with his dislike to adopt such a dubious, but no less diplomatic, demeanor.

"They hang out next to Colony No. 41 until they get rid of the goods. It won't be easy if they want to do it secretly, so they might still be there." Valeria gives us the details of her beforehand deeply hidden knowledge, and the satisfied hum in her voice makes it immediately evident that she is now blabbering with the peace of the victors. And this inevitably puts a sour taste in my mouth, because it seems that I still have to refine my manipulation after the woman's impeccable presentation. But I don't have time to think about how I could develop my meanness further, because MacTavish appears before our little duo with Riley with a few long steps, leaning closer and fixing his intense gaze on his masked bosom friend.

"We need to tell Price. Our hands can't reach there, and we'll need help to find them." The Scottish Hunter informs us of his concerns, which raises a rather real problem. As much as we would like to keep this little action while staying under the radar, it seems that the complications that arise are far beyond what we can covertly solve. Colony No. 41 is located at such a distance that even its surroundings are alien to us, not to mention that the red zone and uncontrolled region around it are also famously gathering points for the assorted dangers that happily hide in that awfully large area. And the bastards we have to sniff out now were probably directed there precisely by this tempting fact. It's just big and barren enough for them to lie low in peace until the sale is done. And we will need the help of someone who knows the place like the back of their hand, because we cannot allow ourselves to go on an aimlessly search until we find the separatists.

"I'll let him know."  Riley nods, and springing into action almost immediately he hurries towards the door, only pausing for a few fleeting moments next to Alejandro, who is still seething in the middle of the room. "The woman is yours, Alejandro." The masked Hunter pats the man's shoulder, causing his eyebrows to meet rather bewildered at first, and then, when he realizes the gift his comrade gave him, only an appreciative grin curls on his mouth framed with dark stubble.

"What the fuck? We agreed!" Valeria yells, and for the first time, real emotion moves between her features, and the betrayed hurt that shines in her eyes is almost appetizing, as if it's really hard for her to believe what she's hearing. And I suspect that it's so, because I'm also a little lost for a moment, and I just furrow my eyebrows in confusion and blink at the masked man turning back from the door, who fixes his eyes on the angry woman with such contempt, as if he was just about to correct a bad child.

"I lied." The Hunter says simply, and anyone else would miss the slight change in his tone, but my sharp little ears can hear the satisfaction radiating from his words. And as I realized that it was the man, whom I recognized as a rolemodel of duty, who stabbed our cunning criminal in the back, my surprise turns into amused joy in a blink of an eye. Because I wouldn't have expected him to be able to break his word in such a sly way, even though, if I think about it more, I was already lucky enough to experience his vile tactics firsthand when he took me to my lovely little forest trial. But now, as I follow him with a wicked little grin as he calmly leaves behind the thug immersed in frenzied Spanish swearing, it occurs to me that there is another side to this dangerous man that is waiting to be witnessed. And this awakens the insatiable desire in me to find out as soon as possible what kind of surprises he has in store for me.

⃰

The late afternoon sun caresses the pale walls of the small room with its orange flames, where we retired to welcome our captain's call in intimate loneliness, which hopefully gives us more good news than we came across. During our interrogation at dawn, though we gained the next important clue, which could advance us in our research after the lost serum, but unfortunately it was just enough to raise hope. Because the woman has managed to give us an area as our next destination that, if we have to search blindly after the separatist group, it's guaranteed that we will lose the trace of Alviar's clever little discovery. Even so, we are at a two-week disadvantage, during which the thieves could easily have found a sympathetic buyer for the goods, and it's only up to the generosity of fate whether we can prevent the transaction or not. And we don't have time for aimlessly wandering in search of those scums.

This, in turn, plants the impatient pressure in my brain, which helps to fill my throat with the dryness of a desert by tightening its bony fingers around my neck. And I just have to look at MacTavish sitting next to me to know that he is definitely sharing my doubts. Even though his posture seems peaceful as he leans back on the worn sofa, the nervous bouncing of his leg and the restless play of his hands in his lap tells me that every minute he is creeping deeper into the tension of waiting.

And as if they had felt that my mind was in decline, suddenly the communicator rings with a sharp beep, which has been waiting in Riley's hands for our team to contact us. As the man leans forward while pressing a couple of buttons and slides the small device into the middle of the coffee table, the faces of our two familiar companions appear in the emerging hologram. And it's enough to observe their condition worse than washed-out shit, and I know that we are not the only ones that our little adventure wears down so enthusiastically, which gives me some consolation.

"Laswell!" The Scottish Hunter breaks out of his silent tension, bending forward with a sincere smile on his face, leaving behind his nervousness for a moment at the sight of our station chief. It's a fact that the woman's appearance can mean good, because her skillful hands might have been able to reach places where she returned with some valuable help. And we need nothing more than for her to come up with something exciting so we can finally continue our investigation.

"I'm glad to see you in one piece!" Laswell greets us, and she scans our trio sitting on battered furniture with her light eyes as if she were searching for invisible injuries. And it's quite charming when I almost feel the maternal worry in her voice, but my consciousness spins in a much faster turn from an impatient desire for knowledge than I can properly appreciate this small moment.

"Did you find somethin'?" Riley gets down straight to the point, leaning his elbows on his knees, focusing all his attention on the woman, on whose face a rather troubled expression appears at his enthusiastic question, which causes her brows, emerging under from her light hair, to knot together, and I don't need my womanly intuition’s help to know, that this only could mean something bad. Because according to this, the separatists may form such a professional group that even challenges Laswell's skillful abilities.

