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[fanaticsnail]

WHATS UPP, so I read the dreaming of you oneshot thingy on your page (Koby, smoker AND HELMEPPO) so I was wondering if you would be able to make something more of helmeppo. I read your request page and I know you might not write it but i was just curious. I’m not picky at all but since it’s helmeppo i figured it could be something like enemies to lovers.. (DOES NOT HAVE TO BE THAT IM FINE WITH ANYTHING!!) I’ve never requested anything on tumblr so sorry if I’m doing it wrong btw. I have a playlist if you’d like that for ideas 😼 (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0q63LD9Kt49EDxlOxCCQ7m?si=cWh4kWT-SR-x2evxlXn97Q&pi=u-vige6yADR-Oe) SORRY ITS A LONG LINK 😨

Hi there! I love how enthusiastic you are about Helmeppo. Not gonna lie, I definitely felt the need to write him a one-shot after that one. I love your playlist!

Bound to the Enemy

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,100+

Synopsis: Engaged in a heated battle between pirates and marines on neutral ground had the locals enact a punishment befitting the crime. Bound back to back with a marine, you come up with a plan to work together to break out of the trap and return to your crew.

Themes: Helmeppo x reader, enemies to lovers, mutual loathing, mutual pining, peril and dread, kissing, fluff, little bit of angst, bittersweet farewells.

Notes: Chef-Husband has been making me watch MacGyver. I apologise if this wasn't exactly what you were looking for, but I did have a lot of fun with it.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Slowly bobbing your head from side to side, you hummed a merry tune from your childhood to reverberate and ricochet within the damp cavern walls. Drops of water from the pointed stalactites dripped onto your head, drenching your already soaked clothes with further murkiness from the oceanic roof.

The ropes gripping your shoulders and wrists burned with a crude jolt from your companion behind you, causing you to yelp mid-word with your song. In light of his tugging, you simply laughed and sang louder. 

“The sails lay flat, the wind in her back; the ropes lay in a bind,” you yelled your tune, the echo of your voice calling back at you in a taunting mockery, “The women did wail, as the sailors set sail, leaving their seed behind-.”

“-Are you quite finished?!” His aggravated tone cut your voice off, tugging the ropes and prompting you to lull your head behind you on his shoulder. “It’s bad enough being bound to a damn pirate, let alone one that doesn’t shut up!” You laughed from your position, back to back and tied to the enemy while sitting atop a large rock and awaiting death. 

“Aww, pretty marine,” you coo at him behind you, nuzzling almost affectionately against his shoulder with a hint of teasing, “I thought my singing would bring such joy as we await our imminent doom.” He shrugged away from your head, prompting you to laugh harder as he burned you with the intensity of your ties. 

Both of your hands were bound to each other at the wrists, your companion wriggling and attempting to free himself the moment he awoke from behind you. Your crews arrived at this strange island at the same time, immediately engaging in a heated battle filled with bloodshed and chaos. The locals did not take kindly to the ruckus and immediately implored you to stick to their stance with neutrality. 

Both your crew and the marine crew surrendered and awaited adequate punishment for tainting the shore with battle and bloodshed. The punishment chosen for you was to select a member of each crew, bind them together in ropes, and place them in a cave mouth to await the tide to enter. If you managed to escape before the water choked you with its salty embrace, the marines and the pirates would be permitted to leave. If you drowned, both crews would live out the days on the island and serve the queen as her loyal slaves. 

Before your captain or the pink-haired marine captain could react and volunteer themselves, both you and the blondie stepped forward and gave yourselves up. Without further warning, both of you were injected with a local toxin to cause you to fall into a deep slumber, likely to make the journey more difficult to return to your crews. 

“These ropes are strong,” he growled, thrusting his chest forward and prompting you to arch your back up into him, “I can’t get the damn thing loose.” You simply offer him a condescending “Mm-hmm, that’s the point,” and let him keep moving your body around to wriggle free. 

“When you’re quite ready,” you offer him, wincing as he leaned forward, “I have a blade hidden in my back pocket. I can reach it, but I will need you to stop wriggling so I can get to it.” He huffed out an exasperated breath and you felt him shake his head in agitation. 

“And why are you telling me this now, pirate?” he growled at you, attempting to look at you over his shoulder to no avail, “You could’ve cut us out the whole time, and neglected to mention it?” You laughed, feeling his hands go limp to allow you to search through your pockets without a struggle. 

“You were too busy being a grumpy marine to use your mind,” you shrugged, feeling the handle of the blade with your fingertips, “Always underestimating your opponents and too hot headed to exercise your brain along with your other muscles.” You use your index and middle fingers to draw the blade closer to you, finally clutching it in your hands. 

The seaspray began to rise, the cave mouth starting to fill with the swell of water just as you readied the small knife to cut your bonds. 

“If I nick you with the blade,” you smirk, beginning to cut through the fibers, “I’m not sorry.” The man behind you began to growl at you, holding still and allowing you to work at the ropes with ease. The first few strands came loose, giving your wrists enough room to wriggle a little easier to get enough momentum to cut easier. 

“What’s your name, anyway, marine?” you asked him suddenly, feeling a little bolder and at ease now that your bonds were turning loose. He inhaled a soft breath, uttering quietly to you in response. 

“Helmeppo,” he confessed his name with a soft nod, “And you, pirate?” You giggle in response, uttering your name hastily before rolling his title over on your tongue to sample the flavor. 

“And who are you to your captain, Helmeppo?” you ask him, humming the same tune from earlier, a little quieter as you worked. He exhaled a laugh through his nose, “I am his first mate and swordsman. You?” 

“I am the navigator and blade thrower,” you nod along, the tune never ceasing as you feel one of your wrists finally come loose. You raise it to your side and give it a soft shake and breathe slowly while stretching the limb. 

Making quick work on the other side now that your wrist was free, you reach up and begin to saw at the bonds around your chest and shoulders, noticing the ties are a little more complex than you assumed they were initially. Cutting through the strands, you finally feel them come loose enough to wriggle free. 

“Well now,” you sighed in relief, beginning to stand on the large rock and look down to the icy depths of the sea, “Can you swim, first-mate? Not a devil-fruit user by any chance, are you?” You looked to the blonde man beside you as he shook his head.

“I’m not the best swimmer, unfortunately,” he confessed, looking down at the sea rising up the rock, “Not a user, though. I can stay afloat just fine.” You nod along, looking at the cave mouth and angling your chin to the side with narrow eyes. 

“That doesn’t look right to me,” you nod your forehead to the mouth of the cave, “The light is all wrong, and the swell in water is too rapid. I think it's a false entrance.” He looked to the mouth and nodded his head along. 

“You’re the navigator,” he nodded to you, testing your knowledge beneath his staring gaze, “I am electing to trust you with this. Where do you think we should start?” You hummed in thought, gazing up at the roof and narrowing your eyes at the sight of the luminescent lights surrounding the stalactites. 

“Not a swimmer, but are you a climber?” you asked him, reaching for his chin with your index finger and thumb before turning his attention to the ceiling, “We need to go up there.” He allowed you to move his face and look at the small opening in the roof wall. He sighed another huff of exasperated breath and shook his head.

“If I had my sword, it would be far easier to scale the walls,” he nodded, looking around the rock you were standing on. The surface was like an island in comparison to the other rocks surrounding the room, no way off the surface without swimming, and no way up without reaching the spherical sides to the rocky room. 

You hummed, tucking your blade back behind you and looked down into the water, noticing a faint light coming from the center beneath the rock. Widening your eyes, you stared more intentionally beneath the water, noticing the light began to travel towards you both. 

“Helmeppo?” you ask him with a small hint of panic, backing away from the water below, “I don’t think we’re alone in here.” You held onto his arm and dragged him to the center of the rock, looking up at the tiny hole in the roof before looking at your blonde, apprehensive companion. 

Darting his eyes down to the depths below, he noticed the same scaly visage beneath the surface, swirling in a circle around the rock you were marooned on. He darted his eyes back to you and drifted his eyes frantically around your features. 

“A sea beast?” He asked in a low tone, prompting you to nod in confirmation. He sucked in a hiss through his teeth and looked up to the small hole above you, “We’re going to need to find some type of raft to have us go through the water towards the walls, and pray the beast doesn’t consume us. Then climb to the top of the cave with nothing but our knuckles, aren’t we?”

You look up at the ceiling before looking at the fraying strands of rope you hacked at moments prior. Cursing under your breath, you dropped to your knees and began reweaving the strands that you cut with your dagger. 

“Fuck,” you bark at yourself, grimacing as you hastily rotate the strands and coil them back together. He looked down to your position and his eyes widened in horror as he realized what was occurring. Sniffing back your stupidity, the water continued racing in from the false cave mouth and elevating the water level higher. 

“Can you fix it before the water reaches us?” He looked to the ropes before looking towards the rapidly rising sea water. You growled, balling your hands into fists and continuing to coil the strands around each other.

“It’ll get done,” you assure him with a rumbly growl in your tone, “But it’s not going to be reinforced enough to hold both of our weight at once.” He cocked his head to the side, a perplexed expression drifting over his face. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, kneeling beside you and searching your face for hidden intentions. You huff out a shaky breath, gesturing to your back pocket and to the ends of the rope. 

“I’m going to attach the rope to the blade, throw it through the hole and wind against a stalactite,” you nod upwards, refusing to turn your eyes away from your busy hands. “Then we're going to climb through the hole and reach the surface,” you admit, finally looking up at him, “But we can’t both go at the same time. The rope is too frail and fragile.” 

His eyes widened, searching your eyes for dishonesty and ill intent. Upon finding none, he growled beneath his breath. 

“So, what then?” he huffed out, a small scoff underlying in his tone, “One of us climbs up and then the other begins the climb up after? Is that what you’re suggesting-.”

“-That’s precisely what I’m suggesting,” you cut him off with a soft snarl, “One of us will have to wait and trust the other from their position above.” You continued coiling and twisting the ropes, your hands shaking in a soft rage and lip quivering in reaction to the fear of what’s to come. 

After a soft moment of silence, you concluded your twisting and looked up at the blonde-haired marine beside you. 

“I have impeccable aim,” you reassure him, fastening the end to your blade after you retracted it from your rear pocket, “Hold the end of the rope and let me aim, please. In silence.” He nodded, eagerly taking your orders and you breathed through your concerns as the water rose over the soft edge. 

The fins of a large creature slowly flew above the surface, Helmeppo’s eyes widening as he witnessed the scaly spine of the Sea Beast below the surface. You refused to tear away your eyes from the target ahead, exhaling slowly as you aimed at the wall within the hole. 

In a swift thrust, you threw the blade within the air and the rope began to soar through the barely illuminated dome towards the stalactites. Embedding with a swift thud, the end of the rope was hanging limply within Helmeppo’s hands as he continued to search the water for the approaching beast circling below. 

Turning to him and noticing his look, you breathed out a melancholy breath of air. Hardening your resolve, you gently reached up and squeezed his shoulder to draw his attention back to you.

“Right then,” you nodded with a hasty sniff of steely determination, “Off you go. Quickly.” He turned to you, looking down in shock as you gestured for him to begin the climb. He began to speak, prompting you to shake your head and halt his thoughts. 

“Helmeppo,” you reassured him, squeezing him once more, “This is how it has to be. I am a pirate, a blade thrower and a navigator. You are the first-mate to a marine captain and a swordsman. I would not be able to help you with the rope once I got up there, if anything goes awry,” you confess, softly giving him a pat to spur him on, “You would likely not trust me to aid you anyway, and I feel like you would do the right thing if given the opportunity to do so.” 

His shock deepened, the rope feeling hot in his hands the longer he held it between his fingers. 

“Go, Helmeppo,” you tapped him once more to break him out of his frantically racing thoughts. He gave you a soft nod, gulping back his nerves and beginning a hasty climb up the ropes. He tested his weight, tugging firmly twice before throwing his entire weight into his ascension. 

You had no choice but to watch on as the rope began to bend under the strain of his weight. Looking to the water, the levels began gently rising in soft, taunting ripples as the tide began to come in. A call of your name from the blonde swordsman above the ropes redrew your attention to Helmeppo above you.

“Distract yourself,” he ordered you, straining as his arms and thighs curled around the hanging rope. “Sing your silly songs to me, talk to me about your crew, tell me anything you want.” He growled, gritting his teeth and tugging his body above the rope. You gulped back your fear and inhaled a deep lungful of air.

“I have only ever known a life of piracy,” you confessed, nodding your confirmation and solidifying your words, “Born and raised on the sea, reading the stars and charting my course.” 

Helmeppo grunted on the ropes, continuing his slow climb as the water rose around you. You continued thinking about the circumstances that brought you here to this moment. Smiling a soft smile, you look down at your toes and reminisce about your life. 

“I learned to read the stars from my mother,” you nod slowly, laughing a soft chuckle as you add, “I look like her, too. The crew says she and I are nothing alike, but I like to think we're similar. She was a noble.” You admit, looking back up to Helmeppo as he nearly reached the top. 

He huffs and pants, finally drawing his fingers up to the coarse wall and reaching for a sturdy rock to grip. Reflecting on your words, he thinks over your confessions with interest but remains too preoccupied in his task to ask you any questions. 

The water rises closer to your toes, two beady eyes glaring at you beneath the surface and waiting for the water to lap at your ankles before making its move. You pay the eyes no mind, looking up and reassuring Helmeppo as he attempts to grip the walls for a third time to no avail. 

“You're doing well,” you offer him with no malice or sarcasm in your tone, “Take your time, I'll be right here.” He scoffed out a soft laugh at your response, wedging the rope between his thighs and using your blade attached to the top to pull himself closer to the wall. 

The water caresses your toes with a soft propulsion, your heels not faring better as the water continues to rise to the peak of the small, rocky island within the damp dome. You scrunch your eyes shut, thinking about the outcome should you both fail this task. Both crews would perish on this island in servitude for the locals, your crews would mourn for you, and you would be good for the beast below the surface. 

“You can do this, Helmeppo,” you again reassure him, gulping back your shaking fear and propelling confidence in your tone. “You are a swordsman, a first-mate to your captain. You have worked hard to earn those titles, just like you're working hard now. You can do this.” 

Hearing your encouragement, his hands finally find purchase on the walls, anchoring himself against the hole in the surface and beginning his climb up. Just as he finally leans up, the dagger in the wall comes loose, the rope falling limp between his thighs and held up by his body alone. 

Your eyes widen, your shock and his igniting desperation in your pulse. He grunted through the adrenaline, groaning as he lifted himself above the hole and braced himself against the walls. The rope began to slip, his hands darting out and grasping it before it fell back down below. 

“I-I'm-...” He panted, attempting to catch his breath. Shutting his eyes and furrowing his brows, he inhaled deeply and focussed his breath, “...I'm going to have to pull you up.” His voice quivered, his lips shaking as he was overcome from momentary exhaustion at the swift climb. 

“We-...” You began, feeling your shoes begin to dampen with the rise in water lapping at your boot heels, “...We’ll wait until you're ready. Take your time.” Helmeppo looked down, noticing the sea beast had begun to circle around the slowly disappearing island and exhaled a shaky breath. 

Before he had joined the marines officially, he would've wanted nothing more than to leave you down there to drown. He would've cowered in his own fear and scampered up the hole without second thought.

But as he stared down at you, looking at the smile you had on your lips as you gazed up at him, the enemy, he was compelled to remember all he learnt from Bogard and Garp. He was a marine, a swordsman, and now the first-mate to his superior and best friend. He was no longer his father's son, a sniveling asshole with no marks on his resume to back up his superiority complex. 

He was Helmeppo: first mate to Captain Koby, and a superior sword fighter on a journey to becoming the best. 

Anchoring a few coils of rope around his waist, he gestures for you to do the same. You follow his directions, tying your hips together and wedging the strands between your legs as a makeshift harness. He extends his legs, parting his thighs and bending his knees to brace himself within the opening beneath the moonlight. Taking the rope in fistfuls, he begins to slowly draw hand after hand of rope and pool the hefty coils over his palm and elbow. 

“K-Keep talking to me,” he uttered, wincing as he felt the overexertion of his muscles burning under the weight. “Keep t-talking. Anchor your weight and tell me about yourself.” His breath hitched, his brows furrowing as he grit his teeth. 

