#I wonder how he would look post time skip if he survived

[hirakyun13]

Happy birthday to my one and only

[its-avalon-08]

what about franco x reader: reader wants to breakup with him cause she thinks their relationship might not survive his f1 career and she gets insecure about all the girls he’s going to meet and stuff but he reassures her he actually needs her by his side? 🙏

why me? (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, break up, insecurity, fluff

Y/N's heart pounded as she stared at the news notification on her phone. Franco had finally done it—he had secured a seat with Williams in Formula 1. The moment she should’ve been ecstatic for him, proud of all his hard work and determination, instead left her feeling hollow. It wasn’t that she wasn’t proud of him; she was, more than words could express. But the overwhelming wave of uncertainty crushed her, drowning out the joy she wanted to feel.

This is it. This is the beginning of the end.

She could already see the cracks forming, fractures in their relationship that hadn’t even happened yet. Franco, with his charm and talent, was bound to be surrounded by so many new people—drivers, celebrities, and worst of all, beautiful women who’d be drawn to him like moths to a flame. He would be traveling constantly, pulled in a thousand directions by his career. Where did that leave her?

It’s better to end things now, she reasoned with herself, as painful as the thought was. She didn’t want to be the clingy girlfriend sitting on the sidelines, wondering if he’d forget about her. What if she wasn’t enough for him anymore? What if, in the chaos of fame, he realized he wanted more than what they had?

Tears burned her eyes as she stared blankly at the screen. I can’t do this. I have to let him go before he lets me go.

time skip

Y/N felt a strange mix of pride and unease as she walked into the paddock with Franco. The energy here was electric, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Franco, in his Williams gear, looked like he belonged—every inch the rising F1 star. But that only heightened her anxiety.

As soon as they stepped further in, a small crowd began to gather around them, particularly around Franco. Models, influencers, and PR representatives, all with perfectly polished smiles, swarmed him, vying for his attention. Their bright laughter and easy charm grated on Y/N’s nerves, even though she tried her best not to show it. This was part of his life now, and she had to accept it.

But do I really?

One of the models leaned in a little too close, her hand brushing Franco’s arm as she laughed at something he said. Franco, ever polite, smiled and responded, clearly uncomfortable but not wanting to be rude. Y/N stood off to the side, suddenly feeling like an outsider in his world. The women around him were stunning—tall, glamorous, and effortlessly confident. How could she compete with that?

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she absentmindedly unlocked it, scrolling through Instagram as a distraction. Her heart sank when she stumbled upon the latest post of Franco—one from his PR team, showing him posing by his car, looking effortlessly cool in his racing gear.

The comments were flooded with compliments.

“OMG, Franco is so hot. 😍” “Imagine being his girlfriend… I would die for that smile!” “Ugh, how is he single? I need him in my life.” “He could have any girl he wants tbh.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted, her fingers tightening around her phone as she scrolled through more of the comments. Each one felt like a knife digging deeper into her insecurities. These girls didn’t even know him, but they spoke as if he was already theirs.

She glanced up, catching Franco laughing politely at something one of the models said. The sight stung. He was just being his usual kind, respectful self, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch. Her mind raced with doubts. Would it always be like this? Her, standing on the sidelines, while he was surrounded by people who seemed to fit into his new world far better than she ever could?

Maybe this is how it starts, she thought, her throat tightening. Maybe one day he’ll realize he deserves someone like them—someone more glamorous, more confident, more… everything.

The thought hit her like a tidal wave. She could barely breathe as her fingers hovered over her phone screen. Should she say something? Should she pull him aside and tell him what was going through her mind? But then, would he even understand? Or would he just brush off her feelings as irrational?

She took a step back, trying to create space between herself and the scene unfolding in front of her. Her phone buzzed again, and she instinctively checked it, only to see more comments flooding in under Franco’s post.

“I can’t believe he’s still single… lucky girls at the paddock.” “Franco, when are you going to date someone? 😏”

Her heart dropped. I’m right here, but no one even knows that I exist. Y/N closed the app, shoving her phone into her pocket as she tried to fight off the suffocating wave of insecurity building inside her.

Franco finally broke free from the crowd, excusing himself from the models with a gracious smile before turning back to Y/N. He frowned when he noticed her distant expression, walking over and taking her hand. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.

She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Yeah, I’m fine."

Franco didn’t seem convinced, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. "You sure? You’ve been quiet all morning."

Y/N glanced around at the women still lingering nearby, their gazes lingering on Franco even as he stood by her side. The weight of everything—the comments, the models, the reality of his new life—crushed her. I can’t do this.

"Yeah," she said, pulling her hand from his grasp. "I just need a moment alone." Before Franco could protest, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, confused, as her heart raced with the decision she had already made.

She couldn’t let this continue. She couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

Y/N had barely spoken since Franco got back from his meetings with Williams. He immediately sensed something was wrong, her usually bright demeanor muted, her smiles forced.

"Y/N, what’s going on? You’ve been distant all day," Franco asked, concern etched in his face as he sat down beside her. His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

She pulled away slightly, feeling the weight of her decision crashing over her again. "Franco, I… I’ve been thinking. About us."

His brow furrowed, the confusion clear in his eyes. "What do you mean? What’s there to think about? Everything’s fine, isn’t it?"

Everything’s not fine.

She drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "You’re going to be a Formula 1 driver, Franco. This is huge—bigger than anything. Your life is going to change completely, and I don’t… I don’t think our relationship is going to survive that."

He blinked, stunned. "What? Why would you even say that? Y/N, we’ve been through so much together, why would you think this would break us?"

"Because you’re going to be away all the time," she burst out, her voice trembling. "You’re going to meet all these new people, and—Franco, you’re going to be surrounded by girls who are way more interesting, more beautiful, more… everything than me. And I can’t compete with that. I’m scared that you’ll realize you don’t need me anymore."

He looked at her like she had just said the most absurd thing in the world. "Y/N, stop. You really think I care about any of that? About some random people I’m going to meet? That’s not what matters to me."

"You say that now," she muttered, crossing her arms as if to shield herself from the pain of her own words. "But what if it changes? You’ll be busy all the time, caught up in your career, and I’ll just be… here. Waiting."

Franco’s jaw clenched as he grabbed her hand, his eyes intense and unwavering. "I need you by my side, Y/N. Not some random person. You." He brought her hand to his chest, his heartbeat strong beneath her palm. "You’ve been with me through everything—the hard times, the wins, the losses. Do you really think I could go through this without you?"

She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill. "But what if—"

"No." Franco’s voice was firm, cutting off her doubts before they could take hold. "No more ‘what ifs.’ I love you, Y/N. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t care about the attention, the fans, or any of that. It’s you who grounds me. You’re what keeps me going, even when things get hard. I need you to believe that."

Y/N’s heart twisted, torn between the fear that had been eating away at her and the raw sincerity in his words. "But what if I hold you back? What if you need to focus on your career?"

"Then we figure it out together," he said softly, his hand cupping her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. Not because of fear, not because of this career. I want you with me, every step of the way. You’re the only person who knows the real me. And I need that more than ever now."

Her resolve crumbled as she looked into his eyes, the weight of her fears slowly lifting. "I’m just scared, Franco," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’m scared of losing you."

"You won’t," he promised, pulling her into his arms. "You’re not going to lose me. I need you with me, Y/N. We’re in this together. Always."

[akirathedramaqueen]

Some thoughts on the Western Energy trainwreck

Soo, I've come across that post, and... it made me thinking.

Stolas spent there the whole time, not knowing Blitzø *did*, in fact, send help. He assumed he was all alone, although still had some resemblance of hope, a fragile straw he hang on to piss off Striker, allowing to tear up only when one didn't look at him.

And... hell, I used to see many comments about how Blitzø let him down there... But did he?

Oh course, some think he did, and he surely thinks he did, too. But, although the whole sequence with him and Loona trying to get that S.H.O.T. was a fucking circus and looked like a joke compared to suffers Stolas had to endure and barely survive...

To be honest, these scenes being put together on surface do, in fact, make it think that the whole Stolas being on the verge of death ordeal is a joke to Blitzø and he would rather spend time running around with big needles and stuff.

If to get back to the phone convo between them at the beginning of the episode, Blitzø mentions that it took him 5 years to book that appointment, and it means a lot for him to not miss it. Missing out on that shot meant to put Loona in potential danger, his daughter, and, although we don't know what kind of shots they were talking about, we know for sure what does missing out on a vaccine schedule could mean in the real world - we tend to forget how dangerous polio, for instance, is, as most of us have access to the vaccine and don't get to experience it not even themselves, but in close vicinity as well. For us, vaccines might seem to be some kind of stupid routine, something we got comfortable with in a privileged world, something which surely could be skipped for a day, right? But in Blitzø's one they are luxury.

Despite all of that, I also want to put your attention to the fact that he wasn't going to ignore it. He is speeding up, and I think (although it's not expressed explicitly, but not everything should be, right?), that he already made up his mind that Stolas is a priority.

You are not thinking it's about shots, right? He wasn't that reckless in driving before *that* call.

And! He wasn't even the initiator of Millie and Moxxie going instead of him. *M&M's* were.

And Blitzø trusts them, because why not? They are his employees, they are skilled and capable, and they are his friends as well, they know that shit is important to him (although he isn't willing to admit it himself).

We see also, how Stolas was admitted to the hospital immediately, which already gives a hint on how different their stance in the world is. I wonder sometimes how it would've turned out if Stolas proposed to Blitzø to use the royal influence to get another appointment shortly after Blitzø saves him, but we know he didn't get much time to even think about that. He wasn't even able to finish the sentence before Striker took his phone off him.

To be honest, I don't think the outcome itself would have been much different. I don't think Blitzø would've done a better job at saving Stolas, but, maybe, only maybe, he would've felt better because he was, at least, there for him.

Because you know that shit is going to haunt him till the day he dies. Because it only reassured him that he isn't capable of sticking around for his people.

Because, you know... happened once already.

No wonder he left Stolas's message on "read". Knowing all things before and after, it's not a surprise that he, tending to take all of responsibility for all the wrongs on himself more than he should to, couldn't face the consequence of what he thinks he failed in. He, speaking figuratively, left Fizz on "read" for 15 years, and he kinda sorted it out only because he couldn't run anymore and had to face the trauma as circumstances didn't give him a chance to chicken out.

I wonder what he was trying to tell Stolas. But I don't think we will ever get to learn that.

Aw, crap, I am done here, I am going to go and cry for a little bit. Thanks for coming to my ted talk, see ya in like 5 minutes to experience some Full Moon trauma again, because I can't get over these two. XD

[ghaniblue]

Jayvik recs

I finished watching Arcane. I'm not okay. All I'm reading right now is Jayvik fix-it fic. If you have recs, please tell me what to read next. Also looking for Jinx fic where she is her darling trigger-happy chaos demon self. Is there any good fic about Salo? He is such a bitch (affectionate).

🛖 the line is covered in jellyfish by staroverlord/ @yunuen (M, 27k, 3/5 WIP)

When Viktor finally asks Jayce why he stayed behind inside the Anomaly with him, Jayce stares at him as though he’s supremely disappointed by the question — as if Viktor has betrayed his own brilliance by asking something so irredeemably stupid. “How could I not? We’re partners.”

Partners, Jayce calls them. Not for the first time, Viktor wonders: Partners in what?

Post-canon, cabin fix-it fic. The fixing is taking them a while.

♾️ Run It Back by spqr (M, 11k)

The first thing Jayce sees when he wakes up is Viktor, frowning at him.

“Jayce,” Viktor says, with that same cautious patience he gets when he wanders into the lab to find some contraption of Jayce’s half-built on the table and he doesn’t know whether he can touch it without running the risk of blowing himself up. “What did you do?”

(or: Jayce builds a time loop after the council attack, and Viktor dies again. and again and again and again.)

Post-canon time shenanigans fix-it fic.

🛏 City Slang by Tlon/ @tlonista (M, 14k)

Even if their partnership survives Viktor confessing a feeling Jayce doesn’t have, things would change. Better they stay like this — enough affection to keep Viktor from going elsewhere, never nearly as much as he wants, all taken in a way Jayce doesn’t intend.

Guilt. Desire. Et cetera.

Left alone on New Year’s Eve, Viktor takes a trip back to the undercity. But going home again is much harder than leaving — and it hurts so much worse. At least he might finally admit some feelings to his partner at the end of it.

Set during the time skip. Viktor centric, dealing with class issues and expanding Viktor's undercity origin story.

🪦 Contingency Planning by thirty2flavors/ @oodlyenough (M, 3,8k)

“I’m not planning your funeral.”

“Someone has to.” Viktor isn’t even looking to see the way Jayce glares at him. “Either we do it together now, or we wait, and you can do it… later. On your own.”

:(

[hold-him-down]

SNIPPET TIME

here you go this one is from 'hold him down - part 2' (which follows hold him down - part 1) when leo is handed back to the department post-parker. if you'd rather wait until the semi-polished entire thing is ready, skip this one! this piece is like half complete but snippets have been requested and i do love a good very-poorly-tuned snippet dump:

✥ ✥ ✥

“It’s difficult to speak with him when he’s like this,” she says, her attention shifting abruptly to the handler who stands by the door.