"I tried to dig deeper, but I only found a few old reports about the group." Laswell sighs, and in the little gesture, as she tiredly smooths her hands over her forehead, she conveys all the frustrations she tries to suppress with her professionalism before it gets too close to the surface. Although it's quite amazing that in a matter of hours, she has come close to the information at all, because I suspected that she had to do her search again within quite illegal frameworks. "They covered their traces very well." She resignedly shakes her head, and through the bluish image of the hologram, I can see that every inch of her is filled with nervous frustration for not being able to find the information to support our mission. But it would have been too strange if something had gone smoothly for once.

"Fuckin' hell ..." Mactavish sweares, accompanied by an irritated huff, voicing the annoyance that is slowly but surely becoming more and more apparent on his features. It's quite obvious that the recent series of complications has pushed down his tolerance for bad luck, but if luck finally decides to smile at us, he will soon have an outlet for his anger.

"But John has better news." Laswell hints at the positive developments, giving us the rays of hope again before we can immerse ourselves in the exasperation that the continuous complication of the events planted in us. And on this statement, we all focus on the captain, on whose mouth framed with a thick beard the beginnings of a malicious little smile appear, which helps to revive my optimism from its ashes.

"Our conversation with Shepherd went better than we hoped." Price reveals, an even through the communicator, I can hear the satisfaction that weaves its deep voice. And I had no doubt that he would make his promise come true, and after the dubious business, he spices his words to the leader of the colony with sufficient violence, but I wouldn't even imagine that the revenge-thirsty meeting would be so successful that we can profit from it soo soon. But our captain always delights us with pleasant surprises, and I particularly like the fact that he can act in such a petty way when people queer his pitch.

"I hope ya cornered the fucker." The Scottish man joins in, and from the evil little grin on his face, I get the feeling that although he regrets not being able to be present to make the colony leader come around with his own hands, but the successes of his superior fills him with enough satisfaction as well.

"As much as these scum can be." The bearded Hunter notes, and his expression contorts into a wry grimace, making it quite clear that he didn't push the old man nearly as hard as he would have liked to. Of course, we knew that it wouldn't be easy to hold the leadership accountable, even if their crimes could be proven clear as day. Despite the threat of mutants, the functioning of the world hasn’t become less corrupt. Small communities are even easier to rule over, and the scumbags, such as Shepherd, take advantage of this with great pleasure. But I was still hoping that Price would at least put the old shit in a coma. "But he got the help you need. The private liquidation unit serving at Colony No. 41 will help you find the separatist group." The captain describes the little gift from the leader of the colony, and although I have no doubt that he sees this help as a step forward, the restrained anger moving into his bright eyes promises that the actions of the old man, who has  unexpectedly turned as tame as a lamb, won't be forgotten just because he threw a few bones to us.

Although it's not surprising that Shepherd has become so cooperative all of a sudden and is more than happy to fulfill our wishes, because it's also in his best interest that his ugly little secret remains deeply buried. Because if someone were to tell on what kind of dirty godly game he was playing with his doctor and what kind of shit he was stirring up, then the outraged mob would hang his dismembered body on the wall of the colony before he would have time to figure out how to calm the people's anger. And that's why I'm quite sure that, to achieve maximum success, he will add helpers to our daring venture, with whose assistance we will be able to deal with your unpleasant little problem with absolute certainty. The old fart is smart, but if there's one thing I've learned the hard way, it's that sooner or later karma kicks everyone's ass with enough force to feel the sting.

However, it doesn’t escape my attention, and pulls me out of my contemplation sufficiently, as the aura of my two companions becomes progressively more gloomy at the mention of our helpers, as if the mere intorduction of them would be enough to induce caution in them. MacTavish's face hardens in the blink of an eye, and the curve of his mouth pressed together in a tight line is proof enough that, if not personally, but had the luck to encounter the reputation of the unit. And I just turn my gaze to Riley with interest, and my confusion increases further when I catch the intensity with which his narrowing eyes stare at the looming image of the hologram. Who could they be talking about?

"Shepherd has assured that they'll cooperate with you in everything." Price states as he sees the obvious doubt overtaking the two Hunters, beckoning them to calm down with one gloved hand. And now my curiosity flares up vividly as to what kind of unit it might be, the mention of which is enough to instill such caution in the mood of my two experienced friends. "But be careful." He adds, and this only further strengthens the bad foreboding that is slowly awakening in my mind. A little rivalry certainly can fit into the busy lives of the liquidation units, but I highly doubt that's what got my two buddies so frustrated. This is about something else, and my curious mind is already hungry for answers.

However, it seems that the man's admonishment is enough for these tough guys to regain their confidence, because they only hesitate for a few seconds, and then, accompanied by a nod of agreement, they indicate to their leader whether forced or not, but they will go along with this new set up. We would have no other choice anyway, because now we have to hold on to even the most pathetic straws if we don't want to be cut to pieces by some advanced mutant bastard.