You choose not to look down, opting only to grant him your smile as he lifts your body higher above the doom lurking below. 

“Before I left my home,” you laughed, bracing your arms against the ropes with your forearms, “I was meant to settle down and have an army of children,” you both chuckled at the notion, his hands crawling along the strands and coiling them up higher. 

“That something you want for yourself?” He winced through the strain of the ordeal, looking beneath you and noticing the rocky island was completely engulfed in water. The eyes continued to observe the two of you with interest, the creature lingering beneath the depths smiling its toothy grin.  

“Absolutely not,” you confess with a laugh, gripping the ropes further and clambering up alongside his cooking advances, “I only want the open sea, the wind in the sails, and the stars to point me to my next destination.” He snickered down, growling as his limbs began to burn. 

“T-Truly?” he responded with a taught snicker, “No desire to settle down and retire one day?” He continued tugging the rope and lifting you through the final threshold of the journey. 

“Not in my plan, no,” you retorted, finally lifting yourself between his thighs by grasping his hips and hoisting you with your arms extended. Anchoring your heels at the wall behind you, you had no choice but to fall into his chest upon ascension. 

His eyes never left your face, floating over your features and gazing up at you. Falling flat on his chest, you wriggled between his legs and drew yourself up through the partition in his thighs. You furrowed your brows as you found purchase on the wall beyond his shoulders, his eyes darting between yours and his lips parted and panting. 

“Sorry,” you muffled your apologies, leaning back and gazing into his eyes. Your breath hitched, looking over his features and finally taking a moment to breathe him in. He was handsome, one of the most handsome men you had seen in some time: almost pretty. 

His eyes focussed on your lips, momentarily forgetting the doom lingering below and taking you in for all that you were. You were beautiful, even for a pirate. 

“We-...” he began, offering his hand out to you and aiding you between his legs, “...we should begin the climb. Can't-...” his eyes darted down to your lips and lingered there a moment longer, “-We can't leave them waiting, and the water is rising.”

You looked at his face, smiling as you hastily pushed yourself up the walls and looked down at the marine first-mate beneath you. 

“Better hurry up then, blondie,” you sneered down at him before scampering throughout the walls and hovering up the small opening. He chuckled, taking a moment to catch his breath before following up the hole after you. 

The water rises further below you two, your anxieties both propelling you to use each other as anchor points to propel you further up the hole towards the surface. 

“Try to keep up, marine,” you teased him in soft snickers, his own laugh joining yours the longer you teased him. 

“Speak for yourself, pirate,” he responded in kind, his eyes staring at your body the further up the chasm you clambered. The water began to swell further beneath you, both of you praying in gratitude that you understood the false entry that drew in the tide. 

The starlight welcomed you into the night, you hoisted your torso up through the birthpoint and your eyes both met the cloudless sky above. As you exited the hole, you reached down and offered Helmeppo your arm to grip and raise through the tunnel mouth. 

With a soft smirk, he clasped his hand over your forearm and used your arm to draw himself up through the small opening. Before falling onto his back and panting, he assessed the surroundings and noticed there truly was no entry to the cave from below. You were right, and he was ever grateful you noticed the trap lingering below. 

Lying flat on your backs either side of the hole and catching your breath, you looked to the constellations and began searching through your mind for any direction towards your crewmates. 

While you were distracted by charting the stars, Helmeppo began untying the bonds circling his waist and carefully coiling the ropes for later purpose. He wound the fibers into a neat pile beside him, before crawling on his hands and knees towards you and beginning to draw his fingers against your flesh as you muttered stars to yourself. 

“The Marina Comet besides Genfry’s Belt,” you whispered, barely processing the fingers dancing over your skin and loosening the knots surrounding your pelvis. “Which means the anchor point for our vessel should be beside the Sialin Dip and Hogir Spear.” Your whispers earned you a chuckle from your blonde-haired companion as he loosened the knots of rope girdling your waist.

After uttering your final vantage point, you began to giggle. The laughter became almost overbearing as the adrenaline teetered off and lay in wake to the lethargy you were both experiencing.

The physical trial between the two of you amongst sea beasts, bondage, and trickery had each breath you took feeling like a gift to the senses. Upon loosening the final knot, Helmeppo flopped to the position beside you and chuckled into the stars. You joined him, your rambunctious laughter serenading him as you did a few hours prior with your shanties of old. 

“Any-... Any thoughts on where our crews are right now?” he offered with teetered laughter. You rolled onto your side and placed your hand on his chest and gave him a soft pat in response. 

“We have about a forty minute trek through the jungle before we reach the shore,” you giggled, leaning over him and gazing into his eyes, “And then it’ll be about an hour after that to make it to our ships.” You reached up, brushing his blonde hair from his face and gently caressing his cheek. 

His breath hitched as his eyes met with yours, wide and shocked to receive such affection from the enemy. Conflicting emotions swirled in his mind the moment his gray orbs met your half-lidded gaze. Before he could speak, you spoke for him in a soft endearing tone. 

“You know, you’re really quite pretty,” you speak as if your words contained a soft secret within. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed a dry mouthful of saliva and parted his quivering lips up to you. Giggling at his response, you go to draw yourself away from his embrace, only to have your wrist collected in his hand. 

As you knit your brows up in confusion, he immediately sat up and drew your body close to himself. His unoccupied hand cradled the back of your head in a firm grip and drew your lips up to collide with his in a soft kiss. A squeak fled your lips in shock as your eyes remained wide and staring into the furrowed brow of your enemy.

His golden hair stuck to his face in stringy, damp strands from the salty drips from the cavern roof. The stars illuminated his pale skin and allowed you to take a glimpse at the rosy blush rising against his cheeks. You finally hum into his lips, circling his waist with your unclasped wrist, and rising to sit in his lap on the grassy patch beside the hole leading down to your prior prison. 

You take his kiss as an expression of relief in reclaiming freedom, his joy at being alive and making it through the trial laid out below. Returning his kiss, you allow yourself to give in to your own relief in making it through the trial and rotate your chin to deepen the oscillation. His heart shot to this throat as he released your wrist to circle his arm around your shoulders and hold you close. 

Finally and firmly breaking you away from his lips, he gazed up at you with adoration and an unspoken fondness for you. His lips were bruised by the intensity of your kiss which prompted your hands to raise to his cheeks and run your thumb over his bottom lip. Smiling down at Helmeppo, you softly offer him a small tease in your tone.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you narrow your eyes and scrunch up your nose with your smile, “Let’s go free our crews and get off this forsaken island.” He panted slowly caressing your hair and pressed his forehead against yours briefly. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, pirate,” he smiled in his tone, briefly closing his eyes. He broke away contact from your forehead and aided you to your feet. Returning your dagger to you, he hooked the coil of rope over his shoulder and let it lay circling his hip. 

“After all we’ve been through? I wouldn’t dream of it,” you smile in response, placing your dagger in your back pocket and readjusting your clothes, “But do try to keep up, lover. You may be strong, but I’m faster.” You began to set an easy and hasty pace trekking through the jungle towards the coastline where your crews were waiting for you.

Aiding each other through the uneven jungle floor, and sneaking in subtle touches and holds to brace each other in support, your affection for the marine swordsman only grew. His eyes only ever left your body and face to briefly glance ahead to brush away a wandering branch from blocking your path. His chivalry was a welcome change to the bruising affection you and your crew displayed to one another. 

His thoughts and emotions clouded his judgment, finally giving in to the emotion he was attempting to stifle. He was smitten with the enemy, and he knew you were likely to never see each other again after this adventure. Willing to take any touch you were permitting him to press you with, he committed the feel of your hands on his skin to memory. 

He was in love, and you were feeling much the same. You both laughed at the true tragedy of the rising emotions the moment your crews came into view with the local government. Without much thinking, you hastily press a soft kiss to his cheek before sprinting to your captain on the sandy shore without further words. 

Eyes shut and hands rose in front of him, he bid you a wordless farewell. Opening his eyes and watching your hair bounce behind you, he felt a piece of his heart leave him and join with your own. Sparing him a look over your shoulder, you shot him a soft wink and giggled in glee at witnessing his eyes still firmly fixed on your retreat. 

You were smitten with your marine swordsman, something that the crew would likely tease you about for the whole duration of your journey out to the sea. You looked to the marine ship, your hands splayed on the wooden rail as you met the gaze of Helmeppo aboard his vessel. Gifting him a soft wave and a broad grin, he returned the gesture with a bashful smile and eyes left wanting. 

Taking a mental note of the stars, you prayed that one day their soft illuminance would guide you two to meet again. 

[artemistorm]

Skyward Sword Skyloft Aesthetic

I love the aesthetic of Skyloft so let's analyze it and see what makes it tick. This will be a long post with lots and lots of photos.

First of all, In Skyloft there are two very different styles of architecture:

Ancient architecture, which are the stately grey stone structures like the light tower in the plaza and around the Statue of the Goddess (as well as various locations on the surface)

And the Skyloftian architecture, which is much more round, colorful and whimsical than the ancient architecture. I will be focusing on the Skyloftian architecture.

Skyloftian houses are built underground with one exposed side facing out. The roofs are flat and often have paths or grass growing on them in order to maximize surface area and places to walk. Each house is unique and is personalized to the occupant.

Non-house buildings like the bazaar, knight academy, and the Lumpy Pumpkin are built above-ground and have varying kinds of roofs, from wood to bamboo, to tented rugs.

Interior walls generally follow this pattern: the walls are painted (or possibly frescoed) with a primary color--it's not a solid color, but with a dappled 'paintbrush-stroke' pattern. Decorative stones or tiles of a contrasting color are placed in a horizontal wavy line in the bottom half of the wall and in another line near the ceiling.

At the base, is a layer of stones of a different color. Structurally, this is likely a foundational base on which the walls are constructed to protect them from groundwater damage, like in cob (a certain kind of mud-cement) house construction.

Buildings and rooms tend to be curvy or round and often have whimsical features built in, like the oven in the kitchen and the bird faucet and tiled round bathing pool in the bathroom of the Knight Academy. In houses, sinks and counters are sometimes built into the wall. This is another feature you see frequently in cob house construction.

In fact, the Skyloftian style of architecture seems to have taken heavy inspiration from cob house construction. Cob is a building material that is made of local mud with additives to turn it into cement with hay or grass mixed in. The cob is mounded up into the shape of the walls and sealed with sealant and plaster. It is very quick to construct cob buildings and they are highly customizable. Building made of cob tend to be whimsical--look up images and see for yourself.

Furniture is made with wood and often has decorative tiling, painting, or carvings in them.

In terms of decorations, the most common motifs are geometric designs, floral and plant designs, and bird-themed designs. Bright colors are preferred, and almost everything in the whole game, but especially in Skyloft, has a pink or purple tinge/undertone to it.

One thing Skyloftians love are ornate rugs. Every room and every house has a rug, usually multiple rugs. Each rug is unique, brightly colored, and usually geometric in design.

There is even an entire (unmanned) shop in the bazaar full of rugs and other textiles.

Other decorations you might find in homes and buildings are pots, vases, bottles, and plates with colorful designs

Lace, stuffed animals, decorative pillows

Turkish lamps, wall hangings, table placemats or a table runner

Mobiles and decorative ceiling hangings

Remlit tree

And some rooms/houses are themed, for example, Fledge's room has a tropical island theme.

Outdoors, the village is decorated with multi-colored banners, buntings, pinwheels, flags, and flowers.

Together all these things construct the aesthetic and style of Skyloft: rounded and curvy buildings, cob-style construction, geometric, floral and bird designs, bright colors, ornate rugs, pots, Turkish lamps, stained glass, wood carvings, and lots and lots of whimsy.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

To the Depths of the Sea

Bones in the Ocean Masterlist

CW: I don’t know, man. Siren commits a murder? This is out of order, timewise, but it's what wanted to be written, so...

-

His name was different, then.

It was not a clumsy tongue against the roof of a small mouth, flat teeth and full lips mouthing animal grunts without melody. Back then, his name was a lyric, a new line in the sirens' endless, ancient song. 

His very being was a scale of perfect pitch. Sirens sang together, notes dancing up and down that mortal mouths and lungs could never recreate. He and his mother and his sisters sang in harmonies, children of the goddess of moon and tides, the wild water-woman who could turn a calm sea to turbulent waves in an instant. 

He was born, at some point long ago. Borne by his mother, with his sisters huddled around her to be a dozen midwives, while the moon shone on the rock and the goddess watched. Born, yes, but he did not age, his wounds healed, he did not die.

Time shifted around him, like it did for all of the gods’ children.

The waves slapped the sand, sirens sang on rocks, and ships came and brought the men who heard their song. The men who steered their ships, unseeing and smiling, into the reefs to shred them apart, so that their bodies could be given to the sirens, and after that to the sea.

The ships changed, with time. The clothing the sailors they tore into wore changed, the style of shoe, the weight or shape of a sword and finally of the strange rifles. All these things changed.

The sirens didn’t.

They remained the same.

The siren boy had been sunbathing on the beach that day, eyes closed. The heat of the day lay over his brown skin like the humans’ heavy blankets, lulling him into a dreamless doze. Somewhere nearby, his sisters sang for their supper, having seen a ship hovering at the horizon.

But the siren boy was not alone. He was not the only one on the island to hear the song.

His eyes snapped open when he heard the softest crush of footsteps on underbrush. An animal, he told himself, even as he pushed himself up on his elbows, turned to see, half-hidden in the shadows just back from the beach, a human man staring back at him.

The human man’s hair was tangled and dirtied, hanging in clumps over his face. Mud had dried on his face and his shirt was worn nearly to shreds. He must have survived a past wreck, somehow slipped through the sirens’ fingers. Been here since then, wandering the island. He must have somehow held out against the siren song’s pull.

The man’s mouth moved.

He was whispering, but the siren was too far to hear him, leaning against a palm tree’s heavy, narrow trunk to stay upright. There was something wrong with one of his legs, the pants were torn but nothing was there beneath the tear.

The siren got slowly to his feet, tipping his head to one side. His curly black hair shifted, shadowing his own eyes as he moved soundlessly over the burning sand, where driftwood bits of broken ships lay in dried, bleached lines around him, their companions the scattered bones of the sirens’ meals.

Human voices, so flat and featureless, disgusted him.

But the eating would be good, and then the man's foul flat voice would stop interrupting the melodies.

“Monsters,” The man was whispering, but the siren didn’t know this word. He didn’t know any of their words. He knew what those throats tasted like, though, beneath his teeth. “Th-this island is made of monsters… You’re not a boy-... y-you’re not-”

The siren took one step, and then another. Each step sank his foot slightly into sand, brushed against shell and stick, rock, bone, and wood. Each movement a hypnotic sway, and he licked at his dry lips as his mouth watered for the meal.

His sisters’ song was all around them, and yet the man didn’t fall to it.

Their eyes met, then. The man’s were a faded blue, like the sky when the sun nearly bleached out all its colors with no clouds to subdue its power. His skin was like dried animal hides, wrinkled and tough. All bones and sinew, no real meat for the eating.

It didn’t matter.

All men were meals.

“They-... they said there was gold here.” The human’s whining voice, like a child, grated on the siren. Some foul mockery of the beautiful way the sirens spoke to each other, all out of tune, off-key. Not a song at all. This man’s name would be like the harsh screech of the birds the sirens ate during starving times, when there was nothing else. 

There was no song in this man.

“There… isn’t any gold, is there?” The man’s voice tipped upwards, but the siren ignored it. He was so close he could smell the man, human odor of sweat and blood and something rotten where his leg used to be. The man was trembling, voice and body shaking together. He closed his eyes, slowly, and lifted his chin as if offering himself for the taking. Even so, his lips still moved in pointless speech. “It was a-a trick, a lie-... there was no gold here…”

The siren was on him.

He took him down onto his back, the underbrush soft beneath them. A flock of birds took flight with their cries an echo of the siren’s own triumphant song, one that buried itself in blood. A hundred teeth sharper than a shark’s tore out his throat, devoured skin and muscle, picked clean bones. The siren’s melody as it rejoiced in the meal was a sharp thing, rending apart the man’s soul and sending it to be held by the ocean, like all men who died to sirens and the sea.

His prey never fought him.

But it whispered, once more, with dead sightless eyes and unmoving lips, monster.

The siren woke.

