#AS LONG AS ANY OF US SURVIVE THE WORLD'S NOT OVER YER

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

It may in fact be the end of the world but it's been so thousands of times before so it's fine

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Found

Daryl Dixon & adopted daughter

Request: Heyya, so Ive been reading some of your fixs and idk if your inbox is open rn, but if you can can ypu make one with were daryl? Like where he finds a lost child (who didnt know shes a werewolf too) and kinda raises her? If not that is fineee :)

With winter approaching fast the group had set out to a large store lot further off, knowing there was a bed store somewhere on that lot and they needed to stock up on anything they came across.

Except when listing 'anything', none of them had 'a child' in mind.

When the group raided the supply area, Daryl had set out to the front and rummage around only to find empty cans.

At least one empy can that wasn't even a day old, seeing the remains hadn't dried out yet. He quickly hid and took in his surroundings better.

There was only one bed clearly in use. Others had stuff thrown on them or were still too neat and all dusty, but still he was wary.

Rustling further down the store caught his attention so he stalked towards it, quickly catching the source of the noise which turned out to be.. a child?

"The hell?" He kept the young girl at arm's length and gave her a once over. All her clothes were torn and hanging loosely over her worn out, hollow frame. "Where's yer group?" He got only a sad scoff in return. "Nowhere."

He gave her another good look, sneaking in some sniffs to see if she was sick and left behind because of it, but he found none of that.

Just a faint whiff of wolf. It was barely there so he didn't think it came from her, maybe she stole the clothes from someone who happened to be a werewolf.

"C'mon. If yer alone I'm takin' ya home, we got a big place ta live in." He watched the kid calm down at the end of his outstretched arms, already out of his grip and nodding. "Please, being alone is scary.."

"Name's Daryl. You?" He held out his hand to shake, taking his time with her.

"Sarah."

Daryl had asked her all kinds of questions as he was given a tour of the store. "How long habe ya been here?" He wondered with how difficult it was for a single child to survive longer periods in this world. "Just a few days. Wait!" She stopped before turning to face her new friend. "Do you have electricity? Batteries?" Daryl nodded in return. "Yeah we got solar panels, why?" But he didn't get an answer, instead she swayed and disappeared around a corner. Daryl stalked after her, cursing her out for disappearing without a warning until he saw where she headed. In a far corner she had grabbed an abandoned cart and was stacking boxes in it. "Whatcha got, kid?"

She didn't reply, just waved him over as she kept piling the cart full of..

Electric blankets. Between the two corner shelves there was a stack of them, extras for easy access when restocking. "Ya just earned yer place at home. I'm fightin' anyone who disagrees." His comment earned him a laugh and a soft thanks. She didn't know why she felt so comfortable around the old man, he was a stranger which should have her wary but instead there was a strange familiar feeling that had her stay close.

After grabbing any and all usefull items from the front of the store they made their way back to the back, both with a cart piled high.

Daryl went first to announce his findings. Which included a new party member that made herself known by slowly appearing from behind the two carts of items.

She hid behind Daryl and peeked at the people, introducing herself after some light persuasion but the attention on her quickly faded with all the items they brought back.

On the way home she shared thebcar with Aaron. They sort of chatted about all kinds of light subjects, but she'd constantly be focussed on Daryl who rode his bike up front all the way to the gates of Alexandria.

Once home Daryl was dismissed to go take his new friend to the infirmary to get a quick checkup and get settled. Denise let her go with the instructions to eat well and she would be good, so Daryl took her to his place to raid Carol's meal prep and let her stuff her face with as much as she wanted.

After finding Carol and doing some intruductions Daryl took her back home to clean up while Carol went to pick up some new clothes and toiletries for her.

"Oh man!" Daryl caught her voice from the other end of the hallway. "I missed hot water! I love this place!" He laughed as he continued clearing the spare room that was now more of a storage of random possibly useful items.

Meanwhile Carol had dropped by and left a fresh set of clothes at the bathroom door and brought the rest over and put it all in the cabinet and helped finish making the bed.

Aa they were finishing up the bathroom door opened and a waft of moist, warm air flowed onto the rest of the floor.

"I wanted to stay in there forever." She quickly went quiet again when she saw Carol, new people were still a bit scary.

"Saw you enjoyed the food I cooked." Carol tried some small talk, and small it stayed while Daryl let her explore the house some more.

That night after Sarah went to bed Daryl went to find his best friend and have a talk.

"I think I brought home a wolf cub." The sentence was an easy one, no misinterpetations possible but still Carol looked at him like he had three heads. "Sarah, I'on think she knows but it explains why she's stickin' to me like tha'."

"I think it's best to wait for her to mention it. If you can sense her, then she should sense you too, or something."

Daryl huffed a laugh at her attempt at logic, but she was right. He would wait it out and hear from her when she was ready to share.

Except weeks passed and she never did. Sarah's wolf scent did get way less subtle over time but still hadn't mentioned it.

Until Daryl had enough one evening when they both sat in the living room, her with a book and him carving new bolts.

"What's up witcha? Ain't feelin' well?" He didn't even look up from his work when he asked, sensing full well what was wrong with her. Daryl kept the curtains drawn, but with them not being fitted there was always a little peek of moonlight coming through. Right where Carol usually sat with a book, using the light to read just like Sarah was right now.

"Come on outta that chair, girl. Sit here." If any other man would have told her that she would have ran, but she listened to Daryl.

But with the first movement of her leg she winced in pain, book dropping to the ground and her doubling over in pain. Daryl was up in a second, his work discarted on the couch as he moved the curtains so there was a larger illuminated spot on the floor. He couldn't take her outside where people would watch, and the bedrooms all had windows on the other side of the house so this was his best option.

"Alright kid I know this is gon' sound insane, but ya gotta stop fightin' the pain." And oh he hated him for those next words. "Ya also need ta lose the jeans. Tight shirt too." He finally got a look of disgust at his crazy words, but something in her mind told her to listen. Daryl somehow knew what her pain meant and he'd help. He'd be there.

"Y..heah. Blanket?" Oh. Right. Daryl moved to grab her a blanket to crawl underneath and worm out of her clothes.

"Daryl.." she spoke through winces of pain. "Why's there a voice?" She got a soft smile in response, not knowing exactly how to explain it in words and thus deciding to show her.

"M'gonna show ya wha's happenin' to ya. Jus' keep yer eyes on mine, yeah. M'gonna have ta get outta these tho." He pulled at the hem of his hoodie and tied it loosely around his hips before sliding his sweats down and off. His shirt went last before he kneeled and let the change he had been fighting ever since he stepped into the moonlight finally take over.

Sarah stared at his eyes like daryl instructed and watched them shine bright blue. And then he opened his mouth as she watched fangs appear. His ears pointed and his face changed.

His entire body looked like it-- no, it was bulking out. And fur sprouted over his skin and.. That's a tail.

"Holy shit.." Enthralled by the other's form changing into that of a beast she had barely felt her own starting to change. When she looked back at her hands there were claws where her fingernails were, and her tongue grazed past sharp teeth.

Daryl stared at her as she took deep breaths, trying to ignore the sudden spike of pain as her bones started to shift.

He reached a paw to rest on her shouder, softly squeezing the muscles as he spoke.

"Ya got this. It hurts like a bitch the first few times. M'sorry." He prayed she understood him and didn't just hear grumbles. With a saddened look she carefully crawled from underneath her blanket to curl up against Daryl's fur. He held her close as she cried, feeling her bones crack and heal, her muscles snap underneath steadily furring over skin. Her face was pressed in the bend of his arm where he felt her snout portrude against his skin, now wet with drool and tears.

Only when she stilled did Daryl pull away to look over her, checking if she properly shifted and softly kneaded at some muscles in hopes she'd respond well.

"Hurts.." She whined as her paw came up to swat away his, but failing as it stopped right in her view.

Daryl let her go entirely and stepped back, looking at her wobbly frame. "Ya look like a baby deer with yer shaky skinny legs."

Daryl laughed at her grumbles as she stood on all fours, padding around in place to get to know her limbs. "So weird.." she spoke as she stared at her hind legs and wiggled her toes. "So, werewolf?" She knew about monsters, what kid didn't at her age? She watched Daryl nod and stand up on his hind legs, motioning for her to try the same.

He watched her think as she slowly rose to her full height, which wasn't that much more than before. "How'r ya feelin?"

He didn't know anything about first time shifting for younger wolves. He never had someone teach him but his instincts luckily helped him take care of the pup he took under his wing. He saw her skinny frame and his only thought was to go hunt a deer and let her chow down. But he knew he couldn't take her out tonight. Their best option was to rest and let her get used to her new body.

"Feeling okay I guess. My legs are weird." She hobbled around, almost losing balance with every step and laughing at her wacky movement. At least she seemed to be having fun instead of cowering away and adapted really quick. He could only guess she was a lateblooming born wolf. His early shifting never went as smooth as hers and he surely wasn't up and bouncing on his feet fhe first moon.

"Ya look good, fer a scrawny lil' pup." She felt proud when he comlimented her in his own, dismissive way and couldn't help but grin, baring her teeth at him in glee.

"My head's no longer weird to me. Like we're friends now." Her paw went up to tap at her head, stopping as she poked her ear instead and took a moment to feel around at their new place on top of her head. Feeling her ears she seemed to think of her tail too, furning to look at it and making at least three full circles before realizing she was chasing her own tail and stopping instantly, looking up with an embarrassed look. "Don't tell anyone I just did that." Daryl sputtered as he tried not to laugh but failed as he rolled over in laughter. "Yer too cute, pup."

She faked hurt and plopped down onto the floor next to him, stretching her muscles with a long yawn and slumping against the hardwood floor.

"M'tired." She mumbled against her arm. "Can I sleep here on the floor?"

"Nah." She rolled and leaned on her elbow to look at her mentor. "Yer sleepin' in a bed. Can't have ya nude on the floor when ya shifted back." She sighed in defeat, not wanting to get up anymore, but Daryl made a good point so reluctantly she sat up and tried to get back on her feet as swiftly as possible without stumbling.

"Well, goodnight then." She turned to head upstairs but didn't make it two steps before being grabbed by the tail. "Yer not sleepin' alone either. Downstairs with me." He had sat up as well by now and easily stood up. Sarah stidied all of his movements and compared his hunched over stance with her more straight posture. "Ya know ya can think out loud, yeah? Ask away."

It was cute how he could feel the buzzing energy coming off her and wasn't surprised in the slightest she got tired so quickly. First time shifts are tiring, and all these new senses and strange proportions took quite something to get used to but she was adapting really well.

"Does it hurt when you turn? You look so.. heavy."

Heavy huh. He did bulk out way more than her, who still looked like a stick on legs.

"Only on full moons. Cuz it makes me turn. When I decide to I's all good." He went down the stairs first so when she'd trip over her own feet he'd be able to catch her, but she made it without falling.

She was doing so much better than him at that age.

His couch was big enough for her to snuggle up in the empty spot between Daryl and the back rest. It was so nice and warm against his form she fell asleep quickly, Daryl only allowing himself to sleep once he knew she had drifted off completely.

He carefully draped a blanket over her form so she'd be covered once she'd be turned back by morning while he kept his shifted form.

Next morning came fast with both of them sleeping so deep it barely felt like an hour had passed when they woke up.

Daryl had moved off the couch already, grabbing some clothes and heading out of her vision to change back and get dressed before going to her room to grab her clean clothes while she got some time to properly wake up.

Once dressed they shared breakfast and went over Sarah's experience from last night. From the feel of shifting to the intensity of her new senses, they discussed it all.

They also planned to stay outside overnight.

After spending their day as normal as possible they went out to the edge of the woods where Daryl knew he could protect her and maybe could catch food as well.

"Yer feelin' good about bein' out here?" They walked past the treeline far enough so the guards wouldn'f see them anymore.

"Yeah. It feels nice here. Makes my head howl. Does that make sense?" She felt like she asked way too much, no matter how often Daryl had told her over the day it was good of her to ask that much.

"Yeah, s'good yer head howls. Says ya got a good bond with yer wolf side."

The sun would set soon, so they killed some time with another fun outdoor activity.

Strength training.

Daryl decided to have her see how much stronger she was now that she had fully developed her lucantrophy. And also, he was curious and wanted Sarah to amaze herself some more with her new abilities.

"Try 'n lift tha' one." Daryl pointed at the broken off, fallen tree trunk to which Sarah just shook her head. "You're insane. No way I can lift that."

She got a look of disappointment before she huffed and padded over to the tree. With both her feet planted onto the forest floor she chaneled all of her strength into lifting the giant log. While lifting it wasn't entirely happening, she did manage to dislodge it from the ground it had gotten stuck into and moved off to the side a foot or two. It mostly rolled, but it was impressive she even got it to move at all. They did some more breaking of branches and practiced some basic fighting in case she'd be alone against people and she proved quickly that no human could easily capture her.

She was a natural out here. Daryl was almost jealous of how quickly she channeled her feral side.

"Are you feeling all jittery too?" Sarah hopped around Daryl, shivering despite the evening warmth.

"S'yer wolf sayin' s'time ta change." Daryl nodded up at the sky. "Find the moon, say sonethin' nice to 'er and let it wash over ya."

He got a confused look, what did he mean with 'saying something nice'?

Weird old man talk.. But she did it anyways and this time her shift hurt less. Something about being nice to people if you want them to be nice to you or something.

Daryl shifted along with her and once they were both fully turned they ran.

Daryl took easy paths and avoided higher shrubbery she could get her legs stuck in and they ran.

All the way down to the river, where Daryl showed her how to fish and then back, stalking a bird on the ground and took a squirrel out of a tree.

Sarah admired his hunting skills and quickly begged for lessons that he agreed to without a second thought.

People already were convinced Daryl had adopted her, but he felt like he now truly did.

He never felt like he'd have a pack of his own, he wasn't enough of a wolf for it.

But then Sarah showed up.

And now that he thought of it, Carol.

Michonne, Jude, Aaron.

His family was his pack, and Sarah helped him finally realise that.

A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind! I disn't want to write it as a reader insert as I pictured the girl as being in her teens.

[fanficsforfun]

Sleepover in the apocalypse

Pairing: Merle Dixon x female reader

Era: Atlanta camp (season 1)

Word count: 1,2k

Warnings: mild language, mentions of walkers, a very brief (literally one sentence long) mention of Merle's drug abuse. Otherwise all fluffy

Summary: Nights are the hardest in the world after the outbreak... that is until Merle asks you to come over to his tent for the night

---

It was late evening in the Atlanta camp, most people were getting to bed already, apart from Morales, of course, who was on watch. You were still sitting by the fireplace, although the fire had been put out a while ago. It was peaceful, nothing alarming anywhere. Yet you were restless. Earlier in the week you had come across a walker while gathering firewood, and despite surviving without injuries, it still bothered you. The very thought made you shiver with disgust. Dead people walking, who could have believed. Zombies were supposed to stay in horror movies but they hadn’t. You tried your best to banish such thoughts, with no success at all. The empty eyes, ragged clothes, bite wounds, sickening smell, everything, kept coming into your mind, no matter how hard you tried not to think about it. 

You had curled up in a ball on the log, your head resting on your arms. Perhaps that's what caught Merle's attention as he walked back towards his tent after taking a piss.

“Ya alright, darlin’?” He asked.

You flinched when he spoke, somehow not having noticed him until he was right next to you.

"Yeah, no problem", you decided to lie, not too keen on showing people how difficult it was for you to keep your shit together in this new world.

“No problem my ass!” Came Merle’s reply. “Yer scared.”

You glanced at him, then shrugged your shoulders. “So? Who isn’t?”

“Me. There ain’t a thing out there that scares me.”

You turned to face Merle, looking at him quietly, not sure if you believed him or not. He seemed fearless, that much you had to admit. Like he was made for this kind of living. Surely it helped that he had been in the army too, probably they had learned stuff that was useful now when the world had gone all to hell. 

What he said next, however, you hadn't expected.

"How about ya come over to my tent tonight? I’ll make sure none of ‘em walkers or any other kind of creeps bother ya.”

“I, um…”, you started, tempted to accept his offer even though you knew what a flirt he was and believed he most certainly had naughty ulterior motives. 

“C’mon sugar, there ain’t no safer place here than my tent”, Merle urged.

“Okay then, I’ll just go and get my sleeping bag and ground pad”, you decided to take the chance. Surely you’d be more comfortable with him than alone. And to tell the truth, you liked Merle's attention. When he was sober anyway.

“Do ya want me to walk ya there?”

“If you’d be so kind”, you replied sheepishly. You felt embarrassed that you were actually afraid to walk around the camp alone, especially at night, and undoubtedly Merle was able to figure that out.

“Sure thing, honey”, he smiled.

You two made your way to your tent in the darkening evening. Merle waited outside while you picked up your stuff and crawled out with them. He then placed his hand protectively on your upper back as he escorted you through the camp to his tent. His touch made you shiver unintentionally. The forest smelled like autumn, Merle's hand was warm on your back, you could feel it through your sweater. The whole situation didn’t feel real.

"Thanks for letting me come over", you said quietly.

"Of course", he smirked. "There's always that much space in my tent."

“Well then, make yourself comfortable”, Merle nodded towards the entrance. 

You smiled at him and stepped in, and then started unpacking your stuff. Merle had only a sleeping bag and pad like you, no cot or anything else fancy. The man sat on a piece of log outside the tent, watching you until you'd got your sleeping gear in place and sat down to take your shoes off. Only then he followed you and laid down on his sleeping bag. 

"It's been a while since I've had a girl over", he joked.

"That's what apocalypses cause", you replied while wriggling into your sleeping bag. 

Merle laughed and had to agree.

However, you didn't keep chatting for very long, and not so long after Merle fell asleep. For you it wasn’t as easy. It had started to wind and it rustled the tent, making it harder to hear if someone, or something, was moving outside. You were getting scared again, and the darkness certainly didn't help. You were barely able to see the silhouette of Merle sleeping on the other side of the tent. You tried to concentrate on the fact that he was there, then on your breathing and the sleeping bag around you, until you couldn't take it anymore.