"You're leaving tomorrow morning." Price continues the briefing, and as we talk about our new trip, my stomach involuntarily jumps, and I can only wildly hope that my body will finally pull itself together so that I won't have to pray for nausea to leave me alone. My self-esteem wouldn't survive that, I'm afraid. "They'll be waiting at their base. We hope they can provide more information." He ends his little speech with this, and I don't like the suspicious look he gives us at all, because it makes me very uncertain about what prospects we can look forward to. And I have a hunch that this concern is not for our research abilities, but for our new little friends, whose identity is weighing more and more on my mind, because it starting to irk me that they arouse my curiosity with vague hints.

"Good luck." Laswell sends her last good wishes to us, and then after flashing an encouraging smile, she ends the line with this final word, leaving us alone to peacefully digest the news that was shared with us. The more I delve into my thoughts, the more I'm unsettled by the fact that although we have become richer with another clue, we haven't made a single iota of progress. We're just dancing around the ever-increasing problem, which we sometimes get a little closer to, only to be pushed further away by another fucking obstacle right after. And this is starting to test the limits of my battered nerves in every possible way.

"Steamin’ bloody Jesus." The Scottish Hunter buries his face in his hands accompanied by an exhausted groan, and now for the first time, it's obvious that he is starting to feel worn out due to the excitement we suffered through lately. I do not doubt that they have been trained to endure this stress ever since weaning them from mother's milk, but it seems that even in the life of such battle-hardened tanks, there comes a point when the load becomes too much. "This won't be an easy ride." He notes not so optimistically, and it's not entirely clear which part of the task ahead of us, which full of complications and question marks, he is referring to.

"We'll work it out." Riley declares with rock-solid confidence that leaves no room for doubt or uncertainty. Because based on the decisiveness in his emphasis, it can almost be taken as a guarantee that if it's up to him and his abilities, everything will happen as it's written in the playbook. And for the first time, I want to believe that this man full of ominous promises is right.

"I hope you're right, Ghost." MacTavish replies, and then, accompanied by a hum of agreement, he leans on his knees with his palms and stands up with jerky movements, stretching his tired limbs for a fleeting moment. "We'd better rest." He advises, smoothing one hand on the back of his head, making weak attempts to massage out the tension that has built up there. "Ya too!" He suddenly fixes his lively eyes on his best friend and me, with such reproach as if it weren't my greatest desire to finally be able to sleep through the night without my mind racing to solve the current goddamn difficulties. Unfortunately, I have too much brain capacity to not overthink every single detail in my moments alone.

Raising one of my eyebrows, I follow with my cynical gaze as he, after one last wave, leaves the scene of our small meeting, presumably finally taking advantage of the comfort of the accommodation provided by our hosts. Undoubtedly, he deserves to collect his freshness before the rather nerve-wracking mission ahead of us, so that he can throw himself into the excitement with sufficient aggressive enthusiasm. As the door closes behind his departing figure, silence settles in the room again, in which only Riley and I are left alone, in our complete peaceful solitude.

Leaning back, I slide my arm onto the back of the sofa, so that I can rest my head on my palm, and I close my eyes with a heavy sigh, trying to silence the thousands of thoughts buzzing in my skull a little. And it doesn't seem like an easy task, because the more silent minutes pass, the more my senses sharpen, because if I'm not pondering on the doubts swirling in my brain, then my body has just enough power to tune in embarrassingly quickly to every little movement of the man sitting next to me. And maybe the fact that he spends his free time in my company should raise questions in me, when the comfort of his own room could be much more tempting to him, but as my eyelids open lazily and I peer at him under my eyelashes, then these little things get pushed back in the back of my skull right away.

It seems that he too may be deep in thought, quite intensely, because he still keeps his eyes fixed on the long-inactive communicator, as if he wants to find a solution to the many worrying details that have arisen in him. And as the leader of our small team of three, the cogs in his head are definitely turning with full steam, as he plans how he should direct our next steps, and there is something exceedingly mesmerizing, the way a tiny muscle twitches on his face hidden under the mask, and the sunlight sets orange sparks into his brown eyes. And I would like to trace the clenched line of his jaw with my fingers, to see if I could remove the tension…

"I didn't know you could be so deceptive, Riley." I suddenly interrupt the idyllic moment, because I'm afraid that if I study the man even a moment longer, the pull of seduction will win in me and I will do something incredibly stupid. Although it's good to have my fun with him, this calmness can lull me into the silly idea that there would be no consequences if would I let the urging of the little voice in my skull prevail.

I manage to surprise him with my comment, because for a moment he just glances back at me questioningly, only to quickly understand from the devilish little smile on my face that I'm referring to the exceedingly evil tactics he used during the interrogation of our criminal. And this breaks him out of his rather troubled contemplation just enough to lean back with a relaxed movement and, leaving his tense hunched posture behind, stretch out comfortably on the sofa. And it doesn't escape my attention, as his knee settles only a few torturously short inches from my leg, I'm forced to scold myself contemptuously since this almost insignificant moment can wake up the warmth under my skin. Because I'm starting to look pathetically starved, which my self-esteem are able to tolerate less and less.

"You don't know a lot about me yet." He states easily, and anyone would think that he has put on his calm indifference again, but my ears can hear the breath of roughness in his tone, which almost challenges me to join this game that he is now inviting me to. And the tremble in my stomach won't let me dance back when he so generously devotes his outstanding attention to me, the weight of which now fills every fiber of me with excited sparks.