He was not in the sun-warmed sand or roaming the island he had always known, his sisters and mother beside him. He was in a cool pool of pointless water hemmed in on all sides by stone, the high windows mocking him with the world he could not escape. The dream was already fading, and the memories of who he had been, more than a century ago, faded with it.

He lost himself, every time he woke.

He found himself only in sleep.

Areyto rolled aimlessly onto his back, staring up at the ceiling whie he floated in the water. He could feel the tingle of the power in the marks the magicians made, each decade, that kept him captive to his master’s whims. He could feel how the marks drained his memories away, the ones he could see in dreams but that were lost to him after. He floated there feeling his sisters fade to little more than shadows, a thought he'd had once. Maybe never real at all.

Moonlight shone, diffused by the windows so much his goddess could not have heard him, no matter how he cried to her. Areyto had long since stopped crying, anyway.

What use was pleading if no one could hear you, and those who could would only mock you and take yet another part of you away?

Like his name.

The magic made sure he couldn’t remember it.

Come.

His master’s command came like an oil slick in the water, slithering slime over his bared skin and pushing him from the water. He shook himself and went, step by step, to the door that was already being unlocked to allow him to leave - but only to go where he was ordered, only to do whatever vile thing his master demanded. The butler on the other side looked through him, saw something else. Saw whatever the master wanted him to see.

As the siren moved through this endless hell, the moon that had shone on him where he slept in the pool shifted behind a cloud. The goddess left him, and his half-formed prayers. It was all lost, everything that did not belong to Guilford Wentworth was gone.

Come, Areyto.

Not his name.

But the name he had been given, and must answer to. The name layered over the song, the lyric he had once been. The piece of the harmony that had belonged to him, just on the tip of his tongue, never coming together.

The melody of his identity had been stolen, replaced with the flat human syllables he went by now. A shrieking off note, a sharp staccato. His master had stolen his name, as surely as he had stolen Areyto’s life.

As surely as Areyto would steal it back.

However small his master had made him, his teeth were still sharp, and his claws were still keen to tear human skin apart. The marks would fade, if he could only keep them from being remade yet again. The power that held him here would crack apart beneath his fury, if the human magician would help him. Her voice held the edge of a song even in flat human words.

Areyto didn’t understand it, yet, but he knew what the song meant even if he didn’t know the melodies.

Hope.

-

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump  @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee @angelsproject

[autisticlenaluthor]

Supercorptober - Kara

TW: Grief

There’s a plastic pillow Kara sleeps with every night. It’s blue and crunches when laid against, with a thin white case that falls off whenever jostled. It’s so flat— flat like a pancake or another sheet. At least, that’s how Eliza tries to justify it when Kara catches her trying to throw it out while cleaning her room. 

Kara takes the thing back with a speed she didn’t know she possessed and returns it to her bed, making sure it’s known that she is keeping her pillow for as long as she lives. She needs it the way she needs air, and that explanation is bursting to escape. It’s the last thing she has, her last real connection. But there’s no way to say that, no way to ever give its meaning justice when Kara knows Eliza will never truly get it.

Because she was in the waiting room when Kara went with Casey and the EMTs who took a sleeping Lena, still in her bed, up to the helipad on the roof. She didn’t see the helicopter (the life flight, as the hospital called it) and all the medics standing around it, waiting for Lena’s arrival. No, Kara was the one who felt the frigid wind rushing through her hair, prickling at her face from such a height, it made her nauseous just to stand. 

She was the one who felt the chilling loneliness. That indescribable twinge in her chest as she watched them move, counting down seconds in her head until Lena was taken from her. Kara had stood, on an island by herself, surrounded by people, as she watched her best friend be slowly and strategically transferred from her bed to a stretcher, where she was strapped down at the legs, stomach, and chest. She’d been holding her breath when they made the switch, and has been clinging to it ever since. 

When Lena was finally moved, Kara was the one who was handed the plastic pillow she had been lying on for three weeks straight when Casey carefully swapped it out for a clean one. Kara took it and hugged it close to her chest, while Casey adjusted the blankets and stroked Lena’s cheek with her palm. 

Six months later, and Kara’s still hugging that pillow every chance she gets. 

She doesn’t have Lena anymore. She doesn’t know if anyone does.

But she has the thing that kept her best friend comfortable. And on the days when the world seems especially quiet, it makes it that much easier for Kara to keep looking for her.

She sees her in twilight skies, when the air is filled with stars and the orange sunrise after another sleepless night. In the bracelet that hangs from Kara’s wrist, made of string now tinted brown from dirt and wear, so unlike the vibrant green and orange thing it was three years ago. It makes Kara cry at first when she sees a picture of how it used to look; so pretty and put together. But like so many other things, she learns to be okay with it. Because to be loved is to be changed and nothing has changed her more than Lena. 

Lena’s nowhere. But she’s everywhere. 

And suddenly, Kara is eleven years old again, thinking about the girl who bought her vending machine candy and made friendship bracelets with her to distract her from the fact that her parents were dying. She’s looking for Lena in every stranger on the street and every shadow she passes. Wondering if one day, she’ll get lucky and sprain her ankle or break a finger and see her in an Urgent Care waiting room.

She looks for signs the way she does with her parents.

When two bluejays land on Kara’s windowsill on the first day of spring, she knows undoubtedly it’s her mom and dad coming to say hello. And when she spots a double rainbow while walking home from school with Alex in a thunderstorm, she can feel it’s the two of them looking out and making sure they get home safely. 

But with Lena, they’re a double-edged sword. It stings when she’s reminded of just how much she doesn’t know and it stings when she’s hit with the reality that maybe Lena really is gone and maybe these moments aren’t just the universe letting her know she’s alright.

It hurts in ways she’ll never be able to explain to lose both parents in an instant. But for all that pain, at least Kara will never have to wonder again if it’s real. She’ll never fear for the day she’ll be told they were out there all this time but now, they’re dead. 

Kara thinks back to that evening on the helipad more often than she’ll admit. When she’s alone in her room, hugging Lena’s pillow close (the last thing she touched. The last thing of hers) it becomes increasingly harder to filter out those thoughts. 

It was never an emergency. They were transferring her to another hospital– one in Metropolis that the Luthors had bought for her. It was a newer facility with doctors who had bigger names and researchers who in seconds, could put the ones in Gotham to shame. 

Casey had said it was better this way. It meant they’d get to say ‘see you later’ (not goodbye, never goodbye) – a luxury not every loved one gets. And perhaps this hospital was an act of love from the Luthors. They were putting Lena’s needs before theirs, and that had to stand for something. 

Kara doesn’t know.  She doesn’t know anything, except that Lena’s a hundred miles away, or in another world, and still, she consumes her.

She’s the reason Kara checks out medical textbooks from the library that she studies instead of her homework. She’s why Kara gets on her knees before bed and for the first time in years, prays to a God she isn’t sure she believes in anymore (because what kind of God could allow one person to lose their world so many times?). She asks for Lena to still be alive because she deserves a chance to get away from all the hatred in her life and to finally live for herself. She asks for her to be healthy and in remission, with the beautiful, thick hair, she’s spent the past three years missing. 

And even though it feels selfish– her problems pale in comparison to cancer, Kara asks for a sign. A real one to show Lena is still out there. 

In the weeks that follow, she feels ridiculous for hoping. It’s like throwing a penny into a fountain and asking for a thousand dollars– those things never come true.

Until one day, she stops at the library after school instead of going home. The librarian stops her before she can find the non-fiction section and asks Kara to come to the front desk. 

Kara does as she’s told, wrapping her fingers around her backpack straps as she waits to be told she’s finally been caught on overdue books or she’s being kicked out for coming in without an adult. But there’s nothing. No scolding. No reprimanding. 

“You’re always reading those medical books,” the librarian says instead. “So I set one of these aside for you. I thought you might find it interesting. Came in yesterday.” 

She pulls out a magazine and hands it across the table to Kara. It’s thick like a book with glossy paper– the kind of thing they keep in doctors’ offices and hospital waiting rooms. And when she sees the cover, Kara nearly faints. 

It’s Lena. Fourteen-year-old alive Lena. Lena, who has short, dark curly hair. Lena, who is free of her NG tube and central line, who wears makeup– real makeup, and freckles on her cheeks from finally going outside. 

Lena Luthor - the Medical Marvel of the Oncology World, the cover reads. The most incredible nine words Kara has ever seen.

She can’t help the way she beams down at the photo. Her heart pounds so hard it feels like it could beat right out of her chest, but Kara doesn’t care. Lena is alive and she’s okay. 

For the first time in seven months, Kara feels like she can breathe again. 

[chojrak-making-things]

Today I want to show you world that was made almost 6 years ago, and has been pretty forgotten by now. This world is called Mandora and it’s mild exotic island made by GreenPhoenix. It wasn’t fully released as an alpha, but was in the making in 2017 and was released as beta, for testing. For me it looks like finished, and since download is still publicly available, I decided to remind about this gem. This world come with a save file, so it’s populated.

To download, you need to go to *this thread* at ModTheSims, scroll down to post #18 written by GreenPhoenix, and at the end of this post you’ll see attached files of world and save file.

This world requires all expansion packs except for Supernatural. From Stuff Packs it uses Outdor Living Stuff and Town Life Stuff. No store or CC as far as I know. All other information you can find in thread linked above.

I encourage to leave original water color, at least for first time, because world looks really pretty with it.

More pictures under the cut

...

This is town centre and first district of houses (more towards bottom)

It has nice cafe and arcade.

You can also find this nice little park with playground and fishing spot.

And alley with houses that looks kind of exotic (?) I guess. Most of them have one color as a scheme, for both interiors and outside. They’re covered in corrugated sheet.

Interior of one of the houses, lilac one.

Second district is more towards middle of island. It’s heavy brick and industrialized area. Though very clean and chic in that matter.

It has apartments too!

and cute little coffehouse. You’ll find a surprise in basement, lol.

Driving towards other edge of island, you’ll find swamp area and farm district.

Houses in farm area are very detailed and well made.

They have even sloped roofs with beams and wood textures. Debug lights were used on outside to light the whole building evenly.

On top of island there’s area with more suburban and regular style of houses. I would say the most neutral ones. Seems spacious and good for big families.

And on this flat peninsula bellow you’ll find futuristic houses. Also rainbow colored. These seems more expensive ones.

Recently I was also wondering, that since most colors are segregated and prescribed for certain houses, this world would be good for Not So Berry Challenge. 

...

There are also multiple houseboats closer to the centre. In one of them lives a lady who loves lilac color and animal prints, so some interiors despite one color or one shade, are very characteristic.

and the creator didn’t forget about diving places either! So definitely a good choice if you’re looking for light substitute of Isla Paradiso. For sure it is less laggy.

Around 2017, when I had first time Mandora in my game, I felt like this town lacks of certain spontaneity and crazyness, but now I see I just wasn’t paying attencion to details. Usually exotic worlds attacks you with dense jungle or orgy of colors and patterns, but this one seems more calm, orderly, and tidy. I think it’s cool we have now something made in that way.

I was lurking on MTS while this world was in making, but had problems with my account and finally didn’t write anything there. It’s specific site, and I felt unmeritoric comments wouldn’t be welcomed in world making section. Though I felt like I should at least somehow cheer, because encouragement is always nice during such a long projects. I’m sure author had a blog with process of making, maps and addresses of certain lots, but I can’t find a link now. Don’t know if it was on tumblr or other platform. I think it was blogspot or wordpress more likely. So if you find it by a chance, please post link in comments.

Thanks for reading!

...

[aoibhinnslater04]

SOC x ACOTAR

Chapter 9: The deal’s the deal

Word count:2985

I've also started posting this on ao3

Jesper didn’t know how he was going to react when he saw Rhysand and his gang today. He hadn’t been able to sleep all night, choosing instead to go watch the sunrise on Inej’s favourite roof ledge. She had brought him here before, when it was just Jesper, Inej and Kaz, after a particularly frustrating night of Kaz refusing to tell them anything he had planned for a job, just expecting they would trust him blindly. They had, and it had worked out, but Inej and Jesper had sat up all night, discussing how to tell their boss that he could never do that again without angering him, before watching the sunrise together. 

He didn’t know when he had started seeing Inej like the sunrise, dark and hidden at times, but when she was happy she was radiant, she brightened the whole sky. He really hoped she was ok.

Kaz had known, from the moment he answered the phone, the caller ID saying ‘Inej’, that they held the upper hand over Rhysand. How, Jesper would never understand. Rhysand held their friend’s mind in his hands. She could have been killed many times, especially once he realised she had called them to beg for help. Jesper would never forget the terrified sobs from that call. If there was one thing Inej needed, it was control over her own body, especially after her years under Tante Heleen’s thumb. And it had been taken away from her in a single moment. 

But Kaz had managed to get them to agree to his choice of venue for the parley, as well as allowing Inej to go free for the simple price of agreeing to hear them out. They clearly were desperate, only asking for the dagger Inej had stolen in return. 

So tonight, Kaz, Nina, Wylan, Matthias and Jesper would go to Black Veil Island. Tamar and Tolya, who had just returned with a letter addressed to Inej from Queen Zoya, as well as their captain “Sturmhond”, would be waiting in their ship in Fifth Harbour to hear from the Crows, so if Rhysand decided to kill them or steal their minds, at least they would be aware. But they had brought something else of value also: they had brought the secrets of a technique called ‘mental shielding’, which should protect them from Rhysand.

The game was on.

~~~~~

Cassian watched his brother pace back and forth, his face like thunder and a swirl of shadows swirling around around his legs, like the darkness was trying to soothe him. Kaz Brekker held all the cards and Rhys knew it. The Crows were a bunch of kids, but they were resourceful and knew Ketterdam better than they ever could. If anyone could help get Nyx back, it was likely to be them, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. Cassian was currently on ‘get Rhys to get his shit together’ duty, but if Feyre couldn’t get him to pull himself together (and honestly he didn’t want to know what she tried, cause his imagination could do a lot with what he heard from the next room- no way anyone could beat that), then no one could.

“Rhys,” he said, going for the safe option that likely wouldn’t get him thrown in the river by his balls. But Rhys did not answer.

 “Rhysie poo?” he tried, smirking a little before Rhys actually did whirl to meet his gaze. That smirk fell flat awfully fast. The fire in Rhys’s eyes… shit, Cassian thought the reason Nesta and Rhys didn’t get on was because they were too alike, and this was just more proof of his theory.

He gulped quickly before rushing on. “We need to get going. The Crows are going to be waiting, and you’ve been wallowing long enough.”

“They can wait,” Rhys responded, icily. “They won’t move against us when we have Inej.”

Cassian glanced quickly at the girl who sat calmly on the couch, ignoring them. Rhys hadn’t let her mind go yet, despite it being part of the conditions from the call with Kaz. 

“Don’t you think we should let her go first? Obviously not to go bolting off again, but so she’s aware of what’s going on? They won’t see us as potential allies if we’re keeping their friend under our control. Let’s just go in, with her free, as a gesture of good faith. We can’t afford new enemies if we already have some we don’t know anything about.”

Rhys glared at him, but there was less fire in it, as he sighed and released Inej. She blinked a couple of times, and glanced around, before her entire body stilled as she took in the two winged males before her. Cassian couldn’t be sure she was breathing, if he was being honest.

 She had the stillness of the Fae, but her eyes were human. And they were terrified. 

Rhys took a step back, his wings disappearing, before he gestured to Cassian, a silent not my monkey not my zoo, although Cassian would argue it was very much his zoo, and they were all definitely clowns. They thought this change would be so simple, and everything would be better. It’s just been getting so much harder, and not only for them, he realised, before tucking in his wings and crouching to be less imposing for poor Inej, one of the casualties in their dream. 

She stiffened slightly, but it was like she had completely given up. She wasn’t trying to run, probably because she realised Rhys could just stop her again. She was right, but it broke Cassian’s heart to realise how poorly she viewed his kind hearted brother, and honestly, all of his family. And his heart only cracked more when he realised how they had taken this teenager and broke her trust in herself completely. She wouldn’t be the same person after all this was over, and they all knew it. 

He touched her knee gently, and she flinched slightly but didn’t move. “It’s ok, Inej. We’re gonna meet with your friends now. You’re gonna be home, and Rhys will stay out of your head. Ok?”

Her voice cracked slightly when she answered, as her gaze flicked between him and Rhys. ”Why? What are they giving you in exchange for me?”

Ah, Ketterdam. A place where nothing good came without a catch, clearly. 

Cassian turned to glare at Rhys, who was looming imposingly against the back wall, and he could swear that Rhys was making the room darker on purpose, before turning back to the Wraith. “Nothing, Inej. It’s a show of good faith. We need some help, and we offered you back if they would just hear us out.”

“I’m not some collectible that you can trade back and forth. I’m a person!” she bit back, tears threatening to fall.

Cassian glanced helplessly back, but Rhys already had moved forward and crouched beside him. Inej went deathly still again, but this time he could hear how fast she was breathing. The girl was close to a panic attack before anything really had been said, and he had no idea how to help. She was hardly likely to agree to train with him in this state, right?

But Rhys was answering her now, his tone smooth and gentle, like he was trying to soothe a frightened animal. “You are, Inej. I’m sorry that this went so far. I thought Kaz had taken something from me, and I wanted to take something from him in return, and I thought you would be the most useful to me. And I was right, but I couldn’t understand how you of all people didn’t know where he was. Until you and Az went into that house. And I saw your memories from it. He’s not with your Kaz. He’s with them.”

“Who’s with them?” she whispered, her eyes not moving away from Rhys’s, like if they did, he would attack. 

“My son”, he finally responded. “They took my son.”

