#axe-trio-commanders

[mystery-salad]

Hm.... for the prompt- Yao. And Anise. And also Crecia. (...and also any of my 3 commanders (zori seremnis and enkkioh) if you want to) @axe-trio-commanders

(I just figured out I can do that... knowledge! Huzzah!)

(Apologies for the wait, I wanted to make sure I looked into your three ocs when I had the energy before responding so I could properly do this! What a lovely trio 💖)

Yao and Crecia are getting MISTLETOE I am kissing them both what wonderful wonderful characters, who are both doin their best and learning <3

Anise is MISTLEFOE and if we banned the use of magic I'd lay her ass flat out. Buckle up bitch✨️

Zori, seremnis, and enkkioh are getting MISTLETOE I AM SMOOCHING ALL THREE OF THEM and giving them blankets and pats on the head and wishing them well with each of their endeavors as commander

(Also welcome to the anon @ club✨️)

[oxbellows]

Welcome Home! Nothing Weird Happened.

Written based on @emilybeemartin's spectacular Boromir Lives AU comics, with permission. I might write more, who knows.

My whole thought process here is this: if Boromir lives and makes it back to Minas Tirith, he is about to receive an absolutely ludicrous quantity of bad news. And I for one think it would be both plausible and hilarious for Pippin to be the one who ends up delivering that news. So here we are!

Trigger warnings for that whole pyre situation from Return of the King.

 It was fitting, to Boromir’s mind, that the battle for Minas Tirith should be decided by dead men. So many had died for the city of kings already, their blood seeping into her soil like rain. Why, then, should her fate rest solely in the hands of the living? An unnatural justice rang out in the clang of steel against phantom blades, heralding the return of a hope long since given up for lost. 

“None but the king of Gondor may command me,” the wraith hissed.

“You?” Boromir had roared. “You, Oathbreaker? I am the heir to the Stewards of Gondor. Generations of my kin have died for an empty throne. None but the king of Gondor may command ME. Here stands the king of Gondor before us, and you will suffer him as I have!”

And suffer him they did. Sickly green washed over the last armored oliphaunt as the dead claimed more souls for their own. Boromir pulled his eyes away from the spectacle and spun his sword in his hand, scanning the area around him for the next foe. He found none. Only the backs of retreating orcs, and weary Men attending to their fallen brothers. That and, out of the corner of his eye, the strangest possible trio of a Man, a Dwarf, and an Elf. Finding no enemy to engage, Boromir instead turned his step toward the strange trio to embrace his friends in the wake of victory. 

Aragorn, king of Gondor, did not appear especially regal at the moment. He was covered in grime and gore, surrounded by the corpses of orcs left to rot in the open field. Gimli’s sturdy metal armor was slick with blood, and it dripped steadily off the edge of the axe that he had slung over one shoulder. Legolas, of course, was only as disheveled as he might have been after a short run, clean of the muck that covered the rest of them. His hair still fell properly at his shoulder, what witchcraft did the Elf use to maintain it? 

Boromir could only imagine what he himself must look like. He knew that he was damp and smelled like death, which did not bode well for a lordly appearance. Nonetheless, even in all his heavy armor Boromir felt lighter than he had since childhood. The battle was over, fought now only by those straggling beasts that had not managed to escape the field on foot. Boromir was still, impossibly, alive, and so were his companions. So was his king. 

The enemy may yet prevail, but Gondor would not fall before the White Tree bloomed again. It was more than his grandfathers had ever dared to hope. 

“Is that blood in your hair or just its natural grease?” Boromir asked his king, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and stepping over the body of a fallen orc to approach him.

Aragorn laughed, raising one dirty hand to skim his fingertips over the top of his head. “I cannot say, Captain. I only know that in either case, I would wash it before I present myself to your lord father.”

Boromir clicked his tongue dismissively. “My lord father’s not the one we have to worry about. If my brother hears that I’ve brought Isildur’s heir home in such a state, he’ll throttle me.”

He almost continued speaking. He almost added, if he’s alive. Aragorn heard the unspoken caveat all the same. His dark eyes had a softness in them when he spoke.

“The battle is over, Captain of the White Tower,” Aragorn said. “We must turn our efforts now to the dead and wounded. May we not find you kin among them.”

If the taste of ash settled on the back of Boromir’s tongue, it could be attributed to the smell of Mordor’s filthy army laying dead at his feet, and not to the terrible image that flashed across his mind’s eye of Faramir’s bloodied and unblinking face.

“My father will be well,” Boromir asserted, determined not to speculate on his brother’s wellbeing. “He is past his time as a warrior. He will have commanded our troops from a place of safety within the walls.”

Aragorn inclined his head in assent. His hair really was a sight- black blood had matted chunks of it together, and where they stood now in the open field, with the sun just beginning to peek through the enemy’s unnatural bank of shadow, Boromir could see that his clothes were in much the same state. Perhaps this was why Aragorn so persistently favored black for his travel clothes. Were he wearing any other color, it would be obvious that he was as drenched in the blood of orcs as if he had bathed in it. 

A warrior of staggering skill was this king of Men, but he preferred not to proclaim his deadliness to the world. He tucked it away into shadow until such skill was needed. Perhaps one day Boromir might look upon this man that he called brother and not be humbled by the mere sight of him. 

Perhaps. 

“I will search with a sharp eye, then, for Captain Faramir,” Aragorn promised. 

Boromir closed the distance between them to grip Aragorn’s shoulder in thanks. Aragorn returned the gesture with ferocity, digging his fingers into the mail covering Boromir’s upper arm. Gimli thumped Boromir’s back in a heavy handed gesture of approval, and Legolas bowed his head with a coy smile. A river of unspoken words passed between the four of them, about great and important things like love and fear at the end of the world, and then they released each other. Aragorn turned his stride towards the Citadel to lend his knowledge of elvish medicine to the House of Healing. Legolas and Gimli set out together to help carry the wounded into the city for aid. Boromir made for the rocky outcrop at the city’s outermost wall, the one that archers favored for its vantage point. There he was sure he would find rangers, and hopefully news of Faramir.

The walk carried him past countless dead orcs and uruk-hai, but also more dead men and horses than Boromir had ever seen on a single field. For every pair of comrades he saw embrace in giddy relief, another wail of grief reached his ears from somewhere else. His mail grew heavier with every step he took.

Boromir had scarcely made it halfway to the archer’s outpost before he was stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Captain Boromir!” a familiar voice shouted. “You live!”

Boromir stopped and whirled about. There, about ten yards from Boromir, close enough to the outermost wall to be half-concealed in its shadow, crouched a man in a forest-green cloak. His hands still hovered over a fallen Gondorian soldier, as if he had frozen partway through checking for signs of life. Before the man in green rose to stand, he brushed a hand over the fallen one’s face, coaxing his eyes shut before stepping away. Boromir felt a dull pang of grief in his already overburdened heart at the confirmation that yet another of his countrymen was dead. He had no time to acknowledge that pain, though, as the man in green righted himself fully. The green cloak, brown leather vambraces, and longbow on his back all sparked immediate recognition. 

Boromir knew this man, had met him before, but his weary mind failed to provide a name for him. It hardly mattered. The uniform he wore told Boromir everything he needed to know. Faramir had been clad exactly the same, the last time Boromir had seen him. This was one of the rangers of Ithilien, his brother’s own company. Hope swelled painfully in his chest. He hastened his step towards the ranger.

The ranger rushed to meet him and performed a quick, obligatory salute when they were close enough to speak comfortably. “My lord,” he greeted, breathless. “Your father thought you dead, but we in Captain Faramir’s company held out hope.” A wide grin split across his face. “You cannot imagine how sorely you’ve been missed!”

Seeing his smile finally dragged the ranger’s name to the front of Boromir’s memory. “Anborn,” he said warmly. “It’s good to see you alive and well. Tell me, what news do you have of my brother?”

 Anborn’s smile dropped, giving way to a look of naked concern as quickly as a candle being snuffed out. “I have no news, my lord, none that is not two days old at least.”