"How mysterious." I remark, turning to him, resting my chin on my palm, as I give in to the temptation to let my gaze run over the man. He doesn't have his usual gear on now, and although I can't hide the fact that he can capture my interest even when he's armed up to the neck, but this way, when he rests in civilian clothes next to me, there are much more that my hungry eyes can feast on. And the guilty thoughts wake up in my head immediately, when I recall what it felt like to run my hands through his muscles, the bulging lines of which are now only slightly visible under the dark fabric. And I forcefully suppress the ache moving to my canines as I bite into the inside of my cheek, because suddenly I want nothing more than to sink them deep into the tight flesh and hear again what it's like when his deep voice emerges from his throat a hoarse grunt. "I wonder what I should do to find out more about you." I divert my attention from the images in my head, because even verbal teasing seems safer now than letting my eyes wander further on the Hunter. Because the whole man is a bewitching phenomenon, and I'm less and less able to command myself around him.

"If you ask the right questions, you might succeed."  He answers simply, and while the statement itself might surprise me, the way his words roll off his tongue arouses my curiosity much more, because every single sound is an invitation to the dance, as if he just wants to make me give in to the attraction raging inside me. And it's possible that it's just the dull fog that descends on my mind, imagining dubious meanings in every word, but I'm unable to say no to this invitation, if he's aware of what he's doing, if not.

"And if I ask the right questions, will I get the answers I'm interested in?" I ask with a cheeky smile on my lips, and I don't try to hide the defiant edge that moves into my voice, because I want him to know that I'm not afraid to indulge in this dangerous little game, because I wouldn't mind for a minute if I burned myself in the process. Especially if his touch would be the one boiling over my skin like a personalized branding.

And it seems that he understands exactly what he has started with his behavior, because although the material of the mask covers every single feature, I can tell from the small, amused wrinkles that gather around his eyes that he is very deliberately entertains himself by planting the sultry tension in the air of the small room, which sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. And this makes me wonder if I'm really in control of our little duel, because all I have to do is observe the vile little light that sparkles in his eyes, and I know that this conversation is going exactly where he wants it to.

"You can try." He notes, sort of casually, as if he hadn't just given me permission to use my sly tactics against him. Although he had already shared with me when we arrived here that our little fling in the infirmary had not taken his will of life away, and perhaps even enjoyed it, but this is different now. Now he is almost provoking me to find out how far I can go with my ploys, to see what awaits me on the other side of the wall he has built around himself. And I'd be a real fool if I didn't fulfill his request if he is asking so kindly. 

"Even if I play dirty?" I keep pushing the question, because now that he has given his consent to my daring activity, I have neither the strength nor the desire to curb the urge of excitement bubbling in my stomach. My body moves almost by itself as I lean closer to him with slow movements, and as one of my sneaky hands finds his thigh, I can feel the hard muscles running there twitch for a moment, even through the rough material of the jeans. My palm is almost burned by the heat of his body, which radiates through the fabric, and I, almost holding my breath, look into his dark eyes, in which something quite dangerous glimmers. And the little voice in my head whispers that I have now voluntarily walked into the trap he set for me, like a silly little mouse who dances in front of the cat in the hope that it will not be eaten. But an unholy little part of me wouldn't mind if he would sink his claws into me and tear me apart if I had a chance to taste him that way.

And the air gets stuck in my lungs as he suddenly moves and bridges the tiny distance that separates the two of us, and my body instinctively stiffens in surprise, like a deer caught in a trap. His hot breath almost burns as he brushes his mouth against my ear, and I can't get the fantasy images out of my head, as I fall into the trap of his broad shoulders, when he puts one hand through my legs and rests it on the other side of my body frozen in startled excitement. Because it's projected in front of my mind's eye like a relfex, as he towers over me exactly like this, and I, pressed under his naked body, dig my nails into the skin of his back covered with thousands of small scars, as he moves between my thighs. And that's enough for me to bite my own tongue and hold back the lustful moan that threatens to come out of me with an almost desperate force.

"Go on. I'll look forward to it." He murmurs softly, and his deep voice is sin itself, because, like some poison, it creeps into my head through my ear canals and helps the daze to settle in my brain. I almost get dizzy as my nose fills with his scent, which I would already recognize even in my dreams, and which makes scorching fire arise in the pit of my stomach, and desire ripples through every fiber of me. My fingers clench involuntarily and my blunt nails dig into his strong thigh through the fabric, and the soft chuckle that breaks out of him is almost cruel when he realizes how pitifully he made me crumble with these few words.

But as quickly as he arrived, he leaves as suddenly, and I just blink in a daze after him as he falls back into the comfort of the sofa. It takes a few seconds for my head to clear from the intoxicating effect of his proximity, and for me to understand what happened. And as soon as my brain is able to produce coherent thoughts again, because I have banished the last intrusive, lustful fragment of imagination from it, then a wicked, but no less playful grin moves onto my face, because this reckless man doesn't know what he gave his blessing to. Because now I see more clearly than ever what it is that attracts me to him so much. Every tiny movement, every dark look, every word imbued with exciting danger lures me in, and I won't rest until I know what it's like when he loses his carefully built and iron-fisted control. I want to know what kind of fire lurks behind the harsh exterior, and there is nothing that can prevent me from reaching my goal. Especially when he encourages me so generously. Just be careful Riley…you don't know what I'm capable of.