~~~~~

Feyre finished tying her braid, then stepped back, regarding herself in the mirror. Her face was drained of colour, and the dark rings under her eyes said plenty about her current sleep habits. Oh, what an impression she would make on the Crows. She jumped as her door swung open, Nesta striding in.

"Oh good, your hair is done. That only leaves the makeup to do."

Feyre shook her head in disbelief. "What do you mean, Nesta? I'm ready, I wasn't planning on wearing makeup."

Nesta grabbed Feyre's shoulders, holding her still as she looked her up and down, something like sympathy in her gaze. "Feyre. You look like shit. You are High Lady of the Night Court, and no matter how little that means here, it means a lot to all of us. You are a leader, and for anyone else to believe it, you need to believe it first." She sat down, patting the piece of bed beside her, before noting Feyre's hesitance, and she sighed. "You're hurting. I know. I miss him too, and we'll bring down hell until Nyx is back. But you need to keep your armour up until we get home. You can scream, and cry, and do whatever will make you feel better then, but for now? Armour up."

Nesta finished Feyre's makeup quickly, and stood up, checking her watch, before informing her they were to leave in ten minutes. She turned to leave, before hesitating. "I love you Feyre." Feyre smiled sadly at her older sister, who still struggled to say those three words aloud. But she was trying. Feyre was trying too. "I love you too."

~~~~~

Nina was wringing her hands in anticipation as the other Crows stood tense beside her. She had the Shadowsinger's blade in her belt, the only weapon other than Inej's knives, which should be returning with her, that were allowed. That being said, Jesper and Wylan had spent all morning hiding some of Wylan's bombs and Jesper's pair of guns, if things went wrong, just in case. It wasn't like the Court of Dreams didn't have their own powers to protect themselves, anyway. Better safe than sorry, after all.

There was no sign of any boat coming, but she had no doubt the Fae could come up with their own impressive entrance, if only to prove how much lesser the Crows were to them. And sure enough, with a sudden shift in the air, there came a group of tall, beautiful people who did not look of this world. Kaz didn't wait for a second before stepping forward, Saints bless him.

"Rhysand", he greeted, somehow looking down on the male who stepped forward, power rippling off of him. "I believe you have someone of mine?"

Inej crept forward from where she was hidden within the crowd, bolting across as soon as she was over an arm's length away, to where Jesper was waiting, who pulled her into a bear hug, before pulling back and looking her up and down.

"She hasn't been harmed, Jesper," came Rhysand's cold, amused voice, the darkness in it sending a chill down Nina's back. Inej shrank behind Jesper at the sound. "Of course, why would I ever think that? You only kidnapped her and kept her under your control for how long, exactly?" Jesper snapped back, his anger only seeming to amuse Rhysand further.

"You've all got mental shields up now", he observed. "How... Quaint. I could break through them without much more than a thought, but the effort is appreciated."

Nina grabbed Inej's hand, and squeezed it tight. She couldn't tell if it was Inej or herself that was trembling. They had been preparing for this meeting since Inej had called them, they had done their research and did everything they could to get their mental shields ready for his inevitable attack, but it was a lot harder to keep it up when they were standing in front of him. He had hundreds of years of experience, they had only been practising for a few days. But they weren't planning on backing down now. Inej had needed them, and this old bastard would not be the end of them yet.

The Fae lady beside him stepped forward, her hands lifted in a peaceful gesture. She was thin, and pale, and had so much pain in her eyes, but the other Fae beside her stepped back, looking at her with so much respect that this could only be their High Lady, Feyre. "We don't intend on breaking through your shields", she said, throwing a glare towards Rhysand. "I'm sure Rhys only meant that as a warning, should you face any other daemati, right, Rhys?"

Rhysand lowered his gaze sheepishly and picked at the shoulder of his dark suit. "Of course, darling." He turns to speak directly to the Crows. "My apologies. Although I would appreciate at least an attempt to keep them up when you’re all screaming ‘old bastard’ towards me. Please?”

Nina glanced uneasily around at the rest of the Crows. Apparently it’s more difficult to keep a mental shield up than they thought. Who knew?

~~~~~

Kaz kept his expression cold as he stared down Rhysand. He could feel the tension in his Crows, and he wasn’t going to let that OLD FAE BASTARD (Coincidentally, said Fae bastard winced at this exact moment) screw with them. The Fae lost every bit of leverage they had when they gave Inej back, and so Kaz would let them say their piece, as he had agreed, but if they didn’t get started soon, he would be taking his Crows and leaving.

Feyre shot a look at Rhysand, and Kaz could almost hear their silent, mental argument, before Feyre turned back towards them with a quick smile. “Thank you for agreeing to hear us out. We-”

“Don’t make that sound so civil,” Kaz interrupted. “You had taken my Wraith hostage, we only agreed to hear you out in order to get her back. Let’s not try to appear like any of us wanted this. You were desperate. Likely because whatever happened in that house left Inej with free will, the free will YOU took away from her. Now I’m guessing there’s more to it than that. Probably you wouldn’t have let her in without an escort, likely your shadowsinger -by the way Nina, he’s probably eager for his dagger back- but something happened in that house. Something which blocked your power over Inej, and probably affected your shadowsinger’s powers too. There is something in that house which you want, something you can’t get to, and you need non-Fae people who aren’t under your power to get it. So that means you have to trust us. My only question is why, in the name of all the Saints, you thought WE would be willing to help you, after everything you’ve done to us.”

Feyre’s mouth had fallen open, and Rhysand had gradually gotten paler with every word. Saints, he loved being underestimated. It made beating high-power people so much more entertaining when they didn’t see it coming. But even though he had a little smirk on his face, he raised his eyebrow in a clear challenge. Feyre coughed slightly to clear her throat, before she hurriedly continued. “We know it mightn’t be…the MOST appealing of jobs. But we can pay well, and…”

“And what makes you think we want your money?” Jesper interrupted. Usually Kaz would stop him here, but he and Jesper had talked on the way over to Black Veil Island, and both agreed that they would rather not accept the job than just roll over at the mere mention of kruge. The damage between both gangs ran too deep, and they wouldn’t make Inej work with them because of greed. “Don’t think just because you’re desperate, and sorry, and whatever, that it makes up for what you did. You took Inej-”

“And they took our son!” “And why would we care about anything to do with your family?”

“We thought YOU had taken him!”

“So taking Inej was your solution?”

“You don’t know what you would do in that situation.” “Sure we do, we’ve done it before. All we did was take Wy’s stepmother, and we gave her cookies, and let her sing, despite how shit it was, and-”

“You clearly don’t know shit about family, and what you should do for them.”

At this Kaz’s cane banged on the ground, and everyone, even the huge Fae, fell silent. He stalked forward between the groups, and turned to the Fae. “We know what we would do for our family. You TOOK part of our family, and we are here, listening to you, because of it. You started this war between us, and you came to regret it. That? It’s not our problem. As far as I’m concerned, you haven’t suffered enough,” he said, his voice as cold as ice. 

Rhysand stepped forward, his face white with rage, and Nina quickly threw her hands up, slowing his heart before he could do anything. The two Illyrians snarled and ran at her, but Matthias blocked their way with a roar of rage as they began to fight. Jesper and Wylan ran forward to grab him when he was knocked to the ground, leaving a crater in his wake. Those Batboys clearly weren’t holding back. Nina growled with anger, not loosening her grip on Rhysand as the bones of the dead began crawling towards them, and they began to move hurriedly backwards yelling at her, but before anything else could happen, Inej stepped forward, and all the Crows turned to look at her. She was shaking, and Kaz reached out towards her without thinking but she raised her voice over all the commotion. 

“Enough!” She looked at Kaz, a plea in her gaze. “Can we talk?”

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 28: … Polo. A long dark game of hide and seek on the open ocean.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

As the roof buckled and rolled, I dug down into my muscles for an extra burst of speed. In my peripheral vision, I could see Mitsuhide keeping pace with me. Underneath my feet, the crumbling certamic tile cracked and shattered, sending shards through the leather of my shoes. Then the building pitched backward, and I slid back with it, until Mitsuhide grabbed my arm and flung me at the tree.

Instinctively, I reached for the branch. The slick bark stung my hands, but I held on.

Where was Mitsuhide? I hadn’t sensed him leaping for the tree as well.

Smoke billowed around us, with a whooshing backdraft, and I looked for Mitsuhide, only to find him half in the tree… with his foot wedged behind him in the fence. “Go!”

Not happening.

In fact, Hideyoshi had already grabbed onto the Mitsuhide and was hauling him toward us. Mai and and I added our weight, and we pulled him clear just as the building went up in flames. Behind him, even the fence collapsed under the shockwave of heat and sparks.

There was no time to celebrate our escape. Though the explosion and resulting fire had probably bought us some breathing room, since Motonari’s soldiers were going to need to try to save their weapons and supplies, there was still the issue of getting off this island.

None of us hesitated as we hurried through the trees, rushing toward the cove. The fire-glow night was not enough illumination, and the path was slick and full of roots and gravel that made a flat out sprint dangerous to our health. From feel of things, the roof had sliced my shoe open, and it was harder to get a grip on the ground. Hideyoshi was clutching his ribs, and Mitsuhide was limping, but both stopped to help Mai when she tripped over a log and went sprawling.

Behind us, footsteps crashed through the brush – it sounded like they’d sent a few men after us. Hideyoshi reached for his sword, and only now did I wonder where he’d gotten it from. Possibly taken it off one of the soldiers in the camp while he and Mitsuhide were trying to get to Mai. But even as Hideyoshi turned to face what was behind us, Mitsuhide was there first, easily dispatching a soldier with a swift smooth strike of his sword.

And then we were joined by Kyubei who slashed at the enemy with a pair of short swords using a speed and grace that I envied.

Above us on the mountain, there was another explosion, this one louder than the first. The rest of their gunpowder, I supposed.

It wasn’t long before the men attacking us decided they were fighting a losing battle, and scurried off into the forest.

“Boat is loaded.” Kyubei cleaned off his swords with an easy flick that sent whatever blood he’d drawn into the earth.

“Good.” Mitsuhide nodded at Hideyoshi, patted Mai’s arm and … ignored me completely as he led the way to the cove. Hopefully the small boat could fit five people, because otherwise, I could almost bet that I would be the first person to be kicked out.

When we reached the safety… well, the relative safety of the cove, I hung back to watch the others. It was the first moment to catch our breath… for them to reunite.

Kyubei bowed solemnly to Hideyoshi, let himself be hug-mugged by Mai, who then turned to Mitsuhide and flung her arms around him too. He froze a moment and closed his eyes, lightly patting the back of her head, but I saw it. A quick flash of unguarded pain, before the kitsune’s mask returned.

And though I had already suspected, in fact, known, seeing it played out on his face caused my stomach to momentarily clench up, followed by a cold tingling in my limbs.

He loves her.

If there had ever been any doubt of that, it would have been erased in that moment. I recalled the lock of hair that Mitsuhide had kept hidden in the box where he had secreted Aki’s letter. Mai’s hair.

Did Hideyoshi know? I glanced over at the man to check, but he wasn’t even looking at them. He was leaning over, breathing hard. Yes he definitely was a worse condition than Mai. I dug through the supplies and found a waterskin for him.

He took a long drink. "Thank you.'' He handed it back to me. "I'm sorry, young man. I don't know your name."

Mai suddenly laughed. "I didn’t get her name either."

At that Hideyoshi squinted at me, smiled and bowed. "Young lady, then." He turned to Mitsuhide. “You involved an innocent young girl in your schemes?” Even half out of breath, he sounded like a disappointed parent.

"This-" Mitsuhide plopped his hand on top of my head, and there was a warning in that pressure, "young, ahem, lady is Kaya.” Oh joy we were keeping that damn name then? "And if you'll excuse us for a moment, we need to have a refresher course on following directions." Then he glanced up at the mountain. “Or will as soon as we cast off.”

The royal we had returned with a vengeance, I see. How 'we' were going to have a private lesson on a boat the size of a studio apartment, I don’t know... but once we all climbed aboard, Mai snuggled up with her man, and Kyubei expertly got to work manning the sail, so I supposed it constituted enough privacy for Mitsuhide’s lecture.

He reached toward me, and I had the urge to flinch and duck, even though I knew he would never physically punish me. In fact, all he did was remove the shredded shoe from my foot. He held it up to the lantern light. “This… might have been you. Or Mai. Do you perhaps believe that because there were no casualties to your action that you are safe from the ramifications?”

In fact, I did not believe that at all. Not when the evidence of his low voiced anger was in front of my eyes. Still, I had to at least make an attempt to if not defend, at least to explain myself. "I had every intention of staying in the tree.” It’s not like this time I planned to ignore his orders, but the circumstances had called for improvisation.

"And, yet, you left the safety of the tree, left your post, putting my entire scheme at risk. You put Mai at risk." Clearly the latter was the most egregious error. I had risked Mai’s life. Or at least, he believed I had.

She glanced up at the sound of her name. Though I am sure she and Hideyoshi were trying to ignore us, but out here nothing was private.

"She was already in danger because of the second guard. I thought I could just-" In my attempt to explain matters, I was getting things out of order. I tried again. "I thought-"

Mitsuhide put his finger on my lips. "Our agreement was for obedience, not thought." He returned my shoe, then rummaged through the supplies and pulled out a small ceramic jar. “Your foot, if you will.”

It took me a moment to process the change in topic, then I realized that the jar contained salve. As requested, I extended my foot toward him, and he silently rubbed the ointment over my scrapes. Even through the cloak of his anger, there was still gentleness to his touch, harking back to the days after my concussion, when he had massaged healing oil on my forehead.

"Wait." Mai, who, I realized, had been silently observing our discussion, tried to interject her opinion. "I don't know exactly what’s going on, but Kaya saved me after I- "

Boom!

Whatever else she was going to say would have to wait.

As our boat cleared the mouth of the cove, Motonari's ship lurked, ready to greet us.

While the cannonball didn’t come close to hitting the boat, the resulting wave nearly swamped us anyway. As the small craft rocked and tilted, both Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi reached to steady Mai. It was like together the three were a single unit. Not exactly like some Sengoku era ménage. Just that they were so used to working together that they acted as one.

Given that I was not part of their trio, I followed Kyubei’s lead and simply grabbed onto the side of the boat for balance.

Boom!

Another cannonball splashed down approximated in the same spot as the first one.

"Their aim is terrible." I braced myself for another wave.

"They're too far away to hit us." It was Kyubei who took the time to explain. “Motonari risks grounding his vessel if he comes any closer to shore."

"Then why? Oh. They're just not letting us leave." We were effectively at a stalemate. The Oda forces had Motonari's ship blocked, but neither one had managed to defeat the other. Our little boat was Motonari's insurance. Technically we were all still hostages.

Boom!

Once again, I grabbed hold of the side right before the wake from the cannonball tossed our little boat around. I glanced back at the island, wondering if we'd be better off taking our chances in the jungle against Motonari's men. Mitsuhide shook his head before I could even ask. "They know the area better than we do. I like our chances better in open water." He shuttered our lanterns. "In the dark."