 "Then give me the old news,” Boromir pressed, trying not to snap. 

Anborn grimaced and nodded. “My lord,” he said, haltingly, “The last time I saw your brother, my Captain, was on the day he rode out to reclaim Osgiliath with a company of forty mounted soldiers.”

Boromir could only stare for a long moment, turning over Anborn’s words in his head to try and make them comprehensible. No clarity came to him. “My brother is- in Osgiliath?”

Another grimace. “If he is still there, he is dead.” Boromir’s lungs constricted and froze. Anborn continued, “Osgiliath was overrun more than a week ago. I’ve heard rumors that Faramir made it back to the Citadel, but I cannot say any more than that without inventing rumors myself.”

“The Citadel,” Boromir repeated. He forced breath into his uncooperative lungs. He would go to the Citadel, and he would find Faramir there with their father, incoherent with frustration after arguing strategy with Denethor. He turned on his heel and started walking. Anborn said something as Boromir strode away, but he didn’t hear it properly over the ringing in his ears. 

What he had heard of Anborn’s words clamored in his mind- it sounded as if Faramir had taken a company of only forty men to reclaim an overrun city. That would be absurd, though. Faramir may be prone to bouts of melancholy and brooding, but he wasn’t suicidal. And even if he did, for some reason, decide to seek his own death, he would never bring any number of Gondor’s defenders with him to do it.

 Your father thought you dead.

 Boromir broke into a run.

Faramir didn’t hold sway over all their troops’ movements. Faramir wasn’t the Steward. 

 He was moving too slowly. Stumbling to a halt, Boromir grasped at the leather straps holding his pauldrons in place and did his best to unfasten them with numb fingers. Denethor had not been the same in recent years. The shadow in the east had darkened his thoughts, day by day, and set him talking as if the end were already here. His gray eyes had glinted in a way that Boromir scarcely recognized when he’d spoken of the One Ring. He’d never favored Faramir, never encouraged him the way he deserved, but the cruelty that had colored Denethor’s every interaction with his secondborn in the year or two before Boromir left shocked him. 

Boromir’s pauldrons landed on the ground in a heap, and now he doubled over to escape the shirt of mail. It was a difficult task without taking off his sword belt, but he managed. He needed to be faster, but he could not bear to go unarmed. The chain links poured gracelessly down over his head, yanking his hair as they went, and then he was free. Boromir took off running again, now unencumbered. 

 Faramir would never plan a suicide mission. 

 Would he accept one, though, if he was ordered?

Boromir’s feet touched white marble bricks for the first time in months that had felt like decades. He did not pause. Shouts followed him as he went, calling his name or exclaiming surprise. Arches and edifices flew by overhead. Rubble littered the street. He caught glances of bodies crushed under great stones. 

Boromir made it to the stairs. His weary legs burned and protested, but he dared not slow his descent. He needed to know where Faramir was, now. He needed to know what had happened in Osgiliath, before any more ideas had the chance to take root in his head. If he finished the line of thinking that Anborn’s news had set off-

 Boromir might kill his father with his bare hands.

So, he would not stop, and he would not think, until he found answers.

 He reached the top of the stairs. 

 A small group of guards, maybe five or six, clustered together at the Citadel gate, all spoke over each other in urgent tones. Boromir could not hear most of their words over his own ragged breath, but he caught a few. He heard “Mithrandir” and “Witch King” and “wood”, and then, “Denethor.” 

“Where?” Boromir barked. Every one of the men before him startled and turned to him with unabashed fear written across their faces.

If Boromir had looked a mess back on the fields, by now he must appear absolutely deranged. Half his armor gone, hair wild, white shirt drenched with sweat and blood- he could hardly blame the unsuspecting guards for the shock and confusion they displayed so brazenly at his question. Nor could he blame himself for the urge to grab the nearest one and shake him until he spoke sense.

Fortunately for all present, the guard furthest to the left, a man of slight and youthful stature underneath his plate armor, spoke up.

“The House of Stewards,” he said, voice trembling. He pointed in the right direction. “In the tombs. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.”

 Boromir ran like he had never done in his life. 

 For what possible reason would his father and brother be in the tombs in the midst of battle?

 He threw himself against the door to the tombs of his forefathers. They gave way with no resistance, and as he stumbled through the opening, he noted that the floor was dusted with splintered wood. This door had already been broken through. There he stopped short.

He could not, for the life of him, make sense of the scene before him.

 In the center of the foyer, directly on top of Húrin’s memorial etching, were the remains of- a bonfire? Heaps of ash and charred wood covered the usually immaculate white marble floor, built up into a high, still-smoldering mound in the chamber’s center. The air reeked of smoke. Neither Denethor nor Faramir were in sight, nor was anyone else. The tombs appeared deserted.

  “Faramir?” Boromir called warily. 

A clang of metal and the scuffle of unshod feet on stone answered his call, and then-

“Boromir!”

A small form collided hard with his midsection, forcing him to take a staggering step back. Small arms wrapped around him like a vice, a familiar vice, and Boromir abruptly realized that he was in the embrace of a hobbit.

“Pippin?” he demanded, aghast.

The young hobbit turned his face up to meet his gaze and a fresh wave of panic seized him. Pippin’s face was coated in ash and streaked with tears.

“Boromir!” Pippin cried again. “You have to help, Gandalf said that healers were coming but nobody came, there was screaming in the halls so I dragged him as far as I could but he’s heavy and I don’t know where Gandalf went and just- just- come here!” 

The hobbit released his iron grip around Boromir’s waist in favor of clutching one of his wrists and started hauling him off to one side of the room, into a corridor of mausoleums. There, poking out of the nearest alcove, Boromir spied the lower half of a single black boot. 

Pippin pulled him onward when his own pace faltered. With each step he could see more of the body that Pippin had apparently tried to drag to safety. A small, or rather, hobbit-sizedsword lay carelessly discarded on the floor beneath the alcove’s arching entrance where Pippin had dropped it. That would explain the clanging sound Boromir had heard just before being tackled, then. Which would mean that when he called out, Pippin had been guarding this archway with sword in hand. 

Pippin’s relentless tugging finally forced Boromir to where he could see the stricken man on the floor.

It was Faramir.

Of course it was Faramir. 

A rough, strangled sound echoed through the quiet tombs, and Boromir only realized a moment later that it had come from his own throat. Pippin darted from his side to kneel at his brother’s head, petting his hair and murmuring a soothing word. Faramir did not react in the slightest. He wasn’t dead; Boromir had seen enough dead men in his life to know with unfailing precision the difference between a dead body and a dying one.

No, his brother was not dead. He was only dying. 

Boromir dropped to his knees. 

In all this time that he had dreaded coming home and hearing that Faramir had fallen in battle, it had never occurred to Boromir that he might watch him die.

“He needs medicine,” Pippin pleaded, his little hand nestled in Faramir’s hair. Boromir now saw that the hobbit was dressed in the garb of the guards of Citadel, mail under a velvet tunic embroidered with the white tree. What had happened in his city? When had this barely-trained halfling become his brother’s last line of defense?

“Go,” Boromir rasped. He touched the hilt of his sword. “I will protect him now. Go to the House of Healing, down one level. Aragorn is there. He will listen to you.”

Without another word, Pippin took off at a sprint. Boromir and Faramir were left alone, together for the first time since Boromir had left for Rivendell. 

Boromir wanted to scream.

Instead, he maneuvered himself carefully to sit at his brother’s side. How Pippin had managed to stash Faramir away in this little nook, Boromir had no idea. He could only just find room for himself against the wall without jostling the motionless body beside him. He reached a tentative hand out to lay it on Faramir’s forehead. He paused before he touched skin, momentarily stunned by the radiating heat. When his fingers settled on his brother’s brow, it was like touching metal that had been left in the sun too long. Faramir burned. Boromir gently smoothed his hand over damp hair.