She’s not speaking to Leo, though, so Leo draws his gaze back to the water, weighing the odds that he can take a sip without spilling it. His throat is on fire. To help occupy his mind, he shifts his focus to the wall behind Rachel Tippin, LSW, at all the certificates that hang there. He wonders briefly if she saw herself in this type of position, if she dreamt of this type of work as a kid. He thinks about how, when he was a kid, he dreamt of becoming a cop so that he could show the cops that he was important and that he could do good and that his family was harmless, and in the deepest recesses of his seven-year-old mind, he prayed that if he impressed the right people,  they would give him back his dad–

The stray thought comes out of nowhere and Leo slams that door shut, forcing his mind to the blank, quiet place that he sometimes holds onto because, he thinks, if he has another outburst today, he may not survive it.

“Ask me what you want to know, then,” Leo can hear Handler Grey saying. 

Leo drags his eyes over to the handler and tries to smile at him. In response, Handler Grey’s eyes narrow, just for a second, and Leo shrinks back in on himself, mumbling an apology that he can’t quite place the source of. The look the handler gives him is scathing, and he locks his jaw. He needs to focus, and he knows that, but he also knows that he’s been drugged out of his mind and how is he supposed to focus? Handler Grey can see what medicine he’s been given to calm him down, and has to know the limits of what he can push through.

[jelicoxoxo]

TWST CHARACTERS AS CATS

Summary: Your favorite had embarrassingly made a mistake in potionology class, which ultimately resulted in them turning into a cat! They hunt you down to care for them, escaping their usual routine for the day.

Warnings: N/A. Can be seen platonic or romantic, OC friendly. No proofread cause i’ll wanna delete it

A/N: I’m posting this at 12AM, so if Leona’s looks or sounds sort of off(or OOC), it’s probably because I’m surviving off of insomnia and leftover energy from an energy burst (ADHD).

———————

(Heartslabyul) (Savanaclaw) (Octavinelle) (Scarabia) (Pomefiore) (Ignihyde) (Diasomnia)

—————

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

- He was irritated. Extremely. All the time.

- See, Leona skipped the class that would have told him NOT to do X, Y, and Z. So what did he do when he came without that knowledge? yeah.

- At first, he was just grumpy as hell (whats new)

-But eventually he stopped caring, found a good hidden spot in the botanical garden and took the longest nap because nobody could even find him.

-Aside from you that is. You scooped up this pretty… large… brown tabby, and plopped him in your bag immediately after cooing in his grumpy face.

-only reason he didn’t hiss and scratch was because it was you, anyone else and they would have had their day ruined in seconds.

-You took him back with you and put him on your bed, staring at him as you thought of how you where going to go about this. You seriously thought he was just a regular cat, and that you could keep him.

-The first thing you attempted to do was give him cat food, and he turned his nose and walked away. Then, you tried a bath. That didn’t work since you turned around for literally 4 seconds and he was gone.

-You found him asleep on your bed after a while of looking, deciding to let him sleep while you switched your focus from him and his failed bath-time, to studying for this upcoming history test.

-While you where writing, you look up and leona is SNORING on your bed, not the perfectly normal tabby cat you thought you had brought home.

RUGGIE BUCCHI

-“the fuck do I do now” for a moment.

-He wonders if this is how Leona feels on a regular, or if this is how Jack feels when he uses his signature spell.

-Escapes quickly and makes his way to wherever you are, running his body against your ankles with a sweet meow. You had absolutely no idea the little tan colored cat was him, crouching to pet him and pick him up, immediately accepting him as yours.

-refused to eat cat food, but ate UP whatever you cooked. He was so full after omg.

- cried while he had diarrhea. it was bad, he was so embarrassed, refuses to talk about it regardless of how long ago it was.

-he’ll play with and collect any toys you give him just because you bought them for him, and bring you one he wants you to throw. He has nothing else to do but be a cat, so why not?

- Brings back coins and thaumarks he finds on the ground anywhere and hides them in a pile somewhere for him to have when he turns back. Flicked his tail at you when you found his stash and SWATTED AT YOU when you tried getting near it.

- When he turned back, he came back only for his stash. Or so he said, because he hung around you for a good hour before going back to whatever business he had.

JACK HOWL

- His partner knocked the bottle over, which he tried to save it, and the potion wasn’t even the right one, so now he’s a cat.

- Wasn’t sure how to feel about being a wolf one moment and a cat the next

- He tried not to do anything that would irritate or upset you, but his CHATTERING.

- He will chatter even if theres nothing to chatter at, he’ll do it in your ear, at you, he just would not stop when he figured out he could do such a thing.

- He’ll stop doing anything IMMEDIATELY if you spray him with water, and will sulk for an hour after.

- Will bolt from one end of your dorm to the other. If you get him toy’s he’ll play with them, but not for long.

- ^ I say not for long because he eventually RUNS AWAY and explores twisted wonderland by himself as a cat, just to see what all he could do with this new kind of flexibility and agility.

- Stares at you while you do things while he sits on your desk. Not like he’s plotting something or anything, just observes you while you continue your routine.

- When his time as a cat was up, he was glad to be back, but also slightly disappointed when he thought of new things he could’ve done beforehand.

- He came back to you as his original beastman self(??) since he was out when it happened, and thanked you for anything you provided even if it was simply playing with him.

———

WHEW.

[jackles010378]

A Gift of a Lifetime

(Dean winchester x you)

Sammy phones you with a surprise you never thought you'd get, and just in time for a birthday you'll never forget.

(Not gonna lie I should've posted this on my birthday but I forgot 🫣 it's someone's birthday somewhere, right?! Enjoy guys 🥰)

Y/n was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels, when her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and felt a surge of hope. It was Sam Winchester, her dead boyfriend’s brother.

“Hey, Sam,” she answered, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

“y/n, I have something to tell you,” Sam said, his voice serious. “It’s about Dean.”

Y/n felt her heart skip a beat. Dean Winchester, her boyfriend of two years, had died four months ago, after he had sold his soul a year before to bring Sammy back to life. She had watched him get torn apart by hellhounds, and had buried him with Sam. They had mourned him every day since then, missing his smile, his jokes, his kisses.

“What about Dean?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“y/n, he’s alive,” Sam said.

Y/n could not believe what they were hearing. Dean was alive. How? Why? Where?

“Sam, are you sure?” she asked, her mind racing.

“Yes, I am sure. I saw him with my own eyes. He is here, at Bobby’s. He just showed up out of nowhere, with no memory of what happened. He said he dug himself out of his grave.”

Y/n felt a wave of emotions wash over her. Relief, joy, confusion, anger. How could Dean be alive, after all this time? How could he not remember anything? How could he just show up, without a word?

“Sam, I need to see him. I need to talk to him. Can you put him on the phone?”

“y/n, I do not think that’s a good idea. He is still confused, and he doesn’t know you’re alive. He thinks you died with him.”

Y/n felt a pang of pain. Dean thought they were dead. How could he think that? She had survived the hellhounds with Sam. She had stayed with Sam, helping him hunt and cope. They had never given up hope that Dean wouldn't come back.

“Sam, please. I need to hear his voice. I need to tell him I love him.”

“y/n, why don't I tell him I caught a case, and I bring him round to see you instead."

Y/n felt her heart beating faster at the thought of seeing Dean again.

“Then when can I see him?”

“We can swing by in a few days. It’s your birthday soon, right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Then that’s when you’ll see him. It’ll be a surprise. A good one, I hope. I’ll bring him round to yours, I’ll tell him I found a case and we gotta interview a witness.”

“Okay. Okay, Sam. Thank you. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for bringing him back.”

“Y/n, don’t thank me. Thank whatever force brought him back. I don’t know what it is, or what it wants. But I know one thing. Dean loved you, still loves you, he deserves to be happy. And so do you.”

“Thank you, Sam. I love you. I love you both.”

“I love you too, y/n. See you tomorrow”.

Y/n didn't get much sleep over the next few nights. Her excitement was too much. She tossed and turned, thinking about Dean. She wondered how he looked, how he felt, how he would react when he saw her. She wondered if he did still love her, if he still wanted her, if he still needed her.

Although she had barely any sleep, Y/n got up early on the day of her birthday. She showered, dressed, and prepared breakfast. She set the table, lit some candles, and played their favourite songs. She waited, anxiously, for the knock on the door. Sammy had shot her a text they were a few minutes away.

Y/n was getting lost in her own little world sitting at the table nursing a now cold cup of coffee. That was until she was pulled out of it when she heard the knocking. She ran to the door, opened it, and saw Sam standing there, smiling. Behind him, she saw Dean.

He looked the same as she remembered him. His green eyes, his freckles, his smirk. He was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. He was wearing his fed suit, she always like it when he wore a suit. He was also holding a bouquet of roses. “Er, Sammy I don’t get why we got flowers for………”

“y/n,” Sam said, stepping aside. “This is Dean. Dean, this is y/n. Your girlfriend.”

Dean looked at y/n, his eyes wide with shock. He dropped the roses and took a step forward.

“y/n?” he whispered; his voice hoarse. “Is that really you?”

Y/n nodded, tears streaming down her face. She threw her arms around Dean and hugged him tight. She felt his arms wrap around her, and his breath on her neck. She felt his heartbeat, and his warmth. She felt him alive.

“Dean,” she sobbed, her voice muffled by his chest. “Dean, I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, y/n,” Dean said, his voice cracking. “I love you too.”

Sam silently excused himself knowing they would want some space.

They pulled back and looked into each other’s eyes. They saw the love, the pain, the joy, the relief. They saw the past, the present, the future. They saw each other.

They learned in and kissed. They kissed like they had never kissed before. They kissed like they had been waiting for this moment for eternity. They kissed like they were the only two people in the world.

They kissed like they were alive. “Best birthday present ever” Y/n said as her lips hovered over Deans. He pulled back enough to look into her eyes “Happy birthday sweetheart” he pulled her back into a kiss that took her breath.

And so, the story of Dean Winchester and y/n continued—a story of love, death, and resurrection. A story of miracles, mysteries, and surprises. A story of happy birthdays, and happy endings.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck @angelbabyyy99

[sweetcocopowder]

Three Christmas Nights | Paladin Danse / Nate (Male Sole Survivor)

Synopsis: Nate enjoys three Christmas's in the wasteland, all different, all held in different places. Yet his mind is always on one person despite his best efforts. And he wonders if said man can love someone has damaged as him.

Word Count: 7.5K

Genre: Sad, sappy yet heartfelt

Warnings: Depressive thoughts. Self loathing. Guilt. Pining. Alcoholism.

Note: I wish you all a Merry Christmas. There might not be any more posts other than my other Danse/Nate series for this yet. Only cause I've got the chapters ready from ao3. But other than that, happy holidays and a blessed new year.

The first Christmas Nate had spent in the Wasteland, a man out of time and place, it was high in the sky aboard the Prydwyn. Only newly under Paladin Danse’s wing and fresh into the Brotherhood, it felt more like home than anything else in this bazaar place. It was military, and Nate knew military. Knows guns. Knows the smells. Knows the way of command. So, despite finding Elder Maxson a little straight forward and with a few outlandish ideas of his own, Danse is what had him keeping around.

Being honest, Nate had hung up his dog tags along ago. Kept them hidden in the bedroom closet so he wouldn’t have to look at them. Nora adored them though. Found no shame in it, only pride that he had gone and fought for his country. Even though it had gotten them nowhere in the end.

Yet, the U.S military had survived and was transformed into the Brotherhood of Steel, changing and morphing into a being of its own over the past two centuries. With its own morals and beliefs, even though some have Nate cringing on the inside. He had learnt long ago to keep his dislikes on the inside and to shut up within military standards. It has cost him getting beaten and bruised through multiple training session with no sleep or water.

He had just hoped that Elder Maxson wouldn’t punish him too harshly if he stepped out of line. He stuck by the Paladin the most, hoping that hiding by his massive form he could keep in the good books. The Paladin had already written him off as an efficient man, willing to help and keep in order. He just hoped he could keep to that with all the chaos pinballing around in his head. So much had to be done in such a little time.

Which is why he was surprised that in such a strict and tight chain of command aboard the Prydwyn, Christmas was celebrated on the main deck. Nate had watched from the upper decks at first, wondering just how long this would go on for. Ingrim was nowhere to be found, and Knights and Initiates had taken over the power armour deck. Drinks were passed around, stuff that had been freshly brewed from a settlement close by that indulges itself in a small still. Supplies both the Brotherhood and Diamond City. The alcohol is meant to be used for wounds and supplied to Keagen. But they had gotten something a little extra, something infused with berries and other spices that the Wasteland still had to offer.

When the party had gone on for longer than an hour, Nate had become more so impressed. No sign of Elder Maxson or Lancer. With curiosity peaked, he had ventured down with a skip in his step to seek out either of the men. He wasn’t a tattle tale, god no. He just wanted to find out why. It wasn’t like Maxson, from what Nate had figured out with this man, he had thought that there wouldn’t be time for a party with the “Threat of the Institute still about.”