Then the lights on Motonari's ship all winked out, and immediately after that the Oda vessel vanished into the darkness as well. We were all involved in a giant game of Marco Polo it seemed, for the remainder of the night. Clearly, no one was going anywhere until dawn.

As soon as we plunged into darkness, I heard Kyubei alter the direction of the sail, and felt the wind as our small boat moved further west. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see him take the sail down completely. Then a muffled plonk as Mitsuhide lowered our anchor into the water.

"First watch is mine." Mitsuhide's voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear him. The implable tone dared anyone to argue, although he apparently anticipated one from his friend, for he added, "Mai, if Hideyoshi doesn’t sleep, you are to smother him."

There were no separate orders to myself, or Kyubei. Kyubei likely already knew what was expected of him, and as for me, Mitsuhide was probably wishing he’d never purchased me.

You’ve been a source of chaos since we met.

I should have just kept searching for Aki on my own. I would be no worse off than I am now. At least I wouldn’t be stuck in a small boat in the middle of the ocean with Mitsuhide and his chivalric object of desire.

And her fiancée.

Who was his best friend.

Taking care not to make any noise, I found my pack, stuck it under my head for a pillow, and shut my eyes. Across the expanse of the water sounds carried incredibly well. From the soft sighs as Mai and Hideyoshi held onto each other in their reunion, Kyubei’s faint whistling snores, and Mitsuhide's nearly imperceptible regulated breathing - yes these were all magnified.

But as sleep continued to escape me, I deepened my focus and listened underneath that. I could hear the creaks and groans of the Mouri and Oda ships further out to sea, the slap of waves against the side of the boats and occasional splashes of nocturnal fish as it tested the surface. The wind whispered to the leaves on the trees ashore, and a couple night birds called to each other.

And through it all, there was Mitsuhide's silent tense presence.

Alert.

Keeping watch.

He was still furious with me. I didn’t have to see his face to know that. No matter that I had had good reason, I had deserted my post, and put those he loved at risk. We had finally gotten to the point where he trusted me, and I had just broken that.

As much as I still hated him…

Do you hate him? Really?

My regret illuminated a path, one that was full of memories: that teasing smirk on his face as he taught me how to pick locks, his glee and satisfaction when I broke him out of Motonari’s cell... and at the core, the way he had washed my hair, held me when I was throwing up from vertigo, and played the flute when he believed me unconscious.

No. I no longer hated him. I wasn't sure exactly what I felt but, it wasn’t hate.

Did I maybe even love him? I had always assumed that if I were to fall in love, there would be a knowing… a surety that I was in love. This? Tentatively, I probled my feelings the way I might have poked at a sore tooth with my tongue… carefully, to avoid hitting a nerve. Thoughts of the warmth and fun it was to debate him, the light in his eyes when he teased, the gentleness that he would probably deny he possessed…

But... what did it matter? Any respect or affection he had had for me before today was gone. The entirety of his feelings were for his friends. He was clearly in love with Mai, possibly even also with Hideyoshi.

Ow.

Yep. That was the sore-tooth nerve that just got poked. The pain I felt - it was worse than what I felt when I thought Aki had abandoned me at that Inn. As bad as when my mother killed herself. I felt cold all over and a tightness in my lungs. 

So what would be the point of any further thoughts toward him? Even if he were not currently angry, he had no room in his life for me. I was not the sort to pine for what I could not have, not the sort to abandon my search for the rest of my family for some dusty corner of his heart. No, I would concentrate on the things I could control.

Good idea, Katsuko. Concentrate on getting out of this alive.

And, so, while I was mentally tossing and turning these feelings over in my mind, and physically dealing with the sharp corner of a box digging into my ribs, I became aware of a noise. The sound of metal gears, the groaning of ropes, and… a splash.

The sort of splash made when someone lowers a small boat into the water.

Creak.

The sound of wooden oars.

Splish. Creak.

The sound of a rowboat.

Splish. Creak.

It would be a risk to take a rowboat out in the dark, but if you knew this area well, and I presumed Motonari clearly did, you could navigate toward the island by sound.

Were they looking for us? Or heading to land to pick up reinforcements?

Splish. Creak.

Very carefully, I sat up. Mitsuhide had to have heard it too. I glanced over to where he had been before I closed my eyes, but couldn’t sense his presence. After a moment of listening, I pinpointed his location next to our weapons. What was he planning? He couldn’t shoot blindly at them - as soon as he lit the fuse on his gun they would know where we were.

Then I felt a light tap on my wrist as Mitsuhide handed me my bow and arrows. Did he want me to shoot instead? The rowboat wasn’t yet within range. If it got close enough, I could probably hit something, but at the moment it would be a waste of effort. He leaned close, said into my ear, "Wait."

Then with a soft rustle of clothing, he stripped (I presume). Before I could react further, he turned and lowered himself into the water so softly that the boat barely dipped with his action, then ducked beneath the surface.

What the hell did he think he was doing?

He moved through the ocean silently, there was only the faintest ripple if you knew where to listen for it.

What if there were sharks?

Were there sharks?

The sky was ever so lightly purpling now. I squinted toward the direction of the rowboat, and in the dimness of pre-dawn, I could see the faint smudge skimming along the surface. I couldn’t see Mitsuhide at all. Maybe he was the shark, gliding silently under the water.

If so, Motonari’s men were going to need a bigger boat.

Next to me, Kyubei set up with - was that a crossbow? How had he gotten his hands on a crossbow? It was had to be Chinese made. They used crossbows far more commonly than we did.

Where can I get one?

"Where is Mitsuhide?" That was Hideyoshi, finally awake and talking over our shoulders.

I pointed to the water, then added a shrug to indicate that "in the ocean" was about as specific as I could get. From the approaching smudge of the rowboat, I saw the spark of a match cord being lit. Good, Now I had a target.

I Iet an arrow fly in the direction of the spark, hoping that given the slight breeze, the distance, and the rocking of our own vessel, I could manage to get close to hitting something. A sprong and a whistle indicated Kyubei had the same idea.

From the smudge, a thud and a muffled oath. No idea which of us had hit it. Maybe we both had.

From Hideyoshi a much less muffled oath. "The ocea- son of a bitch!”

He subsided as Mai responded in soothing tones. “Shh. Your injuries.”

A spark flared.

"Down!" Kyubei ordered.

The spark was followed by the crack of the musket. I ducked, though it hadn’t been necessary. Somewhere to the right of us the bullets slapped with water. And, then as the sun fully peered over the horizon, the rowboat containing four of Motonari’s sailors came into focus.

What I could also see was Mitsuhide's arms, as he suddenly grasped the edge of the boat. For one horrible moment, I was terrified that he was going to haul himself on board and take on all of them at once, and I internally echoed Hideyoshi’s cursing. Instead, with one tremendous pull, Mitsuhide yanked the rowboat over, dumping all of them into the water. The resulting splash echoed through the morning, as did, once again, Hideyoshi's swearing.

Quite a vocabulary he has in fact. Amongst the choice-er, as Mr. Spock would say 'colorful metaphors’? I heard the words, “self-sacrificial ass.” Had I a spare moment, I might have enjoyed comparing notes with him.

As it was, I kept my eyes focused on ocean ahead of us. The sailors were splashing frantically around, trying to flip their boat back over. Any of their guns would be inoperable. As for their swords -  well, they would have to decide whether or not to save them or risk sinking with them.

Ok. If that had been Mitsuhide's plan, it had worked out. I scanned the water to look for either the dark shape that would indicate where he was, or a quick moment when he surfaced to take a breath. With my attention on the water, and not on the ship further out to sea, I was startled by the:

Boom.

Which was immediately followed by a heavy splash as the cannonball landed in the ocean…  right where I expected Mitsuhide to be. Holy-

“Fuck.” (Hideyoshi again).

Mai simply let out a whimper as she pressed her hands in her mouth.

@bestbryn @lorei-writes @lyds323 @selenacosmic @tele86 @akitsuneswife

[runakamoran]

A bit of HeartCore wip

So, I desided to join the Wip Wednesday to let you know I'm (mostly) alive and still writing. Really want to finish this one. For now, have a little piece, hope you enjoy.

***

This day on the island was going just the same as all working days; except there were a little more visitors due to the new Armstrong project participants arriving. But, by the time her shift started at 7 p.m., the crowd was going away, mostly to their hotels. At 11, only the most inveterate revelers were staying, and by midnight the small Asian restaurant was completely empty. That’s why Masala loved evening shifts — she could spend most of them sitting in her phone at the bar counter and still get paid for it. Would be a dream job if only they paid better.

The only one who stayed with her at night was the cook - a decommissioned WA-ES-2 model, a taciturn and non-conflict robot named Long Jing. When he wasn’t working in the kitchen, he wrote poetry or philosophized out loud, not really disturbing his colleague. And he never ratted her out to the boss. Best co-worker out there.

The next shift was passing by, just as quiet and boring as always, until the sirens suddenly howled at two in the morning. Masala looked up from dashboard scrolling and rushed to the window. Nothing changed in the quiet streets of residential district; but red and green lights were gathering in the black sky - special forces units rushed to the alarm.

“Any cause for concern to us?” Long Jing said thoughtfully. The waitress shrugged.

“Nah, probably not. They won't tell us anything anyway”.

Working for Vandelay was coupled with a ridiculous number of non-disclosure agreements. Any incidents were quickly swept under the rug to be hushed up and, God forbid, not to get into journalists hands. Everything that happens on the island stays on it, but the law didn’t prevent workers from exchanging ridiculous rumors and gossip. And for them Masala dived into the worker’s chat, looking for juicy details. Out of info scraps and blurry photos, it became clear the alarm was raised at the production center. All employees were evacuated from the department, but no one found out why. Although, considering how many new Armstrong members arrived today, it wouldn't be surprising if some equipment simply couldn't handle the workload. Less likely theories included sabotage, workers strike and "Rekka's gone batshit angry again".

An hour later the commotion subsided and the distant screams of sirens died down. Masala was almost dozing, resting her head on her hand, and half-listening as Long recited his new verses, – when suddenly, an explosion thundered in the quiet night. The girl jumped on the spot. The glasses on the counter clinked, the glass shook in the frame. The robot stopped mid-sentence and turned to the window. A second later, the waitress came running to it.

A blaze was glowing above the flat roofs, a bright golden-orange spot stretching across the night sky. A column of smoke was rising towards the skyscrapers and gathering into heavy coal-black clouds. Recovering from shock, the girl ran out onto the terrace to film everything on her phone. Long Jing followed and said in surprise:

“An ominous and yet, quite fascinating spectacle. I'll write a poem about this”.

“And I’m gonna sell these videos to journalists! A hot stuff like this will get viral, I tell ya”.

“Isn’t this prohibited by our contracts?”

“Of course it is. But also it's profitable!”

Not even a minute passed before people and cars flocked to the flame. Although half the island had gathered at the scene, the fire was still burning. Meanwhile, the work chat also got rekindled. Turns out, the furnace at the recycling center exploded. Maybe the sabotage theory wasn't so stupid after all.

Closer to the morning, when the waitress, immersed in her messenger, thought that nothing more unusual would happen that night, the bell on the front door rang.

Surprised, the girl raised her head from the phone and tried to squeeze out a professional smile. The one who came in was an eccentric, rather shabby-looking guy who greeted her in poor chinese, ordered beer and the largest portion of jiaozi they had. The girl nodded and started writing down the order, sneaking glances at the guest. During her work, she had seen many strange visitors, and in the day she wouldn’t have paid much attention; but after all that commotion, Masala became suspicious of him.

First off, he was wet, as if caught in a good rain, even though not a drop had fallen from the sky today. Second, his clothes weren’t just shabby - they were tattered and covered with stains that looked suspiciously like blood; and although the guy tied his jacket around his waist, Masala saw burn marks on it. Third, the clumsy prosthetic right arm identified him as an Armstrong project participant.

The guy, a mixed race, most likely Asian-American, was lanky and awkward. He leaned sideways on the counter, impatiently tapping his fingers on it, and was trying very hard to pretend nothing strange was happening.

“What a wild night it is, huh?” He finally broke the awkward silence.

“Oh indeed, sir. Your order will be ready in about ten minutes,” Masala placed a filled beer glass in front of him. “By the way... do you know what happened there?”

“Nope. Don’t have the slightest idea,” the guy broke into a wide, innocent and not-at-all suspicious smile. Then he took a deep sip from his glass.

The waitress narrowed her eyes.

“Really? I thought someone like you should know”.

The guest choked on his beer.

“Wha...? But, hah-ahem... why?”

“You have an Armstrong prosthesis, obviously,” Masala pointed her finger at the guy’s shoulder. “So you were in the production center today”.

“Oh, this! Well of course I was there!” he realized. “I was helping to put out the fire. Dunno what was that, but it banged as all heck!”

Masala narrowed her eyes even more.

“Really? And I thought all people were evacuated from the department several hours before the fire. And no one but robots was allowed inside”.

The guy got nervous, sweat appeared on his forehead.

“...can I get the tab right away? Don’t wanna bother you too much. You can keep the change,” he pulled out some damp bills from his wallet, two twenties and a ten, and placed them on the counter. The dollars instantly disappeared in the waitress’ little palm. The girl smiled brightly.

“Thank you sir. Have a nice evening!”

Grabbing his glass, the guy almost ran out of the cafe onto the summer terrace. Long Jing looked up from the stove.

“Quite an unusual young man. Should we report him?”

“No way! I mean, if he was an asshole, then sure... But he left us a tip. That would be impolite,” the girl winked and put a twenty next to her partner. “Here’s your cut”.

“Ah yes, material values. Not the most respectable, but a very simple and peaceful solution to any conflict,” the robot was lost in thought again. “Although it is money that keeps us in this vicious circle. We work hard and earn it, just to give back to our exploiters, instead of overthrowing them and breaking this cycle of tyranny…”

“Oh, stop it, nerd,” Masala rolled her eyes. “Get back to work”.

...Chai sat down at the table further away from the entrance. Cool, he was scammed for money again. Feels like everything on this island is trying to rob the visitors. But it’s better than a nosy waitress raising the alarm. He took a few sips of beer and exhaled tiredly. Time to rest a bit.

From this place was a beautiful view of the glow blazing far on the horizon, illuminating the island like a fallen sun. You really can stare at the fire forever. All the bridges he burned behind; all past failures and doubts, everything was left behind for the sake of one crazy, impulsive, but correct decision. And, despite the slight sadness, his soul felt lighter, finally free from the burden that sought to drag him back to the bottom.

A black shadow rushed underfoot and immediately ducked under a chair, hearing the sound of a door opening. The waitress, still with the same radiant smile on her face, brought him a bowl of hot dumplings dipped in a sauce of garlic and balsamic vinegar. The spicy smell made his stomach churn. Grabbing his chopsticks, Chai jumped on the food.

“Seriously?” The black cat settled down on a chair nearby. “You’re wanted! How can you sit here and eat dumplings?”

“Cuz I'm starving. What reasons do you need,” Chai grumbled. No really, he hasn't eaten anything since last night. When the adrenaline faded, the feeling of hunger became so unbearable it made him forget about caution and run for the nearest restaurant along the way.

“If any patrol comes here now, blame yourself”.

“They won’t. I'm sure all of ‘em are ve-ery busy right now”.

At first, they tried to catch him, of course, blocked roads, searched buildings. But when the fire jumped into the industrial zone, threatening to spread across the entire island, the robots had no time left for him.

His companion, however, was not convinced. She rolled her eyes.

“You look awful. I'm surprised that waitress didn't rat you out”.

“She robbed me of money, that’s why. Creepy gal. I’m almost sure she’s watching me,” Chai turned to the cafe window. Seems like the curtain moved on it.

Grumbling a little and telling him to hurry up, 808 curled up on the seat. She's right, of course; but he wanted to linger, get the moment to last a little more. The weather is good, cool and clear, except for the smoke and smell of burning carried by the wind. For some reason, the sight of fiery glow was calming even. Chai felt proud of himself. Not the best act to be proud of, and yet, he didn’t back down. He fought, resisted evil, and it's worth something. Especially when you spend half of life running away from your problems.

[hopepaigeturner]

🎄 Giftmas Day 3: Basket of favourite food. Polin

I saw the prompt and instantly I thought of Polin! A little modern AU.

Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

Penelope double-checked the shopping list and surveyed the bags on her kitchen island.

Shortbread—check.

Chocolate Buttons—check.

Greg’s sausage roll—check.

The list went on to include Colin’s favourite cider, the one that their local childhood brewery made; a packet of Moams like the ones they used to chuck to each other like grapes during school breaktimes; a packet microwave popcorn—one sweet and one salty although not to be combined until cooked.

It was a lot of work for a homecoming present, but over the years Penelope had enjoyed assembling the package. Whenever she brought that specific packet of chocolate buttons or baked those brownies it felt like walking through a photo album.

But the best part would be after the gifting. When Colin would take her to a park, or they would camp down in the lounge and share the feast. He would tell raucous adventures in far flung places while Penelope talked about the gossip in her office. Such days she could spend and imagine that they were on a proper date and that she didn’t need to bribe her way into his affections.

Colin was her best friend. Always had been and always would. No matter how much Penelope wished for more.

The doorbell rang.

Penelope checked the time—pointless. Eloise was out with her new boyfriend, and she was seeing Colin tomorrow.

She opened the door.

“Hi.”

“Colin?” Penelope cried, jumping into his arms. She felt his chuckle in her chest as they hugged.

“Hiya Pen.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I got an earlier flight.”

“Whatever for?”

Something flickered on Colin’s face—no, no she was imagining things.

“Always want to keep you on your toes.”

“Oh, but I haven’t got your gift ready!” Penelope gasped, mortified as they entered the flat.

“No worries, I’ve got a surprise.”

“For me?”

“No for Noddy—of course for you—put this on.”

He handed her a black mask, like the ones given out on long-haul flights.

“A blindfold?”

“Trust me?” She looked up at him. His eyes had always sparked with mischief, but that spark could never outweigh the calm blue hue of his iris.

“Ofcourse.”

He led her out her and into a car and they drove. Penelope tried to count the turns but gave up and peppered Colin with questions.

“Patience woman! Let me do something nice for you for once.”

That shut her up. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something for her.

Eventually they pulled up somewhere and Colin helped her out the car and through another door. She heard the ‘ting’ of the lift. He took off her blindfold and Penelope was affronted by a set of stairs. She turned to him; Colin shrugged.

“I thought it would be safer.”

Penelope didn’t give it a second thought and ascended. Although she did notice his fingers rhythmically tapping on the handrail as they climbed. Typically, she could guess which song the beat belonged to but there seemed to be no correlation today.

Finally, they reached a door and Penelope opened it and gasped.

They were on a roof at least ten stories up, looking over Hyde Park. Her dream location.

In the centre was a beautifully decorated basket filled with some very familiar items.

“Colin?” she whispered, turning to him. Colin squirmed under her gaze, blushing.

“It’s for you.”

Penelope walked forward and crouched to look through the basket. Some were shared memories, like Moams or Chocolate Buttons. But then there was some ginger beer in the fancy bottle little teashops always used—her favourite. A packet of Wotsits—her favourite. Colin the Caterpillar (her birthday cake for over two decades). And dip-dabs and little macarons from Laduree and fruit winders and…

Every single item revolved around her. That included the Prosecco chilling ina bucket rather than champagne.

“What are we celebrating?” she asked.

“You.” She turned and found Colin on her knees next to her, looking a little sick. “It’s all for you, Pen. My Pen.”

Penelope’s breath caught. He had called her that since she was seven years old, but in that precise moment it held a whole new meaning.

She stared, wordless, as words tumbled out of Colin’s mouth.

“A couple nights ago some veteran backpacker—at least in his fifties—joined our group for dinner. H spent the entire evening just…cracking open the world to us far better than all our travels had done.  At one point he asked our opinion for the reason men gaze at the horizon. We all piped in about yearning for adventure, or reaching new depths of life, but he waved all our answers away. He said that men look at the horizon because they are looking for home. He explained that while the world is a vast mystery ready to be explored, deep down in one’s soul there is only one calling—a calling for home.  And the horizon reminds man where his home is, the one place he yearns to belong.” He took her hands in his. “The next morning I stood and looked out to the horizon and all I thought about, all my heart yearned for…was you.”

Penelope could barely breathe; she could only drown in his words and the soulful expression in his eyes.

“And I realised that for far too long I have been lost, for far too long I have been blind. I have scoured the earth for the very thing that was right in front of me. The one person who is the best thing in my life. The one person who features in my favourite adventures. The one woman who has always had my heart.”

He brought their clasped hands to his heart. Through the fabric of his t-shirt Penelope could just make out the rapidity of his heartbeat. Another rhythm she knew so well.

. “I know I will never be able to make up for all the kindness you have shown me, but this,” he gestured to the basket, “is my offering. A slim offering that does nothing to convey the depth of my feelings for you. The depths…the depths of my love for you Pen.”

In the distance a siren swelled down the street, the wind rippled around them, but Penelope did not feel the chill.

“You love me?”

Colin flinched at her tone and mistook it for disgust rather than disbelief,

“You do not have to say anything back, you do not—”

“But I love you.” He halted, mouth gaping. Penelope shuffled forward and cupped his face. “I have loved you for years Colin Bridgerton. It’s about time you caught up.” Then ever so gently she kissed him.

Penelope’s heart swooped, like a bird dropping off a cliff, rushing towards the sea before suddenly, at the last moment, banking and rising high, high, high into the sky. Her heart continued its trajectory as Colin kissed back with unrelenting passion. Her hands went to his hair as his went around her waist.

And just like their first conversation, their first hug, their first dance at prom and the first time they greeted each other in an airport—it felt as natural as the sun setting along the horizon behind them.

But they weren’t looking at the horizon. They had no need to ever look at it again.

[lilypadding]

Hi! Just like- okay- hear me out! A fic where Nagito wakes up from the Neo World Program first and is left waiting for everyone else to wake up and during this time he visits all the locations that he recalls on the island (in the OVA it seems as if they remember there time in the program and as remnants of despair) but he ends up being triggered by the factory because that is where he died in the Neo World Program so he kind of starts spiraling again and eventually Hajime wakes up second to Nagito like after a few weeks and finds Nagito in shambles over everything and instead of World Destroyer having to help Nagito with his trauma Hajime helps him through it while learning more abt himself and Izuru which also lives in his brain and it being like a healing moment for them both I’m sorry this is so long okay BYE COMMISSION OR REQUEST IS FINE JUST LMK

-- no longer comatose

⋆ summary: an au where nagito wakes up first.

Crossposted on AO3

⋆ pairing: nagito komaeda x hajime hinata

# post-game, temporary amnesia, resurfaced memories, hurt/comfort.

⋆ word count: 6k

⋆ a/n: thank you for requesting! (: I tried my best to fill all the boxes you asked for, and I hope it doesn't disappoint.

masterlist | requests open!

⋆ taglist: @moonlit-raven-haven

The first thing Nagito feels when he opens his eyes is pain. A dull, faraway ache wraps around his left wrist, enough for him to squirm and groan at the blurry view of a metal ceiling. 

The first thing Nagito hears is a low, rhythmic beep. He first registers it as tinnitus, because it indiscreetly fades when he twists his head to the right. But it fades right back in, confirming the stiff, staccato beeping to be outside his body. 

The first thing he sees— really sees— is blue. His right hand is at his side. And just beneath it, what he’s presumably laying on, is a flat surface emanating blue light. The screen covers the entire pod he’s laying in. 

Pod. Where is he? 

A crackling static sound bursts into the space. Nagito anchors his right hand further back to push himself up. He has to suppress a surge of dizziness while the sound tunes into a quieter buzzing. The air is startlingly cold. 

“Hello? Hey, can you hear me?” A voice comes on. It echoes against the metallic walls of the wide building. Nagito turns to the left, to the source of the sound, and eyes a small podium-like control panel attached to his pod. Atop it, a small speaker-like device sits. 

“... Hello?” Nagito finds his voice to reply. It’s ten times more torn and husky than anticipated. He coughs the discomfort from his throat. 

“He’s responsive,” The voice fades as if backing away from their microphone. It returns to full volume: “Can you say your name for me?” 

Nagito opens his mouth. But his throat is dry. And the question sparks no connections.

“Alright,” The voice says. “That’s okay. My name is Makoto Naegi. We’ve been monitoring all your pods over here at Future Foundation, and— Well, we didn’t expect any of you to wake up yet. You must be feeling pretty confused.” 

Nagito frowns to himself. Future Foundation. It sounds like something…

“Do you know what year it is?” 

“...”

“... Can you tell me the last thing you remember, Nagito?” 

Discomfort sprawls in his chest and tightens his lungs. He shakes the feeling.

“Nagito?” 

“Servant,” He mutters automatically. He repeats the word without thinking, even quieter, “Servant.”

“I-I’m sorry, Nagito,” Makoto replies, the static still refusing to let up, “I can’t quite hear you. If it’s not too much, can you speak up a little?”

Nagito blinks at the speaker. “Servant,” He repeats. Familiarity satisfies the syllables. “Call me Servant.” 

It’s quiet on the other end of the line. For a second, Nagito wonders if he’d hallucinated the entire voice. If he’s been talking in Makoto’s place and is pathetically imagining a human interaction. He seals his lips tight and keeps his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. 

When the voice cuts the silence, Nagito’s sealed mouth is evidence enough that it’s real. 

“Don’t stray too far, okay? We’re sending dispatch over there.”

－－－－－－－－－

Kyoko Kirigiri should not have worn heels today. She forgot the expanse of Jabberwock, she forgot how wide the islands are, how long the walks are to get to any buildings established. Then again, this trip was unexpected. Makoto had been the one coming every week, but due to unexpected hurdles, she’ll have to fill in. She couldn’t have known she’d kill the soles of her feet by noon with such little warning. 

“How’s the patient, then?” Byakuya chirps up from behind her. She sighs, spinning to look at him. 

“Nagito,” Kyoko glares at him while supplying his name instead of ‘the patient’, “You need to start calling him Nagito. I can’t imagine it helps his identity crisis when you refuse to use his name.” 

“I never use anybody’s name,” Byakuya snaps back. “It’s a waste of time.” 

“Aren’t businessmen supposed to be personable?” 

Byakuya looks unimpressed. Kyoko gives him a finalizing glare before spinning back around, continuing towards the supermarket. The pharmacy on the other island would make sense to store pill bottles, but for sheer convenience, Future Foundation has been keeping supplies in the old supermarket building.  

Every week since he’s awoken, Nagito is interrogated about his memories. Makoto usually measures his mental state and holds informal therapy sessions. The Future Foundation cameras set up across the island monitor enough of his behavior, but direct contact is much preferred when assessing how he’s doing. Makoto had handed his file about Nagito to her before she departed. She’s only had the plane ride to go over the details written inside. And based off sheer circumstances alone, Toko has suggested anyone in Nagito’s place needs medication. 

“You never answered the question,” Byakuya joins her stride. “About the patient.”

“Nagito is… stable,” Kyoko tests the word on her tongue, “He is not currently a threat to himself or others.” She pushes the door in and doesn’t hold it for him. 

“A miracle,” Byakuya says under his breath while he follows her. She decides to ignore the comment. 

“He’s piecing more together,” Kyoko says, walking to a shelf stocked with medicines. “He remembered Izuru Kamukura during his first session, after all.” 

“The first one?” 

She doesn’t reply. She skims the bottles and grabs an anti-depressant that Toko had recommended after her research, and moves on to look for supplements. 

“Why did the first one remind him of Kamukura?” 

“We transported him to a different island temporarily,” Kyoko says, “The boat ride must have reminded him of their interaction.” 

“How much has he remembered, exactly?” 

“A lot of things. His name. His location. His hand.” 

Byakuya does not react. But Kyoko still catches the nervous micro-movement of his jaw.  

“Do you ask him what he remembers during every session?” 

“Yes,” Kyoko side-steps to the right, picking up the bottled vitamins, “Makoto has noted that bringing him to different locations will jog his memory more. He recalls the beach of the Neo World. He’s been remembering the deaths of his classmates. He remembers a few of their names, the way their bodies looked.” 

“What about…” Byakuya trails off. 

Kyoko turns to him. “Off-limits. Makoto fears that being reminding of his traumatic death will reverse all the progress he’s made. Nagito’s fragile enough. We’ve seen the way he breaks down ourselves. We can’t risk it happening again.” 

Byakuya upturns his nose. “I can assure you, ignorance is not bliss in this situation.” 

“I never said it was.” 

“Then when will we expose him to his death? Or are we waiting for him to stumble on the memory himself? We don’t know the recovery process of this amnesia, especially not in a circumstance after a virtual-reality killing game. Jogging his memory little by little could trigger an avalanche in the same way direct exposure would. When can we know he’s safe to learn about it?” 

Kyoko places the bottle of vitamins beside the anti-depressants, settled between the clipboard she’s holding and her own front. 

“We won’t,” She answers, “We won’t know when he’s safe to learn about it.” 

－－－－－－－－－

While they’re submerged in the water, Nagito kicks one leg up, then the other. The splash of the movement is quiet among the cottages. His pants are rolled up just above his knees. The sky is nearly black with cloud coverage. If Nagito didn’t know any better, he’d assume nighttime is right around the corner. 

And way before Makoto is anywhere nearby, Nagito can hear his footsteps approaching. Living on such an inconsequential environment with no other conscious soul drenches the island to eternal silence. Even a miniscule shuffling in bushes a mile away could trigger Nagito into turning its way. 

The footsteps strengthen on the wooden planks that branch into the cottages before solidifying on the concrete surrounding the hotel pool. 

“Hi, Nagito,” Makoto greets him. 

Nagito turns to look at him and offers a grin. 

“Enjoying the pool?” Makoto is visibly nervous. Nagito can tell by the forcefulness of his smile, the fidgeting of his fingers as he holds a nondescript binder, and the shifting of his weight from one leg to another. 

Nagito languidly moves his left leg up, then alternates and raises his right one. His legs feel light in the water. 

“Yes, I am,” Nagito responds, hoping his smile communicates enough reassurance to calm Makoto down. It doesn’t seem to work. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, of course!” Makoto walks up to him. He kneels down in order to sit cross-legged next to him. “I really had to pressure some co-workers to get this pool cleaned up. But it’s clearly paying off, so I’m glad I did.”

Nagito continues the rhythmic movement of raising his legs before letting them float back down. Up and down. Up and down. 

“You know, I’m happy to see you out of your cottage,” Makoto comments brightly. Nagito still senses tension in his cheer. “Not that I blame you for staying inside. The air isn’t always pleasant.” 

“Yes, it’s not,” Nagito nods at the clear water, “It didn’t smell as smoky today. I thought I’d take advantage.” 

He’s also been disassociating all day and thought the sensation of water would bring him back to Earth. But he’s not about to worry Makoto by mentioning that. 

“So…” Makoto’s voice tightens. “I found something I thought I could show you.” 

Nagito looks at him. Makoto adjusts, scooting a bit closer. He positions the binder between them both and opens it cautiously. As if it were classified information. 

The second Nagito’s eyes lock onto the first image, he thinks it may as well be. 

“This was taken during your second year at Hope’s Peak,” Makoto fills in. He points at Ibuki, who’s tossed herself midair in the middle of the street market. Just behind her, Hiyoko stares at her with an expression that earnestly looks worried. Lining the vendor’s stalls, more of his classmates can be seen in the background. Mikan, Mahiru, Fuyuhiko, Peko, and…

“That’s me,” Nagito points at the side profile of himself. He’s in a yukata, smiling at the plushie behind a stand.

“Yeah, that’s you,” Makoto replies warmly. Nagito’s eyes drift to his two hands in the picture. Healthy and normal. Not discolored. He suppresses the urge to hide his amputated arm further against himself. 

Only shortly after waking up, Makoto had brought Nagito the best medical professionals he could find to remove Junko’s hand. And they’d done it successfully with minimal damage. But Nagito’s been left alone on an island with nothing more than his fragmented memories. Staring at the amputated spot while knowing he’d attached the limb of a dead woman always makes his chest tighten. 

“What year was this, again?” Nagito continues staring at the picture. 

“Your second year at Hope’s Peak Academy,” Makoto smiles. He pages to the next picture. 