It wasn’t just Faramir’s hair that was damp, actually. It was everything on him. His short beard, the finely embroidered collar of his tunic, the silk of his sleeves. If his fever was so high, it was not so surprising to find him coated in sweat. The choice of clothes, though, was undeniably strange. There was no blood staining the fabric. Had he not been hurt in battle, then? Had he simply been taken by a violent illness? Was there a plague in the city? That might explain the lack of gore but not the presence of finery. Boromir had only ever seen Faramir wear this tunic for ceremonies. He wouldn’t have put it on before battle, and he would certainly have taken it off if he were falling ill. 

No, the only reasonable conclusion was that Faramir had not been the one to dress himself. A terrible, unspeakable suspicion wormed its way into his heart. 

Boromir almost regretted sending Pippin away without first asking him what had happened to create this bizarre tableau. Almost. His answers could wait until Faramir had been brought safely into the care of physicians. He lifted his hand to stroke Faramir’s hair again, but the slickness that clung to his palm bade him pause.

That wasn’t sweat in his brother’s hair, it was something else, something more viscous. Puzzled beyond words, Boromir brought his hand close to his face to inspect it. 

His palm was smeared with oil.

All at once, a dozen disparate fragments of information arranged themselves into nightmarish clarity.

Someone had dressed Faramir for a funeral. Someone had brought him into the place where the bones of their ancestors rested and covered him in oil. Someone had lit a bonfire in the center of the tombs. 

Not a bonfire. A pyre.

Someone had tried to burn his little brother alive.

 “No,” Boromir whispered, as if he could prevent his next thought from taking shape.

Only one person in Gondor could do any of this without being stopped.

In the tombs, the guard at the gate had said. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.

Boromir launched himself upright, out of the cramped alcove, and was sick all over the marble floor.

For the second time in a day, Pippin found himself running for someone else’s life. At least he didn’t have so far to go this time. He could not remember ever being so tired. It was also fortunate that he knew already where to find the House of Healing. Gandalf had insisted he memorize the route there as soon as he’d made his oath to Denethor, which was a bit insulting, to be honest, but turned out very useful in the end.

 The first time he’d entered the House, just a few days ago, he’d thought it was very full. Most of the rows of clean, simple cots had been occupied by rangers returning from outside the city. As he dashed through the sturdy oaken door now, though, he entered a different world entirely.

The cacophony of sound, smell and movement that surged up to meet him stopped Pippin in his tracks. The House of Healing was so crowded he could not see the far wall. He could barely see the nearest row of cots. Tall ladies rushed about in every direction, shouting orders to one another above a nauseating din of groans and cries. Pippin had been standing guard in a cloud of smoke for hours, and yet the onslaught of ugly and unfamiliar smells that accosted him here made him wish for the scent of smoke again.

His foray into the front lines of a battle had been terrifying. This place might be worse.

Boromir had said that Aragorn was here, though, and Pippin would walk headfirst into an army of orcs right now if it meant that Aragorn would help him. He never wanted to be in charge of anything, ever again, especially not trying to keep great lords and heroes alive. Aragorn was good at that sort of thing, he could take over now. Pippin took a deep breath and began forging a path through the chaos, calling Aragorn’s name as he went.

As he weaved his way through cots, ducking underneath outstretched arms and around long legs, Pippin heard questions following him that he had no desire to answer.

“How old is that boy? Who let a child in the guard?”

"Is that one of those halflings? The wizard’s pet or something?”

“Are you lost, little one?”

Some of these Men had the most terrible manners, clearly. Most of them were bleeding very badly, though, so Pippin could forgive them for their rudeness. He ignored them all and kept moving.

“Aragorn!” he shouted again.

A women that had been rushing by him paused for an instant to glare down at him. “Hush, you,” she scolded, in a voice that spoke of unquestionable authority. She wore a sort of veil with a nice brooch on it, so Pippin supposed she might be in charge here. “Lord Aragorn’s doing very important things right now and I’ll not have you disturbing him.”

Pippin’s heart jumped. “Where is he?” he asked.

The woman tsked and shook her head, making to continue along her original path. She held a bowl in her arms that Pippin was quite sure he did not want to see the inside of. Whatever it was sloshed unpleasantly when Pippin lurched after the women and grabbed a handful of her skirt to prevent her from leaving.

“The Steward has ordered me to fetch Aragorn! Show me where he is!” Pippin declared. He didn’t think it was a lie. Denethor was dead, so that made Boromir the Steward in his place, probably.

The woman gasped in surprise. “Lord Denethor lives?” she asked. “Wondrous news, we thought lord and son dead already.”

 Pippin avoided the question about Denethor by standing up as straight as he could. “Lord Faramir needs medicine,” he said imperiously. “He needs Aragorn’s skill. Take me to Aragorn.”

With a quick hand gesture to follow and not another word, the woman took off walking at a brisk stride deeper into the crowded hall. Pippin had to run to keep up with her. After what seemed like a dozen maneuvers around clumps of people and cots, a figure clad all in black finally came into view.

“Strider!” Pippin cried with relief. 

Aragon knelt at a young man’s bedside with a wet rag and bowl of water in his hands. He turned his face at once toward the sound of Pippin’s voice, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he did. Some of the panic that had been driving Pippin these last several hours faded away at the sight. If Aragorn was here, then surely things would get better now.

His relief faltered a bit when Pippin noticed that Aragorn was simply ­covered in blood- both red and black, and sweat, and grime that Pippin could not begin to identity. The Men gathered round him didn’t seem to mind Aragorn’s state, but then, most of them were splattered with blood as well, probably their own. Even Aragorn could not dispel the somber truth hanging in the air, that unimaginably many people had died today.

Faramir would join the dead soon if Pippin didn’t get a move on, so he marched past all those tall, bloodied Men to stand right at Aragorn’s side.

“Faramir’s dying,” he hissed, hoping he was quiet enough for none but Aragorn to hear. He didn’t especially want to deliver more bad news to the people in this room. “Boromir is with him, but he needs medicine, now.”

If Aragorn found this news distressing, he did not show it. He just nodded thoughtfully, and asked, “Can he walk?”

Pippin shook his head. Aragorn hummed an acknowledgment and rose to his feet. He handed the bowl and rag he’d been holding to another woman that Pippin hadn’t noticed before, murmuring something that sounded like instructions. He then spoke to the lady that had led Pippin, the one who seemed to be in charge.

“Ioreth,” he addressed her. “We have need of a stretcher.”

“It will be done,” she said, and turned on her heel to vanish back into the crowded hall.

Aragorn wiped his hands on his trousers to dry them. Pippin suspected he made them dirtier in the process. “Pippin,” Aragorn said. “Will you please lead me to Boromir and Faramir?”

“Yes, this way,” Pippin answered quickly. He was eager to be out of this terrifying place. He found it easier than before to navigate through the throng. He realized after a few moments of uninhibited movement that people were stepping aside to make way as soon as they saw Aragorn following him.

Had Aragorn already gotten around to being crowned while Pippin was busy? These people were certainly treating him like a king.

“Did you already become the King?” Pippin asked without thinking.

Aragorn chuckled dryly. “No, and I don’t think the lady healers would much care if I had. They care only that I know how to draw out the poison that covers many orcish blades, and that I’ve shared what I know.”

“Oh,” said Pippin, feeling queasy.

Finally, the door came into sight, and with a quick burst of speed, Pippin flung himself back into fresh air. Mostly fresh, anyway, permitting for some lingering smoke. The smell of blood and death that lingered in his nostrils seemed even more vile when contrasted against another, cleaner scent, and it made him gag. Aragorn placed a sympathetic hand between his shoulders.

“The battle to save the wounded is the hardest and the bloodiest,” he said gently. “There’s no shame in being shocked by it.”

Pippin couldn’t quite speak yet, so he bobbed his head in a jerky, shaking nod. He allowed himself two deep breaths before turning his attention back to the task at hand. Right. Faramir. Shot full of arrows and nearly burned to death, currently stashed in a mausoleum, actively perishing of fever. He had to bring Aragorn there, and then maybe he could sit down for a moment. He set off again at a jog.

Aragorn, being unfairly long-legged, could follow him with a brisk walk. Pippin was growing weary of these big people, he really was.