⃰

"We're here!" Nik shouts over the noise of the engine, and I almost thank the heavens that I finally hear these words, because although my body indeed tolerated my second flight better than I had hoped, unfortunately, the contents of my stomach were also doing somersaults as if all its intentions would have been to try to break out of me. Luckily, the thousands of thoughts running through my head and the closeness of the masked Hunter sitting next to me beneficially distracted me from the attack of the stomach acid pooling in my throat. And although at first, I found it very interesting that he found my company so voluntarily, after our little discussion yesterday, I no longer question what his purpose might be. Because whatever is going on in his head, I have no reason to resist when he offers himself to me on a silver tray.

I don't have to look to feel Riley's gaze scanning my tortured features, and without words, I can guess that he is probably assessing carefully whether I will or won't let my breakfast meet the outside world. And although it moves my dark soul, that our relationship has already reached the point where he worries about my well-being, luckily my pride gives me a much stronger motivation to hide my weaknesses. So, as soon as this metal box called an airplane finally stops for good, I stretch out my limbs that have become stiff during the journey with a relieved sigh, thereby breathing life back into my body.

And when the peace of my biorhythm returns, then I only momentarily catch the cheeky grin spreading across MacTavish's mouth, who is sitting across from us, which makes only one of my eyebrows raise questioningly, because I find it difficult to understand why he is having so much fun. Like a well-arranged choreography, they took their seats after we said goodbye to our Spanish friends amid a myriad of good wishes, and even then I could see the cheerful sparks awakening in those light eyes, but I chalked it up to the excitement of the new action making him so excited. But now, as he comfortably stands up and grabs the shoulder straps of his tactical vest, and his gaze goes brazenly over the duo his bosom friend and I created, I have an irresistible desire to find out what the hell is his problem with the sharp words that wishes their way on my tongue.

However, I don't have time to formulate my speech full of selected colorful words, because Riley straightens up with a completely unexpected movement, as if he has just come to his senses from the deep meditation in which he have sunk during our journey. And as he casts his waiting eyes on me, I spring up too, because now instead of the interesting silent play, we have more important things to do. And despite the fact that the two Hunters exchange a quiet look before all three of us head towards the door opening from the cargo deck, although it awakens my curiosity, unfortunately, I have very little brain capacity left to analyze the behavior of the two men. Even when the curiosity that settles in my head begins to frantically scratch the inside of my skull.

The cold breeze brings the smell of rain, which tickles my face as we leave the plane, and the huge building in front of us is covered in sad grayness by the blanket of dark clouds gathering in the sky. It might seem ominous that on the next stage of our mission, the weather greets us with such a whimsical gift, but this cool wind is a relief after the almost suffocatingly warm air that we have had in the last few days. And this could be a lucky turn for us, because those dirtbag criminals wouldn't risk crossing the red zone in a storm, unless they have suicidal tendencies.

"You came earlier than we expected!" Comes a strong, accent-heavy greeting, and I, along with my other two companions, turn my head almost immediately in the direction of the sound to discover a figure covered in uniform and tactical equipment from the gate of the wire fence running on the side of the runway. It doesn't take much logic to figure out that one of our new companions showed up so kindly to welcome us, and it doesn't take much brain activity either to understand that the mask and sunglasses covering his face are not the only thing that triggers an instinctive feeling of caution in my head. Shepherd wasn't fooling around when he was looking for competent help, because even the reception committee is made up of an S-class big boy. Which could be good news on the one hand, but the aloof aura that the two Hunters suddenly put on doesn't escape my attention.

"We had no time to waste." MacTavish remarks, and instead of his companion, who has sunk into restrained distantness, he is the one who takes the first step to break the ice of the new situation, and crosses the distance separating him from the newcomer with a few long strides to extend his hand out to him. My Scottish friend takes on directness with his usual instinct, but I know him just well enough to catch the breath of tension creeping into his shoulders, which reveals that he is far from being as relaxed as he appears to be. And this again raises the question in me, what on earth did this private unit called KorTac do to deserve this precaution?

"Lucky for you, we also work quickly." Our host replies, and it would be impossible not to notice the confidence sweeping into his words. And it may even feel like bragging, as he fires off his comment, but it seems much more like a purposefully presented statement of fact, as if he just wanted to let us know that my two friends are not the only big dogs here. "Horangi." He accepts the extended hand of the Scottish Hunter to shake it with the same determination as before, and nothing but professionalism radiates from his movements.

"Soap." MacTavish also introduces himself, and then letting go of the hand of the very Korean-sounding Hunter, he turns to us. And this makes me wonder how was the very American colony able to lure him here, when presumably his own would have been willing to keep him there even by force. Interesting. "This is Ghost and Viper." The Scottish man presents our callsigns, and I don't even try to object to him referring to me by the name he invented, because maybe it's for the better if everyone else besides them knows me by it. It fills me with an unreasonable sense of security, even though the leader of Colony No. 17 has probably already filled our new companions in before the arrival of our small group.

"Shepherd already told us about you." Horangi nods towards us, thus confirming my already clear assumption. The old man has indeed become quite eager to please in order to protect his own skin, but it doesn't make up for the fact that we are now forced to slowly become world travelers precisely because of him. "Come, my partner is interrogating as we speak." The man cuts the excitement of the introduction short, then turns his back on us with self-evident relaxation and starts towards one of the hangars located in the yard of the base. But I'm much more baffled by what he wants to suggest than his easy demeanor, because it would be quite amazing if, in the span of twelve short hours, they had already laid their hands on such a person who could guide us closer to our destination leading to the separatist group.