Who Nate had found instead in the canteen had been Paladin Danse, standing off to the side in his power armour watching everyone like a hawk. When he had spotted Nate, he had stood up straighter and his eyebrows had perked up. Something akin to a dog seeing their owner, but the survivor would never say such a thing out loud. He probably be told to run laps around the Boston Airport. Twice.

“I thought you’d be against all of this,” Nate had spoken up first, looping his fingers into the front of his belt.

He had swapped out his vault blue suit to an orange Brotherhood uniform by the Paladin’s command. He had said it would be the proper means of things to be wearing the orange instead of keeping to the old blue. Nate would have to admit, the Brotherhood uniform is much comfier than that tight vault suit. It liked to ride up in places that weren’t meant to be ridden up in.

Paladin Danse had shaken his head ever so slightly. “I convinced Elder Maxson it would be good for morale, in exchange I watch over this little get together,” he had said. “In case anyone decides to get too rough, I’ll step in. I’ve taken responsibility.”

Which had taken Nate completely off guard. Maybe he had taken the Paladin for a complete stick in the mud. A man that takes everything by the books and to the T. It had left him speechless for a good few seconds, having to collect himself with a small, shocked scoff.

“Well then,” Nate had started with a smirk. “I guess I can’t offer you a drink?”

And the offer had gone right over the Paladin’s head. “If I am to be on watch, I need to be sober and ready for anything.”

Nate had nodded with his bottom lip pouted out. Somehow, a man that likes to keep up morale against his Elder’s wishes but a man that won’t step out of line for said morale. What a gentleman.

“Enjoy your post, Paladin,” Nate had bid his fair well to enjoy the party at its fullest then, or the liquor for the most part.

Thus, Nate had drank himself drunk that night on the Prydwyn. He doesn’t remember much, just that the alcohol tasted like sour grapes and rotten apples. But he had drank it anyways, the need to get drunk the driving focus of the night. He didn’t want to think how far out of time he was. He didn’t want to think of how everything around him had changed so drastically. He didn’t want to think that his wife was dead. He didn’t want to think that everyone and everything he knew was gone. That his son was still missing. And that he had somehow ended back up with a gun in his hand and inside a rank with a purpose to kill.

The talking had gotten very loud at one point and the amount of alcohol slushing around in his gut wasn’t ideal. With a womble in his step, he had ventured down to the bottom decks of the Prydwyn with no recollection of how he had gotten there. All he remembered is curling up against one of the storage containers and calling it a night with the taste of rotten apples on his tongue.

He doesn’t remember how he had gotten back into his cot, yet he had woken up there. Tucked in like what his mum use to do for him when he was six. Not even his friends in college had taken him back to his dorm when they found him passed out drunk out in the middle of the football field. All they had done was take pictures and said pictures would be passed around for the next few weeks to have a good laugh at.

But, waking up hung over, filled to the brim with emotions and tucked into bed, it was the glass of water on the table next to the cot that had sent him over the edge. He hadn’t cried when he saw his wife dead in the vault. He hadn’t cried when he had seen his home in ruins. He hadn’t cried when he had to venture across the Commonwealth by foot to seek out his son. Hadn’t cried when he was almost eaten alive by a Deathclaw. But it was the thought that, maybe it isn’t all that bad here, that had the tears rolling down his face. That some bastard here actually cared.

He had cried under his blankets that morning like he did when he was six years old.

The second Christmas Nate had spent in this wasteland, a General of the Minuteman and now known as the sole survivor, was spent on the ground within the safety of the Castle walls. The Minutemen had grown vastly and graciously over the year with Nate’s help. Many settlements had joined the course to help other communities and keep themselves afloat in this dangerous wasteland. Sticking together and making sure your neighbour isn’t going to slit your throat was Nate’s biggest leading factor to take his role seriously for Preston.

He will have to admit, the mayor of Good Neighbour had inspired Nate a lot. Hancock had helped him find his way and set his foot back on the good little path with his own morales, even if the ghoul didn’t realize it. Nate can still remember his speech he had given his community, his people. It had made the survivor want to know the ghoul better. Find out what made the ghoul tick.

He had found out a lot more than jet and mentats.

But this snowy Christmas, he had spent it surrounded by people he had grown fond of, proud of even. Preston had stuck close by him that night, talked about his General in such a light that it had made Nate blush. He would have asked the handsome man to his bed, but guilt had sprung just as quickly to his chest along with many other mixed emotions he couldn’t of named for the life of him. He didn’t want to hurt the poor man’s heart by asking him for a one night stand with a man that would leave him in the morning. Preston is too good for Nate’s own selfishness for a little pleasure and leisure. Nate’s mind had wondered to the Prydwyn on the horizon and one resident upon her decks.

Would there be another get together this year? On the main deck with that rotten apple alcohol. Or maybe it tastes better this year and they’ve gotten their recipe right in the year that they’ve been using their stills. Would Danse be overlooking that party? Making sure no kid falls down the stairs drunk. Make sure that no one lets the mole rats out.

Maybe he never even convinced Maxson this year to let the kids have a get together for morale. Or maybe he did. Flashing those big brown eyes of his, he can almost get away with anything. He lacks charisma, but it’s his caring that makes up for it. Maybe those eyes of his hold some spell that he unknowingly casts over everyone that looks upon them. That one gets so lost in them that all you have to do is agree and nod and go along with Danse so that he doesn’t realize you haven’t been listening the entire time.

Or maybe that’s just Nate getting caught up in the trance that Danse has over him. Maybe he should hop and skip over to the Prydwyn, see what he’s up to this fine night.

He had gone to stand, gone to grab his gun to make the trip over to the airport. Had the determination of a mule to get through the snow and the raiders to get to the Prydwyn. But the only place he had gotten, was the cold Castle floor.

This time, he had woken up where he had fallen. The morning light had blinded him, his head already pounding with the fall and the left-over alcohol in his system. No glass of water. No soft cot to wake up to. No one had moved him, they all but lay a thin blanket over him and called it a night. Did no one ask why he had a gun in hand? Why he smelt stronger of whiskey than when he had left the party? Why he was dressed up in his General’s uniform to go somewhere than to sleep in his own bed?

His head had pounded too much to be caring about that so early in the day. With the little strength he had left, he had crawled back to his warm bed and fallen asleep to the sounds of the busy Castle around him. The lapping of the icy waves outside had lulled him to a deep sleep. One that took him to the late evening where a haze of a storm had begun to brew.

Preston had commented he had slept like the dead, woken by no one. Reminded Nate of his grandpa that died in his sleep for some reason in that moment. Such a morbid thing to think, yet it had come by so quickly that he didn’t have time to stop it.

He had died at the age of sixty-eight, just before Nate had been drafted for the war.  

The third Christmas Nate had spent in the Wasteland, now the known saviour of the Commonwealth, was celebrated up north in Sanctuary Hills with Danse by his side. No longer Paladin, the man had turned to the Minutemen for help a few months after finding out his true nature. A synth.

What a true kick in the teeth. To be raised and taught everything within the Brotherhood. To have your own morales be in line with the Brotherhood. To have such trust and admiration for your brothers and sisters, to only have it all taken away underneath his feet within a few seconds.

The data that Nate had pulled from the Institute had names and genetical signatures of every synth that they had let out into the wasteland. And Danse had been an identical match to M7-97.

Nate could recall the feeling of dread when Maxson had told him the news and all in the same breath, ordered him to execute Danse himself. That’s when he had seen the Brotherhood had a lost cause. That’s when he had taken Maxson’s orders with a sneer curling at his lips and left the Prydwyn with Haylen calling after him.

She didn’t have to convince him. He had already made up his mind that he was going to find Danse and protect him with all his might. Danse had done so much for Nate and to think that Maxson wanted him to be the one to put a bullet between those brown eyes. It made him sick. Sicker than that rotten apple liquor.

Nate had found him, pacing back and forth down inside Listening Post Bravo. Before the survivor could get a word out, Danse had called himself everything he had said ill about synths. All that hatred and loathing towards a race was now aimed at himself and his very being. Everything he was made to be, everything he thought he was, was now just made to be destroyed and thrown out like the inhumane trash he was. He saw himself as nothing, so quickly. It has scared Nate solid.

He hadn’t brought a gun with him. Had travelled all that way to Danse, all that way to across the wasteland to show he wasn’t there to kill. But Danse had a gun, off to the side already loaded. Nate had stared at it for far too long as Danse had rambled on. How he had to be the example not the exception.

“SHUT UP!”

It was out before he could stop it.

Danse had stared at him with those brown eyes of his. And that time, Nate didn’t see that solid determination he once held onto for support. That stern, stone cold look that still looked out into the world with care and admiration. All he saw was tears, brimming to those brown eyes that Danse was holding back with great effort. All he saw was a kid. Somewhere when Nate had been staring at the gun, Danse had gotten down on his knees only making the man look small. Small and defenceless.

Nate stills sees that image in his head from day to day. But that had been six months ago now.

Tonight, it’s all about how lively Sanctuary Hills is. It’s about the celebration of the destruction of the Institute. It’s about a new age for the Commonwealth that no one thought was even possible. Enough food has been prepared in advance that three Castles could survive on for weeks.

Snow had not yet arrived in the Commonwealth yet. A late one for Christmas this year but a chill in there air could be felt nevertheless. Everyone wears a scarf or an old beanie. Nate is just hoping to rely on the alcohol to stay warm tonight.

Dinner is served underneath the large, dead tree at the end of Nate’s old street. The branches are strung and lit up with old Christmas lights and ornaments that the children have made. It was Codsworth that had helped to put it all up. More than thrilled to help out around the place and to see the old block look festive once again. It had made Nate warm inside to see the old bot have at least some sort of nostalgia from the past.

So, Nate now stands in the middle of a vast group of people. All strangers to him but they all know him as well as if he sent them Christmas cards every year. A lot of handshakes. A lot of fake laughing. A lot of trying to remember names. And a lot of pats on the back that make him feel oddly numb. All this praise and all this, hope that Nate has given these people is… it doesn’t feel real. He’s spent over two years in the wastelands now and his hair has grown out to his shoulders, his beard freshly trimmed for the occasion. He looks like a different man than when he came out of the vault. A man that’s been shaped by the horrors of the wasteland.

He wears his General’s uniform, lacking the coat in favour of a scarf. He wanted to be as casual as possible but still people treat him like he’s some saint. Someone to be formal around and praise and… everything that Nate doesn’t feel like he is.

He had spotted Valentine and Piper around five minutes ago, but they had kept to the side lines. And Nate doesn’t blame them. The amount of people surrounding Nate is insane. He thought he saw Deacon before, but he doesn’t know if it was him or not in some disguise.

Yet, despite knowing that there’s people here that he’s travelled with, people he’s gone through thick and thin with his mind is only on one person. His dark blue eyes scan the crowd for one man in particular. Danse. He hasn’t seen him since earlier this evening. And he doesn’t know if Nate is avoiding Danse or if Danse is avoiding Nate. His mind is a jumble at the moment and there’s so many people shaking his hand!

The sound of glass being struck with a spoon quiets everyone. Nate looks up from smiling at a woman with his best fake smile and spots Hancock standing a top the dinner table. He minds the food being served out on it, being placed ready for people to sit down and dine. He holds a glass in his hand with a silver spoon in the other. He waits for the crowd to simmer down, a large grin on his face as his black eyes scan over everyone.

“Now,” Hancock’s raspy voice begins as he throws the silver spoon over his shoulder. “Tonight is a grand night! One filled with laughter, more than I have heard in a long time. I haven’t seen this many smiling faces since… ever! And it’s all because of one personal and his little Minutemen! Always there within a minute’s notice! Took down the Institute in less than a minute I think as well!”

A chorus of chuckles and snorts light up the night. Hancock chortles lightly to himself with a hand covering his mouth.

“Nate is who we owe it to! A man out of time! A man from the past! A man with an ambition to destroy the Institute for his son! To make the Commonwealth a safer place for the people! He is now of the people! One of us!”

Despite the praise and Hancock raising his glass to him, the thought alone of his son creates a deeper hole than what is there originally. All glasses are raised and cheers are exclaimed into the starry night sky. It’s a beautiful night. One that Nate barely notices as everyone sits down to dine. All around the tables that stretch around the tree.

He needs a drink. Desperately.

Nick Valentine sits across from him with Piper beside the detective. There’s food in front of them of all different varieties but Nate doesn’t touch a lick of it. Piper chatters of her work, on how she’s been reporting less synth activity that’s Institute related, on how the residents of Diamond City aren’t in constant fear and on how she might be out of the job now with no Institute. It’s all good news. Something that Nate would love to hear but, his mind wonders somewhere else. His eyes land upon the person he’s been looking for all night.

“There will always be danger in the Commonwealth, Piper,” the detective speaks up, “No doubt about that. We may have chopped the head off the snake but there’s still the body to deal with.”

Piper thinks on that for a moment before her face screws up. She gestures a hand towards Valentine, “That, doesn’t make any sense, Nick.”

“Ah well, you understand what I’m trying to say. There will always be some bad in this world no matter where you look,” Valentine states.

Piper hums on that. “Yeah, let’s not think too hard on that. It’s Christmas after all and a celebration at that!”