Back over the same cold marble stone he went, retracing his steps to the tombs. Two men carrying a stretcher had started following them at some point- Pippin hadn’t noticed exactly where they came from, but the stretcher they carried was already stained with red, so he suspected that they had been going back and forth from the House of Healing for a while already. Aragorn let there be silence between them for several yards, but began asking questions as soon as they crossed under a crumbling archway.

“What happened to Faramir to leave him needing medicine?”

“He was shot at least twice, I’m not sure when. Sometime yesterday.”

"Where has he been?”

“Well, he got shot when he was fighting in Osgiliath, and then the horse dragged him back, and that probably made it worse, actually, but then Denethor put him away someplace for a day or so and then brought him into the tombs and tried to burn him alive.”

Aragorn froze for a moment. “What?”

“Denethor lost his mind just before the battle started, he tried to burn Faramir alive on a pyre. And himself too, I think. He thought the world was ending.”

“Where is Denethor now?”

“He jumped off the wall.”

Aragorn took up walking again, now at a faster stride. “Boromir is with his brother now?”

"Yes,” Pippin confirmed, doing his best to keep up with Aragorn’s pace.

“Does he know what happened?”

That was a good question, actually. Had Pippin explained the situation at all? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember most of today, to be honest- it was all a blur of screams and fire.

He remembered the blinding panic he’d felt when heavy footsteps had entered the tombs. He remembered clutching his sword with sweaty hands and bracing himself to get torn to shreds by uruk-hai, and then abandoning his sword to hurl himself at Boromir once he’d heard the man’s voice. What had Boromir said, though? Anything? Had Pippin said anything?

He remembered Boromir dropping heavily onto his knees. The look on his face had been awful. He looked sad and scared and sick all at once. Pippin had never been sure what the word anguish meant, but he was sure now.

“I don’t think so,” Pippin finally answered.

 Aragorn muttered something to himself, a string of elvish words that Pippin had never heard before. It sounded like what Legolas said when he missed a shot, though, so Pippin could wager a guess at what it meant.

At last, they reached the door to the House of Stewards. Pippin darted through, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Aragorn was still following. Through the foyer, around the smoldering remains of the pyre, down the corridor on the right, and there they were. The lords of Gondor. Not quite as Pipping had left them.

Boromir had extracted Faramir from the alcove where Pippin had dragged him to lay his brother out in the open. The fine silk tunic Faramir had worn lay in oil-soaked shreds scattered about the floor, and the mail shirt he’d had on underneath was similarly cast aside, half-obscuring a puddle of vomit near the entry to the alcove. Pippin was sympathetic- being in this place made him want to retch, too.

Faramir lay on his side in his undershirt. The fabric had been white once, Pippin knew, but blood, oil and ash had colored it through. Boromir knelt at his back, holding him steady by the upper arm with one hand and gently tearing the cloth of the ruined shirt with the other. The cloth didn’t move the way it should when Boromir tugged it. It stuck stubbornly to Faramir’s scorched upper back and shoulder, like it had been glued there.

Pippin gasped in horror as the realization hit him. Boromir couldn’t get Faramir’s shirt off because it was stuck to his burnt skin, fused in place by the heat of the fire. Had his skin melted? Could skin melt? The thought alone sickened him.

Boromir must have heard Pippin gasp, because his head snapped up to fix the hobbit with a wild stare.

Pippin didn’t usually think of Boromir as frightening. Fearsome, of course, but not to his friends. Certainly never to Pippin.

He looked frightening now. His eyes were wide, and his pupils were tiny pinpoints. His lips were pulled back into an animalistic expression, somewhere between a grimace and a snarl, showing just a hint of teeth. His shoulders curled forward, hunching slightly over Faramir’s still form, and through his thin, damp shirt Pippin could see he was shaking with pent up energy.

When Pippin was younger, one of Farmer Maggot’s dogs had gone missing. They’d found the creature hiding under a shed, nursing a bleeding paw, growling and snapping at any hobbit that tried to approach. Boromir did not make a sound, but Pippin swore he could hear the same wounded dog’s growling all the same.

Pippin felt rather than heard Aragorn approaching from behind him, and it was a great relief when Boromir’s gaze flicked up off his face to fixate on Aragorn instead. With what seemed to be a tremendous effort, Boromir opened his mouth to speak.

“Where is Denethor?” he rasped, voice shaking.

Aragorn took a cautious step forward, moving in front of Pippin. He held his hands up, fingers splayed open, the way he did when trying to settle a spooked horse. “Boromir, my brother-” he began, voice soft and steady.

Boromir interrupted before he could take another step. “Tell me where my father is, Aragorn,” he croaked. “Tell me so I can find him and gut him.”

“He’s dead,” Pippin blurted. “He set himself on fire and then he went off the edge of the wall and died.”

Aragorn stiffened. Boromir’s jaw went slack. He heard gasps from the men carrying the stretcher behind him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have spoken. Gandalf was always telling him something to that effect.

Boromir let out long, low groan and slumped in on himself, bowing his head so low his forehead grazed Faramir’s hair. He released the firm grip he’d been maintaining on his brother’s upper arm to grab fistfuls of his own hair instead.

Aragorn moved swiftly to kneel beside Boromir. He wrapped one arm around Boromir’s shoulders and pulled him into a lopsided embrace. Boromir went without protest, deflated and boneless against his king. Aragorn spoke to him, too softly for Pippin to hear, and coaxed him to shuffle backwards just a pace or two to create space at Faramir’s side. The two half-forgotten men with the stretcher between them seized their opportunity and swept in to gather Faramir up. Boromir twitched forward when they lifted his brother, but Aragorn held him back with a hand on his chest. With quick, synchronized steps, Faramir was taken out of the tombs.

Louder now, so Pippin could hear again, Aragorn spoke with real regret in his voice. “I must follow them. I promise I will give all the skill I have to make Lord Faramir well.”

“I’m coming,” Boromir stated.

Aragorn fixed him with a hard stare. “It will be ugly,” he warned. “I’ll have to cut the shirt off his back, and I expect much of his skin to come with it. If he wakes it will be to scream.”

“I know,” said Boromir.

“I would rather not find your blade shoved through my heart while I work.”

Boromir flushed. “I would not.”

Aragorn raised one eyebrow. “All the same, if you wish to follow, leave your sword at the door for my peace of mind.”

Boromir opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it and simply bowed his head in assent. Aragorn hauled himself to his feet and offered Boromir a hand up, which Boromir accepted without hesitation.

“Can I help?” Pippin asked, surprising himself.

Aragorn eyed him up and down. One corner of his lips twitched upward. “Yes, Pippin, I think you can help us all very much by staying at Boromir’s side and keeping him calm. If you have any more news to deliver, however, perhaps you could share it beforewe enter the House of Healing?”

Pippin recognized the admonishment for what it was and ducked his head, chastened. On the other hand, now that he mentioned it-

“Gandalf’s staff is broken,” he announced.

Aragorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I see. Thank you, Pippin. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Very well. If you think of something, take Boromir out into the hall and tell him.” Aragorn turned to Boromir and spoke sternly. “Boromir, if Pippin takes you out into the hall, I forbid you to pick up your sword until we have had a chance to speak.”

Boromir huffed out something very close to a laugh. “Wise council, my king.”

[deathbyday]

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧ MOUTHWASHING ✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠ -

P4

“How could we end up here…?”

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

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Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

2 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

You, Jimmy, Daisuke, Swansea and Anya sat at the lounge table. You haven’t grouped up with everyone in a while. They were always busy dealing with the aftermath of Captain Curly’s doings. Honestly, you were too. You couldn’t believe that he would do something like that.

You all stare at Jimmy, waiting for him to start speaking. You sit beside Anya while Daisuke sits across from you, Swansea right beside him. Jimmy sits on the end of the table, appearing as the leader.

“Anyone else would do the same thing.” Jimmy speaks, his voice calm. “We ain’t touching the damn cargo. The hold is locked down for a reason. The only thing worse than dying slowly is not getting paid.” Swansea argues.