"Who?" Riley finally speaks up, and his tone holds the right amount of suspicion, as if he too would find the suggestion that his colleagues are working at such an unexpected speed quite unbelievable. Because that pace would be truly astounding, as it would mean that they began to work the moment Price had his little chat with the colony leader, which wouldn't be much of a feat in itself, however, if they actually found someone in such a short time, from whom they can extract useful information, it's equivalent to a miracle. And this gives me quite dubious feelings at best, because it raises the small question of how much dirtier and more brutal methods they have, if they achieve such rapid results with it. And it immediately becomes evident why these two tough guys became so grim when the captain mentioned who we would be working with. Because only one type of man and Hunter works so enthusiastically. The one who can be bought with hard money. Which basically wouldn't be a problem, except that even my less experienced self knows about such groups that they aren't afraid to carry out highly questionable actions if they are backed with enough credits. Shepherd… you sneaky old piece of shit. You don't leave it to chance, do you? Now the only question is whether you paid them to watch us while we spend our days together on the mission…

"We found a weak link at dawn."  The Korean man says quite cheerfully, and it would be impossible not to hear the boasting from the way he tells about their achievement. And it could only be deliberately ignored, how the jaw of the masked Hunter, walking next to me, tenses under the black fabric in a blink of an eye. Off to a great start. I wasn't wrong about the competition either. "And if it's up to my partner, that birds definitely started singing by now." He adds with quite a bit of malice, and just from this one sentence it becomes clear that his friend can't be less dangerous than he is.

Without another word, we just silently follow our new tour guide, who leads us through the hangar's wide-open entrance into the spacious hall, where serious-faced little soldiers work with much more discipline than I have ever experienced back in our modest little home. It's enough to observe how they respectfully, but no less rigidly, greet the Hunter galloping at the head of our little team, and I immediately know that it's not Price's paternal but benevolent strictness that reigns here, but that someone holds these people in a much bigger iron fist. Which doesn't directly mean bad, but it says enough about the one who runs the unit.

And Horangi leads us with unceasing enthusiasm towards a battered container, the door of which suddenly opens, and we get close enough for me to see a broken body bathed in the paleness of the neon light, which, curling up on the ground, begins to whimper softly, like a tortured, wounded animal. But I don’t have the opportunity to study the wretch any longer, for a dark figure appears on the threshold, more gigantic than I have ever seen in my life. The man, with cool calmness, wipes the blade clutched in his gloved hand with a dirty rag, and when he thinks his weapon is clean enough, he slides it back into one of the many holsters resting on his tactical vest with the tenderness of a gentle lover. And there is something viscerally disdainful in the way he throws the dirty piece of cloth behind his back and takes one last look at the poor guy, who begins to sob on the floor, before turning all his attention to our group, which has just stopped in front of him.

"I made him talk." He declares simply, and I can't take my eyes off him, because shock settles in me with instinctive speed, which makes a thousand little voices in my head scream at the same time: be careful! Because, as those cold blue eyes survey my companions, and then slowly settle on me, I know for sure that this guy is so dangerous that all the precautions our captain warned us to take are justified. What on earth did they stuff this dude with to make him so big!?

[princess-of-the-corner]

SonicAU . . . I guess??

Honestly, I just need To share this so it’s out of my head, but I’d love to hear some thoughts! Also, will never do anything with it, so, it’s up for grabs!

So, several THOUSANDS of years into the future, most of Sonic & Co are dead, and have passed into legend. Like, they were clearly real people, but so much time has passed that most people consider their adventures a bit exaggerated, ya know? Like, the events surrounding them HAPPENED, clearly, but most people think they were blown a little out of proportion, or were actually more mundane phenomena that wasn’t well understood at the time. The planet didn’t REALLY break apart! Chaos wasn’t some giant dragon thing, probably just a massive wave! A hedgehog? Running at super sonic speed? Well, THAT seems unlikely! That sort of thing.

Anyway, this a Cyber!Punk/Star Trek future, where we all have crazy tech based off of synthetic Chaos Energy, a lot of it pioneered by Prower Technologies (the company started by Miles “Tails” Prower, still going strong). One of the current “heirs” to Prower Tech, is Kilamitra “Trip” Prower (trip short for triple), the three-tailed, several times great-granddaughter of Tails. She doesn’t really WANT to take over the company, and instead wants to join The Chaos Corp, sort of like the Federation from Star Trek, mixed with a bit of Voltron (mostly the Legendary Defender part). When she does, she ends up meeting-

“Kicks”, the grandson of Knuckles, (I like to think Knuckles has an extended lifespan, thanks to the Master Emerald, so the generations between his kids are fewer) whose older sister is a commanding officer in the Chaos Corp, and who wants to prove himself to his family. Unlike most of his family’s penchant for punching things, he prefers kicks (obviously).

Ora, daughter of Silver, (finally stopped time-travelling, settled down, had kids) who’s struggling to control her telekinetic powers. Since they aren’t as reliable for her to fight with, she also wields a giant hammer, or club.

Marianne “Sunny” Kintobor, somewhat distant descendant of Eggman, hoping to fight against the reputation her ancestor stuck their family with. A tech genius. One of the few human/“uplander” characters. Looks very like Maria Robotnik.

A very mysterious black & red hedgehog, called “Dark”, who seems to be hiding something. He has a friend called “Sage”, who will call him often.