Nate only hears half of the conversation. His attention is on Danse, who sits far down the other side of the table. He can just see him peaking out from behind the tree trunk. He rarely sees him out of the power armour these days and let alone in civilian clothes. He wears a blue button up shirt that hugs his shoulders tightly. It looks good on him.

He’s currently stuck in a conversation with Curie. What an odd sight to see. It’s like so many worlds are crashing together tonight. So many people Nate has met coming together in one place and it’s, jarring. Nate can’t keep up.

Danse smiles softly at Curie as the other synth flails her arms about, most likely explaining something or going on one of her rambles. But it has Danse captivated all the same. Nate almost finds himself a little jealous. Jealous that he can’t see Danse’s smile up close. He barely smiles as is.

Nate wonders what the two synths are conversing about. Would Curie be going on a ramble about Christmas itself, explaining how it was celebrated before the war? Or would she be talking to Danse about his own worry about his identity. Would that be something Danse would be willing to talk about with a stranger? He’s never met Curie upon tonight. They seem to be getting along well though despite it all.

Curie lets out a loud chuckle that can be heard over the crowd. Nate’s heart swells at how mundane all of this is. No one is worrying about the horrors that lie outside of the safety of Sanctuary hills. What did Danse say that earned that reaction? He can be blunt at times but some of the things that come out of his mouth does earn a-

“Earth to Nate?”

A snap of fingers in front of his face as the survivor sitting up straight, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. He looks to the two in front of him, wondering just how long he’s been staring for. How long have they been trying to get his attention?

“You staring at big boy or the pretty lady over there?” Valentine asks as he gestures over his shoulder, a cigarette in hand.

Piper tsks. “It’ll be the big boy.”

“What!?” Nate exclaims as if he’s been caught with his hand inside the cookie jar.

The reporter raises her brows at that. “When are you going to make a move on him, Nate? I’m not all for the soldier type but I can’t help but feel sorry for him. Pining over you that can’t charm a brick wall.”

The survivor stares at Piper with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. He doesn’t know how to answer. Hasn’t even realize that anyone around him has taken any notice to his own pining.

“I’ve seen how you follow him around like a lost pup sometimes. And he does the same, following you around, wondering where you are,” Piper goes on.

“I-“ Nate stutters. “A brick wall? Come on, Piper I’m better than that.”

Piper laughs at that, throwing her head back and laughing. “The last time I saw you try and charm some poor woman it landed us in a feral ghoul pit.”

Nate sits up straight at that. “She was impossible! You saw how she was!”

Piper only laughs harder at that. Nate sulks to himself with his chin in his palm. He glances to Valentine who’s fully turned in his seat to get a good look at Danse. He’s only met the ex-Paladin once or twice. Both times weren’t all that pleasant with Danse’s dislike towards synths. But now there’s a sort of sympathy towards Danse that Nate has noticed. The gruff, closed off wall that Valentine had put up has been lowered in case Danse ever wants to… talk.

Nate huffs as hair falls in front of his face. He spies a bottle of vodka near him and his fingers instinctively inch towards it. He shouldn’t really but he knows he’s too sober right now. It’s a bad habit but it’s a habit that lessons the pain. His fingers grip around the neck of the bottle and he sits up straighter, looking around for a glass.

Valentine places a glass in front of him. Nate looks to him silently, slowly grabbing it to pour himself a shot of vodka. It’ll warm him up. And make his racing thoughts become a haze.  

“Look,” Piper chirps up again. “I’m not saying it’s bad. You don’t need to get so caught up in liking men if that’s the issue.”

Nate is midway through taking his shot when Piper speaks and said vodka is shot back up into the glass. He chokes loudly, covering his mouth as he can feel vodka burning the insides of his air ways. Not the place that alcohol should be. Some people around him glance at him, asking if he’s okay. Valentine assures them with a raises hand and kind words.

“Piper,” Valentine clears his throat. “I don’t think that’s the issue here.”

Nate clears his throat, his inside still stinging in the worst ways possible. He pours himself a shot to help with the pain. And it burns on the way down.

The survivor gestures the glass towards Piper before pouring himself another drink. “You ever fall in love with someone that’s just as broken as yourself?”

The questions take both Valentine and Piper off guard. The reporter glances towards Valentine but his concerned attention is kept on Nate. He’s silent for a moment, flicking cigarette ash to the floor before leaning closer to the table.

“I can’t say that I have,” Nick answers slowly.

Nate takes back another shot with a flick of his head. “What if you both get hurt?” He asks even though he’s not expecting an answer.

He doesn’t know it himself and he should know the answer to everything. Because he’s the General to the Minutemen. He’s a fucking Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel. He’s an agent of the Railroad. Could have been the leader of the Institute.

He’s never told anyone that. And the thought of telling anyone makes his body lock up. His mouth clamp up tight. Who would he even tell!?

Another shot burns down his throat.

“What if you both heal?”

Valentine’s question hits a nerve within Nate. One that makes him look to Danse behind the detective with a sombre, tipsy expression. Could Nate help Danse? Could Danse help Nate?

A hand covers and squeezes his own, bringing his attention back to Piper. She looks to him with a new found sadness, like some kicked pup. The conversation quickly took a dreary tone all because of Nate’s lonesome pining and dreadful aura. He meets Piper’s gaze and he wonders what she sees. Does she see a hero? A legend that is as grand as all the stories told around the campfire? Or does she see a man. A simple man trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. A man from the past that’s trying to figure out where he belongs. A tired man that just needs some rest.

He breathes slowly, his body suddenly feeling very weighed down.

“It’s a celebration,” Piper says softly. “You should celebrate. Ask Danse for a-“ she chuckles at herself. “Ask him for a dance or something romantic instead of drinking yourself into a puddle. The future is brighter because of you and Danse is alive and sitting over there.”

As if on que, the harsh, bark of a laugh catches Nate’s ears. Danse’s rare laugh that he doesn’t hear often. He swears he feels his heart skip a beat. A genuine laugh. He looks over once again, past the two to see Preston has now joined in on the conversation with Curie and Danse. He hovers over Danse’s shoulder with a wide smile across his lips. It looks good on the young man. He’s needed this more than anyone. A break. A laugh.

Maybe Nate should stop being a sulk and actually enjoy the party. Maybe he should-

“Tiger,” Valentine ushers. “It’s only one night. What’s the harm in asking. It’s almost making me sad seeing you like this. Hey, I’ll go over there and ask him if you don’t any time soon. It’s killing me.”,

Nate licks his lips and suddenly stands, his hand still gripped around the neck of the vodka bottle. He feels so many eyes turn to him and he instinctively shrinks away, visibly wincing.

“Just uh-“ He can’t think licking his lips again. “I just need a moment is all. I’m sorry.”

With that, he wonders away from the party with the bottle still in hand. He doesn’t know where he’s headed. He just needs to get away from the noise. The chatter. The poking and the prodding. He knows he should just man up and ask Danse to do something instead of avoiding him. Who is he to ask him to live when he just ignores him like this!?

He runs a hand over his face before taking a swig straight of the bottle. He hisses as it burns but it feels good all the same. It’s what he needs. He needs the haze it brings over his mind. He just, doesn’t want to think. Not right now. Not when there’s everyone reminding him of all the good deeds he’s done.

Did he do them out of the kindness of his heart? Or because they’d put him one step closer to his son? Was it all for personal gain?

No. No it wasn’t.

Maybe. Maybe it was. Maybe he saved Danse from himself so that Nate wouldn’t have to live without a man that knows the struggle of war. He will admit that the man hasn’t seen true war, not like Anchorage but he’s seen it. Knows the loss and bloodshed of it. Maybe that’s why Nate clings to him like a life support. Cause he’s seen it all. Or maybe it’s the way that Danse cares and always puts others before himself. Is willing to lay his life down for a greater good. And he had.

He had laid down and waited for the bullet thinking it was for the greater good. Yet, despite his own self loathing here he is tonight laughing and conversating with people that Nate would have never imagined if he had remained with the Brotherhood. Maybe it was for the greater good that Danse’s true nature was shown to him.

Now is that selfish of Nate to think? That’s it’s better that Danse knows and struggles with his own identity instead of being blinded by an outlandish code so he would feel some comfortability in life. Danse has to start anew. Start from the ground up because everything he knew was ripped away to never be seen or grasped again. All because Nate walked into his life. Would they have found a way into the Institute if it wasn’t for Nate’s bull like drive? Maybe they’d still be twiddling their thumbs.

Nate lands on his knees heavily as he sinks low in front of his old closet. He doesn’t remember entering his old house. He doesn’t even remember turning down the street.

He rummages around, searching for one thing. One thing he had buried in here to never look at again and-

Slowly, Nate pulls out his old, rusted dog tags. The once shiny metal is now dull, the edges being eaten by rust, but his name and number can still be read clear as day. He hasn’t seen these in such a long time. He doesn’t even know why he’s pulled these out now. Come searching for them. Maybe for some solid proof that he was here. That his past life wasn’t all some sick and twisted dream that the Institute made up for him.

He sits back against the nearest wall as he holds his dog tags in one hand and the bottle in the other. Breathing in heavily, he listens to the murmur of people outside. He spies out the window, seeing the Christmas lights lighting up the settlement. It would bring a smile to his face, but it only makes him think of how the neighbour use to look like during Christmas.

Nate takes another, long swill of his bottle.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but he knows that he passes out shortly after the bottle is drained empty of it’s sickly liquid. Nate clutches his tags close to his chest as he lays on his side, his dreams filled with a time long before.

He’s half between worlds when he hears the heavy fall of boots come down the hallway. He pries his eyes open, looking through his eyelashes as he peers into the dark, paint peeled room of his own. The room spins and he feels like he’s sinking into the floor where he lays, his cheek smooshed into the old crusty carpet. He doesn’t see who’s come into the room until a glass of water is place right in front of his nose.

A glass of water.

Nate swallows thickly, his eyes opening fully now as he looks up to meet the sight of Danse kneeling in front of him. It’s as if he suddenly sobers up, finding the will to sit up straight which is a big mistake in itself. His head swims and he quickly grabs at his head with a groan.

“Easy there,” Danse’s voice is soft, almost too soft.

A large hand cups Nate’s head to hold him still as the cup of water is brought to his lips. Nate almost refuses at first but the look on Danse’s face has him sipping down the water.

So, it was Danse who carried him to his cot in the Prydwyn. Would he have done this if Nate had been awake? Would he have cradled his face like this to make sure he sobered up on water? The thought makes his gut swim and he doesn’t know if it’s the man in front of him or his stomach mixing and churning with vodka and water.

The glass leaves Nate’s lips along with the hand on his face. He almost finds himself whining for it to stay but he stops short.

“I would ask you why you left but I don’t think a sad drunk agrees with loud and cheerful crowds,” Danse comments bluntly but there’s a tinge of light heartedness to it that Nate hears.

He wouldn’t of been able to point it out when they had first met. Everything that came from Danse’s mouth was blunt and short. But Nate had listened. Picked up the quirks of each sentence that passed from the ex-Paladin’s lips to figure out what he actually means. Find the hidden emotion that he tries oh so desperately to hide.

“A sad drunk?” Nate asks with a tilt of his head.

“Affirmative,” Danse quirks.

“Huh,” Nate scoffs. “I didn’t want to bring down the party, so I decided to start one on my own. Can’t you see I’m having a blast?”

Danse does the dramatic honour of looking around the room as if someone else is going to pop out. But when he sees no one else, he looks back to the survivor with a tilt of his head.

“A very lively party,” he says with as much sarcasm as he can muster. Which isn’t a lot. It sounds more like an insult than anything else.

Nate snorts through his nose.

“I came by to make sure you’re alright,” Danse says as he stands up straight. Nate’s chest squeezes at the sudden realization that he could be left again. “I should be getting back to the party. I’ll tell everyone you’re oka-”

“Stay.”

It’s out of Nate’s mouth before he can even think. He quickly clears his throat.

“Only if you wanna stick by a two-hundred-year-old man. I’ve been told I look good for my age,” he softly chuckles at his own joke.

Danse looks down at him silently with a small rising smirk on his lips. The few passing seconds feel like an eternity to Nate as he stares up at the other man with pleading eyes. It must work, that puppy dog eyed look Nate has perfected so well, or may he does just look like a sad drunk because Danse sits down right next to him with his back to the wall.

“You could go back out there,” Danse comments. “You’re the reason why everyone is here today.”

Nate looks to the other sadly. He looks a little too long at how the red and green lights from outside flicker and dance across the other’s face, making his dark brown eyes all that softer.

He licks his lips, looking away. “Why? Everyone has at least thanked me five times for my good deeds. You’d think I’m some kind of angel that has come from the heavens!”

“You shouldn’t put yourself in such a hole,” Danse says firmly. “I’ve seen men do less than you have be raised to Paladin. All they did past that is gloat on how grand and great they are to the lower ranks and roll in the praises they get. I don’t understand why you see yourself as something as low as the bottom of a bottle when you’ve made a future for the next generation of children.”

Nate swallows thickly, his chest squeezing tightly. He says his mind out loud before he even knows it. Before he can put a lid on it to stop the chaos from escaping.

“I put myself in this hole ‘cause I couldn’t even save my own kid,” He spits it, snaps it even to make Danse shut up. To stop making him sound like such a hero. And Danse does. He falls silent, watching Nate intently.