You glance up at him, giving him a weird look. “But it could be something useful. I think-..” Anya attempts to reason with the short haired man, but failed to do so. “Could be what? Hopes, dreams and marzipan?” He chuckles, glaring at the black haired woman.

Anya tries to speak again, but she gets cut off by Jimmy. “If it helps us survive it’s worth it.” He mutters. You stare between the trio, not knowing whose side you’re on. Jimmy did have a point about how if it gives you an advantage to live, you’ll have to take it.

But a small percentage of you can’t help but wonder if it’ll hurt one of you. Or worse, all of you. You bite your lip as Daisuke chimes in. “Man, Pony Express bosses really aren’t chill at all, huh?” Everyone turnes their heads towards him, including you.

“C’mon! A quick look won’t hurt.” You gently shove Daisuke’s leg with your foot, getting his attention. “What if we get hurt trying to look?” You question, a worried expression glazing your face.

“That wouldn’t happen, Y/N.” Anya replies, a soft smile appearing on her lips for a moment. You can’t help but keep thinking about it. Even if it wasn’t going to happen, what if it did?

“How exactly is this group therapy committee planning on getting in there?” Swansea asks before Daisuke turns to him, exposing his solution.

“Right here, boss!” He happily replies. “You’re looking at the meanest swing of the regional junior baseball team. Straight up nearly corked a kid once!” He brags, a grin plastered on his lips.

“I can take the utility axe and-..” Swansea slams his hand on the table before shouting. “You were goddamn born fully corked!” He retorts. Daisuke’s smile slightly softens, but it was still noticeable.

“That’s enough, Swansea.” Jimmy cuts in before he could say anything worse. “There has to be an ‘in case of emergency’ way inside.” Anya perks up before speaking.

“If I remember correctly from the safety protocols, the doors should have an alternate access code. But, it can only be uncovered using a code scanner device.” She explains.

“Isn’t the only person who has access to the code scanner the captain?” You murmur, tilting your head. Jimmy nods, confirming your question. “Of course! Go ahead and ask him all about it then. Maybe he’ll sing ya the blues too.” Swansea sarcastically declares.

“We don’t need him if we find the scanner, get the code, and open the hold.” Jimmy argues. “For better or worse, I’m captain now. I’ll figure it out.” Your brows furrow, hasty eyeing the brunette male.

Nobody discussed that he would be the new captain. Although he was the second in command before the crash, it still felt wrong.

“Right on!” You wish you could punch Daisuke in the face right now. You love him, but god could he be dumb. Now that Jimmy’s the captain, he’s the one to search for the code scanner. You all let him be, going to do your own thing. You follow Daisuke down to the digital screen, wanting to talk to him.

Your arms sit crossed over your chest, a worried expression plastered on your face. You turn your head to see Jimmy searching for the scanner around you two first. You glance back down at the brunette before speaking.

“Are we sure we want Jimmy to be the new captain? It just feels wrong to me. You know Jimmy’s always rambling to himself about how he should be the leader, not Curly.” You mutter, keeping your voice low.

Daisuke smiles up at you, trying to ease any doubt you have about Jimmy. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, babe. You don’t need to worry about him.” He reassures, his voice soft.

You take a sharp breath in, not giving a very confident nod in agreement before smiling back, thankful for his comfort. Suddenly, Jimmy walks up to the both of you, causing your smile to disappear as Daisuke spoke.

“Looks like it’ll be soup again for dinner. You wanna rock paper scissors for the chicken noodle?” He suggests half-jokingly, trying to lighten the current situation. “How much food do we have left?” Jimmy replies, not in the mood for any kind of game.

“I think around 4 to 5 months, maybe in between?” You chime in, glancing at Jimmy. He thought for a moment before speaking. “Less than the remaining air supply, but we can make it last.” He hums.

“We’ll be starting to poke new holes in our belts pretty soon to pull that off.” Your anxiety worsened as he pointed out starving yourselves, not wanting to have to cut down on eating just to make sure the food supply last longer.

“Man, my mom will straight up stuff me when I get back. I’ll look like Swansea!” Daisuke chuckles. “We’ll have a rad story to tell, though. They might even write articles about us. We could be on TV!” His eyes seem to light up at the thought.

You chuckle before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Daisuke. We still need to figure out how to even get out of here safely.” Although it would be nice to be famous, you couldn’t help but think of the reality.

It was silent for a few seconds until Jimmy spoke up. “..It’ll impress your parents too.” He nods as Daisuke grins like a little boy at his words. “Mhm!” He hums in agreement before nervously chuckling.

“The real problem is us running out of toilet paper. Fatal stuff, man.” He scratches the back of his head. “We should leave that part out for the press, huh?” You bite back a giggle as Jimmy changes the subject.

“Has Swansea been like this towards you for your whole internship?” He asks, his brow raising in thought. “That’s just how he is!” Daisuke defended. “Didn’t want a spud like me following him around for an entire year.”

“This isn’t really the internship experience anyone had in mind.” Jimmy mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t let him push you around too much.”

“His bark is worse than his bite. He may be cranky, but he is legit a wizard of a mechanic!” You recall a few times where Swansea was fixing things in front of you, causing you to chime in.

“Yeah! I’m surprised he still has it in him, seeing as he’s almost at retirement age. I guess hard work does pay off.” You hum, a small smile crossing your face.

“I’m sure he’d appreciate your thoughts.” You couldn’t tell if Jimmy was being sarcastic or not, but you nodded anyway. You cross your arms against your chest once again as Daisuke changes the topic.

“Did you find the scanner thing yet? I’d ask Anya about it, she’s been reading the safety manual like a bible since the crash.” Jimmy nods as a ‘thanks’ before looking up at you, making eye contact for a split second. You instantly look away, not saying anything.

He didn’t mention it and turned his back to you both, possibly to search for Anya in the medical room.

————

You were cut off mid sentence by the sound of the lounge door opening, causing you and Daisuke to turn your heads to where the sound came from. It only took a few seconds for you to realize Anya was the one who ran through the door.

Her legs gave out as she clutched her chest. From the screen of the sunset, you could hear her heavy breathing. You were about to call out her name, asking if she was alright, but Daisuke wrapped his hand around your forearm.

You looked back towards him, brows creased in concern. He shook his head as to tell you to leave her alone and let her calm down, so you did. You kept your voice low, just in case it would trigger her.

After a few minutes, the door opened once again. This time, Jimmy came through it. He walked up to Anya and crouched down beside her.

“We don’t have a whole lot of painkillers left.” He muttered, ignoring the fact she looked like she was going to have a panic attack. “But you still want to keep-..”

“Why do you think he did it?” Anya cut him off, not paying attention to what he said. “Does it matter? What answer would make you feel any better?” He sternly replied, no hint of empathy in his voice.

“I have to believe that our worst moments don’t make us monsters, Jim.” She whispered. “…I have to. Even in his case.”

“He tried to take us all down with him, Anya.” It almost sounded like Jimmy was on the verge of yelling at her. “The way I see it, there’s two reasons to keep him alive at this point.”

You couldn’t stop staring at the two, watching their conversation. Even though Daisuke tried to get you to look away, it was useless. You felt the need to watch them to prevent Jimmy from doing something to Anya. Either verbally or physically.

“Guess the important bit is that we all agreed to it. For one reason or another.” He shrugged, his voice not as strong as it has been. Anya shook her head. “I-I’m still feeling nauseous.. I need a minute.” She quickly got up from her spot on the floor and ran off.

You looked over towards Daisuke before continuing on with your conversation about video games, twirling your fingers around one another.

————

Anya, you, Daisuke and Swansea stood in front of the Cargo Hold, waiting for Jimmy to bring back the code scanner. Luckily, just after a few minutes of waiting, he did. He walked up to the four of you, scanner in hand.

He glanced at you all, taking in your expressions. You just wanted this whole thing to be over. You stood beside Daisuke, one of your hands on your forearm.

“Well? Get on with it.” Swansea urges, his hands over his hips. “This is all you. I want it duly noted that I had no involvement in this.” Jimmy nodded in agreement before turning towards the younger brunette. “What do you guys think we’ve been shipping?” Daisuke pondered.