“Um, Merle?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah?”

Apparently he wasn’t asleep. Or maybe he was a light sleeper. Either way, you were happy he was alert and listening to you.

“Could I… come closer?”

“Sure thing, darlin’. As close as ya like.”

You quickly slipped out of your sleeping bag and moved it and the pad right next to Merle. It brought a grin to his face.

“Should have asked ya to stay overnight a long time ago”, he chuckled.

“Don’t get any stupid ideas now”, you warned him, not in the mood for funny business. You just wanted to get some sleep.

“Don’t worry, sugar, I ain’t gonna do a thing”, Merle soothed you, sounding like he was serious for once.

You decided to believe him and got back in your sleeping bag. Merle had turned on his side and was watching you in the dark tent. You were less than an arm's length away from him, and despite his promise, he was tempted to touch you.

"Hey, just come all the way over here if ya like", he suggested softly.

The offer sent a warm wave of pleasure through you, yet you hesitated for a moment before rolling over to him with your sleeping bag. He might break his promise, but it was a risk you had to take. You bumped into him back first, and he pushed your sleeping bag aside just enough to wrap his arm around your waist. The touch made you nearly gasp, and you pressed yourself tighter against him. It was crazy, you had never been so close to him before.

"Any better?" Merle murmured in your ear. 

You mumbled affirmatively. It was better, much better. His body was warm against yours, his arm strong around your waist. You felt safe there, a feeling you hadn’t had after the outbreak.

“Good”, came his reply so deeply it got your heart fluttering. “Sleep tight.”

To your surprise, Merle didn’t try anything after that, he just held you close. You had thought he wouldn’t leave it there, he’d at least try to fuck you, but no. Gradually you relaxed and eventually managed to fall asleep in his arms. Merle stayed awake for a bit longer, enjoying having you there even if just sleeping, literally.

[ternfic]

Bluebird

Chapter Five: Obsession

Benny had been depressed to part ways with Ken and Lenny just several months later. They’d stuck around long enough to make sure he could handle a life on the run, and then returned to Cape Space. Bad Cop had finally given up on searching the realm for him by then, but not on searching for him, so he couldn’t stay with them. He didn’t think he could bear being the reason they got caught. It also would have been too tempting to stick around, when Director Kenning had declared him grounded indefinitely, due to medical reasons. So what if his brain didn’t quite work the way it used to? He was still perfectly capable!

But he stayed aboard the Sea Cow as requested, it being his best chance at evading Bad Cop and capture, and tried to settle into the life of a sailor. They’d picked up some new clothes for him during their brief stay in Cape Space to drop off his friends, something more suitable for heat and sun than his space suit. The pirates had laughed at his tropical tee shirts and khaki shorts, but he honestly liked the ridiculous eighties style too much to give it up so easily. (And at any rate, they later admitted, the look suited him.)

Time went on. Some of Metalbeard’s original crew left, annoyed with their captain’s persistent protection of the spaceman who didn’t quite fit in. Not for lack of trying, of course, but all Benny seemed able to talk about was space, and spaceships, and how much he wanted to be back among the stars. The skies had called to him all his life, and he had worked too hard to get himself up there to have to keep his feet on the ground. It wore on him in ways he couldn’t explain.

And finally, one day, he decided enough was enough. He was a Master Builder now, wasn’t he? There was nothing holding him back from just making his own spaceship and going for a flight. So he dug into the ship’s stores of parts, kept handy for when a Master Builder’s urge to create struck, and found the materials he would need. He hauled everything up onto the deck, and got to work.

He was maybe halfway through when he found himself being bodily hauled away. “Hey!” he protested. “Put me down!”

“Benny, what are ye doin’?” the captain asked. Benny glared up at him petulantly.

“Building a spaceship, what’s it look like?”

“Ye think Bad Cop isn’t watchin’ the skies for unauthorized aircraft?”

“It’s not an aircraft, it’s a spacecraft.”

“Either or. He’s still hellbent on catchin’ ye, lad, and I’m not willin’ to let ye risk yerself like that.”

“But…”

“Besides, it be yer Director’s orders, aye? Tis for yer own good.” Benny scowled up at him. So the captain had won this round, but he wasn’t going to just roll over and give up. He waited several weeks, giving Metalbeard a false sense of security, before trying again.

And getting caught again.

And again.

And again.

He screeched in frustration when Metalbeard pulled him away from a half-finished spaceship for the eleventh time.

“Look, I know what it be like, havin’ to give up the things ye love-”

“No, you don’t!” Benny shouted, thrashing to get free. “You still have your ship, and the seas! You still have what calls you, so why can’t I have the stars?!” The fight seemed to leave him then, and Metalbeard finally set him back down. He sat down hard, sniffling. “Why won’t you let me have the stars…”

Metalbeard stared down at him for a bit, before lowering himself to the deck beside the spaceman. They sat in silence for a while. “I’ve a wife and three children,” the captain said at length. Benny wiped his eyes and glanced up at him. “I love them more than anything in the world, even the sea. And… it’s been more than a year since I’ve last seen them. I can’t go home, for fear Bad Cop and Business will take them, and use them against me. I don’t know when I will see them again. Not ‘til this nightmare ends, at least. If I survive it. This feather?” He tapped the decoration at his temple. “Me Pearl gave it to me. Her people don’t use wedding bands; they give a piece of themselves.” He chuckled at the bemused look on Benny’s face as he tried to figure that one out. “Maybe I’ll tell ye someday lad, but I can’t trust ye with that information just yet.”

Benny huffed at him, and glanced back down at his hands. “…I’m sorry,” he finally murmured after a while.

“I don’t blame ye for bein’ upset, lad. I’ve raged me fair share at how unfair everything be, these days. Have ye looked up?”

Benny gave him a puzzled look, then tilted his head back. “…Oh,” he gasped. “It’s so clear tonight…”

Metalbeard smirked. “Why don’t ye get up, take a peep over the railing.” Benny shoved himself to his feet, looking around, eyes wide. The waters were so still, they were almost a mirror, reflecting the pinpoints of light far above.

“You…”

Metalbeard stood, reaching over to gently squeeze his shoulder. “Ye still have yer stars, lad. Ye just had to look, is all.”

Benny sniffled again. “Thanks,” he murmured. “I think I’m going to stay here for a while…”

“Aye lad, just don’t be up too late.” Metalbeard smirked at him. “I’m still puttin’ ye to work in the morning.” Benny snickered.

The spaceship attempts continued after that, though without the desperation that previously accompanied them. It seemed more to be that Master Builder itch that was getting to Benny, giving him the urge to make something. Metalbeard was still vigilant though, just in case.

Crew members continued to come and go with alarming regularity. It wasn’t long before Skeeter was the only member of his original crew left. Loyalty apparently didn’t account for much in the face of a space-obsessed crewmate.

“Sometimes I’m surprised ye still be around,” Metalbeard told Skeeter one day.

“Pfft. Everyone’s got their own methods of coping with this madness, I’m hardly going to let his scare me off. Honestly, most times I wonder if they’re really that annoyed by him, and not just intimidated by all those big, fancy words he throws around.” Metalbeard threw his head back and laughed.

[matchadobo]

TBoTE - #1.1 LOGUETOWN

warning/s: light gore

wc: 2963

intro w/ chapter list

Can ye no hush yer weepin'? 

A' the wee lambs are sleepin'. 

Birdies are nestin', nestin' the gether, 

Dream Angus is hirpin' O'er the Heather 

Year 3001, zombies have plagued the stretch of the planet humans used to call home. Sleepless nights sung by the snarls of the insatiable undead. Roads painted with ravened blood and rotting guts. Oceans polluted with corpses and hordes of infected humans and animals. 

Dreams tae sell, fine dreams tae sell, 

Angus is here wi' dreams tae sell. 

Hush noo my bairnie, and sleep without fear, 

Dream Angus will bring you a dream, my dear. 

It had been three months since the outbreak, the first months were the fastest decline in the human population ever since the second world war. As of now, 40% of humanity had miraculously survived. The virus was a parasite that swiftly proliferated across the globe, one bite and it would all be over. The infected transformed into an absurdly starved creature with cloudy eyes and moldy skin, almost rotting. Devoid of any sentience, most of the infected maintained an appearance similar to their human ones except from the beings that transgressed into an unfathomable ferocity that wreaked havoc tenfold of hordes, or the Aberrants. 

Hark noo the curlews cryin'-o 

Faint the echoes dyin'-o. 

A' the wee birds are noo lyin' sleepin', 

But my bonnie bairnie's weepin', weepin'. 

The Aberrants are the infected that transgressed mindlessness and have returned to their sentient form with a burning need to terrorize and persecute the human race. A true form of absolute danger with varying appearances and omnipotent abilities. One would shiver and opt to stay the absolute fuck away from these lifeforms of evil, but not Yviskos.

The lullaby faintly resounded from a lone music box in an abandoned store Yvi was just passing by. She did a double take and walked a few steps back to observe the spinning ballerina in a small, pink music box adorned with ribbons. It wasn’t too loud to attract the undead nor was it too quiet to be unheard. 

The moon was bright and mystical, dark clouds were sparsely passing by the gleam of the celestial body. Crows were rancorous but the silence of the fearsome night was evident. The roads were damp from the previous pour and the petrichor was pungent, an effective tool to mask one’s scent. The interruption of the soft jingles of the music box was akin to the single drop on a window of the shop, cascading sadly.

It wasn’t long before her attention was nicked by an unknown yet fearsome shriek. A noise of terror shattered the glass of the store beside here and the cars that surrounded the vicinity. It was of a woman’s and it was not melodious, it was nothing but an object of fright. 

Yvi noticed a bizarre event unfolding before her, the infected in her perimeter had stopped right in their tracks for a moment before swiftly running towards a certain direction in the south of her position. Some of them have even walked past her in an odd manner, as if the ear-splitting yell was calling out to them. 

Now, Yvi was no infected but she HAD to follow them, it’s more of a need than a want in her concerning case. So she carried her feet lightly and ran at the focal point of the scream where it sounded the clearest. 

There stood at the center of it all was a deviant-looking creature, inhuman and powerful. It manifested the appearance of a woman despite its inhuman nature, its red eyes were glowing and its mouth full of spiky teeth were widely open as it bellowed out a scream Yvi could clearly hear amidst her earplugs. 

It was akin to a creature familiar to Yvi, a similar if not the same being that mirrored the shrieking the Aberrant was doing several feet away from her. It was the Banshee. Similar in a way that brings death upon sight; as the bodies that were still evident to be alive not too long ago from their normal complexion and clean clothes now lie before the creature even in the absence of zombies. Not until a massive horde colonized the highway, Yvi had to enter a building to hide. 

She entered the building with much caution and less fright. Amid her eccentric nature brought by genuine curiosity, Yvi was a smart fighter due to the fact that she had to fend for herself for the entirety of the plague. Unfortunately, she was the only survivor out of her colleagues back in the lab. 

It was an establishment that seemed to be a rundown convenience store judging from the blinking lights of the refrigerators in the far back. Most of the shelves were empty and what was left were women’s hygiene and diapers. This place had been ransacked clean of the food and beverages. 

Yvi was meticulously inspecting the shelves in hopes of finding anything useful to help her on her journey. She was interrupted by the shuffling of soles on the dark, far corner where a closet room was settled. Yvi opted to leave it alone and move to the next building as it may be an infected and she wouldn’t risk making a ruckus with a horde a couple of feet away from her. Just as the shrieking had stopped, bile rose up her throat when the door flew open; literally, the hinges trajected to her direction she had to dodge. 

“I thought we would be less problematic without Kidd and now you two want to replace him?” A tan, burly blond who donned a blue shirt and a helmet obscuring his face emerged from the dark room that now had no door. He was irritated but he maintained a calm voice and tacit composure. 

“Heat was rubbin’ on me, what am I supposed to do?!” An awfully tall and lean man had to duck quite low to fit by the door so he could be seen, he had  olive skin and straight, brown hair whose bangs had extended into two spikes at the middle of his head. 

“Says the one who kept squeezing the shit out of the three of us because you’re huge as fuck!” Another exited the dark, cramped room with the same ire the previous ones held. He had wavy, arctic hair, pale complexion, and stitches all over his body.

When completely basing off their demeanor and appearance, they spell one word: danger. Yvi was hiding the entire time as the tall shelves obscured her, but of course, her dumbass knocked over some bottles and they rolled right by their feet. The menacing silence as one pet bottle had stopped their conversation when their eyes trailed to the point where it came from. 

“A rat?”

“More like an infected.”

Yvi was hiding for her dear fucking life, she didn’t know she’d be killed by the fellow living in a world populated by the undead. She heard their impending footsteps approach her, slow but foreboding. Once they came face to face with her, she immediately threw her hands in the air as a sign of surrender as she shut her eyes awaiting her fate.

Hidden behind the shelves was a woman who donned a red sleeveless top which flaunted her toned, tawny stomach paired with cargo pants which carried belts with pouches and small sharp objects. She had long, black hair that cascaded down her figure in a silky manner and bangs that sparsely covered her forehead. Her dusty mauve scarf was loosely wrapped around her neck and its ends ran down until the floor. A beauty mark underneath the corner of her right eye. Piercing blue eyes held no ill intent as each looked at them with genuine hope and fear, as she raised her arm to beg for her life. Her fists were wrapped in thick, white bandages; it seemed more than a guard than a dressing for a wound. 

“I’m alive!” She blurted out while falling to the floor under the men’s mercy. 

A sigh of relief escaped one of them, the arctic haired. “Jeeeesus, I thought we had one of those crazies in here.” He followed after. 

“My guess is you’re hiding from the freakshow out there, huh?” The blond shifted Yvi’s attention to him, a gentle voice as he lowered down his hand scythes. 

“Yeah. It was a desperate escape.” She tried easing the atmosphere, laughing awkwardly. “I-I assume we’re cool now and not gonna kill each other?” Yvi smiled nervously, picking herself up. 

“That depends.” While both of them put their weapon down, the brunette seemed to still suspect her. “If you’re up to somethin’ funny we might as well do.”

“Wire, give it a rest.” The blond spoke up, raising his hand to lower the brunette’s weapon. “Name’s Killer, this is Heat and this is Wire.” He pointed to his right on the former and to his left on the latter. 

“Yviskos.” You smiled.

“Well, we’ll be on our way when that freakshow stops. Take care out here.” He gave her shoulder a little brush before turning their back away. 

A sigh of relief escaped Yvi, Killer’s benevolence really saved her there. It made her think of clinging onto this group to save herself because they seem to have held themselves off pretty good up until now. Yvi can handle on her own but it’s always nice to have new sets of heads to survive. 

“H-hey, I… Do you guys have a particular destination in mind?” You instigated, hoping they’d answer as they showed no interest in her business.

Killer turned around to face Yvi. “Not really, someone got separated from us and unfortunately, he was our leader. So we’re trying to find our way back to him. Aside from that, we’re pretty damn lost.” He rubbed on the back of his neck and that’s when she saw the marks on his left arm, but she didn’t dare to ask. “Why are you asking?”

“Ah, it’s nothing. I’m pretty lost too.” She chuckled bitterly after. “Only that I was the only one alive between my colleagues and I’ve been alone for the entirety of the plague. You were the first humans I’ve ever encountered since then.”

“That’s…impressive.” Wire praised. “You were the first human to not kill us when you met us, that's for sure in our case.” He followed after, laughing sardonically.

“You wanna come with us?” Heat addressed the elephant in the room, it was very obvious between the four of them that it’s a topic to be discussed. All of them looked at him funny. “W-what?! I mean, we have this camaraderie right off the bat. And she’s- would you men leave her alone especially in this era?” He shrugged his shoulders. 

Killer sighed, he does have a point. It’s in the back of his head that if they left her, it’d haunt him that they didn’t do anything to save her from the imminent brutality. “I don’t see the reason why you should and shouldn’t join us…but Kidd wouldn’t be pleased if we decided on this.” Killer rubbed his chin. “Don’t get me wrong, Yviskos. I have nothing against you. It’s just… our group had been on our own since the plague started. And our leader is gone so…”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Yvi reassuringly brushed on his shoulders. “Don’t worry about me, I’m pretty strong, okay? And I don’t wanna be a stick in the mud between your group, so it’s fine. Let’s just see where your conscience gets you if you leave me-” 

“Oh my God, duck!” Yvi interrupted her own sentence, the men read her expression as her eyes held panic, suspecting that an infected was behind them. So they followed as she said. 

Yviskos abruptly moved to roundhouse kick the infected that loomed behind each of them, their bodies soon got thrown across the room from her impact. She was the only one who noticed it since everyone was facing her and had their backs turned from the window. 

“So that’s how she fights,” Heat nodded, his fist hit his open palm together as if he had an epiphany. 

“At this point, I want you in our gang.” Wire broke out in laughter as they stood back up and saw the mangled infected at the corner. “We would’ve been zombie food if it weren’t for you.”

Killer heard that last bit of her sentence pretty well even if she didn’t finish it. It was guilt-tripping him and eating at him and he knows it’s true. He’s just worried about what Kidd would think and what he would say to him when he just decided to add someone in their group. But it was a debt of gratitude and as a man, he had to repay it. 

“For the meantime, you can join us because we owe you one.” Killer said, firmly crossing his arms. He didn’t miss how a wide smile tugged across her lips. “But the second you cause problems, you’re out.” He approached her in a demeaning manner, his size threatening her security. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Yvi picked her stuff up and followed after them, leaving the premises of the dilapidated building. The lot passed by the aftermath the Banshee zombie had cost, the once fresh bodies that Yvi saw earlier were now infested with hordes of infected. The group all took it as a chance to leave the highway as fast as possible. But the Banshee zombie was not in sight. 

“What was that thing?” Heat asked with utter disgust as he referred to the creature earlier. “It gathered that horde, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, its shrieking lasted a whole thirty seconds.” Killer answered, looking at Yvi after.