“I found him. I found my son in the Institute. But-” Nate’s voice hics. God he’s going to cry. “I was sixty years too fucking late. He was older than me. Had more grey hairs than me! God the way he spoke to me it was- I-“

Nate swallows his own words. He can’t say it. He shouldn’t say it. Not out loud. How would someone react hearing Nate say that he fucking hated his own son after searching high and low for him. After everything he had been through had been for nothing. He had found a way into the one place that didn’t have a front door and had only found his son running the place that had caused so much pain in the Commonwealth.

“I left him there, Danse.”

He doesn’t want to look at the other man. Doesn’t want to see what horror struck expression that has come across his face. But he looks. He looks and only sees… pity. A sadness and concern that Nate has seen so many times from the nurses when he was in the army.

“That wasn’t your son,” Danse suddenly says. “You didn’t raise him. Didn’t know him. That man was a stranger that had your son’s face.”

Nate swallows thickly, holding back the choke of a sob rising within his throat. Shaun died with Nora in that god forsaken vault. And out stepped Nate. A man from the past that had no idea what was going on nor what year he was in. Maybe he should have died with the rest. Maybe Nora would have had a better out look on a world such as this.

Nate finds himself staring at Danse. He doesn’t know how to respond. He’s never thought to put it into that perspective. Those dark brown eyes put him into one of those trances he can’t look away from.

“Ridding the Commonwealth of the disease festering underneath it’s skin, you saved everyone. You may have lost your family, but you’ve found one. You have one here with the people out there celebrating an old tradition that has probably not been celebrated like this in a long time. You’ve made people smile again, Nate,” Danse speaks softly yet his voice stills holds that same soldier like sternness to it that won’t ever go away.

“You’ve made me smile again.”

Yet, the way Danse speaks that last line it takes the survivor’s breath away. And just like that, the smile that Nate loves so much spreads across the other man’s face. It crinkles at his eyes and shows his little fangs he has.

The next thing that Nate does, he’d call himself stupid for it. He leans forward towards Danse, hesitating only a moment when his lips are a hair’s breath away from the ex-Paladin’s to see if he’ll pull away, to see if it’ll push Nate away for his stupidity. But when he doesn’t move, looking to Nate through his lashes and his mouth now lightly parted as if waiting, Nate moves forward that extra bit to kiss Danse’s soft lips. Only light like, a small peck that lasts a little too long before Nate can have a taste. He pulls away and looks into those brown eyes that stare directly back.

“I’m sorry there wasn’t any mistletoe, I jumped the gun,” Nate says as he leans away.

But Danse grabs him by the front of the shirt, almost rough like to drag him back into a much rougher kiss. One that Danse leads like he’s done this before, kissing and tasting Nate’s lips as if he can’t get enough of him. The survivor melts into Danse’s touch as the ex-Paladin places a hand on his waist to steady him.

Maybe everything will be alright. Maybe this Christmas will be a merry one after all. The warmth of Danse is enough to lull him into a mindless wake. He lets Danse kiss him the way he wants, lets him taste him as much as he wants. If only Danse could feel just how much Nate has wanted this for so long. His chest aches painfully even though he now has it within his grasp.

It’s better than alcohol. His mind melts and he forgets everything for the moment. All his worries. Everything he’s been through. Because he knows, in his heart he knows that there are arms he can lean on. That there will be someone there to catch him if he falls. Someone that will watch over him when he’s in a hole of his own making. To offer him water when he’s in need. And there has been arms to lean on for a good while now. Ever since he heard the distress call over his pip-boy.

Nate hums as Danse ventures down his jaw to his neck, holding onto the ex-Paladin and not letting go. He breathes heavily, his eyes a daze as he stares out the window. Snow falls softly and he doesn’t register it at first but, he chuckles softly at seeing the flakes. He doesn’t have to think too much about it though as Danse engulfs his mouth in another feverish kiss. He wonders instead how long the ex-Paladin has been wanting this. Yearning for it. How much he’s ached for Nate.

He’d love to find out. And they have the rest of the night to do so. He holds onto Danse and doesn’t let go. Doesn’t think he even wants to. He’s got Danse and that’s the best Christmas gift he could ever ask for.

-

Like, comment and reblog or whatever

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

The one good thing about school? It’s so easy to catch up on sleep. Junpei had given it a shot when they’d gotten back to the dorm and failed horribly. If he’d stayed home he probably would’ve spent the whole day tossing and turning, imagining the sounds of ambulance sirens and Amada crying. But Edogawa droning on and on about whatever magical bullshit is like a white noise machine. It’s exactly what Junpei needs to catch a few decent z’s. 

Honestly, Junpei’s amazed that Minato and Yuka-tan apparently didn’t fall asleep during class. How much sleep can they even be running on right now? Two hours? Three at most, and that’s if they even slept in the first place. 

When the final bell of the day rings, Junpei sits up and stretches. He doesn’t feel quite rested, per se, but he does feel way better than this morning at least. Whatever Kirijo-senpai has to say, he’s ready for it. There’s no way this can get any worse, right? 

“Let’s get going,” Yuka-tan says, not wasting any time. It sounds like she’s ready to get this over with just as much as he is. And hey, maybe if they have time after picking up Amada and hopefully seeing Aragaki-san, he can stop by Chidori’s room and say hello. 

Fuuka comes out of her classroom a few seconds after they do. Moriyama’s hot on her heels, fussing over her all the way. “Promise me you’ll call me if you feel like you need to, okay Fuuka?”

“I will, Natsuki-chan, I promise,” Fuuka says, muffled by the tight hug Moriyama pulls her into.

“I really mean it, okay? Even if it’s two in the morning, I don’t care, you can call.” She lets Fuuka go to join up with the rest of their group. “I hope your friend is alright,” she says to all of them. It’s nice of her. She seems really different these days, now that she’s been hanging out with Fuuka.

They all meet Kirjio-senpai in front of the student council room. She’s apologizing to one of the other council members (the cute first year with the glasses– Junpei can’t remember her name) for being unable to attend to her duties today. 

Glasses Girl bows politely and must say something reassuring, because Kirijo-senpai smiles at her. Their business concludes right after, and Kirijo-senpai turns around to see them all. Her smile falls a little but doesn’t vanish entirely. That’s got to be a good sign. “Ah good, you’re all here,” she says. 

“Have you heard anything?” Fuuka asks, her voice watery. Junpei wonders how she fared all day. He’s glad Moriyama was there to comfort her a little. She seems to take her Comforting Fuuka duties pretty seriously.

“I have,” Kirijo-senpai replies. “I received a call a few hours ago. Aragaki survived the surgery.” 

All of them, even Minato, even Aigis, let out a long collective sigh of relief. Okay, that’s one piece of good news today! Off to a good start!

“Oh thank goodness…” Fuuka whispers, sounding close to tears. Hell, even Junpei feels a little choked up. He hopes this means things are starting to turn around. 

Kirijo-senpai nods. “He’s been given a room, and Akihiko has informed me that he’s being allowed visitors as well.” It’s only then that Junpei realizes that Sanada-san isn’t here with them. Did he skip? Damn, now he feels kind of bad for leaving him at the hospital all alone… “I haven’t received any further updates, but Akihiko should be able to fill us in once we’ve arrived.”

“Then we should all go and visit Aragaki-san, post haste,” Aigis says with a rare smile on her face. “Nothing helps one’s recovery more than companions by one’s side, as they say.” 

Junpei has no idea who says that, but she’s probably not wrong. 

Hopefully Amada can come home tonight too. There’s a lot that needs to be said, apparently. 

“I agree,” Kirijo-senpai says. Out of all of them here, it looks like she wants to visit Aragaki-san the most. “And I’m sure the doctors would be able to aid in explaining the particulars of Aragaki’s condition. I can give you all a general idea, but they most certainly know more than I do.” 

“Then what’re we waitin’ for?” Junpei pipes in. “Let’s go see the rest of our crew!” Well, except Koromaru. It really sucks that the hospital won’t let pets in, at least not the ones that aren’t specially trained or whatever. Aragaki-san would probably be happier to see him than pretty much anybody, except maybe Sanada-san and Kirijo-senpai.

Actually, on second thought, he’d probably want to see Koromaru the most. 

Compared to the dorms, Tatsumi Memorial Hospital is actually pretty far away from the school. Luckily, the subway goes straight there for convenience, and Junpei knows the way there by heart by now, so the trip barely takes any time at all. Junpei is surprised to spot Sanada-san in the parking lot when they arrive, instead of inside. He’s talking to an older couple in front of a car. A pretty nice car, too– one with that classy-but-understated kinda look to it.

“Thanks again for coming all this way,” he half hears Sanada-san say as they approach. 

“Don’t be silly, Aki,” the woman replies kindly, sandwiching his face between her hands. She’s tiny next to him, a whole head shorter. “It’s not far at all.”

“Especially not for something like this.” The man puts a hand on Sanada-san’s shoulder– he’s also shorter, but only by a centimeter or two. “You’ll call us if something else happens with Shinjiro-kun, right?”

“...Yeah, Dad. I will.” Oh, so these are his parents. The ones that sent that swanky care package a while back. It makes sense they’d know Aragaki-san too, Junpei figures. 

Sanada-san’s mom gives him a tight hug, and he hugs her back. “And please get some rest,” she says before finally getting into the car. Once they’ve driven off, Sanada-san finally notices them. 

And wow. Junpei would never say this to his face, but he looks like shit. No wonder his mom told him to get some rest. He’s got bags under his eyes like he’s planning on going globe-trotting. Has he gotten any sleep at all in the last 24 hours? 

Probably not. Sanada-san’s the kinda guy that goes from one extreme to the other. 

“Your parents came by?” Kirijo-senpai asks, going right to his side. 

“I was surprised too,” Sanada-san replies. Junpei’s never heard him sound so tapped out before. “They dropped all of their plans today to come see me and Shinji.” 

It’d be a lie if he said he’s not a little jealous. Must be nice to have parents that care. 

“Ikutsuki-san came by earlier as well,” Sanada-san continues. “But he didn’t stay long.” He doesn’t sound too beat up about that.

Kirijo-senpai puts a hand on Sanada-san’s arm, and they do that thing of theirs where they don’t even speak but still know what the other one is saying. It’s pretty easy to tell from the outside what’s being not-said this time, though. She wants to know how things are going– all of them do. Junpei’s ready to hear some more good news. 

He doesn’t get to. Instead, he watches as Sanada-san’s face falls and he looks away. “Shinji’s… He made it through surgery, but he hasn’t woken up yet.” 

Okay…not ideal, but Aragaki-san’s probably just exhausted after such intensive surgery, right? That has to take a lot out of a guy.

“The doctors said they aren’t sure if he’ll even wake up at all.” Sanada-san barely gets the whole sentence out, and his voice still cracks a little on the last word. 

A heavy silence falls over all of them. Oh.

“So he’s…” Yuka-tan says quietly. “He’s in a coma?”

“Basically, yes.”

Shit.

“No way…” Junpei mutters. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to have gotten through the worst part and started heading for the triumphant comeback.

He remembers suddenly how he had told himself ‘oh things for sure can’t get worse!’ back at school. He really should know better than to even think something like that.

“Aragaki-senpai…” Fuuka sounds like she’s about to burst into tears. Junpei wishes he could say something to comfort her, but he doesn’t even know how to comfort himself. “He…he can’t…” 

“I think it would behoove us to go inside,” Aigis cuts her off. “We can speak to the doctors and get a more detailed explanation of everything. Please, do not lose hope, everyone.” 

At least someone’s optimistic. They really need someone to be, right now. Yuka-tan has her arms wrapped tight around herself and her mouth is pinched. Minato looks like he’s about to throw up, and he’s turned about the same color as old milk. 

“That’s a good idea, Aigis,” Kirijo-senpai replies. Even she looks way more shaken than Junpei’s ever seen her. He doesn’t think she’d ever let herself to look like this in front of them under normal circumstances.

When they get inside, even Junpei can tell that something doesn’t seem right. It feels a little more…panicky, maybe? Then it did yesterday. Sanada-san’s clearly surprised, so it must not have been like this when he’d walked his parents out, even though he couldn’t have been outside with them for more than ten minutes. 

“Kirijo-san!” The doctor from before, the one that asked for the blood donation, runs up to them. She looks even more haggard than yesterday– no, shit, earlier today, that’s insane to think about. “I was just about to call you– I’m so sorry, I don’t know how this happened–” 

Junpei suddenly gets an awful feeling. Judging from how panicked she looks– No. Come on. There’s no way–

“What’s wrong?” Kirijo-senpai asks, looking just as alarmed as he feels. “What happened?”

He’s got no words for the expression on Sanada-san’s face. ‘Horrified’ comes to mind, but— that’d be underselling it big time. ‘Devastated’ isn’t strong enough either. Whatever it is, Junpei has to look away.

“It’s Amada-kun. He’s not in his room. We can’t find him anywhere.” 

Oh, shit. Oh you’ve got to be kidding! How the hell do you just lose a whole-ass kid?!