“If it’s spare parts, maybe me and Swansea can repair the ship and we can get out of here! Right, Swansea?” He turned to the older man who turned to him. “Quit yapping.” Jimmy ignored the two of them and looked to you.

“It could be more food.. maybe we won’t need to starve ourselves after all!” A gentle smile appeared on your lips before the dark haired male turned around to see Anya beside the door.

“Are we doing the right thing..? Let it be medicine, food, or water.” She hoped to herself. Jimmy stepped towards the sign with the hidden code before flashing the code scanner on it.

4517

He put the scanner away and walked up to the door code before putting the numbers in. The door slid open, revealing numerous of shipping boxes on shelves.

————

7 DAYS BEFORE THE CRASH

You stood beside the utility room’s door with Jimmy, peaking into the room. You snickered, not being able to contain your laughter. Daisuke was just trying to fix the vent, trying to be a good intern, but he accidentally triggered the emergency foam which made him slip out and get stuck in the substance.

You felt so bad for him, but at the same time it was so funny. You heard heavy footsteps to your right, causing you to look up. The owner of the footsteps was the captain. He gave you a short lived wave before turning towards Jimmy, glancing inside the room.

“And Pony Express said they don’t provide on board entertainment.” Jimmy slightly chuckled, eyeing Curly. You continued staring at the scene, a dorky grin running across your lips.

“Feels like there’s always something broken in that room.” Curly shrugs, a sigh leaving his throat. “Tulpar’s starting to show her age.” Jimmy raised a brow.

“Passed inspection, right? Shouldn’t be an issue.” He declared. Curly hummed, adding on; “Plus, they added Daisuke last minute.”

You perked up at hearing your boyfriend’s name, taking brief glances towards the two men beside you. “Didn’t account that there’d be six of us now. I only knew one more was coming, not two.” The captain tilted his head towards you before his head became straight once again.

“I really should have made a bigger stink about that.” He complained, regretting his decision to allow Daisuke on board. You were glad he did though. Otherwise, you probably wouldn’t have met him.

“Maybe you should intervene?” Jimmy suggests, referring to the mess inside the utility room. “Or we could just close the door.” He shrugged. “Your call.”

You and Jimmy kept away from the scene, staying in the doorway as Curly walked inside. “Well, I can see the issue.” He chuckled at the site in front of him. “The kid was brought on just to make me suffer!” Swansea had his arm crossed, the look of disappointment written all over his face.

“I was just trying to fix the vent! How did that trigger the emergency foam?!” Daisuke attempted to get free from his spot, only to be stuck in place. Swansea turned his head towards him. “Because you’re talented in all the wrong ways!” He argued.

“I would’ve dealt with this but only you can unlock the axe case.” Swansea grumbled, placing his hands on his hips. “Every goddamn thing has to go through you.”

“I’ll handle it. Hang in there, Daisuke.” Curly reassured him before walking to the ‘in case of emergency’ box that held the axe. He took out the code scanner, flashing the light on the black rectangle.

2609

He quickly put in the code, opening the case. He grabbed the weapon and walked back towards the two brunettes, ready to swing at the foam. A few seconds later, Daisuke was finally set free from the substance.

“Strong stuff, huh?” He ow’ed in pain but still tried to get a chuckle out of everyone. Swansea wasn’t having it though. “Get it through your goddamn skull! That vent is strictly off limits. Fully fucking collapsed inside.” He lectured. “You looking to get impaled, electrocuted and cooked?!”

You lightly smiled, knowing deep down Swansea does really care for Daisuke. But he just can’t show it. “Yeah, but like.. you can’t fit in there to fix it, right?” The whole room went silent, stunned at what just came out of his mouth. You instantly covered your mouth, eyes wide.

“So I can totally handle it-..” Daisuke gets cut off by Swansea turning to Curly. “Captain. Give me the axe.” He demands. “Swansea..” The dirty blond warned, trailing off. “This could’ve damaged the pods. You can’t let something like this happen again.”

You leaned against the doorframe, becoming bored from the lack of excitement. You drown the rest of the conversation out, waiting for Curly to be done speaking to the two of them.

Jimmy moved right beside you, arms at his sides. You twirled around strands of your hair, glancing at the man standing next to you. “Hi, Jimmy.” You muttered, your voice soft. He stared at you, nodding his head before mumbling, “Hey.”

You were honestly a bit surprised he even said anything back. Nonetheless, you give him a light smile, attempting to be sweet. It was short lived as Curly came towards the two of you and Jimmy opening his mouth to speak, ignoring you.

You rolled your eyes before blowing Daisuke a small kiss, making sure he saw it. You backed off, turning around and walked away from the utility room. You wanted a have a small chat about Jimmy to Curly, but he just seemed so busy. Along with that and the fact he’s always near him.

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author’s note

finally getting ready for angst!! I’m so ready to write how some people’s deaths impacts the reader. i can’t tell if i want a certain someone to be added into the mix yet or not..

fifth chapter will be up in a few days!! thank you all for the support, I appreciate it so much! and happy halloween!!! 🎃

bye for now<3

[anger-sama]

UNKNOWN HORROR Part 2 Made By Anger-Is-Flawed

 Dream went back to get his stuff ready and the other two came in and asked what he’s up to. Dream says nothing and says he’ll be back soon. As soon as Dream made it to the destination, Nightmare appeared and saw an easy opportunity to take out his brother for good. Nightmare quickly attacked Dream without warning, but Dream dodged swiftly. They started their battle and it lasted for a while. Nightmare suddenly took a couple hits from Dream’s arrows. Nightmare was now on the floor weakened and struggling to move from the light arrows. Dream prepared his next shot to strike Nightmare down. Before that could happen, Horror took his chance and striked Dream on the back of his head with the blunt side of his axe. Now it was just them two. Horror slowly made his way towards Nightmare to finish him off. Nightmare threw his tentacles at Horror. His tentacles were slower than usual, so Horror could dodge them easier. Horror jumped onto Nightmare and shoved his hands into Nightmare's body. He finally found his soul and pulled it out of his body. Horror took one last look at Nightmare before shoving Nightmares soul into his mouth. Nightmare's body slowly disappeared and Horror teleported, leaving Dream’s body there. Ink and Blue finally make it and quickly go to his aid. Horror makes it to his room and falls to his floor. His body starts stretching and his hand begins to change shape. Drool-like corruption begins to flow out his mouth and nightmares eye forms on his vacant eye socket. Dust and Killer come inside Horrors room and ask where Nightmare is. Horror slowly turns to them and they both instantly go on the offense and attack Horror. After a little bit of fighting, the other two fall on the floor and Horror looks over them. Horror tells them he doesn’t want to kill them yet and he has a plan for them. He calls in Insanity and surprisingly, he comes inside immediately. Killer looks shocked and Dust looks confused. Horror tells them that Insanity will be working with them from now on. Horror immediately sends them on a mission to take out a sans in a random AU. While they do that, Horror makes his way to low level AUs to feed on. Horror would kill and devour one monster and let their friends and family suffer and feed off the negativity. Horror continues to do this until everyone in the AU is gone. He would do this to many other AUs to satisfy his hunger while the other three went to complete the mission. Going through different AUs, he would find different variants of Nightmares and defeat each one. When he devours one, an eye would sprout from his tentacles. While he was doing that, the trio was busy trying to complete the mission they were given. Suddenly, they ran into the Star Sanses and Dream was leading them. Dream commands them to tell him what happened to Nightmare. Insanity immediately goes and attacks the trio by himself. He just joined the team so he’s inexperienced in synergy. All three of them attacked him at the same time and sent him flying. Now it was just two on three. Killer and Dust fought them off for as long as they could. Both sides were injured but Killer and Dust fell in defeat. Dream asked them one more time where his brother was. Unknown Horror appeared behind them and instantly the trio turned around quickly. Unknown Horror told them that Nightmare has been somewhat replaced. Ink had a bad feeling about this and told the other two to follow him as he went inside a portal he made. Blue quickly grabbed Dream and slowly went towards the portal. Before they stepped through, Dream looked back at Unknown Horror and saw him mouth the words “Thank you”. He immediately gets a wave of fear, then the portal closes. 