“Almost like a Banshee, yeah? I take it that as Scots you’re very familiar with it?” Yvi each looked at them as a sign of clarity dawned on their face. “It even looked like one. If I hadn’t put my earplugs on, I’d have no hearing by now at how close I was back there. Last I saw it was back in Mull, never thought there’s another here in Glasgow. Aberrants like that may evolve to something greater if they stay alive for long.” 

“That’s freaky as hell.” Wire retorted, shivering at the thought. “How’d you know so much?”

“I encountered her before. And I’m also a biologist, well was.” Yvi shrugged, chuckling at that last bit. “I’ve been keeping track of Aberrants as a precaution and … a hobby. That profession ain’t mattering now, I’ll at least use what I know about species to make do.”

“It’s bizarre that you make that a hobby but… Yeah, we definitely need a brain in this group.” Killer bitterly chuckled, nudging her a little. 

The group had passed by the highway and was now heading north to find shelter, since the entire north was the connection of the earlier highway. They thought that maybe they’d stumble upon another town. Only that along the way, they found a sign that pointed to an alleged community where human life exists and hoped to exist. 

“New World?” Yvi read the wonky looking sign with a puzzling tone. It was a wooden board that seemed to be spray painted with black ink, an amateur work with botched handwriting. The group was bent down near the board that stood on the floor to inspect it closely.

“How are we sure this isn’t bait?” Killer inspected, reading the other contents of the sign. There were arrow signs across the road that pointed to a certain direction where a batch of trees obscured a huge wall that stretched across the span of wherever the eyes could see. 

“I’ve seen this before but I didn’t bother checking it.” Yviskos stood straight, surveying the surroundings to check more signs. “You guys can fight, right?” Yvi looked at them. “Heat’s got a machete, Wire got a sword, and Killer has some scythes. Unless you’re bad fighters?” 

“We can fight alright, wanna test it out?” Heat bent down to a fighting stance, taunting Yvi. 

“You wouldn’t wanna do that if you don’t wanna be like the zombies earlier.” Wire interrupted. “We can fight, Yvi. But if it’s a whole community we’re fucking toast! Especially if Kidd ain’t here.” He flung his arms around to emphasize his statement.

“I keep hearing about this Kidd, what happened to him?”

“There’s originally four of us and we’ve mentioned he was our leader, decisions boiled down to him. He was the most skilled when it comes to fighting but he ain’t the smartest in judging situations.” Killer started, continuing on walking along the vicinity. “We got separated because he was surveying weapons and we were out to get food. We haven’t found our way back to him ever since the Banshee Aberrant.”

“You think he’d be the type to go to communities?” Yvi suggested, thinking he might be in this New World.

“God, no.” Heat snickered, “If we’re out of the picture, he’s a solitary motherfucker. Even before all this, he refuses to work in groups.” 

“Sounds like a pain in the ass.” Yviskos blew air, “So, what plan are you guys thinking? Wanna check the New World out?”

They all looked at each other, waiting for others to answer. “We can always leave if it ain’t legit.” Wire blurted out. “We can judge it from a mile away, right?” 

“Yeah! We need some restocks anyway.” Yvi motioned for her empty water bottle, shaking it open to show that it’s thirsting of water. 

“Then it’s decided, we’ll head to the New World.” Killer led the way, following the arrows across the roads. Killer having no assurance whether Kidd was alive or not, slowly ate away at him. 

intro w/ chapter list | next -> ch. #1.2-loguetown

i won't be providing any summaries bc i want it to be a surprise ><

[neodracunyan]

Danganronpa: The Ultimate Student - Chapter 1 - Meeting the Ultimate Students of Hope's Peak Academy

Location: Hope's Peak Academy

Day: 01

Time: 8:00 AM

Y/n's POV

After I had a long, peaceful slumber, I woke up with my head resting on top of a hard wooden desk. My body feels...heavy. It's pretty normal for me to zonk off in the middle of some boring class or whatever, but... What was I doing asleep here just now? This isn't a classroom I've ever been in before. Unless....Creation must've heard my call and granted my wish and I'm inside a classroom at Hope's Peak Academy and it looks like there's security cameras and thick metal plates on the windows.

Y/n: What the heck is going on...? Is this real or a just a dream.

It's a dangerous world they live in. I guess they have these to keep weirdos from just wandering in or anyone inside from escaping. In any normal classroom, that's where a window should be, but it looks like some kind of metal plate has been bolted over it and if I were to knock on it... 

Bang! Bang!

Y/n: Yup. Definitely metal. Thick, too. Very solid.

Wait, that's not what matters here. More importantly, I was sent to this universe by Creation after I wished to be in Danganronpa and now I woke up in one of the classrooms here. I was asleep in my own bed before when I got here.

I may still know who I am, but for some reason I have no memory of my past life. However, I still have my knowledge of the Danganronpa franchise, so I might as well use it if I'm gonna survive in this school without getting murdered in cold blood. That just raises more questions in this school. This is all really strange. I mean, those metal plates covering the windows... It's like it's this school became a prison or something. None of this makes any sense...well, most people who might not know a lot about Danganronpa or any anime series that is similar to where I am at right now.

I know that the school "is" funded by the national government, so I guess it's not that weird to have TVs in here... But something feels...off as I spotted a pamphlet in on one of the desks and I went over to grab it to read it.

Y/n: An orientation guide...? It's some kind of cheap-looking pamphlet. And there's something handwritten on it. Could it have been written by...

It reads, "Welcome to Hope's Peak Academy. A new semester has just begun. Since yer starting new lives here, this school will be yer new world. Gather in the gym at 8 AM sharp for the welcoming ceremony.

Y/n: Yep. This is definitely written by Monokuma alright. I wonder there is a clock in this room, so I can see what time it is to get to the gym on time. (Looks around until I look up to see a clock that reads, "8 o'clock") Oh shit! I'm late, I better get to the gym right now before I miss the welcoming ceremony! I should probably head back to the main hall. The other students might be there right now. So, let's go see what the hallway looks like.

I went out of the classroom to find myself at the hallway and this place is illuminated in a purple light.

Y/n: Jeez... This hallway is kind of weird, too. Just like the anime I watched. Well, for now I'll just head to the main hall and get to the gym before the Welcoming Ceremony starts.

I ran down the main hall as fast as I can until I made it to the door that is labeled, "Gym" and pulled open the door to find...all 15 of the students from the game! I can't believe this is actually happening. I'm actually meeting the original characters from the first game.

They all looked at me in surprise after I opened the doors to the gym, so that makes me the sixteenth student here at this school. I better not get too excited because I know which of the students are the murders after I watched the anime and played the game, but there could be chance that there might be a different murder and killer instead of the original ones from both the anime and video game. So, I better keep an eye out if that ever happens.

???: Whoa, hey! Another new kid?

Y/n: Uh, hello?

???: Ah, cool. So, counting him, that makes sixteen of us. For what? Can not predict now.

I recognize him. He's known as Yasuhiro Hagakure, The Ultimate Fortune Teller. He's a really good of telling people's fortunes with the power of his trusty crystal ball that he carries around.

Y/n: Um...how's it going? My name's Y/n L/n. Sorry I'm late. A bunch of stuff happened, and then all of a sudden, I was just...asleep in one of the classrooms.

Naegi: That happened to me as well.

That's Makoto Naegi, the main protagonist of the first Danganronpa game and the animation. He was portrayed as the Ultimate Lucky Student, but at the end of the animation and game, he's now known as the Ultimate Student of Hope. I guess we both had the same problem, the moment we ended up at this school.

Hiro: Whoa, you too?

Celeste: Things just keep getting curiouser and curiouser...

Hifumi: So... that's everyone right? So strange... I declare beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is a strange situation indeed! But maybe now, we can get some answers.

That large overweight guy is Hifumi Yamada aka the Ultimate Fanzine Artist. He may be a bit weird (mostly towards women like Celeste and Ayo) and act like this world is some sort of fantasy game, but he's ok in my book.

Y/n: Um...what are you talking about? I honestly have no idea what's going on right now.

I didn't want to let them know that I'm really from another world, but I'm just gonna play along for a while until they all decide to trust me and explain myself.

Taka: AHA! (Points at Y/n) Y/n! Your tardiness is unacceptable! Instructions said, 8 o'clock sharp. To be late on your first day is unspeakable! I must report you, and you must accept your due punishment!

That hot-headed guy that just pointed at me for my tardiness is the Ultimate Hall Monitor, better known as Miyotaka Ishimaru, or Taka for short. He takes the role, Hall Monitor very seriously and doesn't tolerate other students being late on the first day at school. He's the perfect example of a teacher's pet.

Taka: You have no excuse for your tardiness!

Junko: What's your problem? It's not like he "wanted" to be late. He didn't have any control over it. Could you just not blame him for just being late. I mean, who gives a flip about being on time? Nobody knows about why we're here.

In case you may or may not know, that's not really the real Junko Hiroshima. She's actually Mukuro Ikusaba aka the Ultimate Soldier and she's dressed up as Junko while the real one is pulling the strings to this game inside this entire school, we're trapped in. Junko Hiroshima is known to be the Ultimate Fashion Diva and I gotta be honest with all of you guys reading this right now, that she's nuttier than a squirrel's lunchbox and not in a good way.

Hiro: Excuse me? Did you happened to remember what happened before you woke up in a classroom.

Y/n: I did...but I have no idea how that happened to me and how I ended up in one of the classrooms.

Hiro: I thought so. That's exactly what happened to us.

That's Chihiro Fujisaki aka the Ultimate Programmer, she's technically a femboy and she's a master in computer programming as she is also the creator of Alter-Ego that helped out the students with hacking into the school's servers until Monokuma confiscated it from them before they all had a chance to escape.

Celeste: Sudden unconsciousness. Only to converge into the gym upon awakening. Fabulously peculiar. Though I didn't expect such a handsome looking student to appear at this school at the last minute before the ceremony. Very interesting.  

That gothic princess that just flirted with me is Celestia Ludenberg aka the Ultimate Gambler, a royal princess with the knowledge of a real professional gambler, she was the first student in the series to do a double kill and she can really make your life a living nightmare if you get on her bad side. Better stay away from her to avoid being her next target.

Mondo: Yeah, that's the word. (Groans) Reminds me of the digs, we have back at juvie.

That's the Ultimate Biker and the most feared gang leader that ever lived, Mondo Ohwada. He's a real brute when it comes to situations like this, especially when he's in a real bad mood. My best bet is to not get under his skin or else I might end up in a hospital bed under life support.

Leon: Yeah, except this time, we got kidnapped. Hey, maybe they might auction off our organs. Ha!

Leon Kuwata aka the Ultimate Baseball Player was the first murderer in this school, and he can throw a mean fast ball and hit an easy home run when it comes to a game of baseball. I bet he goes to a lot of parties after hitting a lot home runs with that kind of talent.

Aoi: Think positive! It's a motivational program! This is supposed to be a special school, right?

Y/n: Yeah, I think so if we're all here to begin with.

That woman with the happy-go-lucky pep talk like a very supportive cheerleader is Aoi Asahina, the Ultimate Swimmer. She seems very excited for this event, but I know it won't last long once the games of despair will begin when the Welcoming Ceremony.

Sakura: It's difficult to say. I suggest we first, assess our situation.

Y/n: Ok then...

That amazon woman with a very serious attitude is known as Sakura Ohgami aka the Ultimate Grappler, she's a tough woman with the heart of a warrior. She may be a strong woman, but not even her powerful strength can break through these thick metal doors and windows. This place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox and Alcatraz combined.

Man, I never thought I would meet these students here at Hope's Peak Academy, but let's hope that we do what Sakura says and try to figure out what to do in this situation after the Ceremony. Then I looked to see a timid female student with purple hair that I recognized until she looked at me and freaked out after I looked at her with my own two eyes.

Toko: Aah! The new kid is undressing me with his eyes.

Her name's Toko Fukawa aka the Ultimate Literary Girl, she may look freaked out at first, but she has a spilt personality that involves a mysterious scissor wielding serial killer known as Homicidal Jack. I respect her and her homicidal side of herself since I can play as her in the spin-off game known as Danganronpa: Despair Girls and she is really dangerous with those sharp scissors of hers. Better keep an eye out for her in case Toko switched places with Homicidal Jack because I do not want to get cut to death by her cause she only targets boys, not girls.

Toko: (Growls) Bet he thinks I'm a troll.

Y/n: Not really. I didn't mean to look at you like that. Sorry.

Byakuya: He's certainly not all that.

I know that cold look and snobbish attitude like that anywhere. He's Byakuya Togami, the Ultimate Heir and he's known to be a pain in the neck when it comes to situations like this and he's one of my least favorite characters in the Danganronpa series as he is not a really good kind of friend to hang out with, but at least he's willing to help out whatever he can when there's a dead body sighted at school grounds.

Byakuya: Why not take a picture to make it last longer.

Y/n: I would if I want to, but I believe my phone has gone missing. 

Byakuya: Hmph. Whatever.

I decided to look away from him to avoid getting him annoyed by my presence until I spotted someone in the background trying to figure out what's going on here at this school. It was none other than The Ultimate Detective herself, Kyoko Kirigiri, who is clearly trying to investigate the mystery behind Hope's Peak Academy.

Kyoko: Yes? Can I help you?

Y/n: Huh? Oh! No, I'm good.

???: Excuse me, but you're the new student here named Y/n, right? My name is Sayaka Maizono. It's nice to meet you.

I looked to see who was speaking to me and it was a young girl with long, blue hair named Sayaka Maizono aka the Ultimate Idol. She's a friend of Naegi since they both went to the same middle school together and she has a beautiful singing voice, which lead to her career as a popular singer. She's very kind and welcoming and I never thought she would introduce herself to me.

Y/n: Nice to meet you, Miazono. You're friends with Naegi, right?

Sayaka: Of course, and what a relief, someone I know is in this school.

Naegi: Wait, you actually remember me?

Sayaka: (Giggles) Well, I course I do, silly. After all, we did go to the same school for three years.

Y/n: Wow. That's neat.

Naegi: Oh, believe me, I know. It's just that you're so popular and I was more or less of the exact opposite.

Y/n: I wouldn't say that. You're just "lucky" enough to meet someone that you knew from middle school.

Naegi: Yeah, I guess you're right about that.

Sayaka: Ah, I knew it. I came out a trouble snob!

Naegi: What?! No, Hold up! That came out wrong!

Sayaka: (Giggles) Just teasing. 

Naegi: Uh, fine. I take that back.

Sayaka: (Giggles)

Ah, young love. These two look like the perfect couple, don't they? I bet they might get married and have kids on their own, if they didn't get involved in this mess and Sayaka didn't get murdered in this school.

Byakuya: If you two are quite done flirting, we can move on into more important matters.

Y/n: Such as?

Byakuya: (Scoffs) Such as our current problem here at this school. Someone has collected us here for a reason.

Toko: (Freaks out) We're all essentially prisoners.

Junko: You think the least they can do is to give me back my cell phone. It's like totally barbaric. 

Y/n: Oh please, they obviously took our phones just so we can't contact anyone that will come to rescue us. They might have cut off all of our communications to the outside world. That's why I don't have my cell phone with me the moment I arrived here.

Then suddenly, everyone started checking their pockets to find their phones, but they appear to be missing as well.

Sakura: He's right. My phone is missing is well. Does this mean they've been confiscated?

Yasuhiro: Yeah, no. There's no way. The new kid is very clever, but I think they'll give back our stuff once the Orientation is over. I'm sure of it. (Pulls out his crystal ball) In fact, it's already been foretold.

Y/n: Whoa. Nice crystal ball you got there.

Yasuhiro: Thanks, Y/n. I can't always tell any people fortunes without it.

Leon: Dude please, a crystal ball?

Yasuhiro: I'm dead on, 30% of the time.

Toko: (Scoffs) Isn't that impressive.

I was about to protest Toko until a loud sound of speakers turning on that is hurting our ears, meaning that the Welcoming Ceremony is about to begin, and we all know that means. It means, that Monokuma is about to make an entrance and introduce himself to the students of Hope's Peak Academy.

???: TESTING! MIC TEST! MIC TEST! ONE, TWO! EVERYBODY HEAR ME ON THIS THING? (CLEARS THROAT) HIYA KIDDOS! TIME TO ROLL OUT THE WELCOME WAGON! NOT LITERALLY OF COURSE, NOT EVEN SURE WHAT THAT MEANS, LITERALLY, BUT YOU GET IT!

Yasuhiro: See? We're not prisoners. This is how they do things here at Hope's Peak.

Nope. That's not right. This is definitely not how they do this kind of stuff at Hope's Peak or any school for that matter.

Kyoko: Well, you're half right.

Y/n: Well, we'll just to find out for ourselves.

With everyone including myself in the gym, ready for the Welcoming Ceremony, we all face the stage to see Monokuma appear from behind the podium, surprising most of the students and I knew that he would finally arrive here eventually to introduce himself.

Monokuma: I know what you're all thinking and no I'm not a high-tech build-a-bear reject! I am the principal of this special institution, Monokuma! Please to meet ya.

Just like in the anime. God! I love that bear so much, I could just run up there and give him a hug, but I don't want to get killed by him and whatever he has up his sleeve since one of his rules is that no one should try to attack the principal in any way, or you'll get killed. Then I saw Hifumi freaking out when he saw Monokuma because he saw this kind of moment before in a dream once.

Hifumi: (Screams) I had a nightmare just like this one!

Monokuma: Young man, some respect of you please. Mono-Kuma, your principal.

This may be weird, but he does need to be respected since he is the principal of this school, and we have to follow his rules if we want to get out of this place...alive!

Monokuma: Yes, yes! Like nothing you ever seen before! Uncanny and unsettling even! Yada-Yada! Movin' right along! Now all of you stand and attention! Give your principal, your snappiest good morning!

Taka/Y/n: (Bows Down) Good morning, Principal, sir!

Me and Taka bowed down to him, but that just make Toko freak out after we both just did that to encourage it.

Toko: Please, don't encourage it!

Y/n: (Whispering) We have to do it if we don't want to get killed.

Monokuma: Eh, that will have to do I suppose. Anyway, welcome you bright young students to your new living quarters! Now before you freak out, rest assured, this is for your own good. Must not let that outside world dull that dazzling inner spark. We must keep that freshness sealed in.