It’s not the news they’d all been afraid of, but it’s not exactly a relief either. Kirijo-senpai starts grilling the doctor on when and how Amada could have snuck out. She sounds calm, but Junpei’s been on the wrong end of a lecture from her often enough to tell the difference between ‘actually calm’ and ‘so ice-cold angry that it looped all the way back around’.

She apparently doesn’t get any helpful answers from any of the doctors. Between the time she turns away from them and the moment she rejoins their group, all of that terrifying anger has drained right out of her and she just looks worried and scared. Actually, seeing Kirijo-senpai scared like this is kind of terrifying too, in a completely different way.

“I know I promised you all answers, and I’m so sorry–”

“It’s okay, Kirijo-senpai,” Yuka-tan interrupts. “We need to find Amada-kun, that takes priority.”

“I know where to find him,” Sanada-san says. His voice sounds a lot stronger than Junpei’s heard it all day, almost like his normal self. “I can go get Amada while you and the doctors fill everyone in like you planned, Mitsuru.”

“Wait, you know?” Junpei exclaims. “How the hell do you know? You didn’t see him run off, did you?” How can he suddenly sound so confident?

“No, of course not,” he replies, looking irritated. “I just– have a feeling that I know what he’s thinking, and where that would take him.”

“Should I come with you, Sanada-senpai?” Fuuka says. “If he’s not where you think he is after all, I could–”

“You don’t need to,” Sanada-san says bluntly, then immediately looks like he feels bad about it. “I appreciate the offer, Yamagishi,” he continues in a much gentler tone. “If I’m wrong, I’ll call and we can figure out a plan to search for him.”

It’s not like Sanada-san to be all cryptic like this, and Junpei can’t say he’s a huge fan of it. But since he's not usually like this, that must mean that there’s a reason he’s being this way now, right?

“You’re certain you want to do this alone, Akihiko?” Kirijo-senpai asks.

“I am. And I think– I think it should be me.” Whatever that means?

“Alright. Let us know when you find him, and whether the two of you will be meeting us back here or at the dorms.”

Sanada-san nods, looking determined. After a moment, though, some worry creeps back into his expression. “Watch over Shinji for me, Mitsuru,” he says quietly. Kirijo-senpai touches his shoulder.

“I will,” is all she says out loud, but they’re doing that senpai telepathy thing again. He can’t tell what they’re saying over their weird psychic link this time, though. After a second, Kirijo-senpai drops her hand, and Sanada-san leaves for wherever he’s so sure Amada is.

“Alright,” Kirijo-senpai sighs. “Let’s head to Aragaki’s room, and then I’ll explain everything to the best of my ability, as promised.”

[radiocrypt-id]

Chayane and Tallulah, the egg Children of Philza Minecraft, and how they've changed after living with only him as their consistent parent over the past couple months.

I was inspired by a post I reblogged earlier, the op on that post had talked about the idea that the eggs get their appearances from their parents, and how Chayanne and Tallulah, who have absent parents, would maybe start to lose the traits of those parents in favour for the present one. They would feel guilty over this, but it's not their fault.

Especially now that q!Phil has properly said out loud that he's always considered Tallulah his daughter, I wondered how that would effect her.

skip the following if you want to avoid a rambling break down lol

Obviously with q!Phil as the only one around for them, he's in charge of keeping them dressed and safe. For Chay that doesn't look much different than when Missa was around, the biggest change for him is just that he's gain preferences, like his favourite colour being orange and wanting to be like Technoblade. q!Phil just does his best to alter whatever he has to fit Chay better. Tallulah, however, would be vastly different. She gets cold easily, has chronic pain (sore muscles = poor computer) and asthma (bad air = poor internet connection) and thos things have improved a bit while with q!phil. Lore wise I like to think it's because q!phil noticed and took step to accomidate her beyond just slowing down or patiently waiting for her. She has compression clothes, like socks and gloves, for the pain and an inhaler on her at all times. She wears layers, like q!phil, to keep warm up on the wall. He hair is tied out of her face so she can see better and keep it from being tangled so badly. She still has piece of her Papi (q!wilbur) like the locket and her obi being her hat and sweater colour. But it's very much the the clothes q!phil is familiar and comfortable with and can get ahold of. After all this time, I can't imagine the clothes she was left with have really survived everything. Her sweater would have been shredded and blood stained (her death), her skirt would have been torn and mud stained, her hat would have been singed and ripped. There's so much that's happened to them that those things couldn't possibly survive, and I don't imagine q!wilbur was the type to predict the sort of trouble she'd suffer, given that he didn't even give her armour or teach her to fight, they just always hid and he assumed that would be good enough (q!wilbur said many times he never wanted Tallulah to have to fight or kill anything or anyone, he didn't think it was fair for a little girl to have to live that way, and he was right! it's not fair! but it wasn't realistic, and that left her so unprepared) so there's no way she had enough clothes and copies of specific clothes (ie, her sweater) to survive months of his absence. q!phil will have had to compensate. The easiest way to do that is just re-dyeing Chays old clothes until he can get her her own, and the longer she's with them, the more of her own clothes she has instead of hand me downs. q!phil shows he thinks it's important that the children are not only safe, but have their own spaces and things so that they can properly express themselves and work through their feelings and save the things they love without having to put them away in a chest. I think this would extend to clothes. they're safe and helpful for them, but also their own.

She likely has her hat and sweater in a chest and takes them out when she misses her Papa to snuggle into. You know she's feeling angsty at home whenever she's got that yellow sweater on, man.

[mychemicalrachel]

talk to be about your dreamer Declan au 👀

With pleasure 😈 It's less of an AU and more of a vague string of ideas unattached to any definitive plotline. But I started wondering what makes someone a dreamer, and why the gene would’ve skipped Declan if both his parents were dreamers, which got me wondering about what kind of dreamer Declan would be. He wouldn’t be so reckless as Niall and he'd have more tact than Kavinsky. I kept imagining him as some kind of closet dreamer, meticulous and careful and controlled. He's always been secretive because he was raised to believe that secrets = safety so he practiced in private and taught himself how to dream responsibly.

But then I keep imagining how everything would have been different if Declan had been open about it the whole time. Declan teaching Ronan, the two of them sharing dreams but also like just playing around with it? Seeing who can dream up the weirdest/stupidest thing (Ronan always won).

Declan experiencing the nightwash when he inevitably tries to stop dreaming because he wants to he normal and Ronan freaking out because he thinks his brother is dying. Ronan cleaning him up but admonishing him the whole time.

Ronan and Declan as kids, sneaking around the Barns to go through the dream stuff Niall doesn't want them to see. Ronan and Declan actually bonding and leaning on one another because they trust each other, they're the same.

But then your post got me thinking about involuntarily suppressed dreamer Declan and I'm obsessed with that idea. It makes so much sense and it hurts me so much... Declan eventually being outed as a dreamer, clueless and lost because he'd never been allowed to explore that side of himself. He has to look to Ronan for guidance, he has to figure out how to survive inside his own head again. He would have nightmares for sure, but he'd also, for the first time in his whole life, have dreams.

I'd absolutely love to hear anymore thoughts you have on dreamer Declan if you wanna share!!

[the-hyperfixation-station223]

This isn't that au I was talking about in a previous post, it is more or less what I think happend when omza went to save Dorothy from that tower in langwidre's caslte

(Pre relationship Dorzma, or atleast that was the intention)

Dorothy awoke on the uncomfortable ‘bed’ in the northern tower she had been locked in, sighing heavily when she was lucid enough to realize the previous events were no bad dream.

“Can't be helped.” she thought to herself.

She got off the bed and looked to the endtrace of the cell she was in, the lack of food tray made her assume it was before breakfast.

That or Langwidre had yet to send her breakfast. Oh well, at least she had eaten well the day before. She ought to survive a few skipped meals.

But for how long?

She shook off that unpleasant thought- the princess wanted her head, and what good is the head of a dead person? 

“Besides,” she remembered, “ Uncle Henry told me it would take about a month with no food at all to starve to death.”

Assuring herself that she wouldn't die of starvation, she decided to occupy her mind with other things. Unfortunately the bit of chalk she had found & drawn on the walls with last night was nothing more than a nub, perhaps she’d be able to request another one from the maids next time they come by.

She looked to the window,

“May as well see what the rest of Ev looks like.” she thought as she went up to it. It was just high enough for her to see without using her tiptoes, she could cimb onto the windowsill if she pleased. But the widows were barred too close together for her to squeeze out of, and she was very high up.

“Its not as high up compared to most modern buildings,” she mused, “Yet- wouldn't survive that fall. If the Scarecrow were here he’d be able to break the fall like he did in that porcelain country, or perhaps Lion could use his claws to scale down the towerside…” she sighed heavily, missing her old friends dearly.

“I wonder what they’re up to right now, I do hope they’re doing better than I am.”

She shook her head, it cant be helped.

She looked out over the kingdom of Ev, of to her side she could see the ocean she and Billena had washed from.

And a little speck she assumed was the chicken coup they had floated in for who knows how long.

She sighed, she could even see a distant approximation of where she had met TikTok. She remorsefully ran her hand over the key in her pocket.

“I wonder if his thought has ran down yet.”

She scanned the surrounding country, she had a very good view from where she was. If she was in a better situation she’d enjoy getting to observe a whole new fairy land.

Her eyes landed on a vast desert with nothing living on it.

“That must be the dessert separating me from Oz.” she sighed, resting her chin on the window.

Oz, that's where she wished she was. Or with Uncle Henry, the poor man must think she’s drowned by now. She’d give up this potential adventure in a heartbeat just to be in either place.

“But- I have no cyclones or magic shoes. I’ll just have to make do till I figure something out.” she reminded herself, taking in a big breath and re-instilling her confidence.

“You've killed two witches, albeit accidentally, and survived just about every awful thing life has thrown at you so far,” she told herself, “You’ll make it out of this, though, it may take quite a lot of time- given you're alone…”

She looked behind her, to the drawings from last night, they were of her family back at home, the farm, and what she remembered of her adventure in Oz. The adventure itself was crystal clear to her but- some of the faces of her friends had been blurred by time. 

She couldn't quite remember if it was Tinman’s left or right that The Wizard had placed his new ‘heart’ into. Or which of Lion’s ears that had been clipped by some unknown event. Or if Scarecrow’s hat tilted in front of his face or away from it.

It was eerily similar to her memories of her parents, did her father have a scar on the left side of his face- or the right. Was it her mom that always had her hair in braids, like Dorothy has now, or was that something she made up?

But, like with her parents, she’d be able to recognize any of them in an instant, that she knew for certain. She couldn't forget either of them if she wanted to.

Not that she’d ever would of course.

“Would trading my head take my memories with it?” she wondered for a second before shaking it off.

“No, you are not going to trade your head, so its useless wondering what would happen if you did.”

She turned her eyes back to the lifeless dessert. 

“Though, you have little to no chance of getting any help from your old friends with that lifeless desert in the way-”

The sentence in her mind stopped short when she saw something, something was stirring in the desert. But how?

“If only I had a spyglass!” she thought as she anxiously squinted- trying to make out some type of shape.

“What could that be?” she wondered aloud.

She didn't have to wait very long to get an answer.

Within seconds she could make out a chariot shape, and the figures of some type of army. 

She felt an ounce of hope in her, “Did my friends somehow learn of my imprisonment?” she wondered as she strained to get a career look at who was driving the chariot.

Soon the magnificent chariot came into focus, not enough to make out the driver's face- though it appeared to be a girl around her age, but she could make out the form of a large Lion.

The ounce of hope grew to a pint.

The Lion was side by side with a large Tiger, both were carrying the chariot over a green carpet that unfurled in front of them. Shielding them all from the deadly sands.

Beside the chariot Dorothy saw  two forms, one was straw stuffed-  with painted features, wearing blue munchkin clothing, and was riding on what appeared to be a wooden horse. 

The pint became a gallon.

The other, shiny tin, with an ax over his shoulder, and his funnel hat tipped over his ear as if it were a hat.

The gallon overflowed. She couldn't help but bounce on her heels.

“It's them! It's them!” she clasped her hands together, 

“I'm as good as rescued! I'm as good as home!”

She crawled onto the windowsill and watched her friends, the girl and Tiger- who she did not recognize, and the army of unknown soldiers behind them, excitedly as they approached.

It took a while, reasonably so- Ev was a rather large kingdom with quite a few curious residents, but eventually they arrived below the castle.

Dorothy waved her arm and called out,

“Hey!”

They didn't seem to hear her, perhaps she wasn't loud enough? Or they weren’t close enough.

The Scarecrow got off the wooden horse and approached the trick sign on the castle.

“Hey, I'm here! Here’s Dorothy!” She was half tempted to throw one of her shoes down, but the straw man heard her.

“Dorothy?” he said, initially looking around him.

“Up here! I'm up here!” she had to wipe a few tears of excitement and relief from her face.

The familiar painted face of the scarecrow looked up, it was a ways down- so details weren't too clear, but she could see he had been repainted since the last time she’d seen him.

“Dorothy Gale?!” He asked, painted eyes squinting.

“Yes!”

The Tinman, Lion, Tiger, Mystery girl, and all the soldiers looked up. She could see the Tinman and Lion’s faces smile at her as the soldiers muttered to one another.

“What are you doing in there?” The Lion asked.