Art Made By @wyllaztopia My Good Buddy Design/Ideas Help By @heartstitched My Good BUCKO

Part 1

[starblizzard247]

Slight HSR leaks spoilers/speculations

So I was thinking about how similar Feixiao is to a certain Edelgard von Hresvelg (white hair, army commanders, using axes and swords, frank personalities, Crests/Moon Rage affliction, shortened lifespans that cause them to go to prolonged war because they don’t have the time to wait around for the change that they want, tragic backstories involving groups of villains who they want to get rid of, and more) when it occurred to me that like Edelgard who has two right hand men in the form of Hubert von Vestra and Mr. I-am-Ferdinand von Aegir, Feixiao has two right hand men in Jiaoqiu (voiced by Seteth’s Eng VA and Claude’s Jap VA amusingly) and Moze (whose Eng VA I’m hoping will be recast like m!Byleth Eisner).

With this new realization in mind, I am now headcannoning the Yaoqing Trio’s dynamic to be the Adrestian Trio’s dynamic until proven otherwise.

SO ENSUES THE ADRESTIAN TRIO GOOFBALL CHAOS REBORN AS THE YAOQING TRIO GOOFBALL CHAOS

[mostrandomgallery]

And now, for the main healer of the Cotton Candy Elephants, give a round of applause for Delicia von Hevring!

With Delicia von Hevring’s enrollment into the Officers’ Academy, it has been speculated whether or not the Hevring family themselves or the Crest of Cethleann naturally makes one disgusted at the sight of blood, as was the case with Linhardt von Hevring. In Delicia’s case, the mere mention of blood makes her want to puke on command. For this reason, she took up faith magic and healing in order to heal gross, icky injuries involving blood and guts. Rumor has it that Delicia would rather eat broccoli than look at blood—and she absolutely despises broccoli.

And now, time for Delicia's stats!

Crest: Cethleann (major)

Heroes’ Relic/Sacred Weapon: Caduceus Staff

Strengths: Faith, Reason, Flying

Weaknesses: Sword, Axe

Hidden Talent: Lance

Personal Skill: “Ew!”— After landing a hit with a battalion, will push away all enemies in range 5 spaces away and gain 2+ to Mag, Res, and HP

Ideal Classes: Monk, Priest, Bishop, Gremory, Dark Flier, Pegasus Knight, Falcon Knight

Learnable Magic: Heal, Physic, Ward, Restore, Nosferatu, Aura, Seraphim, Wind, Cutting Gale, Excalibur

Ideal Combat Arts: Tempest Lance, Knightkneeler, Hit and Run

Selection Quotes (Academy): "Ugh, Battle!" (normal), "Okay, I got this…" (mid-health), "I think I’m gonna be sick!" (critical health)

As the primary healer of the Cotton Candy Elephants, Delicia specializes in Faith Magic first and Reason Magic second. However, her Reason growth rates are slightly higher than typical healers, and are on par with an offense mage like Dorothea. Delicia herself was envisioned as a combination of Dorothea and Linhardt, having the fashion sense and attitude of the former, combined with the healing focus and smart-mouthed personality of the latter, minus the sleepiness (there's another student in this class who's always sleepy, but she's related to Lorenz). She's even got his Academy Phase selection quote. Her best stats are Res, Mag, and Cha.

A social butterfly, Delicia is super easy to build support with. Due to her high Cha stat, she is easy to have tea parties with an is an excellent candidate for the Dancer class (I'm just gonna say that making Tristesse the Dancer is funnier). For dining, her favorite meals are: Vegetable Pasta Salad, Sweet Bun Trio, Saghert and Cream, Peach Sorbet, Two-Fish Sauté, and Bourgeois Pike. At the dining table, she has unique dialogue with another classmate, Envidia Desiree Dominic. Delicia's preferred gifts include the Stylish Hair Clip, Floral Adornment, Gemstone Beads, Tea Leaves, and Roses. While she can support with everyone in her class, her supports outside her house are limited to: Dorothea, Linhardt, Ferdinand, Sylvain, Lorenz, Hilda, Constance, Manuela, and Flayn. As for S-Support, she is locked to Male Byleth.

Fun Fact: Delicia's name means "delightful". Ironic, considering that she's someone who is rarely delighted by anything, and is easily repulsed by everything around her.

DO NOT REPOST!!! Also on deviantART

[muirmarie]

slams into your askbox, i saw the words timeloop sequel and i need to know more immediately

@thegeminisage

ty both!

if anyone hasn't read the time loop fic (it ends or it doesn't), please don't read the readmore, because it contains extremely big spoilers, and that fic is probably the only fic i've ever written that i'd say this about, but spoilers really do matter here imo.

okay! the time loop fic sequel.

this one i have very little actually written out, because i have other fics i need to finish first, but i still consider it an active wip because i go in it pretty routinely to make notes (so many notes).

this is almost def going to be in the 30k-40k range, though (maybe more, idk, we all know i'm a terrible judge), and it's absolutely on the back burner for now.

The working summary is long lmao, BUT:

Three months after they're rescued from the time loop, Starfleet Command asks the Enterprise to pick up Ambassador Sarek and Amanda Greyson and accompany them to the Arexilian home world. It's clear that Starfleet hopes to leverage the Arexilians' goodwill towards the triumvirate into reopening talks with the Federation, and aren't above using Spock's father to do so. Kirk uses his own leverage to get two weeks shore leave on Vulcan before they leave. But what should be a pleasant shore leave before a pleasant voyage to a pleasant people quickly starts developing snags: another Federation ambassador is coming along for the journey, and it's clear that he has his own axe to grind, Spock's parents have their own opinions about Spock's relationships—both those disclosed to Starfleet and not—and the triumvirate is still dealing with their own fallout from their choices on Arexon-3, as much as they might like to pretend it's behind them. Most importantly of all, Bones has to find a way to make Sarek like him.

They're basically all working through their own trauma, there's elements of Arexilian generational memory that McCoy ends up with due to going into the device some 270-odd times (I've been playing with him having dreams of flying), the other Federation ambassador is trying to get information on what the Arexilians did (both the teleportation, but also, they're beginning to suspect, why/how the sun exploded.....possibly w/ interest on that as a weapon), Sarek & Amanda are both extremely nosy in their own rights, I think Sarek & McCoy end up hostages at one point, Kirk won't admit it but he doesn't exactly trust his CMO right now, Spock can't hear 0900 without checking his wrist to make sure the mark is still there/the loop hasn't restarted...

At its heart it's them navigating the fall-out of what happened, and how actually being in a relationship together works when they're still struggling to remember what normal even feels like.

Plus it's the fact that I really like those purple feathered humanoids, and I think it would be really fun to get to explore them a little more! (like, did you know: they're extremely long-lived! Their lifespan averages about 340-400 years, so despite the fact they'd been on Arexon-3 for 800 years, there were a handful of them who returned to their homeworld whose parents had actually been born there!) Plus the idea of generational memory bleeding into McCoy's dreams means I have an interesting way of exploring it (for me, I mean, it might not be interesting for you, but I'll try lol) rather than just, say, info-dumping.

Plus I just really liked the dynamic I set up between the trio and Larissaya & Iratha - and the idea of the Arexilians and those that stayed on their homeworld (I haven't decided on a name for their homeworld yet) having to adjust to being back on the same planet again? Also very much Interests me. And I'm very, very fond of Iratha. They're my (gender neutral) girl <3

It's also supposed to be for my Planet Vulcan prompt for my bingo card hahaha, although we're maybe a little past that. But they DO go to Vulcan!!!