Y/n: Hold on, we-

Then the Junko doppelganger went up behind me and interrupted me with her disagreeing with whatever Monokuma is planning for us.

Junko: I don't think so!

Monokuma: So now you're wondering how long your stay will be our guest of our program. Approximately...the rest of your lives! (Everyone, but Y/n Gasped) Oh yeah, by new living quarters, I mean, permanent living quarters~

Leon: You...You can't be serious?!

Hiro: We'll be here...forever?

Monokuma: Ah, don't fret. We have an astronomical budget. Your needs will be satisfied in no time.

Sayaka: That's not the issue. We have families!

Junko: No! Just No!

Y/n: (Leans Over Fake Junko) Excuse me? I hate to interrupt, but is that why the metal plates and doors, blocking the windows and every exit at this school is keeping us in here and preventing us from escaping into the outside world?

Monokuma: Bingo! You're here for keepsies! (Realizes something) Wait a minute! Who are you and how did you managed to get inside this school!

Uh oh! Looks like Monokuma doesn't see me as a student here. I better think of something to convince him that I'm an extra student here at this school.

Y/n: Uh....I'm the sixteenth student here, Principal Monokuma. I was the last one that came in here. I woke up in one of your classrooms at the main hall, sir!

Monokuma: Are you sure about that, bucko?! I never seen you here before! Are you a spy or something just to expose me as some sort of criminal?!

Y/n: No! I'm telling the truth here. You can check the security cameras to know that I'm not lying cause there was one in the room I woke up in!

Monokuma then looked at me in the eye to know if I was telling the truth and I can tell that his red eye is glowing brightly, and I know that my life in this universe is gonna end before it even started. But then, he started laughing as he was pretending to act like I'm some sort of spy trying to gather info about this place under his control.

Monokuma: Fufufufufufufufufufu~ I'm joking with ya, kiddo! I can't believe you fell for that! Your reaction was priceless! I knew that there would be an extra student here in this school, so I'll let it slide this time. Just don't try anything on me or there's gonna be trouble. Got it?

Y/n: Yes, Principal Monokuma. Rules stay with you.

I just got tricked by my favorite Danganronpa character. I would be mad at him, but it was totally worth it.

Monokuma: Well, aren't you an obedient one. Anyways, let's get to the point of this ceremony. For those who want to leave, there is a loophole.

Byakuya: Enlighten us.

Y/n: Yeah, explain to us what you mean about this "loophole".

Monokuma: Good old murder! (Jumps off the stage while spinning and landed on his feet) Yes! The student who murders the classmates and gets away with it, will be permitted to walk out of here scot-free! Pummel! Stab! Blunged! Slice! Torch! Crush! Strangle! Curse! Fufufufufufufufu~

Then went down for a split second to grab a live fish and holds it his arms while the fish is moving around, gasping for air.

Monokuma: Know what you kids and a salmon have in common? Neither of you has the faintest notice of a tingling sensation watching you all slaughter each other makes me. (Tosses the fish aside before looking back at them with his black side) The best of the best, watching you guys murder each other for the free of all. (He then he turns around to see his white side blushing with him sweating at the pleasure from the thoughts of seeing the students murder each other for his own amusement) Is there anything hotter than that?! (Swoons)

Wow. He's crazy and insane. No wonder why he's so into murder that he sees as pleasure to him. He's really sweating from the dark thoughts in his head.

Leon: You're crazy!!

Sayaka: But why?! What could possibility be the point of making us kill?!

Hifumi: Yeah! What they said! If you think we're on onboard with this bullcrap, you're out of your mind!

Y/n: I hate to say it to you guys, but there's no other way to get out of this school unless we do what he says. He has this place all locked up tight and we're all trapped like rats!

Monokuma: The new kid's got the idea, but bullcrap?! What do you get off talking like that to your principal! Love or hate it, sweetie-pies. From here on out, this school is your entire world. (Starts walking down the gym) Look on the bright side, I'm letting you get away with murder. For Reals! So, stop whining and stop plotting!

Then we saw Mondo step in front of Monokuma and kneeled down to him in a fit of rage, not taking this murder business very well.

Mondo: You want murder, Teddy-Two-Tone! Take this shit any further and you'll be victim number one.

Monokuma: Is that a threat? You're gonna impale me with that pompadour?

That really insulted Mondo as he grabbed Monokuma by the neck as he plans to rip Monokuma to pieces, which is against one of Monokuma's rules, which is handling, assaulting or attacking the principal is off limits and Monokuma should be self-destructing at any second now.

Mondo: Bitch! No! What I'm about to do is to tear you about till there's nothing left of whatever is making you jabber!

Y/n: Mondo! Put him down before he-

Monokuma: Gah! No harm must come to the principal under any circumstances!

Then Monokuma used the self-destruct sequence as his red eye flashed then he started beeping that Mondo has a few seconds before he explodes.

Mondo: Uh, guys? What's that noise?

Y/n: He went into self-destruct mode! Toss him out of the way before he explodes!

Mondo: What?!

Y/n: Just do it!

Mondo then didn't think twice and threw Monokuma in the air before his body exploded. Luckily, no one was hurt after that happened.

Naegi: This is real, isn't it?!

Y/n: Well, at least no one was hurt.

Mondo: It could've blown my face off!

Y/n: I tried to warn you but you didn't let him go and he almost blew you up into a pile of your guts!

Hiro: So...is he dead?

Y/n: I don't think so, Hiro. Even if he really was dead, we still won't be able to find any form of communication devices to send some help. Plus, Monokuma has plenty of robotic clones to take his place after his old body blew up after it was set to self-destruct.

Monokuma: You got that right, kiddo. I'm full of surprises.

Then we all looked behind to see Monokuma standing on top of the podium like he some sort of magician or something.

Monokuma: Ta-Da!

Mondo: Y-You son of a-

Monokuma: Consider that a verbal warning, young man. And as for you, new kid. I'm impressed on how you know a lot about me and the rules of this school and I respect that. However, if any of you get smart with me again, any of you, and (Bears out his claws) let's just see around here we forego written warnings in favor of instant corporal punishment!

Everyone including myself was shocked to hear about instant corporal punishments whenever someone tries to attack him like Mondo did that caused the Monokuma clone to explode that would've killed him instantly. Better keep my distance away from him if I don't want to face that kind of punishment from him.

Monokuma: This now concludes the introduction of your orientation boys and girls! He or she should all be enjoying a fun-fulfilling and not exactly long life of scholastic and enrichment year at Hope's Peak Academy!

As Monokuma is finishing his speech of the Welcoming Ceremony, he then went down through a trap door from the podium and disappeared. Then I hear everyone started talking about what just happened after meeting Monokuma as the principal of Hope's Peak Academy and this are about to get serious from here.

Celeste: Sonic I understand this correctly, to make it out of this place is to kill.

Y/n: That's how it works here. But I doubt that anyone around here wants to murder each other just to get out of this school alive.

Taka: (Growls) This is absolutely bogus!

Hiro: No...(Shedding some tears) It's a joke.

Byakuya: Hmph...a joke it may very well be, but it doesn't elevate my concern is to whether one of you to takes it face value.

So we begin our lives as students at Hope's Peak Academy of anyone including myself wants to even call it a life. Cause this place is far from a hall of learning over-achievers with amazing talents that considers them as Ultimate Students. The name was 100% ironic. I wished this for it to happen to me and now that I'm stuck here with the students from the first Danganronpa game, I will do my best to help them out and find a way out of this place they now all call a prison no matter what it takes.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2

[wildwaxshows]

Fr., 26.7.2024, 20:00 Uhr: THE SPITS (US) + THE BRIEFS (US) - Knust, Hamburg

THE SPITS

Everyone’s favorite space-age mutant skate punks. The Spits are already as ingrained in modern punk music as possible, yet still manage to devour the rip-offs and influence the youth of todaywithout even looking like they're trying. The Spits have been setting the bar high, throughout the Midwest, and soon after, the world over. With an ingenious amalgamation of DEVO's early synth work in tandem with the absolute best Thug-Punk grunt the Ramones could ever maliciously muster, The Spits never try to reinvent anything, they just rip it's head off and drive it home time and time again. Possibly one of the only modern bands to have several of their songs being covered by their contemporaries, The Spits have already done so much, but still have so much more to come, as they continue to influence anyone with a penchant for irresistible punk music, played like there's nothing to lose.

THE BRIEFS

Punk rockers don't age, they just get weirder, baby. Twenty years have zipped by, and The Briefs are as frantic, energetic, and snotty as ever. Like a scud missile from outer space, the band's debut album, “Hit After Hit,” set out to destroy the new Millennium's flaccid alt-rock scene—and, in turn—inspired two decades of raucous radioactive fallout. Sewing together a tattered tapestry of 70s-style punk—with a nod toward Dangerhouse Records, DEVO, Thrasher Magazine, and ABBA—these iconic bleach blonde brutes have urged countless kids to grab a junk guitar, a pair of second-hand sunglasses, and a bottle of peroxide. What started with four idiot savants in a downtown Seattle basement has led to a remarkable two-decade career that has spawned some of the catchiest anti-hits this side of Y2K. Any self-respecting rocker will argue: “Hit After Hit,” (2000); “Off the Charts,” (2003); “Sex Objects,” (2004); and “Steal Yer Heart,” (2005); are more than essential punk classics—they're commandments, damn it. Sweat-drenched singles like “Rotten Love,” and “Poor and Weird” may have even aided in reversing punk's once terminal diagnosis. But how have they survived this long, this loud? A dynamic, leave-everything-on-the-stage live show paired with relentless US and European touring has garnered the band a fierce following (although you can't spot Briefs fan based on age, they are indeed known to harbor a certain swagger). 2008-2012 saw a much-needed cat nap for the band, but diehard pals will tell you this was no radio silence. Guitarist Daniel Travanti formed Sharp Objects and co-founded Modern Action Records; guitarist Steve E. Nix and bassist Kicks formed The Cute Lepers; drummer Chris Brief formed Suspect Parts. In the end, it all came back around to the beginning—to The Briefs. (Hayley Crusher Cain)

[noaheadiegamedev]

Gasket

Species: Human

Homeworld: Asteroid L5R-7KJH

Pronouns: She/Her

“Learn to use yer tools - or yer tools will learn to use you.”

Backstory after the jump.

For three generations, Gasket's family defended Sprocket Gulch, a scrapyard-turned-village, against the killer robots that ravaged their world. When the war broke out eighty years ago, and the capital city fell, Gasket's grandfather used his Juggernaut class power armor - cutting edge technology in his time - to clear the city’s scrapyard of robots. He then founded the village and established and maintained its defense perimeter, which his son took up after his passing. When this successor  - Gasket’s father - was slain in an especially brutal robot attack, Gasket inherited her grandfather's Juggernaut suit, and with it the mantle of Sprocket Gulch's defender. She used the armor to protect her home, and was the closest thing the village had to a leader. Despite her tireless efforts and critical life-saving decisions, she alone took the blame for any tragedy that befell them. As a result, she was considered both the worst yet only possible person for the job. Nevertheless, she dutifully carried on.

By the time she was thirty, the soil was barren, all useful scrap metal was used up, and excursions to find the materials necessary to sustain the village had become increasingly perilous. Sprocket Gulch's resources were dwindling, and Gasket realized her world would soon collapse unless she took drastic action. Gasket gathered a group of twenty men for a mission through the capital city's ruins. Her plan: storm the military research base located deep within, where the robots' command servers were located. Destroy the servers, and the war would be over. A gruesome defeat was almost certain, but Gasket knew the alternative - being starved out by the robots - would be a far crueler fate.

During the week-long journey to the city, Gasket grew closer to her platoon, shedding her gruff exterior and gaining a sense of family she had never felt before. When they arrived at the city's gates, the group's newfound unity gave them the strength to venture forth - and begin a campaign far grislier than any of them could ever imagine.

The harsh reality: the robots sent only their weakest drones to attack the village. Those that defended the capital were at least ten times as deadly, and ten times as numerous. In a matter of hours, Gasket lost half her men. In spite of the hell they found themselves in, the surviving soldiers remained loyal to Gasket, as they charged through the streets and into the military base.

The robots roaming the base's halls were even deadlier than those that guarded the streets. Each was a unique warmachine unto itself. Gasket's platoon was simply no match for these super-killers. The siege devolved into a mad dash for the servers, with Gasket and her squad running more than fighting. By the time they reached the server room, they were reduced to only six warriors. Worse still, they were surrounded, outnumbered a million to one. Covered by her comrades, Gasket used her ion cannon to destroy the servers, with each one taking out ten thousand drones. She took to this with the righteous, systematic fervor of a woman fighting desperately for what remained of her crumbling world, shouting the name of a fallen soldier with each pull of the trigger. When the last server was destroyed, the war ended, and Gasket emerged victorious.

She and her squad - now only four strong - contacted Sprocket Gulch to start the exodus back to the capital. During the wait, the soldiers raided the base. They found a bounty of resources, including fifty years of rations, a thriving arboretum, a vast database of scientific knowledge, an army's worth of weapons and armaments - and a single rocketship with room for but one person. When the villagers arrived, they voted unanimously that Gasket was the most deserving to pilot the rocket and find help to rebuild the city. Initially, she refused, but her squadmates convinced her that they were well-equipped to defend themselves. Trusting her newfound family, Gasket said goodbye, and set off into space, still wearing her grandfather's armor.

Gasket traveled to distant worlds, spreading her grandfather's ashes and rediscovering the universe from which her people were cut off for nearly a century. During her travels, Gasket made it a priority to learn about sentient machines from across the cosmos, and differentiate them from the mindless drones that terrorized her people. In time, her story caught the attention of the Thrasher League. She accepted their offer to fight in the arena, and the League helped rebuild her homeworld by sending a small fleet of construction freighters.

Gasket is a thrasher who appears rough on the outside, but is approachable once you get to know her. She enjoys talking shop with other mechanics, and trading war stories with other veterans. She's always ready to defend her fellow thrashers, and more than once has gone to blows for them. 

Despite its obsolescence, Gasket refuses to modify her grandfather's suit with newer technology. She also will not replace its parts with those standard for Juggernaut suits, nor even repaint or refurbish it. She fixes it herself using scrap metal, believing that anything else would taint her grandfather's memory. She has repeatedly patched the suit back together from what many would consider total disrepair, and has sworn to retire from the League if the suit becomes truly wrecked beyond her expertise.

[ayatai]

An Old Acquaintance Part 2

Alexander wandered the Daventrian market green, searching for the perfect gift for his daughter. As much as she hated when she couldn’t accompany him on these trips to his homeland, she loved the surprises he would always bring back to her. Perhaps he did spoil her a bit much sometimes, but then, he couldn’t help but want her to have everything he hadn’t.

A small stand holding a variety of wooden carvings caught his eye. He wandered over; the vendor was busy conversing with another customer so he stood to one side as he looked, out of the way. Some carvings were in the shape of animals, and he reached toward a small dog, posed to be laying down, its tail curled up beside it. Dogs as the rest of the rest of the world thought of them were rare in the Green Isles, and his daughter had grown up instead used to the humanoid “guard dogs” that made up the majority of the castle’s guards. The four-legged ones fascinated her; he was fairly sure she would adore the little carving of one.

“Gwydion?”

He froze, one hand still held out as the back of his neck prickled at the name. A name he hadn’t heard in years, and yet it still seemed to turn his blood to ice. For a moment he could do nothing but focus on slamming up a mental barrier against a flood of emotions and memories.

When he was able to focus externally again a second later, he noticed the vendor still staring at him, surprise clear on his own face. A face Alexander vaguely recognized - but from where?

The tattoos visible on the older man’s arms suddenly awakened old memories. The gentle slapping of ocean waves against a wooden hull. The sharp taste of salty sea air. And the soft words of a sailor’s stories falling as steadily as the wood shavings did from his hands as he carved.

Kaiden. One of Captain Reid’s men, who had tricked him and would have sold him into slavery had he not escaped first. 

Alexander flipped his hand over as he let the magic within him flow, a fireball starting to appear in his open hand. He’d used magic to protect himself the last time and he would do so again if need be.

His guard, sensing his distress, moved quickly to place himself between Alexander and the stall as he drew his sword.

“Easy, easy!” cautioned Kaiden as held up both hands. “If it’s Reid you’re concerned about, haven’t been with that rat in years. Just me now, sellin’ my carvings.”

Alexander glanced around. Other than a few onlookers who were staring at the sudden commotion, everything seemed normal. Certainly no signs of an ambush or anything else nefarious.

He let the fireball die out, but kept the magic flowing, ready to call it back at any second. He nodded at the guard, who sheathed his sword and stepped back, though he kept one hand on the hilt. Kaiden cautiously lowered his arms.

Heart still hammering, Alexander said, “So you’re a proper wood carver now. Pirate no longer?” The word pirate left a slight bitterness on his tongue; he held little fondness for those of the profession which had so nearly doomed his journey home.

“Left that long ago. Pretty soon after yer, uh… voyage with Reid, in fact.”

“Mmm. It’s Alexander now.”

Kaiden looked him over for a second. “New name, and you’ve grown. Took me a minute to remember where I knew you from.”

“Ten years will do that, I suppose.”

“Good to see ya, in all honesty. When we found yer trail headed over the mountains, was half-sure you wouldn’t be able to survive the trek, what with the cold and wild animals.” He paused briefly before continuing, “If you’ve got a few minutes, I always did wonder how exactly you managed to pull one over on Reid. And the fireball is… new…”

Alexander started to say no but paused. Kaiden had been one of the very few on that ship to treat him with any sort of respect or kindness. One of the first people to do so in his life, in fact. He found himself oddly drawn to the man who in other circumstances he might have called a friend. He nodded at the former pirate’s wares. “What about your stall?”

“Market’s closing soon anyhow. Won’t take me a minute to pack it all up.” He did so with practiced ease and efficiency, stowing the carvings securely in a crate. As promised it didn’t take him long.