“And are you ok?” The Tinman asked, concerned. 

“Nothing and No!” she called down, “I'm a prisoner in here, please get me down.”

“We’ll do just that little friend, who are you a prisoner of?” Scarecrow asked.

“That Princess Langwidre, she wants me to trade my head for one of her old ones. And locked me up when I said I’d do no such thing. She’s got a horrifying temper.” Dorothy explained. The Mystery girl spoke up, her voice was pleasant, loud, and clear as a bell. 

“I do not blame you, I have business with Langwidre but I shall have you free’d before any of that is to be discussed.” she said.

“Oh,” Dorothy was a little surprised, the girl looked of high importance- from what Dorothy could see she was wearing a beautiful gown, had long dark-brown coils laying perfectly down her shoulders, and had a gold ringlet with poppies on the sides. Then she remembered The Wizard had left the Scarecrow in charge of Oz- and this girl appeared to be his friend. Of course she’d want to rescue her. 

“Thank you very much!” 

“Just sit tight Dorothy, you’ll be down as fast as we can get you.” the Tinman assured her. Dorothy gave a nod and carefully slid down from her spot on the windowsill. 

“Oh no-” she remembered. “Don't listen to the sigh! Its a trick! The real door is on the right!” she called down.

“Thank you!” Scarecrow called up to her. Dorothy stood at the window and watched them walk off and out of sight.

She was so excited to see her old friends again, and that new person- Dorothy couldn't see much of the mysterious girl driving the chariot of gold and emeralds, but anyone who was friends with her old comrades was worth trusting. 

She remembered how elegant and put together the girl looked, and became very aware of her outfit.

“Oh dear.” she bit her thumbnail as she saw how water stained and dirty her clothes were. ”Well, I was stranded in the ocean, then a beach, and then a prison cell. I have no real control over how I look right now.”

But what she did have control of was her hair. She heard some distant shouting, Langwidre had met her old friends, which means they were on their way to see her. 

Which means she didn't have long to put herself together. Aunt Em always said it was important to make good impressions on strangers- she had no control on her impressions of her old friends, but she had some control here.

Quickly she took the ribbons out of her braids, and finger brushed her unwashed, blond hair. Once she had gotten most of the dried sea salt out of it she braided them back into their ropes and tied the bow’s back on.

She heard footsteps, only three sets thought- too heavy to be Scarecrow, not metallic enough to be Tinman, and she assumed Langwidre wouldn't let Lion this far up in her castle. Mayhaps her friends were waiting just outside the tower and some of Langwidre’s maids were going to take her to them?

She had hardly gotten her second ribbon tied when she got her answer.

“Here’s the girl, very rude mind you- thought I did have No.17 on. That one tends to be offended by almost everything. I really do need a warning sign on that one.” Langwidre was rambling as one of her maids opened the door, behind her was the Mysterious girl.

Dorothy was now very aware of how unkempt she looked- and the addition of one un-bowed ribbon in her hair did not help.

“Well I must get back to my Mirror room- I’ll meet you there when you wish to discuss saving my Aunt and Cousins.” Langwidre snapped her fingers, her and her maid walked away and left the two girls in the unlocked tower cell.

Pretty didn't begin to describe the girl.

Her gown appeared to be green silk with a shimmering train behind her. The poppies on her circlet looked as if they were living, and knowing Oz, they most likely were. It sat elegantly on her river of dark brown coils, that flowed down her shoulders, framing her face perfectly.

And her face, Dorothy had never seen a girl look this pretty without makeup, and she hardly saw any make up last time she was in Oz. Apart from casual lipstick and blush.

She had large black eyes set into her round face. Her brown skin was clear, without a single blemish, and reminded Dorothy of some of the doll’s that were too expensive for her family to buy.

She swore she could see freckles, slightly darker than the girl’s skin, scattered across her face. They weren't too different from Dorothy’s freckles- though she had many more, years working in the sun dose that to a person.

Actually- there was one ‘imperfection’ on the girl’s face, a scar on her chin. As if she had fallen down and injured herself as a child. But the scar somehow added to the charm the girl already possessed.

Dorothy realized only a few seconds had passed, and the girl was now looking at her with a gentle expression. Before Dorothy could do or say anything, the girl walked towards her and- entirely to Dorothy’s surprise, kneeled.

“It's a pleasure to meet you Dorthy, Hero of Oz, and slayer of the wicked witches.” the girl said in a soft voice, just as pleasant and clear as when she was several feet below her window.

Dorthy felt her face warm, and was glad she had some dirt covering it. She quickly tried to hide the unfinished hair bow behind her shoulder as the girl rose.

“I am Princess Ozma of Oz.”

Princess Ozma, the one TikTok had told her about. 

That explained why she looked so elegant.

It took her a few moments to get her thoughts straight, embarrassed that she looked this unkempt in front of royalty.

In embarrassment and sudden pressure to be propper, she completely forgot proper etiquette and stuck her hand out- as if to shake Ozma’s.

“It's nice to meet you too Princess, my friend TikTok told me about you.” she said, words falling out of her mouth before she could think of them too much.

“Dorothy, what are you doing? You’re not supposed to shake princess hands when you meet them!” she said in her head, yet her expression remained a polite- if a little nervous, smile.

Ozma smiled back and took Dorothy’s hand. Dorothy had expected a princess’s hand to be soft, but Ozma’s hand was almost more calloused than hers were. 

They shook hands as Dorothy remembered she was meant to curtsy, and did a half curtsy as she shook the princess's hand.

Ozma’s nose scrunched in amusement before she laughed. Like her voice, her laugh was pleasant and pretty.

“I'm glad I finally got to meet you. I've heard about you since your first visit in Oz, I'm from the gillikins country in the north.” Ozma said, still holding on to Dorothy’s hand.

“That's where the good witch who kissed my head is from isnt it?”

“Yes, you have a very high reputation there, as well as all of Oz. Reasonably so for all you've done for it.”

“I would have been able to do any of that stuff without my friends.” Dorothy fidgeted with the loose strands at the ends of her braid. “And I killed both of those witches by accident. I'm glad it ended up being good but It wasn't planned- at least the witch of the east wasn't. My house really did just fall on her- I had no control of that.”

Ozma nodded.

“Speaking of your old house, it's now a monument to you.”

“Oh is it?” Dorothy asked, becoming embarrassed again. “Tell the munchkins I appreciate it, even if it's a bit much- I'm still just a simple farm girl.”

Ozma tilted her head, never dropping her smile, and a strange look of empathy coated her features.

“I was too once, well- kinda anyhow.”

“Hm?” Dorothy tilted her head in confusion.

“I promise to explain later, but right now I need to talk to Langwidre, and I believe your old friends would like to see you.” Ozma looked at the drawings Dorothy had made, “and I believe you’d like to see them.”

Dorothy nodded her head and the two walked out the door.

They walked, hand in hand, as Dorothy looked the Princess over again.

When she first saw her, she thought she was pretty- like a painting or glass doll. But after that short conversation with her, she seemed more- real, Human. Or Gillikin in her case, Dorothy still wasn't too sure what the difference between a munchkin, gillikin, quadling, or winkie and a human was. Apart from coming from Oz that is. 

But she felt drawn to Ozma, drawn in a way that felt- possible. Realistic. Ozma went from appearing like a painting come to life, to another human. Who happened to be very pretty.

She could tell she was going to get along with her, and was excited to hear about how a Princess of Oz got such calluses on her hands.

They walked into the drawing room, just as Scarecrow, TikTok, and Tinman were discussing something. 

She dropped Ozma’s hand and ran towards her friends.

“Dorothy!” Tinman and Scarecrow exclaimed as Dorothy hugged the Scarecrow, trying her best not to crumply his straw stuffed body.

Thanks for reading, I posted this on my a03 account: TheHyperfixationStation032

[sunflower-chai]

Hi!! This is a really dumb question, and you 100% don't have to answer it, but I keep seeing your reblogs of dsmp - what is it? What's it about? How had it taken a hold of your soul and what do you take from it?

oh mouse. you have opened the floodgates.

so basically dsmp (aka dream smp but i don’t call it that anymore bc the content creator dream, who the server is named after, is a terrible person. which is a whole other can of worms i won’t get into) is a survival multiplayer (hence SMP) minecraft server that tells a story via improvised roleplay. it ran from april 2020 - april 2023 and grew from 4 members on the first day to 39 members by the end. it also featured a handful of guests including, i kid you not, michael clifford from 5 seconds of summer and lil nas x. the story was primarily distributed via livestreams on youtube and twitch, though some members and fans created highlight videos on youtube.

how do i explain what dsmp is about? overall, it’s a heavily character-driven story with many different factions, wars, and eras. each member essentially wrote their own story, and fans could pick whose POV they were most interested in and follow along with whatever lore was created. (at one point there was a head writer who, surprise surprise, also turned out to be a terrible person. are you sensing the pattern here?) so honestly the answer to “what is the dsmp about?” is different depending on which members/characters you choose to pay attention to.

i got interested in the server in early 2021 when someone i followed on tumblr for a completely unrelated fandom started posting about it (which is how i get into most new interests these days lol). i looked up some clips on youtube and discovered the content creator tommyinnit via an among us gameplay video. i thought he was really funny and checked out his channel. the first video of his i watched was “the funniest minecraft video ever,” which was edited from one of his dsmp streams where he and two other members created a religion based on twitch prime subscriptions. it’s ridiculous and still makes me laugh to this day. so after that i decided i wanted to know what this minecraft server was all about. i found VODs (archived livestream recordings) of the big events on the server and watched as many as i could. honestly i had to skip around a lot because there was simply too much content to catch up on, and a lot of members didn’t save their VODs. that was another reason i tended to follow tommy’s POV, he uploaded all of his twitch VODs to a separate youtube channel. he also streamed less frequently and for shorter time periods than most of the members so it was a more manageable amount of stuff to watch. after i got decently caught up, i started tuning in for the dsmp streams live. and boy oh boy did i become obsessed. spring of 2021 i was a junior in college and i hardly left my apartment because of covid restrictions. i was incredibly bored and developing depression (which i would not realize until i went to therapy that summer and got referred to a psychiatrist for diagnosis. but i digress). dsmp was genuinely the only thing that got me excited anymore.

spring-summer 2021 was honestly a golden age for dsmp fans because so much lore was happening at such a rapid pace and it was EXHILIRATING. the fandom would churn out analysis, fanfics, art, animatics, and even original songs at the speed of light. everyone would liveblog during big lore events and it was just such a fun community to be a part of, even though i mainly lurked on tumblr back then. the source material was nothing but minecraft blocks and webcams, so i think it really allowed the fans’ creativity to flow. the fans truly carried that server, particularly SAD-ist’s animatics on youtube and derivakat’s fan songs, though my favorite song was beetlebug’s “an ode to l’manburg.”

so you’re probably wondering: what the heck is l’manburg? so this gets into what i think truly made the server worth investing in, which was the storytelling. “l’manburg” was a fictional country created on the dsmp server. it actually started out as a van used to sell “drugs” (aka minecraft potions), created by c!tommy and c!wilbur (c! = character, to differentiate between roleplay and the actual content creators). basically wilbur wanted to roleplay breaking bad lol. a bunch of the other server members cracked down on this “illegal” business, so c!wilbur decided to form his own country on the land surrounding the van (now a hot dog van), declaring independence from the greater SMP so citizens would be free to do what they want. he called it l’manburg because it “sounded european,” and all of the citizens at the time were european while those still loyal to the greater SMP were mostly american. the citizens of l’manburg at the time were c!wilbur, c!tommy, c!tubbo, c!fundy, and c!eret. the greater SMP didn’t take kindly to this new country’s existence, so c!dream issued a declaration of war, and thus began the l’manburg war for independence, which was really an excuse to do hamilton roleplay (yes, it’s all very silly but i love it. it gets much more serious later on). anyway i don’t want to say much more in case you decide to give it a watch, but if you do good luck. i would recommend blueberry tv on youtube, who does a great job condensing the most important moments into 20ish minute episodes. they have a playlist called “dream smp plot playlist” which is a good place to start.

okay now i’m taking this opportunity to gush a little about c!tommy, one of my favorite characters in anything ever. he starts out as a loud, funny, slightly annoying, mean-to-your-face but kind-at-heart sixteen year old kid, and by the end he’s eighteen, he’s literally been to hell and back, he’s a little quieter, a bit jaded, and doesn’t easily trust others or even his own mind. but even after everything he goes through, he still tries to believe the best in people and stubbornly holds onto hope that things will get better. he’s incredibly loyal to his friends. he loves things that most people would overlook and he loves them hard. he communicates his feelings in convoluted metaphors that are accidentally poetic. he constantly listens to music, probably has an unhealthy attachment to it, but he’s willing to give it up if it means freedom and happiness for his friends. he deals with so much unfair treatment and abuse and trauma and he could so easily give into despair or allow those experiences to darken his morals but nothing is ever able to completely dull his spark. it would honestly be easier to give up or become the villain, but it’s just not in his nature. i just love him so much man 😭

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere!Platonic Dedmos(post-purgatory) short prompts and little sibling! Darling

23.) "You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

29.) "I want to be this close... forever...."

it's like a continuation of the concept about deimos and his little sibling, but deimos is dedmos

From your prompt set

Okay but I only loosely based this on the concept. Sorry for the time skips in this.