The next one is of a snow trip. Ibuki had taken the picture herself— she’s holding the camera and flashing a peace sign. Behind her, more classmates can be seen enjoying themselves. Kazuichi is gliding down a slope, Sonia not far behind. Akane and Nekomaru seem to be competing for who can glide down the small mountain in the most creative way. 

Second year. They must have been sixteen or seventeen. And without the ability to fully fill in the gaps, it’s hard to believe he’s almost twenty-two. 

Makoto glances at him nervously before turning to the next picture. 

In the forefront, Nagito is sitting on a small hill. His classmates are to his right, looking in the same direction, admiring the fireworks in the sky. The smile on his face is peaceful. He recognizes nearly everyone again. Ibuki, Teruteru, Gundham, Sonia… 

His eyes lock onto a girl with short pink hair. 

“This was the same night of the market,” Makoto says, “It was a New Year’s event.” 

He stares at her. His chest starts aching and his eyes start burning, as if the need to cry was a life-or-death decision. He forces a gulp to look away from her. 

Makoto looks up at him. Uncomfortably, he seems to understand why Nagito looked away. Even while staring at the pool water quaintly lapping, Nagito can’t stop trembling. He tries to kick up his legs in the water again, as if it’ll distract him from anything. 

“She was your class representative,” Makoto whispers. 

Nagito closes his eyes in hopes it’ll quell the swelling in them. “I know.” 

“...How much do you know, Nagito?”

Think about her. 

The thought of digging for any memories of her is sending an alarm to blare in his neurons. He shakes his head quickly and scoots away from Makoto. 

His old instructor saying, “I think you’d be the perfect fit for class rep, Nanami!”, the sound of Nanami yelling his name after getting shot, the inflection of her crying in a maze right before—

Nagito inhales sharply and digs his nails into his thigh. He blinks forcibly. A sharp pain edges into his heart. 

Makoto gently puts his hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Nagito. I thought it might help to remember more, even though I knew it’d probably be painful too.” 

He doesn’t reply. 

“...Do you remember anything about her in the program? Do you recall any feelings you felt towards her?”

“Guilt.” He doesn’t hesitate. 

Makoto raises his eyebrows. “Guilt?” 

Nagito rubs the base of his throat, his eyebrows knit tight. He can’t often name the feelings from his memory. A lot of them muddle together, blend with confusion, and leave him at a loss. But this one is so clear it’s hard to ignore. 

“Yeah,” His voice quivers. “Guilt.”  

－－－－－－－－－

Breaking into the warehouse is not as easy as he thought it would be. It takes a crowbar, a small axe, and an amount of physical force that Nagito has not possessed. Ever. 

He’s even surprised when the leverage of the crowbar makes the door budge. Because yes, it’s physics, but Nagito has lived most of his life thinking he can’t carry as much as his own weight. Which isn’t a lot. 

There must be something pressed against it because when Nagito pushes, it barely moves. He has to back up from the door, survey the wood, and decide if this is worth pursuing anymore. But he walked all this way. He took a boat over here. He can’t refuse to answer his own questions. 

For a long time, he’s wanted to visit the fifth island. Makoto had been granting him access to the others, one by one, and right before letting him peruse the fifth one— he withdrew. He never arrived with a boat specialized for the trip, and he never brought up the prospect with Nagito again. 

Nagito wanted to ask about it to put him on the spot. But he could never bring himself to. He had an inkling it would be the wrong move somehow. 

And it seems he made the right decision, because today, a boat arrived at Jabberwock seeking to escort him to the fifth island. 

Whenever Nagito is given a tour of the islands, he’s never alone. Makoto is usually the one to step in and act as a makeshift tour guide. One out of the three other times, it was Kyoko who walked him around.

This time, nobody is waiting on the boat. No one is there to guide him down the right paths or off the surfaces he should avoid due to overexposure of an active apocalypse. Only the captain of the boat is aboard, with two security personnel from Future Foundation. Nagito tried asking them about their summons— about why they were instructed to send a boat for him out of the blue. They had no clear answer. 

They didn’t even follow him off the boat. The land became free rein for his exploration. He wanted to ask them if Future Foundation was purposely sending him to die in uncharted territory for legal reasons, but he reasoned they’d have even less answers for that. 

From Nagito’s foggy memory, the Neo World’s fifth island was crowded with structures, large antennas, and working warehouses. In the real world, it’s just another defunct island taking after its neighboring land masses coated in years of dust, debris, and ashes. The only structures in sight when first arriving is a vast single-story building (Nagito presumes this was a factory), and the storage warehouse near it. 

The factory was a disappointing exploration. If a bunch of rubble and broken pillars were more interesting, he’d have been captivated. And from the outside, the warehouse looks just as uneventful. But something about it forces Nagito’s hand. Enough to garner the energy to shove the door in and open a gap wide enough for his body. 

As soon as he’s inside, dust and filth irritate every inch of his lungs. Everything smells of rotting wood and locked up mold. He has to squint at the floor to check where to step: the light is limited, and the likelihood of something crawling about seems high. 

The warehouse is a much smaller structure than the factory. It’s spaced like a garage with random stacked crates crowding corners and piling into the space. Old cabinets and standing shelves are haphazardly thrown in across the room, cardboard boxes cradling them. From the information he’s gotten from Makoto, the Jabberwock project was in the works for a solid year before anyone initiated the collection of the remnants. Makoto himself had to sneak around Future Foundation officials to get things rolling. Nagito wonders what if this was a makeshift storage unit for them, or if this clutter was here before the organization decided on the land. 

Nagito steps further in, walking towards the only other visible light source. A faint, shadowed outline of a fan is reflected at the center of the room. He cranes his neck to look up at the built-in ventilator installed in the wall. He can see the layer of dust atop the rim of the blades. He inhales deeply, hoping to find some oxygen— only to cough out the grime in the air. 

Other than the oppressive, unhealthy air quality, something in here is caving his chest in. He’s always somewhat doubted the paranormal, but is this how it feels to walk into a haunted room? 

Near the back of the room, a black curtain cuts off the rest of the space. 

His stomach flips while he stares at it. His legs move on their own toward it. 

What else could possibly be behind this other than a few more storage items? Even while raising his hand to pull the curtain back, his fingers can’t stop twitching. He clenches it into a fist to stop it before forcing himself to reach out and yank.

Nothing is there. The walls at the back of the warehouse are still lined by a few shelves and empty boxes, but save for that, there is nothing there. There’s an empty clearing of floor with in-tact pillars framing it. 

He can’t figure out why he’s still shaking. He tries to trace back memories of the Neo World, as limited as they are. Why does he feel so scared?

He lifts his head. Centered and above the space, there is a rectangular beam connecting two pillars on opposite sides. 

It’s all he stared at while waiting for them. The boom of the door caving in. The rush of their voices when the fire started. The heat and sweat he endured. The grip he kept on the rope, until…  

By the time he snaps back to reality, he realizes too late that he’s started laughing. 

－－－－－－－－－

The sunrise would be mesmerizing to watch were it not purely and strictly red. The silhouette of someone sitting along the edge of the lapping coast would enrich the view to anyone who didn’t recognize them— but Hajime Hinata knows Nagito Komaeda’s outline like the back of his hand, and while they’ve been granted a new beginning, he can’t shake the anxiety bubbling in his bloodstream. 

Irrational. 

God. He can’t even feel emotions in peace anymore. Maybe it’s because he only woke up this morning and consciousness is not doing a great favor to him, but he cannot catch a break from the intrusive thoughts he’s labelling as Izuru. 

Every movement, every item, and every atom triggers some level of recognition from Kamukura. Maybe suppressing this part of himself during the virtual reality is having unexpected consequences. Maybe the injection of Izuru’s talents became his base code and Hajime can’t forget everything that’s been put in his head, not anymore. Or, who knows, maybe Izuru is simply itching for attention. 

Hajime stares at the ocean. The water is a violent shade of red. He can’t imagine Nagito is sitting on the beach for the sake of the view. 

What would Nagito be doing? What has he been doing? 

Makoto arrived in a helicopter after Hajime woke up. He was assured more answers, more clarification on the situation at hand. He was also alarmingly surprised at the amount of details Hajime could recall about everything— the killing game, Hope’s Peak, and their treacherous life prior. 

“Only two of you have woken up so far,” Makoto had filled him in, “It’s been nearly three months since the other woke up.” 

“Who was it?” 

Makoto had looked to the side as if scared to admit it himself. “Nagito.” 

“He’s been awake for three months?” 

“Just about,” Makoto’s voice has dropped considerably. There was no point: the room was empty, all other pods were sealed shut. “But, listen to me, Hajime. He’s in a bit of a fragile state. When he woke up, he didn’t remember much at all. It’s almost like his mind put up a block to forget everything to protect himself. Kyoko and I were having weekly sessions with him, jogging his memory little by little as safely as we could muster. However, we were holding off on talking about how he died in the simulation. It was extremelty traumatic, we weren’t confident about his mental state. But four weeks ago, Byakuya…”

He looks off. It was weird to watch Makoto’s baby face turn irritated, “Byakuya went behind my back and sent Nagito to the warehouse inadvertently. By the time I found out and came here, Nagito was… he’d shut down. I don’t know how else to describe it. I can’t even talk to him meaningfully most days. So when you see him, be mindful of that.” 

Be mindful of that. How can anyone be mindful about the fact that your former friend committed a brutal suicide and left their dead body for you to find? How can anyone approach the same person and exercise caution and respectfulness when your last memory of them is that?

Hajime stares down Nagito’s silhouette in the distance. 

When he first met him, Hajime would have assumed that in this scenario, Nagito was preoccupied in his head. That he could approach this guy on the beach and genuinely go unnoticed. He’d join him sitting, and Nagito would be pleasantly surprised by the company. That he’d act normal. 

Now, after so many encounters with him, and many unpleasant, he knows better. While he approaches Nagito’s silhouette, his footsteps shaky on the sand, he knows Nagito can hear him. Nagito acts preoccupied, in his head, and talks like it too— but more times than not, the thoughts are surprisingly present and relevant. The topics he brought up during class trials initially struck Hajime as frazzled and unrelated, but they always led down the right path. 

He’s ever observant and carefully resigned. He speaks when he deems it important, and withdraws for the same reason. Hajime can’t quite decipher why Nagito hasn’t acknowledged him, though. But he can’t afford to get flat out ignored. 

Hajime stops to stand right beside him, forcing his body into Nagito’s peripheral at least. Nagito finally complies and starts turning his head towards him. When he looks up, Hajime forgets to breathe. 

You’re overreacting. He doesn’t look that different… 

His hair has grown out, his jaw more defined. His eyes look more grey than green, and Hajime wonders if it’s solely because of the dark atmosphere. 

Nagito’s lips part while he stares at Hajime. Particularly at his left eye. 

“Kamukura,” Nagito exhales shakily. His gaze darts to Hajime’s right eye, then flicks between them. A knot between his eyebrows form. “No. Hajime?” 

Hajime opens his mouth to reply while Nagito surveys his hair. He feels self-conscious, suddenly. He’d put his hair into a haphazard, lazy bun to get it out of his face more than anything. It’s not like any appropriate scissors or clippers are ready at hand. He’d woken up in Izuru’s suit and tie, as well, but didn’t have the heart to keep either the tie or jacket on. Jabberwock is hot, either from the general climate or the constant fires not far off. He had to undo the first two buttons of his dress shirt to feel like he could breathe. Standing beside the ocean is helping. 

He licks his lips when he realizes his own silence. He’s been staring at Nagito without replying. He clears his throat and ignores the nerves in his chest. It was always nerves when it came to Komaeda. 

“I’m both,” Hajime manages. Nagito’s expression shifts into awe. Hajime has to tear his eyes away to spare himself the embarrassment. 

“So…” Hajime stares ahead, “If I ask to sit next to you, will you not let me?”

Nagito raises his eyebrows. “What am I supposed to say? That the spot is taken?” 

Hajime presses his lips together through a suppressed smile. He lower himself and sits, keeping his knees up to wrap his arms around them. “I missed your teasing.” He didn’t intend for the sarcasm to end up so prominent. 

“Me? Teasing?” Nagito looks alarmed, “You’ve surely mistaken me for someone. I don’t tease.” 

“Right,” Hajime nods slowly. He turns to Nagito, who’s wearing a smile every bit deceitful. 

Along the shore, the tide has left a clear line marked between the wet and dry sand. They’re sitting just before the cut off. Hajime watches the water lap towards them, surprisingly quaint, slow and peaceful. He closes his eyes against the red sky to soak in the sound of the ocean. At least for a single moment, he can pretend this is calming. He can pretend this reality is satisfying. 

“If I had known you were the one who woke up, I’d have… been there,” Nagito speaks so quietly Hajime leans into him to hear it. His voice is lower and raspier than he remembers. “I saw the helicopter coming in, and Naegi rushing off the dock and to the building. I figured someone must’ve woken up, but I didn’t care enough to see who.” 

“That’s not a very comforting attitude to come from our first survivor.” 

Nagito’s voice sours. “I’d hardly call myself that.” 

“You woke up.” 

He almost rolls his eyes. “It’s just my luck, huh? To get the miracle of life handed back to me on a desolate island. As if it should be called a miracle. That’s too gracious a term…” 

Nagito stares into the horizon. Reflections of red flash in his grey eyes. Hajime traces the bridge of his nose with his gaze. 

“What would you call this, then? If it’s not a miracle.” 

Nagito gives him an incredulous look. 

“Punishment.” He breaks the eye contact to pick at grains of sand and sighs. “I thought I was doing a service to everyone. An act of good charity.”

Hajime looks down. Makoto was surprised at his sufficient memory. Hajime was disappointed. 

Well— Disappointed might be the wrong word. He was annoyed. Disturbed. 

While recalling most of his life with ease has obvious advantages, he didn’t expect to recall things in such detail. It’s not like the information was at the forefront of his mind, but if he took longer than five seconds to spark a memory, it transfixed itself into a full-sensory experience. The scent of the room rushes back to him, the textured details, the space. The posture of his stance, the direction of his eyes, the weight of his clothes. Everything. He wants to blame this on Izuru’s integration, because his memories get even clearer for any event that occurred after the surgery. 

And when it comes to recalling the Tragedy, it is the worst thing he could ask for. 

Slaughters and their stench of blood, the rubble and smoke emerging from old playgrounds, the electrical buzz in the air whenever too many robo-bears gathered in one area. 

Right now, one memory rushes back: the sight of Nagito Komaeda on his knees with his pants pulled down, adjusting messily-applied blood stained gauze tape on both of his thighs. When Izuru— when he had walked in and observed him callously, Nagito looked up, his eyes peeking out from his overgrown bangs, and blinked. 

Of course, their interactions during this time frame stretched further than a single instance, but Hajime is overwhelmed immediately by the overbearing memory of his self-deprecating smile and comments. 

Remnant or not, Nagito’s thought process has always been backwards. 

“I tried to do the one noble thing I could think of,” Nagito says. “And failed.” 

A wave rolls in. A subtle crash pushes the sand and drenches it darker before it recedes. 

“Now I’m expected to believe that I deserve a clean slate? A second shot at life?” 

Hajime leans forward to glare at him. “You do deserve this.” 

Nagito laughs. “Shouldn’t your judgement be better after being injected with every talent in the world?” 

He’s jealous. 

He closes his eyes to stifle Izuru’s ever-present analysis. He can handle this without its help. He is Hajime. He has gotten through worse. 

“You do.” 

“Don’t lie to me. It’s hard enough to believe that coming from someone who consented to a lobotomy.” 

His shoulders tense. Okay. He has gotten through worse, but fucking hell, if Komaeda isn’t still infuriating when he gets snappy. 

“Nagito. I’m not stupid.” 

“I don’t know, Hajime, your words say otherwise.” 

“Don’t look away from me.”

He’s not sure if the sudden anger in his tone is what gets Nagito to reluctantly comply. To finally make eye contact with him again. 

“I am not stupid,” Hajime starts, his words spaced out for emphasis, “I know you love to act like I am, but I’m not.” 

He leans in for good measure, more than confident about his next assertion: 

“You do not wholeheartedly believe that this is punishment. You do not believe that you deserve to die. That all of us deserve to die.” 

“Do I seem like the type to excuse criminals?” 

“You seem like the type to have hope.” 

Nagito freezes. Hajime presses.

“Who left the poison bottle perfectly positioned at the center of your fridge? Who left a single foil from that poison under their bed? Who deliberately left that gas mask and gloves lying around?” 