Further down the green, tables had been set up amongst several large trees. The ones placed in the lengthening shadows were already occupied by others seeking relief from the heat, so instead they opted for one further out. While unshaded, it was also more private. A pleasant breeze started blowing in as they sat, keeping the bugs off and giving them a small taste of the rapidly approaching evening cool.

“So. Last time I saw ya was right when the lookout spotted Daventry. Next thing I know I’m waking up on the deck, ship adrift miles offshore. What on earth did ya do?”

“Sleeping spell. Reid took all my things when we left, but I shoved a bunch of pitch into the fire to make it smoke like crazy-”

Kaiden chuckled. “I remember; so that was you.”

“While everyone was running around worried about a fire, I slipped into Reid’s room and stole the sleeping powder back. Used it as soon as we were close enough to Daventry.”

“Clever,” said Kaiden, shaking his head slightly. “Reid really had no idea what he was getting himself into, huh? Would’ve been much better off just honoring yer agreement with ‘im.

He was spittin’ mad when he woke, let me tell you. And even more so when he realized you’d gone and dug up his chest. When we found yer tracks headed over the mountains he had half a mind to follow. Managed to convince ‘im you were too long gone by that point, though.”

“Thanks for that, then.”

“Eh - well, I had no desire to trek through snow, anyhow. Did leave his crew shortly after, though. Smugglin’ black market artifacts is one thing, but kids? Not what I signed up for. Besides, I’d gotten well enough on with my carving to make a livin’ with it anyhow.”

He stood and stretched. “Imma grab a drink right quick. You want one?”

Alexander shook his head. The conversation was interesting, and as far as he could tell Kaiden seemed to be exactly as he said, but he didn’t trust the man all that much.

Most of the non-food vendors had closed their stalls by now. As the crowd shifted to their end of the green, long lines were forming in front of the carts still selling food. The last of the empty tables had filled, leaving latecomers to spread out on the grass, or on blankets if they had them. Children weaved among the picnickers, playing tag or doing cartwheels, their yells punctuating the general hubbub of dozens of conversations occurring at once.

Someone had started lighting the torches ringing the area, fending off the encroaching darkness. Leaning back against the table behind him, Alexander let the noise simply wash over him, idly watching as the pool of warm light grew larger and larger as the man moved from torch to torch.

Seeing Kaiden again reminded him of so much he hadn’t thought about in quite a while. His thoughts drifted to Liliana’s tavern, where he had first stayed and worked right after freeing himself. The similar din of the common room there had seemed so loud back then, annoying and grating to ears more accustomed to quiet. 

Ten years had changed so much. Even Kaiden seemed different - more open and talkative. Happier.

But then - the same could be same for himself, he supposed.

This train of thought was interrupted as Kaiden returned and settled back down on the bench, pointing his mug in the direction of Alexander’s guard.

“Daventry seems to have treated you well. You a lord now or somethin’?”

The question took Alexander by surprise; he was so used to everyone in Daventry knowing exactly who he was. Even after so long the story of his return was still widely told and celebrated.

“Or something; I haven’t properly introduced myself, have I? Formally, my titles are King Alexander of the Green Isles and Prince Alexander of Daventry.”

Belatedly he realized he could have timed the revelation better; Kaiden, who had just taken a sip of his drink, half choked on it. After he’d coughed enough to clear it out, he managed, “Seriously? Prince of - “

Alexander couldn’t help but find some slight amusement in the reaction, especially as he noted the moment of realization take over Kaiden’s face and the wood carver started laughing.

“Did hear somethin’ about a missing prince returned home several years ago, just never put two and two together. If Reid had had any idea, ha!

Well, then, good it all worked out for you. Sounds like you’ve got quite the stories of yer own to tell, now.”

Alexander nodded his head in assent, his mind going to his daughter. She wasn’t yet old enough to hear most of them yet, but she was growing quickly.

His guard approached. “Sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, but we’d best head back up to the castle if you still want to make it in time for your parents’ dinner…”

“Yes, thank you, Aldric. Time got a bit away from me.”

“If you have just a moment more…” Kaiden said as he shuffled through the contents of his crate. “Ah, here it is. This is the one you were interested in, yes?” He held out the small dog carving.

Alexander nodded as he took it. “How much?”

“Nothin’. Least I can do, after my part in… well, you know.”

“Thanks,” replied Alexander. “I’m glad to have ran into you this afternoon.” 

Night had fully fallen by the time they finished their goodbyes and wound their way back through the town and approached the castle gate. As he fiddled with the dog carving in one hand, he decided his statement had been more than mere politeness. It truly was good to hear how the former pirate had turned things around, and how he had looked out for Alexander even back then. Perhaps, after his daughter tired of playing with it, he might just keep the little carving for himself.

[arjaandsimoni]

Prologue

In the distant past, magic was as common as anything. Gods walked the earth and stood alongside humanity, aiding their peoples in driving back the darker forces of this world. But their enemies were many and their allies could not fight forever. Slowly… very slowly… they were pushed back. The gods began to lose their battle against those who would prey on the mortal peoples of Earth.

Countless centuries ago, an event occurred that the secret histories refer to as The Void Rain. Meteorites made of a strange metal that came to be known as ‘Void Iron’ rained down across the world.

This metal was deadly to the supernatural, it consumed magic in its entirety. Mortal magic users would find themselves helpless, stripped of their spells, and supernatural beings would be eaten whole by this baleful metal.

Mortal men however realized that they had naught to fear from it and could even use it. The meteorites were full of much dross leaving only a small quantity of workable material, but this gave rise to a new weapon against humanity’s foes. Weapons that could utterly destroy the supernatural: The Mundane Blades.

In South America, a macahuitl known as the Path to the Underworld cut back the minions of Mictlan.

In India, the Kris of Mahakala forced back the rakshasa and their naga allies.

Japan was home to a katana known as Oni no Nayami, the Oni’s Bane, and it lived up to its name well.

And in Ireland, Claiomh Dorcadas, the Sword of Darkness, became the shadowy mirror to the gift of the Tuatha De Dannan, Claiomh Solias, the Sword of Light.

With these weapons did humanity ensure their survival… but some began to realize they no longer needed the protection of their former allies and drove magical beings out of the world entirely, forcing them into a mirror realm known only as the Supernatural World.

Their foes defeated, humanity spread across the Earth, multiplying and giving rise to new religions and new sciences, and slowly the Mundane Blades were, one by one, lost and forgotten.

Until recently.

Ireland, several decades ago, a castle in the wilderness of the country.

Eliza Fullmoon knew she was dying. Nobody came back from a gut wound like that.

The elderly woman glared up at her son, spitting weakly into his face. “Where did ye find th’ bloody thing boy?!” she demanded. She was such a small thing now... her spells shattered, her wings gone, and a great hole through her middle.

“As if I would tell you, mother.” he sneered. Across from her was Franklin Fullmoon, and she knew with a sick feeling in what was left of her gut that he was to succeed her. The first Patriarch of Clan Fullmoon. The clan had always been led by women before now, passed from mother to daughter, but Franklin had broken this tradition. He was still a young-ish man, his hair only streaked with grey, wearing naught by a mail jacket over a teeshirt and jeans for their duel.

She gasped slowly, her body growing cold even as it fought to stay alive, but she knew it wouldn’t be long now. As she lay there she heard their patron’s voice once more in her mind.

She smirked, “Morrigan has a message fer ya boyo, a gift ta start yer career.” she chuckled, and then she blinked, and her eyes were full of stars, and she spoke in a voice not her own… and she told him his future.

When a daughter of Clan Fullmoon rejoins her cousins in the East, there will come a reckoning.

Its gluttony shall be your undoing. The legacy of Franklin Fullmoon will be no more, burnt to ash and scattered on the wind.

Franklin scowled, and in a blur he sliced her head clean of her shoulders.

“I damn well doubt that…” he glared, turning and stalking out of the room.

From that day, everything changed for Clan Fullmoon. Magic of any sort was outlawed under pain of death and their mission changed dramatically. No more would the clan merely protect people from the predations of supernatural beings. Franklin’s goal was nothing short of genocide. Slaughter them all, down to the last.

He ruled the clan with an iron fist for years… but he never forgot his mother’s words. He always watched and waited for the day that her prediction would come to pass. And several decades later… it did.

Next Story

[martelldoran]

WHAT'S THE CAUSALITY LOOP THEORY

Why Emma, thank you so much for asking. I’m not going to waste time before jumping into this because this is gonna get long so without further ado...

Steve Rogers’ Ending and How Endgame Doesn’t Support a Causality Loop and other such rambles

Last month, I came across a TikTok that proposed that Steve’s ending made sense because it existed within a causality loop. I would link the TikTok but I didn’t save it at the time and trying to find videos on that app is impossible. You think Tumblr’s search function is bad? 🙄 But I digress. The TL;DR of the video is that due to time travel and Steve choosing to go back in time to be Peggy’s husband, it created a causality loop where he was always meant to be her husband because he went back in time and stayed there. The TikToker supported his argument by using Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (PoA), another film that uses time travel and has a clearly defined example of a causality loop. However, his argument is fundamentally flawed so I’m going to combine my knowledge of my two biggest fandoms to tell you why.

Continued under the cut because I have no chill. Beware, it's long.

To first tell you how Endgame (EG) doesn’t support a causality loop, we must establish how PoA does establish one and does it successfully. The TikToker specifically mentions the scenes that take place at Hagrid’s Hut surrounding Buckbeak the hippogriff’s execution, so we’ll look at those first. What the film does really well is establish early on that there is something weird going on well before anyone actually goes back in time. There are three things that happen in quick succession during this scene which sets up the causality loop we see later in the film. First, a rock flies through the window and breaks a jar. Second, another rock hits Harry in the back of the head. Third, once outside, Hermione hears a branch snap and thinks she sees ‘something’. There are also two additional moments later on in the film once the Harry, Ron, and Hermione have come out of the Shrieking Shack which should also be noted: a wolf howl that distracts Remus Lupin in werewolf form from attacking the group and somebody casting a full-bodied stag patronus at the edge of the lake to save Harry and Sirius from the Dementors.

Of these occurrences, the first is arguably the most important because it does the most to establish that there is something going on outside of the Trio’s current understanding of their situation. The film makes a point to frame the jar breaking as Important Information the Audience Must Remember because it shows a visibly confused Hermione reacting to it as she picks up the rock for closer inspection and we the audience are given close up of it in her hand. Not only is it framed front and centre in the shot but the rock itself is very distinctive. It’s almost wholly smooth but for a swirl of fossil, thus marking it as not just any rock but An Important Rock To Be Remembered. This was an intentional choice by director Alfonso Curon because he uses this rock to connect this moment to its mirrored scene later on once Harry and Hermione use the Time Turner.

The audience and the characters find out about the causality loop at the same time. There are clearly stated rules of time travel that say that they aren’t to meddle with time but when Harry and Hermione see that Dumbledore, the Minister for Magic, and the executioner are on their way to Hagrid’s hut they panic because their counterparts aren’t leaving. Then, we see Hermione notice something in the pumpkin patch: a distinctive rock, smooth with a swirl of fossil. Again, we see have a close up shot with the rock centred to show its importance. Stylistically, it’s very similar to the shot we saw earlier in the film which gives the audience an emotional pay off for noticing the connection. When Hermione throws the rock and breaks the jar, it sets the causality loop in motion. The jar was always going to break because they went back in time to throw the rock that breaks it.

And it’s the same with all the other instances. Hermione throws the second rock that hits Harry in the back of the head to alert him to the fact they need to get out of the hut. Hermione snaps the branch and is almost seen by her counterpart in the past. Hermione makes the wolf call to distract Lupin from attacking. Harry, and not his father as he had assumed, casts the patronus to save himself and Sirius from the Dementors. But each of these moments are set up clearly in the ‘first run through’ to set up their payoff when the characters realise, ‘Oh, I did these things. They were always meant to happen.’ From a narrative standpoint, these are planned out moments to clue the audience into the fact that there’s something bigger at play. It keeps them ‘in the loop’ as it were.

This doesn’t happen in EG.

To successfully have set up a causality loop that made sense and had the same kind of set up and pay off as we see in PoA, it would have had to have been established as early as 2014 in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (CA:TWS). This does not happen. One of the main themes of CA:TWS is moving on from the past. Peggy Carter herself even says, “I’ve lived my life, my only regret is that you didn’t get to live yours.” Then saying soon after, “Sometimes the best thing we can do is to start over.” Peggy’s character in Captain America: The First Avenger is set up as someone who acts as the backup/back bone of Steve’s own moral compass. When Steve falters at Azzano about what to about the captured 107th, Peggy is there to remind him of what is right. She serves a similar narrative function in CA:TWS. Steve is struggling with life in the present. He’s just seen the helecarriers and argued with Nick Fury about protection vs fear after the botched Lumerian Star mission. Morally, he’s in turmoil and has turned to Peggy for council because he’s trying to find purpose in world where his rigid morality seems to have no place.

From the point of view of creating a causality loop, one would think that this scene in the hospital would be the place where an initial set-up could be made and alert the audience to the long term plan for Steve’s character. Instead, we have Peggy mourning the fact that Steve didn’t get to live his life the way it should have played out, and why would a woman who has supposedly been married to another version of Steve tell him to move on? In addition, when Steve visits the Smithsonian, he watches a video where he sees Peggy talking about how he influenced her life and how during one of his missions, he saved the man that would go on to become her husband. This is the only mention of Peggy’s husband in the entire franchise until Steve reappears as an old man at the end of EG.

Captain America: Civil War (CA:CW) also offers an opportunity to set up the causality loop at Peggy’s funeral but again, this does not happen. The only family we are introduced to is Sharon Carter, Peggy’s grand-niece. When it comes to filmmaking, every choice made is intentional. From the hair and makeup to the clothes, to the music used, everything in a film means something whether it is to further character development, world-building, or the plot. Filmmakers have a limited amount of time to convey a story and anything that doesn’t matter isn’t shown. Therefore, we can conclude from the text of the film that Peggy’s husband doesn’t matter to the narrative. The person in Peggy’s family who matters to the narrative is Sharon Carter which is why she is given prominence during CA:CW’s funeral scene. Had the causality loop been set up here, there would have been a defining moment like in PoA where the audience is clued into the larger story arc. Maybe someone says something, or he meets his older self, but that doesn’t happen. It should also be noted that apart from a small scene in Ant Man, Peggy isn’t mentioned again until EG.

In Endgame itself, the film still fails to set up a causality loop. It could be argued that this is the most important film for the set-up because this is when the audience gets the payoff. The first thing we see after the 5-yer time jump is Steve in a group therapy session for those that survived Thanos’ snap. Survivors share their stories and Steve talks about Peggy, a woman who has been dead in canon for 7-years and who died of old age. It’s incongruous and sticks out because narratively it doesn’t make sense for him to talk about her and not someone he watched disintegrate in front of his eyes. Steve watches his best friend and hundreds of others turn to ash around him and that film ends on his horrified face as he sits by his best friend’s ashes. Narratively, this is the thread that should carry through to EG but instead, he talks about missing his chance with Peggy. However, unlike PoA, there is no indication whether through dialogue or framing that clues the audience into Steve’s eventual ending at the end of the film.

Even when he goes back to the 70s, we see him looking mournfully at Peggy through the blinds in her office and a picture of him, pre-serum, on her desk. Steve and Peggy’s relationship prior to Endgame is supposed to represent the bittersweet loss of the life he could have had had he not sacrificed himself to the cause in CA:TFA. Then, since the audience knows from Steve and Peggy’s conversation in the hospital in CA:TWS that she moved on from Steve to live a happy life, we can assume that this picture is meant as nothing more than a fond memento of someone that meant a lot to her. Once more, there is no indication that Steve is ever meant to be her husband.

It’s impossible to infer a causality loop here in the same way as we saw in PoA. In PoA, there is a payoff for every single unusual or weird moment the story presents the audience before and after the use of time travel but this is something that’s completely absent from Endgame’s narrative. Steve himself doesn’t even vocalise a desire to go back in time at any point in EG nor at any point during the other films he appears in. In fact, when questioned by Tony Stark about the possibility of ‘going home’ in Avengers: Age of Ulton, he says, “The guy who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. I think someone else came out.” While it is indicative of his unhappiness in the modern-day, it does indicate a level of acceptance of the fact that this is his life and he has to make his peace with it. He’s taken what Peggy said in CA:TWS on board. He’s starting over and moving on.

With time travel, and Steve choosing to stay in the past came the fan theory that one of the pallbearers carrying Peggy’s casket in CA:CW is Old Man Steve, her husband. When presented with this fan theory, writer Christopher Markus said during an interview with the LA Times at SDCC 2019,

“I would very much like that. There is no set explanation for Cap’s time travel . . .I mean, we’ve had public disagreements with [directors Anthony and Joe Russo] about what it [time travel] necessarily means, but I love the idea of there being two Steve Rogers in the timeline. One who lived a long life with Peggy and is in the background of that funeral scene watching his young self carry his wife’s coffin up. Not just for the time travel mumbo jumbo of it, but for the just weird, personal pain and satisfaction that would be happening between two Steve Rogers there. I kind of love it.” [emphasis mine]

This shows that unlike in PoA there was no intention of creating a causality loop prior to Markus writing EG with his writing partner Stephen McFeely. In fact, it makes clear that the actual rules of time travel were in contention and that even those making the film didn’t have a unified idea of what they wanted to create in the first place. The fact that there is confusion surrounding EG's time travel is due to the fact that the people behind it, didn't seem to know what they were writing or consider the consequences of it.

What all of this shows is that an argument of a PoA style causality loop doesn’t hold water. The film doesn’t support it, nor do any of the previous films, because there aren’t any indicators for the audience to latch onto. There is no moment of the rock breaking the jar, or the patronus chasing away the dementors, no moment where that the audience is told to hold into this information for later because there’s some timey wimey stuff going on. Ultimately, when examined, there is no set-up for a causality loop that supports the theory he was always supposed to go back and be Peggy’s husband, particularly when examined against a film that successfully lays it out from the start.

Right, the more academic (lol) part of this post is done. I just want to address one more TikTok that bothered me because I have opinions and MCU Captain America is my Mastermind specialist subject.