Concept this is loosely based on

Yandere! Platonic! Dedmos Prompts 23 + 29

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

"I want to be this close... forever...."

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Death, Murder, Delusional behavior, Manipulation, Violence.

Deimos would do anything to see you again. Ever since the birth of the both of you, Deimos has been there to protect you. Now look where he is...

In purgatory... alone... with no sign of you.

Deimos is determined to survive in this twisted world. Even if it means fighting through purgatory. The idea of you being alone... without him... only pushes him further.

Deimos traverses through the underworld like it's a labyrinth.... Twisted distortions of reality plague his mind and vision... trying to prevent him from fighting. Deimos fights anyways... the fear of you being in danger scaring him more than the horrors of this realm.

Sometimes Deimos thinks he sees you in this purgatory. However, these are simply clones created from his memory. He has a feeling it will be awhile before he sees you again....

That is until 2B begins to help him out of this hell.

Deimos felt so lost in purgatory. All he knew was to fight... to survive. Just like he's always done.

By the time 2B pulls him up from purgatory, Deimos isn't quite... Deimos.

2B himself is perplexed at first, wondering if he pulled up Deimos or something else entirely. This Deimos was partially made of stone with black scars covering his face. Although due to how friendly yet bewildered Deimos was being, 2B assumed this was the one.

He'd have to do a proper examination once the two deal with those strange magnified agents that followed Deimos out.

---

"What exactly happened down there?" 2B asks the "undead" Deimos. Deimos only shrugs, looking around the lab. If this was the lab... where were you?

"Can't talk, can you?" 2B huffs, Deimos nods in response. "There might be a way I can make you a working mouth if I operate on that stone...."

2B watches Deimos search around the room, desperately looking for something. Deimos eventually finds a paper and pen in a drawer, scribbling on it to the best of his ability with his stoney hands. The paper is then shoved into 2B's face, causing the older grunt to grumble.

"Where's... (Y/N)?" 2B reads, watching as Deimos quickly nods his head. 2B suddenly looks confused and uncomfortable.

After what happened... Deimos wants to see you?

"We... We can talk about your sibling once I finish this operation on you." Deimos looks worried and annoyed but allowed the doctor to do as he wished.

"I'm surprised you still want to see them after what they've done to you..." 2B mutters, examining the stone on Deimos' face. Deimos doesn't respond but deep down... he knows what you did was an accident.

You'll be so happy to know he's alive.

---

The new stone jaw 2B created for him felt strange on his face. He could finally talk again but everything felt strange. He was alive... but things still didn't feel right.

He'll have to get used to it.

All Deimos was concerned about was finding you. 2B gave him directions on where you generally were around in Nevada. Ever since his death, according to 2B, you wanted nothing to do with the group.

So you took up isolation... poor thing.

Deimos scours the area in an attempt to find you. His eyes soon snap to movement, seeing a familiar smaller figure flee behind a building. There you are....

Quickly the stoney grunt darts towards the direction of the movement, eyes eagerly scanning the area. Deimos soon stops in front of a familiar figure looting something from a dead agent. Clearing his abused throat, Deimos watches the figure flinch before turning around.

It was you.

You looked scared... terrified, actually.

"No-" You croak. "It can't be-"

"I was told I'd find you here...."

"You're supposed to be dead!" You cry, standing up and backing away. "I killed you!"

"I know it was an accident... there's no need to worry." Deimos looks into your eyes and sees them water.

"That was no accident! I wanted you GONE. You were taking over my life! ... Now you're back-"

Deimos is so silent it's eerie. The stone covering his skin makes you wonder if he was even fully flesh anymore. This wasn't Deimos... this was even more of a monster... you can't stop your tears.

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away." Deimos offers, outstretching his arms to welcome you into his embrace.

"Get the hell away fron me...."

"That's not a nice way to greet your brother, (Y/N)."

"You're no brother of mine!"

Deimos twitches his eye, stepping closer. He no longer cared how he got his hug....

"Take that back. I cared for you when NO ONE else would!"

"Stay away from me!"

The argument quickly evolves into a chase. You feels like you're running for your life while Deimos hunts you down with supernatural stamina. You need to find your weapons...

You push yourself to open the door of your base.

Only to be tackled by Deimos.

"Stay still...."

"Get off me!"

Clawed stone fingers jab into your sides. You swore he was making you bleed. You struggle, turning over to meet Deimos face to face.

Your eyes hold many emotions. Anger, fear, sadness, confusion... seeing Deimos made you a mess. You killed him to get him out of your life!

Now he was back, holding you, just like he used to do when you were younger....

There's an overwhelming silence between you. Deimos shifts you both so you're sitting in his lap, holding you close. He's missed holding you like this...

He forgives you for your little disagreement... for now.

"I want to be this close... forever...."

Deimos hums, stone claws rubbing your back.

"I promise I'll never leave you again... your big brother would go through purgatory time and time again just to keep you safe."

He pulls away to hold your face.

"But I should keep an eye on you more after that stunt you pulled... you aren't getting rid of me that easily."

In response... you cry. Deimos silently pulls you back onto his chest, shushing you softly.

He'll never leave you again...

Even if you kill him.

[bluepecanpie]

Before we get into the chapter review, I’d just like to talk a bit about Eustass Kid and Trafalgar Law, their rivalry - and their differing philosophies of combat, and how it’s served them in the New World.

I have to admit, I personally preferred Kid at first. He had a cool design, a bounty higher than Luffy’s, and I really had a preference for magnetic powers. Even his post-time skip design was visually awesome. And he served as a nice foil for Law, who could switch/remove body parts, while Kid could assemble artifical limbs out of scrap.

Kid’s situation has people wondering whether Law took a similar L, and the answer is clearly no. The reason why is because even if Law lost against Blackbeard (and I personally believe that he did), it is not nearly as brutal a curbstomp as Kid received, and chapter 1064 is clear that Law looked like he had a fighting chance. Here’s what I think the issues lie:

Kid got his bounty because of the collateral damage from his fights, not because of any specific assault on the World Government’s influence - which is where he contrasts with Luffy. He openly admits taking out his wrath on civilians as much as other pirates, or even Marines. He even attacks opponents as they flee from him. If Oda still had that old category from the pilot, Kid would probably be classified as a “Morgana” pirate i.e. evil, but even he has a sense of morals, camaraderie, and the pragmatism to ally with the Straw Hats - so it’s perhaps just as well these pirate categories were discarded. Anyway, Kid’s fighting philosophy is to attack head on with overwhelming force until the enemy is crippled, or rendered inoperable. It’s probably how he survived the Grand Line - not giving a shit about overwhelming odds against him, and just launches assaults on whoever happens to get in his way. It’s because of this mindset that he immediately set for the New World, and caught the ire of two Yonko before the story even reintroduces him. He sank three ships controlled by the Big Mom Pirates (though it’s implied that he was pushed back from arriving at Totland), and attacked the Red Hair Pirates - and lost an arm in process (Benn Beckman is implied to be responsible). I think that the only reason he agreed to an alliance with two of the Worst Generation was to get payback on the Red Hairs. He of course, also got fucked up by Kaido. So that’s three Yonko he pissed off. Kid this time didn’t even so much as agree to another alliance - one focused on Kaido and Big Mom, as much as fall into one. He in fact seems annoyed at the very concept of alliances with rivals, more so when one easily broke up in the first sign of trouble, because two of the other captains were either in on the gig, or were too cowardly to test their mettle. At least with Luffy and Law, it was more solid because they treat their word as iron clad and take seriously the trust such an alliance involves.

Law on the other hand, is much more methodical in his approach, and even sets up contingency plans if problems arise. He doesn’t strike until he knows there’s a massive pay off from doing so, and is willing to buy time before going on the offensive. He treats saving Luffy partly as happenstance, and partly as matter of fairness - believing that losing a rival in a battlefield like Marineford would just be anticlimatic. He oversaw Luffy’s recovery in Amazon Lily, and as he left - he declared that he’s going to wait a while before heading to the New World, while the others tear each other apart - declaring in the end, he’ll be the one to take the One Piece and wear the crown. This was a good call, because his Worst Generation rivals had quickly hit an ‘insurmountable wall’, and either got their asses kicked, or decided to wear the colours of a Yonko. Law, meanwhile hedged his bets with the World Government by filling a Shichibukai position - and even that primarily was to complete a long-running scheme of revenge against Doflamingo, by pitting his business partner Kaido against him. In many of Law’s fights, he’s pitted in some disadvantage and is often on the defensive, so he uses the element of surprise to quickly turn the tables. The versatility of his devil fruit power grants Law several opportunities to catch his opponent by surprise and gain the edge, as we saw against Doflamingo (though he was able to quickly recover due to his own shrewdness, and familiarity with Law) as well as Blackbeard. Law at the very least was literally trained to be a pirate by one of the most dangerous and influential prate crews at the time, and used that training to hone one of the most difficult fruit powers to control. If that doesn’t show how methodical Law is, I don’t know what does.

Both Law and Kid took down Big Mom together their approaches complemented each other very well. But since parting ways, they’ve independently being put to the test by the Yonko on their resolve -with only those who’ve taken them seriously resolving to clash against them. Only Luffy has personally defeated one and that’s why he joined their number.

It’s easy to see why Kid lost. Shanks, unlike Big Mom or Kaido - took him very seriously. Kid’s approach to conflict ensured that he’d lose, and quickly at that. Shanks even brought giants to squash the crew - not that he needed them. Law’s fatewill probably be similar or different, but it’s clear that Law has performed better because of his tactical way of fighting. I personally wouldn’t be surprised if Law emerges his fight relatively unscathed.

[forestshadow-wolf]

[Long Post] the rewritten zombie au post (part 1)

Tav Journal - Alpha

Sanity log 1:

Something happened a few days ago, we're not sure what to call it yet. People have gone mad, it's a miracle that all four of us made it off base alive. To be honest I'm not even really sure what went down. That's why im even starting this, so I can keep it all in order. I think I'd much prefer a verbal log, but with the way things have gone I think this is more logical since devices have limited storage and usually aren't water friendly. And in any case wilderness survival training in boot taught how to make string from plants, and I went down a rabit hole af few years back on how to make books from scratch, so I know how to do that. The only problem would be finding things to write with, but there's probably an easy solution.

I've never done this before, I'm not really sure where to start, but I guess the beginning would be good.

The beginning felt like ages ago to me, so I'm a bit hazy on the details. Ghost says we were in his room watching a movie (note: it might be good to start getting the others side of things too, not sure for what, but maybe it'll be useful later). And then I think we heard lots of noise, screaming maybe, or just a stampede perhaps, I know I definitely heard a gunshot. We opened the door to see what the hell was going on and ,honest to god, the halls were packed fulled than I've ever seen them, with a moving hoarde.

After that it gets much clearer. Kinda. Ghost pulled out a go bag from, I don't even know, and the knife he keeps under his bed. It was like he was prepared for something like this, he was so fast (though I suppose if you go through as much shit as he has then you learn to stay prepared, I guess). He pushed me us out the window, and then we were running into the woods. Well ghost was running to the woods, I was following ghost.

He shoved us down under the shrubbery and the just laid there for, I don't even know how long, but it must've been a quarter of the day easily. He started peaking his head up when the sun hit the tree line, at this point we still have no idea what's up with gaz and/or price. I think ghost had us wait another hour or two, until it really got dark, before we actually got up. And then we're apparently heading to the armory, remember, I'm still just following ghost at this point.

Ghost hands me one of the tac bags and tells me to load it with whatever ammo I could grab. The bags are meant to hold guns, so there's a lot of space to fill up. Honestly I hardly even looked at it all, I just started tossing stuff in. Ghost was filling up his own bag of whatever gun was compatible with the rounds I was grabbing. (Side note: the base is only allowed to keep a certain amount in the armory at a time, so I grabbed it all). He also, apparently, grabbed 2 sets of the combat knives, which he would hand later to me once we got off the base.

After that we went to the cafe, loaded up on food. I wonder if ghost knew what was actually happening or if he was working off of instinct? We got off base after that, Wandered until night fall. Wandered most of the next day as well. Ran into price and gaz as the sun was setting.

There's more to add. A lot more. Important details I skipped to get the main points down. But we're moving on early tomorrow morning, I took watch last night, so I need sleep tonight.

"Hit the hay, Johnny, we're moving gone as soon as the sun's up"

"Aye, right on it, LT. Don't get too borded without me." He gave the man a mock salute, to which he got an unimpressed look. He settled with his head on his arm and let his eyes fall shut.

If soap woke up in the morning a little earlier that price and gaz so he could cuddle with ghost... well that's neither here nor there.

"I think we're crossing the city today, so... you know... expect trouble." Ghost says quietly.

"Cans 'n' gum? Or something else?"

"Maybe pick up a bag or two. Gotta be extra careful though, I think price said he saw squatters when he was out scouting with with gaz yesterday."

"Zombies ghost. Brain eating zombies, like the dumb movies." Soap giggles.

"Fine. Zombies." Ghost humors him with an exasperated sigh at soap's antics.