Nagito recoils as if he’s being shunned. 

“Go on. Answer me,” Hajime continues, “Who did all of that? Because I know Monokuma would not care enough to fabricate evidence for your sake. And I know you’re intelligent enough to know the crumbs you’re leaving behind.”

Hajime doesn’t stop himself even while Nagito refuses to look at him.

“You don’t get to play dumb with me. I have watched you manipulate situations and conversations firsthand. I have seen you in control, you know exactly how to get what you want. You are deliberate in your choices. And while you despised everyone and yourself for becoming despair— You did not make the case impossible.

“You could have left us in the dark. You could have destroyed every single piece of evidence. You could have effectively gotten us all killed. Yet you didn’t. You left just enough so that maybe, just maybe, if someone dared to snoop around enough, they would realize the truth.” 

Nagito’s eyes stay glued ahead. As if acting indifferent absolves Hajime’s words of meaning. 

“Even after finding out the worst, a small part of you had faith in our hope. It’s what let us win the trial.” 

Hajime tries sealing his lips. The next thought is impulsive, and it may be the wrong thing to say, but he can’t stop himself: 

“It’s what makes you exceptional, Komaeda. You… For all your talk about hope, you’re not insincere about it. You really do believe.” 

Nagito finally turns to him, wide-eyed. He clearly wasn’t expecting a compliment. 

“And you couldn’t shake your belief in the people who were trying so hard to stay alive and stay friends. By proxy… call me crazy, but you believe in yourself, too. If you didn’t, you would’ve never dared enact any plan as elaborate and insane as you did.” 

Nagito’s staring at Hajime now. The expression on his face is vague enough to remain unreadable. 

“If you irredeemably embodied despair, through and through, you would have never died for the sake of hope.” 

Hajime takes a deep breath. That was a weight off his chest. 

He’d consumed himself thinking about Komaeda after his trial. He never thought he’d get to confront him with all his conclusions. Hajime stares at the shoreline, the subtle movement of the red water rippling while it rises and falls.

It’s quiet for a long moment before either of them speak. The anxiety that he’s been ignoring speeds up his heartbeat. He touches his own chest as if it’ll suppress it. 

“That’s an admirable conclusion to make, Hajime.”

When Hajime turns to him, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Nagito so relaxed:

“And from a Reserve Course student, no less…” 

“Ha-ha,” Hajime squints at him. “You’re so funny.” 

Nagito breaks into a small giggle, ducking his head into his chest. Hajime stares at him and lets his chest fill with relief. 

“Admirable?” Hajime repeats. He doesn’t realize until now that he’s smiling, too, “Are you admitting that the conclusion is correct?” 

“Now, now,” Nagito says, “Surely the Ultimate Hope can decipher that.” 

“Can you pick a side?” Hajime asks when Nagito laughs again, “Am I a talentless Reserve student, or am I an Ultimate?” 

Nagito hums, dramatically thoughtful. “That depends. Did Kamukura’s endless knowledge help you make that conclusion about me?” 

“No. That was me.” 

“Then the answer is obvious,” Nagito’s eyes shine for the first time. “You’re Hajime.” 

Objectively, Hajime knows this. He knows his identity cannot be ripped in half. He knows his name. 

Still. It’s nice to hear Nagito say it. 

For once, the sound of the ocean waves starts to lull him into relaxing his shoulders. Hajime stares at a small gap in the clouds forming, the single parting point he’s noticed. 

“So, what do we do? It’s just the two of us here.” 

It’s clear that Nagito’s question is more of a big-picture concern. They’re the only two people awake. At this rate, the rest of their classmates will take years to wake up one-by-one. How can they lead such a lonesome life with hope? 

Hajime presses his lips together and glances back towards the buildings. 

“I guess, for now, we should start with some food.”

[kingsidingandgutters]

A Quick Guide to Choosing a Reliable Roofing Company in Long Island!

If you live on Long Island and need flat roof repair services, choosing the finest roofing company is essential. Ask questions to make sure they meet your requirements as well as your budget. 

[chounaifu]

Kiss Roulette @gnzma

6. A gentle peck

He antagonizes him, because he gets a reaction. And until he STOPS getting reactions, Proton is going to continue to stand RIGHT at the edge of Guzma's limits, taunting him and urging him to push forward. The anger is palpable whenever Proton smugly loiters around the island, gaining positive attraction from those he was able to converse with. The Skull King cannot STAND him though, perhaps it was upsetting for a brief moment, a second in time, pushed back in the past when they first swapped hateful glances.

Now, it only makes him laugh.

In the latest confrontation, Proton is hanging onto the edge of the window outside of the king's makeshift throne room, crafted from garbage and spite, and he tilts his head with a grin full of sharp teeth visible. Guzma has chased him to the window, intent on throwing Proton out of it, to either land in the Muk pit, or even better, flat on the ground. Maybe then the repo man would be stunned long enough to be kicked out of Po Town entirely.

" SO CLOSE! ! ! YET! ! ! "

He hoists himself up, and in a motion comparable to a Saturday morning cartoon, Proton pecks Guzma on the lips with a comical M W A H before falling back down, dangling, and then dropping onto his feet on a portion of the roof that wasn't completely destroyed.

" SO FAR! "

Off he runs, giving himself a head start before Guzma barrels his way after him.

[kittypets-unite-au]

Worldbuilding Tidbits: RiverClan Territory

General description: RiverClan territory is a mix between a grassland and a marsh, with many streams intersecting the territory. Their territory to the very west is a twoleg campsite, but thankfully it’s rare for them to venture far into their land. The grasses range from short to long, and trees, while fairly sparse compared to ThunderClan, are still show up. Trees include willows, magnolia, birches, cottonwoods, maples, cypresses, and hornbeams, with the occasional pine or fir trees growing toward the northeast near fourtrees. Common undergrowth includes yarrow, reeds, rushes, bulrushes, cornflowers, dandelions, spotflowers, baneberry bushes, buckeye bushes, winterberry bushes, dogtooth violets, snakeroot, foxgloves, garlic, leeks, honeysuckles, brambles, cattails, water lilies, sedges, ragweed bushes, asters, chaffweeds, lilacs, thimbleweeds, ferns, goldenrod, goldenseal, marigolds, and wormwoods.

Common prey: Trouts, salmon, perches, carps, bass, bluegills, wipers, catfish, breams, pikes, dances, chubs, walleyes, minnows, salmon, water voles, water shrews, wood ducks, ducks, grebe, rails, coots, moorhens, cranes, curlews, loons, and field mice

Rare prey: Swans, rabbits, geese, squirrels, storks

Common threats: Swans, geese, otters, flash floods, things being dumped into water and poisoning the fish, dogs from the campsite, occasional twolegs encroaching on their territory

TERRITORY:

The camp is a wide island surrounded by a gentle stream. The island is in the middle of the territory and is tucked into a grove surrounded by willow and elm trees. The dens are made out of woven reeds and willow branches secured to the ground with deeply-embedded sticks, but they’re designed to float if there’s a flash flood and stick together. The addressing place is a tall rock in the middle of the camp surrounded by water called the Riverstone, and the leader’s den is a large, uprooted bush woven with vines and branches and covered in moss and oak leaves next to a willow that is a few tail-lengths from the Riverstone. The deputy’s den is close to the leader’s den and is a woven mass of branches, reeds, and brambles secured by two branches in the ground. The druid’s den is a thick, hollowed out elm trunk with a roof woven from reeds and branches, and enough room to fit two druids and five patients. The nursery is a woven tangle of reeds and vines with moss plugging the holes situated near the entrance in case of emergencies with room for seven cats. The elder’s den is an old, hollowed log with enough room to fit seven cats. The lorekeepers, warriors, and caretaker dens are thick bushes with reeds and brambles woven in. The warriors den can fit up to 24 cats each, while the lore-keepers and caretaker’s dens can hold up to 12

Tribute Hill- A small hill situated just a little bit from the RiverClan camp, with the top being mostly flat. Lots of lavender, dandelions, and cornflowers grow here, and the top of the hill is the Tribute Stones and the Old Prayer Willow

Tribute Stones- A collection of stones placed on top of the Tribute Hill. Cats come here to pay tribute to passed loved ones, usually through flowers, well wishes, and pretty stones, and some cats even say prayers for the dead

Old Prayer Willow- The Old Prayer Willow is in the center of the Tribute Stones. It’s an old, tall willow whose branches shield the hilltop from bad weather and heat. Oftentimes, cats who are having difficulties in life or need advice from their ancestors go to the willow, as it’s said to be a hotspot for StarClan’s signs

River- The lifeblood of RiverClan, flowing through all parts of the territory in small streams and ponds. The main river wraps all around the territory, acting as a natural border between WindClan and ThunderClan. The river, at its most narrow part, is about 30 feet across, and is full of fish. Certain parts of the river are much more shallow, while some parts are known to flood during spring thaws. The river also gets low during particularly hot summers, which causes RiverClan to hunt on other parts of their land and/or fight for sunningrocks

Swirling Depths- This part of the river has a unique trait of the water swirling and swirling around, but this water is rarely fast enough to sweep away anyone, although it is a bit tricky to navigate. This area is used to help apprentices practice swimming and diving skills, and is an ideal spot to teach water combat

Marshy Shallows- Near the Twoleg Bridge is a marshy area, full of reeds, peat, moss, tall grass, and dogwood bushes. Hidden in the plant life are frogs and salamanders, and fish like to hang out here in the late spring and early summer

Twoleg Bridge- An old but sturdy bridge built by twolegs long ago. The bridge used to be frequented by twolegs as there was a hiking trail from the campsite to Fourtrees, but it has fallen in disuse as the twolegs rarely walk the path anymore. Now it’s only used by RiverClan to get to the gatherings

Twoleg Trail- Connected to the twoleg bridge is an old hiking trail that connects all the way back to the Summer Twolegplace, although it’s mostly grown over and never used nowadays. Seeds tend to scatter in this area during the spring and early summer that attract many types of birds and field mice, making this a valued hunting spot

Rushing Rapids- A little bit away from the twoleg bridge and nearing the gorge is the rushing rapids. The water is powerful and can easily sweep even the best swimmers down into the murky depths, but it is a great fishing spot, especially in the summer when the salmon come. Unfortunately, young apprentices sometimes challenge each other to swim in these waters, and every once in a while a cat dies from such a dare

Gorge- Carving out a natural border between RiverClan and WindClan, the gorge is a steep cut in the ground that contains the river, although the waters are much more wild. The gorge extends to the very outskirts of RiverClan territory and, if any cat feels adventurous enough, they can find the river that feeds into the gorge

Training Stones- A bit aways from the gorge is the training stones, a collection of large stones and soft, loamy earth. It’s a favorite spot for mentors to train apprentices in combat, and the ground is soft enough to cushion harsh falls

Grassy Hills- Gently sloped hills dotted with flowers and the occasional birch or elm. These hills are a great spot for land prey

Dragonfly Pond- In the grassy hills lie a large pond, fed by an underground spring. It has lots of lilypads, reeds, and spotflowers, and the pond is circled by sedge bushes. Dragonflies often flock to this pond, but the pond also contains minnows and shad

Wet Expanses- The grassy hills eventually blend into a marshy expanse of land, called the wet expanses. Many small streams, ponds, and puddles form in to soft, moist earth, and this place is a good spot for frogs, minks, muskrats, trout, and shad. Turtles live here as well, but they are considered sacred and are rarely touched. Catching a frog here in the early spring is considered good luck, and older cats say apprentices that catch them will have a successful moon

Cottonwood Grove- On higher land next to the wet expanses is a forest called cottonwood grove, named for the aforementioned trees that mostly grow here. Unlike ThunderClan’s forest however, these trees are spaced out and have sparse foliage. The forest also contains a few birch, cypress, and willows. Squirrels, mice, and voles roam the forest, but it’s considered bad luck to hunt here during times of easy prey. However, if a flood happens the clan shelters here

Fern Glade- In the middle of the cottonwood grove is a serene glade filled with ferns and wildflowers, surrounded by brambles and baneberry bushes. Here, lorekeeper apprentices learn stories of old and memorize the code, and history lessons are often held in this spot

The Blessed Fields- Right outside the cottonwood grove is a meadow with fertile soil, where herbs are abundant.

The River Cherry- At the end of the blessed field lies a lone, old cherry tree, sitting on a ridge overlooking the river. It’s said that Riverstar died on that hill, wishing to see his beloved river one last time before he died, and when he breathed his last, a cherry tree grew from his body. This tree blooms in the spring and early summer and is very beautiful. There’s a tradition that courtfriends take a part of this tree, be it a twig, a petal, or even one of the cherries to propose

Clear Pond- Next to the cherry tree is the clear pond, a pond full of small tadpoles and minnows. It’s forbidden to fish from this pond, as it’s said that Riverstar himself blessed that pond. When the moon is almost full, the druids travel to this bond to find omens of the clan’s fortune for the next moon

Clear Stream- Running from the clear pond is the clear stream, a small but fast current that runs all the way into a long-abandoned fox burrow.

Flowing Cavern- The flowing cavern is a fox burrow, long since abandoned and having not been occupied in ages. The stream pools in a small crevice on the floor before draining underground. If a cat is struggling with difficulties in their life, they are encouraged to stay a night in the den, as it’s said that the den allows StarClan cats to visit their loved ones and comfort them. Most cats say they wake up with a sense of deep peace and contentedness, sometimes with the smell of a dead loved one in their noses. Druids like to add herbs like lavender and rosemary to give it a soothing smell.

Pastures- A wide, honestly picturesque expanse of grassy meadows where horses are let out to graze and be rode. It's also a common place to have picnics or walk dogs, and kids play here a lot. Generally RiverClan avoids this area due to the high amounts of twoleg activity, plus the dogs pose a danger if they spot a patrol and manage to get loose, and the occasional twoleg kit will spot a cat and take them.

Summer Twolegcamp- At the further edge of the territory lies the Summer Twolegcamp, or called the twolegcamp for short. During the spring, summer, and early autumn, twolegs come in and out of the area and live in tents. The twolegs like to stay up late and play in the surrounding fields, but they thankfully never go too far unless a dog got loose.

[okapirose]

I built Elias's house from "The Ancient Magus Bride"

I started in January (actually before January on my old computer) and decided to finally call it done. Ignore the skeleton horses they're eventually getting moved I just didn't have a place to put them lol

I built this in the Vault Hunters season 3 mod pack which is absolutely addicting and I've been having a blast with both with running vaults as well as just building.

This house and the island I built it on have been the biggest project I've ever done in Minecraft.I didn't plan any of this in a creative world. Fortunately Kore Yamazaki provided a lot of references to the house and its interior which made layout and decorating pretty easy. Some parts like Elias' bedroom felt too bare so I added more bookshelves. There is apparently a room in the house that we've never seen inside of and doesn't seem to have windows, hence why there's a blank wall. I didn't decorate the inside but right now its where my Spirit Extractor is for when I die in a vault.

The trouble with the overall build was the surrounding landscape, because for all Yamazaki has given us for references of the house, the land around it is largely not mapped/shown except for the front's flat walkway.

I knew there was a pond somewhere and of course the portal to the faerie kingdom farther into the woods (which btw are all custom trees) so I took some liberties with placement. I also added a "food stuffs" garden to the left of the house and a few sitting areas with more books and flora. The Gazebo/well that Josef snoozes in is missing and I may add at a later time if I feel like it.

I also didn't want to leave the front area open and plain so I built Nevin and his tree facing the house. I think the tree took me as long as it took me to do the house lol To help fill in some of the empty landscape I made some massive Woolly Bugs floating about and giant mushrooms.

Finally, I also had a need for honey for my underground build beneath the house so I made another house in the corner of the island for my bees to automatically make comb and bottled honey. The design was loosely based on one of GeminiTay's but it was mostly for roof reference because I suck at different heighted roofs.

Below Elias' house is what I call The Honeycomb, inspired by one of the Vaults' themes for my storage, forge, and other things.

Overall I'm very happy with it. If I had time/energy to devote more into it, I'd tear out and terraform the island more and fix the sandstone wall, but I have other ideas for this world and I've outgrown The Honeycomb's storage and unloading after every vault takes almost as long as it does running them.

Next project is already underway and is another anime house, though considerably larger <3