The TL;DR of this one was that Steve’s ending made sense because he got out of the fight and was at peace and that that has been the ultimate goal of his character arc. This person argued that Steve used the Avengers to distract himself from the fact that he’s this man out of time and he can’t find peace without a fight which to some extent, I agree with. I don’t deny that that is a major driving force to his story. We see that in Age of Ultron with his WandaNightmare. I don’t deny that that is key to his character. However, this creator then made a comment at the end of this video to the tune of, ‘bUt BuCkY iS hIs StOrY aRc’ and tried to play it off like this wasn’t true or that people were wrong to think that this is the case.

These two things aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re both true. They’re intertwined. But you cannot say that Bucky Barnes isn’t at the heart of Steve Rogers’ story. Bucky was the catalyst for every single one of Steve’s movies. He becomes CA because of Bucky. He goes against SHIELD because of Bucky. He defies 107 countries and the Sokovia Accords because of Bucky. You take Bucky out of the equation and what do you have? What happens in those films if you take Bucky Barnes out of the equation? Viewing it objectively, and even without shipper goggles on, you simply cannot sit there and claim that Bucky Barnes isn't a defining component to Steve’s story. Steve Rogers is motivated by Bucky Barnes. Steve Rogers is motivated by the depth of their relationship and the fact that Bucky Barnes is one of the few things connecting his new present to his old life.

You can definitely see the fact that Steve is uncomfortable in the modern world. He doesn’t address any of his trauma but he still attempts to move on. However, if they wanted him getting out of the fight and finding life as a civilian to be the natural end to his story arc then there was a way to do it which didn’t require him going back to Peggy. It would have been a better and more satisfying ending if he’d actively chosen to retire because I often see the argument that him going back to Peggy is him finally allowing him to be selfish after shouldering so much over the past decade or more. If Steve chose to retire and put himself first, then that sends a better message. He’s still getting the chance to ‘be selfish’ but he’s not throwing the life he’s built away. At this point in EG, he’s spent a huge portion of his adult life in the modern-day. This isn’t the future for him anymore, it’s the present and he’s lived a life and made real connections with people. The MCU does a piss poor job of showing the interpersonal relationships between the Avengers but he is at least shown to be friends with Sam, Nat, and Bucky.

But he goes back to a delusion. Or an idea of something that was never his in the first place.

When I see people make these videos and share their opinions, I can see their points but it’s like they’re taking EG on its own when that's impossible. Endgame only ‘works’ if you have the context of 10 years’ worth of films. You have to at least be somewhat familiar with the characters, who they are and what they’ve done up until now to be able to make sense of it.

However, in saying that, they wrote and filmed the movie in a way to make you think you didn’t have to take into account anything you’ve seen in the past ten years. If you only watch Endgame, you only see a grieving man mourning the love he never had. You see a man, regretful that he didn’t get to be with woman he loved. So at the end, of course it would make sense that he goes back to her. But you can only do that if you completely divorce Endgame from its ten-year canon and in a franchise like this where they make a big deal about everything being interconnected, it simply doesn’t work. Steve’s story arc in Endgame is incongruous to the narrative arc we’ve been presented in previous films.

Ultimately, Endgame is a movie you’re supposed to watch once and then not think about again. It’s made for that first viewing when everything is shocking and exciting because if you stop to think about it even a little bit, it falls apart under scrutiny.

Finally, I think that the downfall of a lot of these ‘Steve’s ending makes sense’ posts is that made by people who are most certainly MCU fans but not Steve Rogers fans and it shows.

[adhduck]

Oh Well, I Guess We’re Gonna Pretend

AO3

(Major spoilers for rqg 207)

Wilde is at a party with all his loved ones, and everything in his life is finally falling into place.

He’s also unconscious on the floor of the world’s last safehouse, and something is coming for him.

--

“Come on, Oscar, dance with us.”

Wilde blinks, realizes Hamid is standing in front of him with his hand outstretched; probably a symbolic gesture, considering he’d be hard-pressed to pull someone double his height.

Smiling, Wilde sets his half-empty champagne flute on the table. “Of course. Care to join, Zolf?”

Zolf, who’s slouching in the next seat with his long, worn coat tucked around him in a fabulous display of I am not a party person, scoffs fondly. “Absolutely not. ‘Sides, it’s yer party, Wilde, not mine.”

“It’s our party,” Wilde says with mock offense, putting a hand on his chest. “Didn’t you hear my toast?”

“Half of it, maybe.”

Wilde rolls his eyes, but relents and squeezes Zolf’s shoulder; presses down a smile when Zolf catches his hand for a second and pats it. “I’ll get you to have fun one day, Zolf, mark my words.” He’s rewarded with a gruff little mumble, and then Hamid tugs on his coattail to pull him away.

[Cel is still reeling from the shock of electricity when they see it. It’s large, with a body that could be humanoid if not for the oversized head, how its body seems not to take up space but distort it. If not for the six-foot swords it has instead of arms.

Instinct kicking in, Cel pulls two bombs from their pockets and throws them in rapid succession. Even with their hands trembling a little – they always do, the first few moments of combat – Cel know each one is perfectly weighted and near perfectly aimed.

The creature doesn’t even flinch.

It only takes a moment to process what that means – limited bombs, a 5% chance of hitting at best, almost a third of their own health taken in one hit – before Cel abandons the idea of attacking and reaches instead for Hamid. He’s desperately light, clothes singed and hissing; as Cel pulls him to their chest, he curls instinctively into the touch.

“Hang on, little buddy,” they whisper, trying fiercely to sound sure. “You just keep dreaming for now; I’ll keep you safe.”

They just need to get him through the door.]

There are a few people dancing, but the clear stars are Azu and Kiko—partly due to Azu’s shimmering, lightly glowing pink gown, but mostly because of the dance itself. It’s a bright, lively partner dance Wilde hasn’t seen before, where they pull in and out of each other’s embrace with twirls and dips and lots of laughter. It looks equally exhausting and exhilarating.

Azu notices him mid-spin and brightens immediately, waving him over. “Kiko, you mind if I show Wilde the ropes?”

Kiko grins and gracefully steps back, half-bowing in the process. “Yeah, sure. Long as I can watch.”

So Azu works Wilde through the steps, out of sync with the music at first to get them right, then faster as he gains confidence, and soon they, too, are spinning and laughing. “You,” Wilde says when they pause to catch their breath, adjusting the frill around his neck, “are an excellent dance partner, Azu.”

Azu preens a little. “Oh, thank you! Though I doubt I’ve got much competition, knowing Zolf.”

Chuckling, Wilde glances at the man in question to find him looking back, chin in hand and a fond smile tugging at his mouth—for a moment, at least, before he darts his eyes away with flushing cheeks. Wilde’s heart sings.

[Azu looks sharply between her friends – half of them unconscious, all of them wounded – and the advancing creature. It seems completely unconcerned by the weapons being pulled as it wades into the fray, dodging a heavy swing from Zolf without even acknowledging him. The swords protruding from its shoulders are almost as long as she is tall.

We can’t win this, Azu realizes. Not while it’s this strong. Pressing a hand to her chest, where her pendant rests safely beneath the armor, she calls to her goddess with words of love and protection and rage. The divine energy builds in her chest, bringing the dull glow of her armor to a bright shine; she throws her hand outwards, flinging the energy with it in all directions, and there—at last, the creature hesitates. It stops as suddenly as if caught in a rockslide, making a noise halfway between a groan of pain and the grinding of stuck gears, and Azu starts to feel hopeful.

Then, it raises its blade.]

Azu catches the movement and smiles conspiratorially. “You know, there are gardens out back that are much quieter than in here.”

”Ah, but you forget,” Wilde replies, putting on his best performer voice. “That just guarantees Sasha will be there, hidden amongst the foliage, waiting to strike.”

Giggling a little, Azu says, “The worst you’ll get from her is some rumors about you and Zolf that are actually true.”

Wilde gasps in (mostly) faux horror. “Don’t even say that.”

Azu laughs for real now, a full and surprised thing, and pushes his shoulder lightly. “Go spend time with him, the party will survive without you a while.” Wilde pouts a little at that, and she tips her head toward Hamid; he’s dancing with complete abandon a few feet away, wings half-unfurled and arms raised high in the air as he spins. Already, a few people have been pulled into his orbit, letting their awkward shuffling loosen into something more inelegant, more natural. “We’ve got it covered. Now go, before you start having deadlines again.”

“To be fair, we have an entire holiday between now and then,” Wilde argues—a bit superfluously, considering he’s already moving away.

Zolf greets Wilde’s approach by sitting up in his chair, eyebrows furrowed and hands raised defensively. “If you try to get me to dance, Wilde, I swear to gods—”

“Already learned my lesson with that one, darling.” Zolf’s ears go a little pink, and Wilde is powerless against the urge to lean into it. “Of course, there are plenty of dances we haven’t tried together—”

“Oh, sod off,” Zolf says, kicking Wilde lightly in the shin; his ears are red, though, so he’s already lost the fight.

[Augusta makes no noise as she’s stabbed through the heart; dead before the pain had a chance to wake her. It’s a mercy, perhaps, but one Cel refuses to let happen to anyone else.

The creature shifts, pulling back its bloodied weapon with Hamid as the clear target, and Cel lunges towards the door, clutching Hamid fiercely against them—and is stopped cold as the creature pierces right through Hamid’s chest.

Like Augusta, Hamid doesn’t cry out when he’s stabbed. He doesn’t move, either; not even when the blade is yanked back out with just force it nearly tugs him from Cel’s arms. Panting, they gather him back against their chest, whatever miniscule safety that might entail, and feel for a pulse. It’s there, thank gods, but only just. He might only have seconds left, and there’s nothing they can do.

At the corner of Hamid’s mouth, Cel can see a smile – the kind he might give during the opening toast of a party, now just the shadow of some wonderful dream – and they do not cry, because what fucking good would that do?]

Just to seal the deal, Wilde drops to his knees in front of Zolf’s chair, bringing them almost eye to eye, and flashes his shiniest grin as he teases, “Don’t worry, I know you love it.” He allows a few seconds for Zolf to huff and pointedly not answer, feeling his chest radiate with warmth, then adds, “Anyway, want to get out of here?”

Zolf’s eyebrows raise, then quickly furrow. “What’re you- that was an awful transition line, ya know. Unless you’re tryna seduce me or somethin’, in which case, why.”

“I’m always trying to seduce you, Zolf, it just never works,” Wilde replies easily. “That’s why I enjoy it so much. And anyway, that’s not what I was asking about. There’s apparently a garden out back, and I thought you might want to take a walk with me.”

“Ain’t you got allergies?”

“It’ll be quiet out there. Poetic.”

Zolf considers for a second, looking Wilde over with a slowly forming smile he’s definitely not conscious of, and for a moment there’s nothing else Wilde wants more than this: kneeling in front of the man he loves, basking in his quiet attention, knowing there’s exciting work ahead and time enough to rest before it comes.

[Zolf spins around, ready to level another attack – he hasn’t hit the thing yet, but maybe if he aims a little lower, forces it to turn for him instead – when he sees the blade sliding out of Hamid’s chest. No. Absolutely not. Without checking it’s clear, he rushes forward, dropping the glaive to his side and redirecting that power into the tips of his fingers. He licks his thumb, presses it firmly to Hamid’s forehead, and, with a low note of please humming in the back of his chest, mutters words of hope and determination into the staticky air.

The wound heals almost immediately, closing like a budding flower in reverse to leave a raised, slightly jagged line of scar tissue; the only proof of how close Hamid was to death. His wings flutter, trying to unfurl in the confines of Cel’s arms, and for a moment, he stirs. Zolf and Cel both breathe out in relief, but by the time he opens his eyes, the poison overcomes him again, and he curls back into Cel’s chest with a contented sound, asleep and completely unaware of the danger around him.

Not exactly what I had in mind, Zolf thinks, but there’s no sharpness to it. The poison in the air was strong enough to knock out people twice Hamid’s size, so he can’t imagine how strong it must be on him. And besides: this might not be a fight where all of them – any of them – get out alive. Can he really blame Hamid for wanting to dream instead?]

“All right, Wilde,” Zolf says at last. “Let’s go for a walk.”

The gardens aren’t particularly large, but they use the space well—bright flowers lining the walkway, bushes and trees bunched together to create the illusion of depth and privacy. Beneath the largest tree, there’s a clear spot where the light filters through like sparkles and the roots breach the soil in just the right way to make a sort of alcove.

It’s exactly the sort of place Wilde would’ve yearned to write poetry in as a teenager, so of course he tugs Zolf over to sit down.

“Thought this was a walk,” Zolf says, eyebrows raised, but makes no argument when Wilde lays down with his head in Zolf’s  lap. His fingers quickly find their way into Wilde’s hair, untangling it little by little, and Wilde can’t stop himself from pushing into the touch with a little hum. Thankfully, Zolf just chuckles, scratching lightly at Wilde’s scalp for a moment before continuing.

There’s silence for a few moments, and Wilde idly searches for a pun he can use to fill it; it’s difficult to focus, though, when Zolf is gathering his hair into sections for a braid, those careful fingers brushing occasionally against his temple, his neck, his jaw.

Finally, what Wilde settles for is: “I hope we’re actually allowed out here. I’d hate to go home early because Grizzop took a swing at me again.”

Zolf snorts. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve always wished I had seen that in person.”

“Some partner you are,” Wilde grumbles, trying not to melt when Zolf tucks a few shorter strands of hair behind his ear. “S’posed to defend me, not join the enemy.”

[Zolf does a rapid once-over of Cel to make sure they’re not injured as well. They’re panting and wide-eyed and definitely only not in shock because there’s not time for it, but seem physically all right, which is about as much as he can hope for right now.

He glances to the door of the lab, where Ada and Skraak also seem to be managing okay—and, importantly, where there’s clean air and a door between them and the monster. Grabbing Cel’s arm, Zolf injects as much authority in his voice as he can and orders, “Get in there, close the door, be safe.”

Without waiting for a reply, he sets his glaive on fire and turns back to the fight. They might not all make it out of here – always a risk, in this line of work – but he’ll still do his damndest to make sure at least some of them do.]

There’s no response, save for a suppressed smile and the continuous back-and-forth motion of Zolf’s steady hands. Wilde basks in it for a moment, getting to lay quietly in the grass without even his allergies interrupting them. It brings to mind when he was a child, rolling down muddy hills with his sister and seeing how long the world tiled after they reached the bottom, dazed and laughing.

“She would have loved this party,” he says, brushing a hand through the barely damp grass at his hip. “Isola, I mean.”

“You could’ve brought her, you know,” Zolf replies. “I could’ve- I dunno, watched her, or somethin’. Not like I was doing much anyway.”

Wilde laughs. “She would be terrified of you.”

[Moving has already proven dangerous, so Cel shifts Hamid in their arms and throws him through the door; once he’s safely inside, they swallow their alchemical allocation and pull a previously untouched potion from their jacket. Dragon’s breath—the one they’d been so excited to get after seeing a glimpse of Hamid’s power; the one they’d chattered back and forth about days or maybe months ago, excited to see when Cel might try it out.

“Not leaving you,” Cel says firmly to Zolf’s back, and chugs the potion. Lightning crackles in their body once again, except this time, it feels powerful instead of painful. This time, Cel is going to be helpful instead of helpless. Whatever it takes.]

Zolf snorts. “Oh, so that’s why I haven’t met her yet.”

“Yes, I’m just absolutely terrified you’ll smite her with all your holy rage,” Wilde deadpans, twisting obediently when Zolf taps the side of his head. “Or gods forbid, convert her to hope.”

“Oi,” Zolf says, tugging lightly on Wilde’s hair. “That hope has saved your arse twenty times by now.”

[Azu catches sight of Hamid breathing and nearly crumples with relief. He’s not dead, she didn’t kill him, she might not have to lose someone else—but there’s not time for that, not yet. They have to destroy this thing first, before it hurts anyone else.

She swings her axe as hard as she can, a scream building in her throat as it moans through the air, and – miraculously – it connects. There’s a satisfying thunk, a sharp note of pain; but as she goes to hit it again, it seems not just to dodge, but actively unform and reform around her axe. Learning. Adapting.

In the second it takes for Azu to regain her footing, the monster sinks one of its blades into Sumutnyerl’s chest. The air seems to freeze for a moment, but the strike is lower than it intended, in the stomach rather than the heart, so maybe it isn’t fatal, but Azu doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.]

Humming noncommittally, Wilde turns his head to look at Zolf, and when he sees the concentration in Zolf’s summer sky eyes, he’s pierced all over again with the force of how much he loves this man—and how much he, in return, is loved. Gods, Zolf is smiling the way he only ever does for a Campbell, and he’s braiding Wilde’s hair as if it’s the most important work his hands have been tasked with, and he looks so utterly, brilliantly happy that Wilde can hardly stand it.

“You alive in there?” Zolf says, tapping him lightly on the cheek.

[There is only one person left unharmed, the horror of the situation made almost a farce by Wilde’s oversized neck ruff and glittering cape. Almost, but not quite, because when the creature turns – body shifting in and out of focus, sword-like arms dripping with the blood of every other being in this corridor – it turns for him.]

Wilde smiles, catching Zolf’s hand before he can pull away. “Yeah,” he murmurs, stupidly fond with it, and rests his lips against Zolf’s knuckles. Zolf’s breath hitches, staring with undisguised awe and quickly reddening cheeks, and Wilde can’t even look at him, he’s so happy. He ducks his head, pushing it against their joined hands; feels Zolf’s warm callouses all the way into his bones. “Thanks to you.”

[There is only one person left.]

“Wilde,” Zolf breathes; a prayer, a promise. Lips press clumsily to his hair, brush his temple as they soak in each other’s presence. “You saved me, too, ya know. So- so many times. I need you, yeah? And I- it- gods, I’m horrible at this, but I just, you’re

[Zolf sees it, this time, when Wilde dies. Sees the sword pierce his chest – right in the heart, a perfect shot – and yank back out with almost careless indifference before the creature turns and does the same thing to Sumutnyerl.