And finally, Nikki. A blue Hedgehog who has spent her whole life hiding the fact she can run faster than the speed of sound. Nikki actually doesn’t know who her family is - she was found alone as a baby, and was presumed to be abandoned. She is cagey about her speed, and seems to want to keep it on the down low.

So, only other things that popped up:

- The initial big-bad would absolutely be an Eggman fanboy wannabe, who really wants to be the next Robotnik, but, ya know. Successful. Probably not ACTUALLY related to him in any way, but that isn’t stopping him from CLAIMING he is. Marianne is adamant they are NOT related.

- Dark is Shadow. In case that wasn’t obvious. Turns out being the “Ultimate Lifeform” makes you functionally immortal, which has been … rough. Watching your friends outlive you isn’t exactly FUN. He ended up fairly close to Knuckles, who aged much slower, but it was still hard. He’s had periods of time where he’s separated himself from civilization, and periods of activity but most recently, he’s heard whispers about the Chaos Corp, about something big being worked on, and came out of isolation to investigate.

- Sage, being an artificial being, is ALSO functionally immortal, and took it very hard when her dad, Eggman, died. She tried for a while to keep up his legacy, but her heart wasn’t in it, and eventually she retreated with the few bots of Eggman’s that were still functional. Eventually, mostly through chance, she encountered Shadow, and the two bonded over their long lives, and what that meant for them. They’ve spent a lot of time together, and are now quite close. Their relationship is very brother and sister, with the pair often teasing and fighting with each other, but also very protective of one another. When Shadow went to infiltrate the Chaos Corp, Sage accompanied him. She is actually hiding in a special watch she developed, that Shadow wears, which lets her get into all sorts of tech, as long as she’s in range. She has VERY complicated feelings about Marianne.

- Nikki is, in fact, Sonic’s descendant … technically. She would be counted as Sonic’s daughter, but is actually an attempt at a clone. Sonic DID have kids, but his family in general was actually much more low-key, and most of them took after the mom (Amy? Sally? Rando?) so didn’t have the super speed. Someone *cough*Eggman Wannabe*cough* tried to clone Sonic from old samples, but had to do some genetic gymnastics to have a viable fetus, so Nikki is closer to a daughter than a clone (I mean … that should be pretty obvious? Unless you subscribe to Trans!Sonic, in which case, more direct clone). When someone in a position of power learned of the cloning attempt, they raided the lab, but Nikki was “sent away”. She was later found, put in the system, and adopted. Her name comes from a medical bracelet she was wearing - SONIC-I. The first two letters were smudged out, and the C with the dash looked like a K, the one like a capital I, so, Nikki. 

- current Sonic descendants actually work as historians and archaeologists. Their family is still close with the Prower family, and recently, became connected through marriage.

- the Chaos Corp is so named because they guard the Chaos Emeralds and Master Emerald. Knuckles was the original founder, when he realized he was going to get older, and before he had found someone to settled down with, or had kids. They have devices that let some of their more seasoned members use a single Emerald to boost them, but this can be dangerous, and possibly fatal without the right training. Still, being an “Emeraldeer” is seen as a very prestigious position, and the one many cadets gun for. There has been a recent, rather rapid shift in leadership, which is giving a few people pause, and there are rumours about a project to “bring back heroes” …

(thoughts, feelings, opinions?)

-

OH I ADORE THIS

[sonicattos]

*inhales*

i have a theory that sonic and shadow have connections to chao and by extension the ancients

BIG RAMBLE:

this started as a crack theory, but it became more sensible the more i thought about it.

the ancients and the black arms are not only aliens, but are very simalar in design, specifically their bipedal stature, their head shape, lack of a mouth, eyes, 3 fingers and 2 toes

chao actually have a similar mutation, which would be neutral to dark

like chao and their hero/dark favoritism system, shadow the hedgehog absorbs dark and hero energy, you get dark energy by doing bad things in his namesake game, that includes hurting humans, which is simalar to the fact that the black arms feed off of human souls.

reasoning for the black arms, more specifically black doom to be evil? idk. maybe he disagreed with something. maybe he was a victim of “the end”s laser bast. maybe he’s vengeful to humans for whatever reason.

during the “project shadow” development prof. gerald created “chaos drives” which is crystalized chaos energy to transfer to living tissue, this was used for the creation of the ultimate lifeform. these can also be used on chao. these drives have different power types; one of them being running.

here’s fully grown run/run type neutral and dark chao:

these chao don’t look like sonic and shadow, it’s the other way around.

why a hedgehog as the ultimate lifeform?

there IS a popular theory since it’s implied gerald visited angel island and did research, since he has replicas of chaos and a replica of the master emerald shrine, that he may have based the both of the designs off of these prophetic murals (possibly created by the ancients):

perhaps he used hedgehog dna? or maybe he just looks like a hedgehog because that’s how chao can look when they evolve. who knows?

as for sonic we have no clue on his current in-game backstory, so we don’t know HOW this could have been done so i’ll just shoot some ideas and similarities:

sonic and shadow have the same abilities, despite having “nothing” to do with each other

the ancients have green eyes like sonic’s and tendrils that curve downwards like sonic’s quills

like the default neutral chao, he’s blue (plus the yellow gradient on the arms could be similar to sonic’s arms if ur feeling reachy) (the reason why i mention this is because shadow and dark chao)

one of his biggest gimmicks is absorbing chaos emeralds and mutating which is what chaos does. yeah others can do this (supposedly) but whatever

neutral chao always have a curved tendril (?) and a dark chao always has an angular tendril simalar to sonic and shadow’s quills.