Even dead, Wilde manages to look artistic. His ridiculous cape is flung out beneath him, one arm draped above his head, the barest trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d been this way after the crash, too, impaled almost a foot off the ground with his limbs dangling and chin flung up to the sky; the perfect semblance of a martyr being raised into heaven. Had he been unconscious then, too? Zolf thinks. Or did he feel the spike go all the way through his chest before he succumbed from the pain?

Doesn’t matter. Zolf had time to mourn when he saved Wilde then; he doesn’t have time now.

Skraak and Ada both attack, but Zolf doesn’t know if the hits land, refuses to process anything that isn’t Wilde and the mere seconds left before he’s gone for good. He throws himself forward, landing hard on his knees beside Wilde’s head, and starts to pray. The magic builds like strong drink in his throat, and he clumsily wipes the blood from Wilde’s mouth as the spell reaches its peak—and is nearly knocked over as the monster deals a crushing blow to his temple.

His vision goes briefly white, blood already dripping down his cheek and jaw, and the magic begins to fizzle away, but he refuses, he refuses. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Zolf presses a hand firmly to the desecration of Wilde’s chest, cradles his cheek with the other. He’s still warm with hope, and Zolf channels that into his prayer, pressing their foreheads together in a way that might’ve been painful, had Wilde been awake to feel it.

Please, he begs the power inside him; begs anyone who’ll listen. Please. Let this be enough to bring him back to me.

The magic bubbles inside Zolf once more, sparkling and bright and warm, and there’s no way to know, really, if it’s enough. It doesn’t matter, of course, because he doesn’t need to know. Because when he presses his mouth to Wilde’s, stroking his cheek and breathing every last ounce of that vital energy into his body, Zolf has hope.

And there, where Zolf’s fingers curl tenderly against Wilde’s neck, new and weak but steady all the same—a pulse.]

 The first thing Wilde registers is breath on his face, warmth in his throat—then pain, all over his body but especially in his chest, gods, what happened? He opens his eyes, hoping to regain his bearings; Zolf is there, face mere inches away from his own, which is a nice start.

Realizing he’s awake, Zolf pulls away, fingertips brushing against Wilde’s cheek as he goes. His other hand is pressed firmly to Wilde’s chest, and there’s blood running freely from a wound at his temple. He looks about to cry.

If Wilde didn’t feel unmoored before, he certainly does now. “Zolf- wh- what-”

In lieu of an answer, Zolf pulls Wilde to his feet. There are flashes of movement to the side, none of which Wilde is capable of processing yet; Zolf grabs his arm, which is easier. He looks resolved, in that urgent way he used to get just before leaving on solo missions; Wilde has just enough time to be scared about that before Zolf pulls him close and says, “Get the others out and be safe.”

Wilde opens his mouth in question, but Zolf’s already shoving him away. He stumbles backwards a few steps, more out of shock than actual force, before losing his balance and landing hard on his elbows just inside the lab. His neck snaps back a little, making his vision swim, but he blinks hard to clear it and now, now, he sees it all. The creature. The dead. The ones left standing.

For just a moment, Wilde catches sight of Zolf’s face before he turns away. His eyes nearly glow, lips parted around gritted teeth, and there is rage in his features like Wilde has never seen before. Then he raises his burning glaive, this idiotic man that Wilde loves so unbearably much, and growls, “Right. It’s yer turn now.”

[callmebyrose]

@theworldofprompts

//thanks for the inspiration.//

Captain Matthias Spencer stared over the precipice of his destiny. His crew-mates' jeers from behind him brought the vile taste of his last meal up his throat. All that he had done for them, the riches that he had brought forth, was thrown back into his face with the rough wood of the plank damn near stabbing his feet. He had expected to feel a lot more…frightened of death, he was a pirate after all, a man of ill repute who had been ravaging British shores since he began this life a decade ago.

Matthias had been a sixteen year old with nothing to lose, already a known criminal to the crown. Mere petty thievery to make ends meet for his mother and his survival. The violent waters below him combined with the cascading rains of a beginning hurricane reminded him of her. A fiery woman who loved her liquor than propriety and taken from him far too soon after his last arrest from consumption. When he had been released he boarded the earliest ship and headed to the Americas with the many pounds in his pocket his mother had managed to save for him. A measly sum but ‘twas enough to get his life started in the new world.

The months long voyage left the young teen anxious and jumpy and he traversed the ship he road upon, attending to whatever ship maintenance was needed. Oddly enough, he took to it splendidly and was disheartened to leave it. A crewman by the name of Robert Saliné took him under his wing and informed him of the pirate lifestyle. Robert had been an infiltrator and the navigator, tasked with getting their ship as close to his captain’s as possible and he saw promise in the young Matthias.

When the time had come for the mutiny and take over of the ship, Matthias joined the pirates in swiping all the riches then aptly became a cabin boy, soon rising through the ranks as he became more and more valuable to the captain. Robert had continued to assist him in his duties and a tentative love affair began for the two. A regrettable affair all things considered as the man stood askew at his side, once loving grey eyes slitted into malice and drunk on power. Matthias wanted to laugh at the irony but found there was no laughs he could bring up from his lungs. Only a crushing sadness of defeat. The man’s first damn action Matthias had seen from him had been betrayal. Why had he thought making him his first mate and trusted adviser would be different? Foolish sentimentality was the death of me mother, he thought bitterly.

“Tis not too late Matt, there is still time to accept me as yer new captain,” said Robert.

He used his nickname to spite him. Working his jaw, Matthias stood his ground a faced out towards the unholy expanse of the ocean.

“You are dead to me. Each and every last one of you,” he said.

His wrists were tied together sloppily and tightly with a rope. He figured he was too inconsequential to use the proper metallic cuffs and his rosebud lips trembled. No, damn them they would not see him cry. He wouldn’t allow it! He focused steadily on the pouring rain that seeped into his once impeccable golden sapphire coat, now but mere rags after the beatings he had received.

Everything precious he owned now turned to ashes before his very eyes. The crew stared at him now with some resemblance of curiosity to their colosseum blood thirst. If they had been expecting a broken man he would not give them the satisfaction. Robert froze in his own congratulatory mood and his fist slammed into Matthias’ jaw with no warning and Matthias managed just barely to stop himself from going over. He spit out a tooth and a mouthful of blood, peering up defiantly.

“Is that all you got?” he said angrily.

Robert ignored him and addressed the crew with his red hair glued to his head with the force of the rain. Even now the man looked attractive to the desolate Matthias. There was power to the other’s gait, a sense of charisma that only Robert possessed. He was not a handsome man by any means with his crooked nose, numerous facial scaring, and thin lips as though the had been pressed upon by an iron, nay twas his ego and ambition that had brought him Matthias’s numerous affections. Ambition that was now being brought to fruition.

“Gentlemen observe your once Captain, now but a mere wretch. His carelessness has cost you money, jewels, and the whores you so rightfully deserve,”

Matthias was not sure if it was the money or the whores that had started the cheers of the crowd but he gathered his bearings, as much as one could tied up and in tattered cloth, and shakily stood to his feet. His legs wobbled in a way he hadn’t felt since he first got on a ship and his eyes took back in the ocean. There in the distance a small light illuminated under the water and he furrowed his brows as his once lover continued on his speech.

“….And so we have gathered to send him to the sirens below so he can meet his maker. God rest his soul.”

“God rest his soul,” came the hollers of the crowd. It sounded almost sympathetic if not for the laughter that came afterwards. Bastards.

He felt the thin steel blade stab into his back and he began his all too quick journey to the ends of the plank, his heart now a steady rhythm. There is went again! Another light under the water. It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him or the lightning from above yet, he had never seen lightning make lights so effervescent under the water and such an odd green. It was far too hard to make it out in the darkness and he was far too preoccupied with his current situation to notice it coming closer and closer.

His steps streaked blood as he came to the edge with the splinters in his feet inching themselves closer to the bones of his toes and his soles. He wondered if Robert would have any last words, something resembling the love for him that he once had. Hope was a dangerous thing for a man like him to have and the sword stabbed further into his shoulder wing and, with nary a signal, Matthias was kicked overboard. Robert unceremoniously spit down at his fallen lover but the rain was so plentiful and the pain so great, the ex captain couldn’t even tell it was on him.

The ocean welcomed him as an abusive spouse and the waves roared, enveloping him entirely with no relief. With his hands tight behind his back, Matthias could not properly swim and he swallowed the salt water against his will as he fought Poseidon with the god of the ocean winning. His lungs were on fire and filled up quickly with water with his legs kicking out once more in vain against the inevitable. All he saw in his reddened vision was once again that cerulean light and a gorgeous face close to his with a brow furrowed in concern. It was a face that defied human description, chiseled jaws, a cleft chin, hair the color of silver.

It seemed human but not fully, with a kaleidoscope of gills firmly etched into its neck and masculine presenting with strong arms that quickly wrapped him in their embrace. It made a loud noise, almost in grief, but Matthias couldn’t keep his eyes open for another second and fell into darkness.

- - - -

Johthaan had been watching the human king for quite some time now, all against his clan’s warnings. They had warned him against interactions with all humans, citing the thousands of his race killed by their foolishness and hatred. Dangerous they called them, yet he could not see what was so dangerous about the human king. Johthaan watched him as the sun began its rest for many days and the king looked…sad. A handsome tragedy wrapped in golden silks.

The others on the moving castle were different, rougher and grimier, each one more dirty than the last but this one kept himself to a higher plane of cleanliness and there was a kindness to that face he had never seen from a human before. He wanted to talk to him, touch him, sing to him as his ancestors had before they had been driven out of Ireland and Wales into the Pacific ocean.

Johthaan spent hours thinking of what he would say to the golden haired king and practiced his singing in secret from his clan and family to the crab colony that lived not that far from their coral reef home. All sirens of the day were out of practice in their singing due to King Triton banning such for their safety then the kings henceforth upholding his decree. That never stopped him and he was far too old to be controlled by his mother and father, let alone his clan chief Zostien. He was two hundred and twenty four years old for Poseidon’s sake and they left him to his own devices.

Tonight he had not been expecting to see the human king so tattered and abused. Some days ago he had left the starboard bow with one last look and had been gone all hours of the days without warning. Anxiety had stricken Johthaan enormously and he began to follow closer to the moving castle, checking for any and all signs of the object of his affection. Now he knew what those on the ship had done and the hatred in him could not and would not be quenched so easily. They would pay for what they had done. But first, the human king needed to be healed.

The heartbeat of the other was faint, but still there hammering softly at it ribbed jail cell. There was only one way to save him but it required a magic he did not posses. Only Zostien had the power to change a human into a selkie as he was but it would be difficult to convince him. He sung a soft lullaby to unconscious blond in his arms and held his hand against his chest. The magic he did know was minimal but it was enough tondo the trick. A green light emulated from his palm and sunk itself into the water filled lungs, sucking out the water that it could and replacing the injured flesh with gills that matched his own.

The blond human coughed up the water within him and leaned further into Johthaan’s embrace. This had to be what happiness was. The selkie paused in his movements and listened to the sound of the other’s heartbeat, now fully awakened once again. A symphony of life. It was not too far from their coral reef and the human would last a bit until then with the repairs he had made. Grinning brightly and burrowing his face into the other’s hair he swam down to meet his clan.

[ikeromantic]

Strength

An Ikesen Mitsuhide fanfiction, approx. 2000 words. This scene occurs toward the end of Ch. 12 in the romantic route.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: The Greatest Harm

Mitsuhide found Motonari in gambling house, as expected, but at the promise of violence to come, he was easy to persuade.

“We’re gonna march on tha shogun tonight, huh? ‘Bout time. My gun is gettin’ rusty with all tha waiting!” Motonari walked beside the kitsune warlord, almost bouncing. “I can send my men over to get tha guns and powder in tha mornin’. It’ll take that long ta get there and set a camp. Too bad we can’t just rush tha castle an’ get tha party started tonight!”

It was strange to think the man genuinely enjoyed fighting. For Mitsuhide, battles and killing were a means to an end, but he never sought them out. Still, it was good at least that the pirate was on his side. He’d rather point this avatar of destruction at a target than to be the target.

“Yer awful quiet, fox. Get in a tiff with tha woman?” Mouri chuckled. “Can’t imagine why.”

Mitsuhide gave the pirate a thin, sharp smile. He couldn’t let the man goad him, not tonight. Not with so much on the line. “My little mouse is fine. It is not easy for her to stay here while I go to fight.”

“Huh. Ya sure that’s all?”

The man was too damn perceptive. But they said madmen often were. Mitsuhide chose to ignore the comment.

Kennyo was staying in a widow’s home at the edge of the market. Of course, Mitsuhide was not supposed to know that - but the abbot knew he knew, and his arrival should not overly alarm the demon monk.

He sped them in that direction. The sooner the three were on their way, the less chance to slip and break this fragile alliance. It had to hold until Ashikaga’s head left his body behind. That was what Mitsuhide focused on. Not the last look he’d shared with his little one. He couldn’t think about the tears in her eyes, or the way his heart felt torn in two when he considered leaving her behind.

“What are you doing here, kitsune?” Kennyo’s deep growl came from a shadowed walkway in front of a closed shop.

“Looking for you.”

The abbot stepped out into the moon’s silver glow. His scar was a black crevasse across his face, a crack in the universe through which hell could be seen. His eyes burned with a dark and lightless hate. “You came to betray me?”

“He came ta tell ya we’re leavin’! Time ta make tha shogun pay fer ruinin’ my fun.” Motonari put his hands on his hips and leaned back on his heels. “Ya comin’ er did ya decide ta tuck yer tail and go back ta prayin’?”

Kennyo growled, a low rumbled in his chest like distant thunder. “Demons do not pray, nor do good men pray for the deaths of others. If it is time, then let us go. In silence.”

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “Do you need time to pack?”

“I have all my worldly possessions on me now. And what I need most is always to hand.” He tapped the bottom of his staff, and the dark street rang with the sound.

“Then I will meet you both at the edge of town when the moon touches the mountain tops.” Mitsuhide gave them a nod.

“Goin’ ta smooth things over with tha lady? Ya know if ya need some help, I -”

“Will be silent because your voice grates my nerves as surely as a stone in my sandal.” Kennyo interrupted Mouri with a grimace.

Mitsuhide gave the monk a look of gratitude before hurrying off to the inn.

His little one was gathering the last of his things when he arrived. And seemed in much better spirits. She even smiled as he came in, though there was still an edge of sadness to it. “Everything is packed and ready to go.”

“Good. Mouri will be sending people for the guns tomorrow. Be ready.”

“I will.”

There were a thousand things he wanted to say in that moment. Promises he couldn’t keep. Words of love that would only make it hurt more to be apart. Mitsuhide was good at speaking - when he was playing a role. When it was the truth of his own heart, he found it hard to put the feelings into words. He was no poet. Not like Yoshimoto.

His eyes went to the floor, where the letter had fallen. It wasn’t there anymore, but he spotted the creased paper soon enough. Sitting on the desk, open. Was that the reason for her mood? Had Yoshimoto’s poetries cheered her where he could only seem to make her cry?

In silence, he picked up his things and together, they went to saddle the horses. They, at least, seemed happy to finally be traveling somewhere. Being cooped up in the stables was hard on war-trained mounts.

“Can I come with you? As far as the meeting point?”

Mitsuhide nodded. “Of course.” He couldn’t help the bitter twist to his smile. “I wouldn’t deny you that.”

Neither of them said much on the ride through town. The air felt heavy, and it seemed wrong to push sound out into that darkness. Though unspoken words churned in his chest.

The chatelaine looked lost in thought as she rode. Her posture in the saddle, relaxed. Her eyes forward, looking at some distant point and trusting her mount to navigate the empty streets. It made Mitsuhide proud to see how far she’d come. How much she learned. He held back the compliment though, worried what other words would escape with it, should he speak.

Soon enough, they passed the city gates. The last of the dim torchlight fell behind them, and ahead lay only rolling fields and an endless expanse of stars. Mitsuhide felt lost in it. He had messed this up, as he’d known he would. Giving his love only tears. If Yoshimoto could make her smile with only words on a paper . . . perhaps . . .

The dark figures of Motonari and Kennyo took shape in the darkness ahead. Their horses stood in the field nearby, heads down and grazing. Mitsuhide stopped as they got close enough to make out their allies’ faces. He turned to his little one, feeling brittle like rusted iron. “This is as far as you may come. Turn your horse and go back to the inn.”

Not the parting words of a lover but right now he couldn’t trust himself to be himself. He needed this mask. The kitsune warlord, heartless and cold. It would hold him together. It had to.

“I will.”

Motonari scoffed. “Is that all yer gonna say? Ya know, in tha west they kiss to say goodbye. Ya should try it! Maybe slip her some tongue -”

“Keep your vulgar thoughts to yourself,” Kennyo rumbled. “Your bellowing is disturbing the horses.” He threw the pirate an icy glare. Without looking away from Mouri, he said, “Mitsuhide - we will go on ahead. Do not keep us waiting.” Then he grabbed Mouri’s arm and pulled him toward their mounts.

Mitsuhide didn’t know if he should be grateful or resentful of the courtesy. Now he was alone with his love, and his heart trembled near to shattering. Conflicting emotions tore at him. Jealousy and worry, love, anxiety, doubt . . . he couldn’t let any of it show.

His little one dismounted, beckoning for him to follow. Reluctantly, he did.

Her face was angelic in the starlight. Like a spirit. The silver moon shone in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Mitsuhide, I want you to have this.”

It was hard to look away from her beauty to see what she held. When he did, his eyes widened. “This -!” The bellflower hairpin. He felt stunned, frozen in place. What did this mean? Why? His gaze lifted to meet hers.

She reached for him with her empty hand and touched his cheek. “This is my prayer for victory. Kyubei told me that’s what it symbolizes.” She pressed it into his hand. “I want you to keep it with you while we are apart. Don’t lose it though! It’s my only precious bellflower.”

Her smile was radiant.

“You are a wonder.” Mitsuhide could not stop a tear escaping his eyes, but she wiped it away with her thumb before it could fall. “I thought . . . I thought you would wish me goodbye in tears. Or -” Or tell him she’d had enough of this life, that the shadows around him were more than she could take.