edited:

not really a similarity but sonic has been described to neutralize the chaos emeralds when he has them (sonic rush). his ability to withstand a super form is also much greater and drains less energy from him (narratively speaking). it’s a little weird how connected he is to the emeralds when they’re not from his world. although, it’s the same case with the master emerald as well.

before i edited this ended it off with a joke saying i think they’re chao. no i really don’t. with this theory in mind shadow would at least be related genetically speaking.

i know sonic has been described with origins in the past, but they’re all outdated and never mentioned in games.

i do believe wholeheartedly he has connections with the ancients somehow, since it is a little weird that he does look like a chaos energy mutant chao.. i don’t think his origins would’ve been like shadow’s though. i think it would be funny i think since sonic can’t swim but he’s related to water people.

this was not really to be taken seriously, 100% because it is only a theory. i don’t actually think this word for word wholeheartedly, just something i found weird and wanted to info dump about. i also just love the idea of sonic having weird out of the ordinary origins. okay bye.

edit:

the dark chaos chao (devil chao) can get horns…….you know who else—

the black arms own ancient temples on earth that closely resemble the ones on angel island and the starfall islands. (built by the ancients, well angel island is implied to be) they homed replicas of the master emerald.

shadow the hedgehog (2005) is actually the first game to display cyberspace. it was owned by the united federation, but i have a couple theories. one: that it originally belonged to gerald as an attempt to replicate the ancient’s cyberspace, since he did visit angel island for research. two: it’s mentioned in frontiers that g.u.n had visited the sf islands before eggman did. this could be where cyberspace was found by the gov. you could also probably combine the two theories.

[tyrantisterror]

What do you think makes for a good depiction of vampires in fiction, and what do you think defines vampires, seeing as they vary so widely between portrayals? Sometimes they're demons, re-animated corpses or aliens, and sometimes they're sympathetic, lovable and don't even drink blood but find an alternative form of sustenance like Marceline from AT

I'm going to answer the second question in this ask first, since it kinda informs the answer to the first question.

Ok, so, what defines a vampire? That's pretty hard to answer since vampires are such a popular archetype that the sheer scope of variations on them in fiction is pretty daunting to summarize. Like a lot of plentiful monsters in fiction, it's almost down to, like, vibes, really, but I'm going to try and make a working definition anyway. Here we go:

A vampire is a monster that feeds on life in an unusual way.

I... think that covers all the bases vaguely enough to include everything I'd call a vampire, while still being specific enough to have some meaning? If you asked me as a kid, I'd say a vampire is anything that drinks blood, but enough good media with less traditional vampires - Marceline drinking the color red, Colin Robinson making energy vampires actually kind of scary in What We Do in the Shadows, etc. - has successfully expanded the definition for me.

So, ok, why this specific definition? Well, feeding on life in of itself isn't unusual - literally every lifeform in reality feeds on other lifeforms in some way. Herbivores eat plants, carnivores eat herbivores, scavengers eat all corpses, plants eat what scavengers leave behind in the soil, on and on the circle of life goes, we're all life eaters here. It's the unusual method of feeding on life that marks vampires- not necessarily unnatural, although stories often try to treat unusual and unnatural as synonyms, because mosquitos and bats drink blood just like a classic Dracula, and mosquitos and bats are very much natural creatures. But drinking blood as your primary mode of sustenance is definitely unusual - it's a highly specialized form of parasitism, one that most creatures can't devote the resources to do effectively. So there we are: a monster that feeds on life in an unusual way.

And, really, I think that's the key of what makes vampires different from other monsters like dragons and werewolves and so on - the strange feeding method. It's hard to think of a vampire story that doesn't emphasize how odd and off-putting their way of sustaining themselves is - hell, even PG vamps like Marceline get in on it, with some of the iconic visuals of her vampirism being the sight of her draining the red color out of people and things.

It's not that unusual to eat other living things to survive, but drinking blood, sucking the red out of clothes, or draining the energy out of people with supernaturally boring small talk? That creeps people out, and that specific creepiness is what makes vampires stand out.

Ok, second question time.

A lot of what first comes to mind when I hear "what makes a good vampire character?" is actually just my personal preferences at play - I love Gothic Horror vampires, classic Draculas, real turn-into-a-bat ghostly pale undead fuckers, but none of that is necessary to make a good vampire character, it's just stuff I personally like. What makes a vampire character good is, ultimately, what makes any character good - namely, does the story actually use the interesting ideas in their character concept?

In this case, if we go back to the definition, what makes a good vampire character hinges on question: does the story find an interesting way to use the fact that this character eats life in an unusual way? How that plays out can vary a lot - a good vampire might horrify us with the manifold ways its pursues and drains the life out of its prey - that's how Colin Robinson sold me on psychic vampires not being completely stupid bullshit, after all. Alternatively, a good vampire character can illustrate the obvious point - namely, that there's nothing inherently wrong about having different dietary needs, and that people vilifying them for being strange might be in the wrong. This doesn't happen as often, and when it does the stories in question try to do it while simultaneously also having vampires whose feeding habits are played for horror, which muddies it up, but THEORETICALLY you could do this and have really sympathetic vampire characters who are unjustly persecuted for, essentially, using the "wrong" part of the animals they kill for food. And, as the history of fiction shows, these are only two of MANY valid permutations of vampires you can do and make compelling.