His little mouse nodded. “I might have but I came to a few decisions about myself. Most importantly, that I’m tough enough to be by your side no matter what.”

He blinked. “You . . . decided that as you packed? And . . . read that letter?”

“Yep.” She laughed softly. “It’s funny, actually. I was beginning to doubt myself. I am not the kind of strong you are. I am not a warrior. But I am strong like me - you taught me that. To trust myself and my ideals.”

Her eyes were so warm, and Mitsuhide felt himself leaning into her touch.

“That letter from Yoshimoto reminded me of the things I’ve done. And all the lessons you taught me so that I could survive in this world. We make each other stronger.”

Mitsuhide put his arms around her, still holding the bellflower hairpin tightly. “All of that, you decided in such a short time, hm?”

She laughed again and nuzzled his chest. “It was already inside me, I’d just forgotten how to use it. And now I can access that strength when I need to.”

He stroked her hair, enjoying the closeness. His heartbeat was thundering in his chest, but the anxiety was fading. Leaving behind it only his love for her and the promise of a life together. How had he lost sight of that, even for a moment?

“I want you to remember your strength too. You don’t need to burn yourself out to protect me. Use your strength to fight your hardest. I will be here, waiting for you. Safe.”

Mitsuhide whispered her name into the night, full of his love for her. His heart in each syllable.

“Make sure you come back to me, Mitsuhide.”

His lips curled up in a genuine smile. “You surprised me again, little one.” He pulled away enough to see her expression. “Instead of tears, my weepy little mouse wishes me good fortune. With a smile like the sun.”

“Hey! Did you call me weepy?” Her laughter rang out, fierce and full of joy. “I’ll make you weep for that!”

“Mmm, and it is that fiery tongue and heart that never breaks that made me fall in love with you. Thank you for reminding me.” He tucked the bellflower beneath his armor to keep it safe. Then lifted her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her wrist, feeling the beat of her heart through her warm skin. It matched the rhythm of his own.

She shivered at the touch and her cheeks pinked. A reaction he loved to see. It made him wish for homecoming sooner rather than later.

“You’ve shown me resolve, beloved. And as your future husband, I must show you I can do at least as much. I will return to you.”

His little one studied his face for a moment, her eyes bright. “I love you.”

“You should save those words for my return.” He felt his grin widen but he couldn’t help himself. “Because when I do, I will give you cause to say them so much that you grow tired of repeating yourself.”

He pulled her close once more, wanting to feel her warmth a little longer. Only knowing that Kennyo and Motonari stood a little ways off stopped him from doing more than holding her. “I promise you,” he said softly, his breath tickling her ear, “when I return, I will tease you mercilessly. I will tease you until all you can think of is my touch. And I still won’t stop . . .”

She took a deep, trembling breath. “I am looking forward to it. And you know . . . you aren’t the only one that can tease!” Then she stepped back. “I should let you leave. Good luck, Mitsuhide.”

His smile held his gratitude and love. With one last wave, he watched her mount her horse and turn back for the city gates.

“That’s one wide grin yer wearin’” Motonari chuckled as he approached. “Ya slipped her some -”

Kennyo’s growl cut him off before he could finish. “Speed and silence.”

“Yes, let’s not keep the shogun waiting,” Mitsuhide agreed. He should have been tired, but he felt full of vigor. This would not be easy - but he knew they could do it.

The three men mounted and rode into the night.

Next: Siege

[windup-dragoon]

Prelude

|| FFXIV Write - 2021  || Prompt #2 - Aberrant - departing from an accepted standard  || Stormblood | Dragoon Quest ||  Word Count -1069 || Estinien & Kiri 

How do you change yourself after war? 

She is a dragoon but no longer the kind Ishgard cultivated. When she looks upon the face of a dragon, so ferocious and lined with teeth, she sees a friend. An ally. A mentor. She sees the intelligence gleaming in their eyes and the soul that fills their booming voice as they laugh and sing. No longer would her spear be used to gut and maim them, but to stand beside them. To protect those that she loved. 

Kiri found herself scrubbing away exhaustion from her eyes that evening, listening to the gentle fire chewing at it’s given tinder. They had spent the better half of an afternoon finding a place to settle down for the night, arguing as they collected armfuls of firewood for their makeshift camp. Only after fishing for their dinner and grilling it in the flames did their lances clatter noisily against one another. And now, as the heavens sparkled with an array of diamonds, she felt her weariness kick in. 

“You should sleep.” The low rumble of a voice made her perk, casting a single look to the man beside her. 

Estinien, using a leftover skewer as a toothpick, stared aimlessly at the rising flames. 

The woman stifled a yawn and shook her head. “Why does everythin’ out of yer mouth sound so barbed?” 

“It was a suggestion.” 

“Say it nicely.” 

“Tch.” 

Together they sat, shoulder to shoulder on the beaches of the Ruby Sea. After a jaunt through the Azim Steppe, followed closely by Orn Khai to reunite family, the two dragoons found with much to discuss. The Dragon Song war had ended. A prelude had now begun in Ishgard; the start of a new lifetime. But what of the dragoons made for war? She and Estinien, now obsolete tools of an era past. 

Crickets filled the rising silence, the far off waves lapping at shore nearly a lullaby. 

“You spoke earlier of ending your career as a Dragoon,” Estinien began in a soft voice, “But have since decided against it. Why?” 

Kiri tilted her head, curiously reading the somber expression forever imprinted on the mans face. For a second his stony eyes met her mismatched gaze. 

It was true that there was a time not so long ago that she had nearly quit the lance entirely. She found herself trying new concepts; taking up chakrams and twirling about the battlefield was by far the strangest experience to date. But little else compared to the extension that a polearm gives you. The body learns to counterbalance the weight with every movement, the muscles in her legs a loaded spring ready to lunge forward. 

“I nearly died.” 

Estinien spat out his makeshift toothpick, startled by the nonchalant tone in which she spoke of such things. “You what?” 

On any other given day she would scold him, tease him for having wax in his ears or simply deciding to ignore her. But tonight wasn’t made for that. Estinien had posed a daunting question to her, one that he may have been battling with himself even after the war had ended. The idea of living with yourself after the atrocities you’ve committed with false belief. Where she had come in as an outsider to a war that was not her own, Estinien had been born into it. Every day he had to endure, had to change himself to survive. Lest the hatred in the depths of his mind cannibalize him. 

Patient hands began to undo the buttons of her blouse. She could feel his eyes on her just the same as the sea breeze against her exposed flesh. When angry crimson markings became visible just above her right breast she stopped. The injury was still in a state of healing, raw and open. It dropped low, descending down out of sight. 

Estinien extended a hand but faltered. 

“My indecision almost cost me the very air in my lungs.” 

The fight with Zenos at Rhalgars Reach had left her ego broken and her body scarred. Would she had faced the Garlean prince in her trained and respected Dragoon form, she may have saved herself some bandages and cracked ribs. But the weight the name carried now, it left a bitter taste. 

“Every time I looked at my lance or armor, I thought of them. How many dragons had been silenced by this instrument of war? I saw the Heavensward believing in their just cause; how all of Ishgard simply accepted the sacrifices of their children, sending them off to a war no one could understand. And I thought of Orn Khai, a child no different than any of us.” 

The frustration she felt, even now, swelled in her chest and burned at her cheeks. The rage of Nidhogg… Was it truly so hard to understand? The emptiness Hraevelgr must have endured. The thought of Ysayle, smiling with a glimmer in her eyes akin to sun on ice. 

“I couldn’t even hold my lance without shakin’.” 

Beside her Estinien adjusted himself, leaning ever a whisper closer. She began to redress herself. 

“But after this, and even traveling across the world to end up here, I kept thinkin’ about somethin’.” Her mismatched eyes looked up to the man now, meeting his curious eyes with a light smile. “Dragoon armor is designed ta’ look like a dragon, yea? Scales, claws, helms that have a dragon snout. Some even have tails. So I thought ta’ myself… Why relate all that to killing dragons when it’s more like wanting to be a dragon? We want to be strong like them, to be seen as fierce and cunning. A dragoon admires their strengths and adapts them into our own techniques.” 

Far away crickets began to chirp. 

Estinien, blowing out a gusty sigh, combed a hand through his silver hair. “You’ve decided to idolize them then?” 

“I’ll be their number one fan if they’ll let me.” Kiri winked with a lopsided grin. “Think of the possibilities, mate! The things they could teach us! Maybe someday we’ll even design wings on our armor and fly ‘round like them.” 

Soon the Elezen had his head in his hands, stifling an urge to laugh. “Orn Khai would be amused.” 

“We could race!” 

While Kiri bubbled with chuckles, Estinien reached a hand over and pulled her close. A half hearted embrace that left her speechless when his lips brushed a kiss into her own moonlight silver hair. 

“Idiot.” 

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Eleven

Read on AO3

They had been so careful. On the supposedly most fertile days of her courses, they had, well they had done other things. She religiously took her vial of posies and fennel each day and used the protection provided from her twentieth-century life. For months now. Still, it wasn’t enough, and she knew the only one hundred percent assured prevention was abstinence. She felt the ghost of a flutter in her womb. 

 Jamie found Claire on the floor next to their bed, her cheeks stained with tracks of tears and snot crusted against the deer pelt that her face was squished into. The chamber pot full of her sickness had been shoved away from her on the wood in her dejected anger. 

“Is it true Claire?”

 “Can ye..” he swallowed thickly. “Yer wee herbs can ye-“

 “No, that’s the last thing I want Jamie! God!” Her palms rubbed into her eye sockets. “I just wish- there wasn’t so much uncertainty. I could never survive- Jamie promise me, if it ever came down to it, you would save the child, not me.”

 “Claire,“ he levelled a determined gaze at her. ”That will never happen. Ever. That I will promise ye.”

 “But it might. You made me promise, should the time come, that I’d go through the stones. Of course, I was reluctant, but I did give you that promise. I followed through on it. Now you promise me.” 

 “Aye Claire, I’ll save the bairn, but it’ll no’ come to that.”

 “I’m going to instruct you. On how to help me. No matter if it goes wrong or the delivery is perfect.”

 “Ye wouldna prefer someone else? A woman?”

 “You’re the only one that I would trust.” She smirked in anticipation of her next words. “And you’re the one who did this to me, you can see it through.” 

 “Ye seemed pretty enthusiastic, if not overly pleased the many times I did that to ye. And I seem to recall the many times ye were the one clawing at me.” 

 She laughed at the big goof and then sighed into his embrace, relieving her stress and worry into him. 

 What if the baby never even made it long enough to make its true presence known? What if Jamie did have to follow through in his presence? Would she be able to survive the birth? She’d never given birth to a live, full-term baby yet. Or, even worse, would she be a terrible mother? When her mind drifted to these thoughts, she shook her head out of the daze. Stress wasn’t good for the baby. And if she constantly worried about her child’s health, her thoughts may very well become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

 It was March, and flowers and trees were slowly crawling out of their hibernation. Claire’s pregnancy felt… off from how she carried Faith. It didn’t raise alarm for her baby’s health, but she did have her suspicions.

 “What is it Sassenach? Ye’re smiling so hard I fear yer lips will fall off.” 

 “Well, I have been a bit… bigger than usual.” 

 “Aye, yer round wi’ my bairn. And I’m no’ complaining one bit. Wi’ yer fine plump arse even bigger than usual.” He grasped a healthy amount of said body part and smirked.

 “Well, I think I’m carrying twins.” 

 “Ifrinn!” All the colour drained from his face. “Two bairns? Two bairns! Sassenach!” He gripped her in his arms as joyous laughter rumbled through his chest and her feet left the floor. More words of love in his native language rumbled out and her eyes crinkled with her smile. 

 When she was absolutely sure it was twins, Jamie’s daily ritual of one kiss to her belly each morning and night turned into two kisses on either side of her stretched skin. 

 Not only did one life depend on her at once, but now two. She was terrified. Even with constant reassurance from Jamie that the bairns kicking in her stomach were braw, a twitch of doubt seeped into her mind. 

 To ease her worry, she thought of something that could reassure her. She traced the design onto the back of a discarded pamphlet. A pinard horn. So Jamie could hear the strong heartbeats of the babies tumbling within her belly. Fergus laboured hard on the project immediately, while his ‘milord’ was off working the lands of their croft. It was expertly crafted, even with her rudimentary designs. 

 Jamie manoeuvred the hollow horn over the expanse of her belly, brow furrowed in concentration. He paused over one spot and nearly fainted. 

 “Ah Dhia!” His eyes widened in fascination. “He’s really in there!”

 “Yes, they are.” She placed her hand over his on the pinard horn and slid it across where she thought she felt the other heartbeat to be. 

 His hands were shaky now and he choked on his tears, almost painfully bursting with joy. “Two braw bairns. Wi’ wicked thumping hearts.”

 They felt more concrete to him now, actual people instead of the imaginations of what they could be. He spoke every day to them in Gàidhlig, when Claire said they should be able to hear now.

 It was bittersweet. She was carrying them for over seven months now, longer than her other children. She was constantly caught between unflagging joy and unrelenting grief. Sometimes it felt like a betrayal to be so happy. But she carried through, with her husband and son by her side, and the promise of the future tucked under her heart.

 The day after Jamie’s birthday, she started labouring. Jamie commented on the decency of his children to not eclipse his day with their own arrival. It was as difficult as any other birth, but thankfully there were no complications. Claire had gripped, clawed, and screamed at her husband. She’d scream the promise to have him castrated many, many times. While she paced around the room, Jamie tried to assure her or crack jokes to lighten the atmosphere, but every word he said she turned it against him. He was silent after that, but then Claire would call out for him as each contraction ripped through her body. He stood behind her squatting form above the straw and she dug her nails into his arms as she bore down. A beautiful squalling boy was born after nine hours of labouring. William Brian Beauchamp Fraser. While she felt distraught placing the name Brian within the middle, Jamie assured her it was to not only honour his father, but now the child that they had lost, and she warmed to the idea as well. His brother met the world soon after, almost a quarter of an hour apart, looking exactly the same as the brother who beat him out of the womb. Henry Alexander Murtagh Fraser. Beautiful healthy boys, both with tufts of the same brown downy hair and slanted Fraser cat eyes. 

 They opted to have their sons sleep in their bed that night rather than the cribs Jamie had carved, tucked in securely between their parents. Neither of them could sleep and Claire was watching the steady rise and fall of each small chest. 

 “They’re real.” She whispered, brushing her pinky across William’s cheek. His lips tugged up into a smile, just like his father’s did. 

 “Thanks to ye Claire. Ye were braw.” He squeezed her hand, their arms hovering over their sons. “But I dinna wish to ever see ye like that again.”

 “Is it wrong to feel so happy? To rejoice in my sons while-?” 

 “They’ll be happy fer their brothers. I ken it. And they’re watching o’er them as their angels now. Lord knows how much these lads will need it. These two will be trouble, I can feel it.” He affectionately patted their bums. 

 Claire finally let her exhaustion take over and curled protectively around her son as she drifted off to sleep. Jamie never slept that night, too preoccupied with the sight of his wife and the children she had blessed him with. His wife learned just how real her sons were in the middle of the night when they would scream their lungs out unceasingly until attention was paid to them. Jamie insisted she rest and recover, and leapt up at every cry to take care of it, but was instantly horrified at what he found in the cloth swaddling Willie’s bum. 

 Fergus was elated the next day to meet his new brothers. Jamie and Claire had already spoken many times about how the new babies wouldn’t change anything about how they felt for him, but they could still sense some worry. 

 “Would you like to hold your little brother Willie?” At the indication that it was true, he had a little brother, all his worries vanished.

 “Oui maman.” He was so gentle with them with so much adoration in his eyes, and it made Claire cry just to see her boys together.

 He traded for Henry next and Jamie pulled Claire into his lap. 

 It was six weeks after the birth, and Jamie and Claire were equally ravenous. Both the babies had finally fallen asleep together, being unusually generous to their parents.

 “I need my wife.” He crawled over her. 

 “You still want me? After seeing all that…?” Her confidence has waned slightly. She was still pudgy around the middle and there were new scars lining her belly. There was also the fact that he had seen her sweating, cursing, and wailing like a cow on their bedroom floor before the fire, and had taken multiple peeks down there to check her progress. It was apparent, however, that he wanted her desperately despite of and maybe even because of that fact. 

 “I could never stop wanting ye Sassenach.” He peppered kisses across her abdomen and paid special attention to the fading purple streaks on her skin. The burns on her stomach had long since faded and were barely even noticeable unless one were to look very closely, as her husband was now. She let her knees fall to the side and a moan escaped her lips when he ducked further down. 

 “Now, as much as I love yer wee noises mo nighean donn, ye’ll have to be quiet tonight.” He covered her mouth with his, silencing the cries that he brought out of her body.

 When they both had finished, laying boneless on the sheets, Jamie pulled Claire’s back close to his chest and she curled back into him. Henry began to cry, waking his brother as well and throwing them both into fits of hungry wails. Jamie silently walked over, wrapping his kilt loosely across his hips and placed a baby in each of his arms. The sight made Claire want to ravish him with a sudden ferocity, even though they had just joined together moments ago. But, her babies’ hunger won over and she placed one on each breast. Jamie watched fascinated, as he always did. The babies hungrily gulped down their meal and then slumped against their mom, tired from weeks of growing, crying, and eating. Their tiny fists laid on top of her skin and Jamie slowly adjusted himself to hold Henry. He fell asleep, Henry’s body rising and falling with each of his father’s breaths. Willie stirred again, inquisitively staring up into his mother’s eyes. Claire stroked Henry’s cheek eliciting the same smile she loved so much, and then reached for Jamie’s as well.

 “God, I love you, Jamie. So much.” Her attention shifted down to the babe on her breast. “You have such a wonderful father, don’t you Willie?” She spoke down to her captive audience. “And I love you.” She kissed his small nose, then leaned over for Henry’s “And you.” She pulled on Jamie’s bottom lip. “And God how I love you.”