Part of me thinks that I might split up the shore leave on Vulcan and use it as bookends. Actually, now that I write that here, I'm almost definitely going to do that. Okay, lmao, I'll stop rambling now, if any of you are still with me ilu <33333 tyyyyyy

[dreamsy990]

ok so i finished bbs so time for thoughts!!!!

god this game has. issues. its my least favorite so far and im not saying its BAD im just saying it could be. better

i realize i was supposed to play terra > ven > aqua but i went in order of who i was least excited about to most so i did terra > aqua > ven. also i was super underlevel as terra and aqua so when i got to ven i grinded to level 10 the moment i was able to and then breezed through the whole game

i dont wanna say that i think the game should be shorter but i do think that its not very enjoyable for like 80% of the runtime. like i think most the worlds are boring idk. im not a very big disney person but usually the worlds are pretty interesting but this time around it simply Did not hit and i think it couldve been better? idk man. a few worlds were really good like all of hollow bastion as ven is super fun like i love seeing the org cast theyre just endlessly fun. seeing ansem tw in the ending did make me very angry though i hate that guy

this whole game is a downer and i knew that going in but still like. holy shit its depressing.

i love the main trio they are such a fucked up family i love their dynamic its honestly the best part of the game. also vanitas is a joy but also he is a total fucking wimp i could beat him up in real life. also fuck terranort! that about sums up my thoughts

hate the command system id honestly rather be doing coms card game at least that required some level of thought. i hate how the game can just rip the command i just made right out of my hands that is SO rude. also ima be real i still dont know how to play command board i never read the rules

honestly the game isnt that fun i didnt really enjoy it it kinda felt like a chore to play a lot of the time. i tend to be chronically underlevel in games and tgis is the game where i felt it the hardest so every once and a while i had to just set aside a couple hours to grind and like. i enjoy a challenge so i dont mind being underlevel but this was just painful i simple Could Not. also FUCK terra if i ever have to play as him again ill throw up and die.

the opening is my second favorite so far and the story is pretty good when i know whats going on

decent game. 6.9/10 if they axed the whole command system id give it a 7.5. i think it works better in concept than in execution and replaying the exact same worlds 3 times over gets stale pretty quickly. i wish they cut out some worlds as other characters like you cannot tell me deep space ventus was necessary. solid game though

[writingamongther0ses]

Ax Gleam

Dorothy is the one to realize that she has the parts her companions need.

She is a lonely girl in a new world, frightening even among all the wonder and color. A witch is hunting her for the silver slippers she earned from an accident she didn't mean it. Glinda is no help, just telling her to follow the yellow brick road to the Emerald City with no explanation of what she should do if she runs into danger. At least that command leads her to the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion. Joy fills her with each new companion. (She doesn't tell her new friends about the witch.)

The Scarecrow is loyal and so, so smart- imagine what he would do with an actual brain? The Tin Man is kind and for something that claims to be heartless, an actual heart would have to be bigger than normal for him. The Lion is passionate and brave when it matters, now he needs actual courage to back it up.

When they take a break for the night before reaching Emerald City, the Tin Man builds a fire. Dorothy sits in the Scarecrow's lap, serving as a shield from the deadly flames. The firelight catches the ax as Tin chops up wood, making the head gleam silver. Dorothy stares at it. (She's not sure why.)

It's when her pursuer is revealed and the task to kill the Witch of the West is set, when Scarecrow kneels in front of her and promises he's with her no matter what, Dorothy remembers the ax. (And how sharp it was.)

She waits until they stop for the night. Lion has taken Toto with him while he hunts for himself. The Scarecrow went with them to find some more firewood and, knowing him, some more food that isn't what Dorothy just has in her basket. Like before, the Tin Man is chopping wood for fire until he notices her stare. "Is everything alright, Dorothy?"

"I...um. Tin Man?" She taps her fingers and tries to put the suggestion to words. "I was just thinking...what if we didn't have to kill the Wicked Witch of the West?"

If he still could, he would clearly raise a brow. "What do you mean?" Dorothy, staring at the ax, reaches up. She traces her brow, on the skin stretched over her brain, before moving to her chest, feeling her heartbeat. The Tin Man stares at her before her silent message sinks in. "Wha- no. Absolutely not."

"It'll be easier."

"Dorothy Gale, you are fourteen years old. You have an entire life- you need to go home."

"This is a death mission." She snaps, lifting up a silver slipper covered foot as proof. "The Witch is going to keep trying to hurt you guys-"

"Dorothy-"

"-until I'm dead. And I'm not even sure-"

"Stop."

"She'll even stop at that-"

Hands clamp down on her shoulders.

"ENOUGH!"

Dorothy's teeth audibly click when she shuts her mouth. The Tin Man stares her down, eyes so, so sad. (That's she's gotten to this point.) "We are going to figure it out." he says. His grip on her loosens, instead turning into a soft rub to help with any bruises. "We always do. We always find a way. We've done it before." She can't even protest at that.

Because they have. All the way here, they've found ways.

Silently, she nods.

Satisfied, the Tin Man sits down next to her.

"...don't tell 'Crow?"

He stares at her. "Alright."

The trio returns soon after that. Lion boasts about how he fought off a huge vulture, Tin Man argues that claim and Scarecrow is rolling his eyes as he and Dorothy arrange themselves. "It was a butterfly and he hid behind me." he whispers in her ear. She giggles.

She ignores the gleam of the ax.

[kharia-adarkim]

In Crimson it Began

"This should be as good a vantage point as any," Pipin declared. Alphinaud set down his pack and began to pull out the surveying equipment when a series of explosions echoed across the canyon. "What was-" the lalafel soldier began to speak, but was interrupted by Alisaie.

"That came from the northeast- Rhalgr's Reach!"

"I'm going back," Kharia drew her gunblade and set off back up the trail.

"I'm coming too," Alphinaud chimed in, weaving a spell. "Carbuncle, to me!" Pipin and Alisaie nodded in agreement and joined the others. As they ducked under branches and scrambled over boulders, Kharia prayed to Nhaama that they wouldn't be too late.

As the four of them crossed the shallows of the Velodyna, Kharia spotted a contingent of Garlean soldiers moving towards the Reach's western entrance. Realizing she'd be unable to close the distance in time, Kharia drew her pistol from her belt with her free hand and fired a few shots at the leader of the pack, pulling the Garleans' attention away from their destination and towards the Warrior of Light. One soldier - likely their commander, based on his more ornate armor - gestured towards the four of them and gave a command, which was obscured by the rush of the river and the sounds of fighting in the valley. The specifics didn't matter to Kharia, though, as her potshots had the intended effect, and the soldiers raised their rifles to take aim at her while their lancers began a charge. With practiced precision, Kharia deflected the incoming gunfire with her blade, charging in to meet the lancers head-on. Pipin followed close behind, shield raised, and Alisaie began to weave a spell. A flash of red light and a gust of wind threw one of the lancers off his feet, and the momentary distraction gave Kharia time to bring her blade down upon a second, ending her before she'd realized her mistake. The remaining trio of lancers regained their composure and began to drive Kharia back with timed thrusts from varying angles.

"I can handle these three!" Kharia yelled to her companions, "Go for the gunners!" Alphinaud nodded, and his familiar lept at his command, harrying the Garlean backline while Pipin closed the distance. The commander drew his blade and pistol and took aim at the charging Lalafel.

"Oh no you don't," Alisaie muttered, channeling her magics for a burst of speed, knocking the pistol from the commander's hand with her rapier. The two of them traded blows back and forth, as the gunners dropped their rifles and drew sabres to fend off the gladiator and carbuncle. Kharia feigned a misstep, causing a lancer to overextend their next strike, and she grabbed the haft of their spear and pulled them into her blade, firing a cartridge point-blank for good measure. Finding her gunblade lodged firmly in the soldier's armor, she released it and lept back. As the remaining two lancers advanced, she pulled a device from inside her jacket and tossed it into the air, where it unfolded into a small propeller-lifted turred and began to fire at the lancers. Caught off-guard by the machine, Kharia used the lancers' hesitation to draw another device from her belt. Pressing the activator, it unfolded into a waraxe, and she charged with a roar, bringing it down on one of the lancers. He raised his spear to parry, and the magitech axe splintered the haft of his weapon, but gave him the space to dodge a fatal blow. Kharia roared, using the momentum of her swing to raise the axe and turn towards the final armed lancer, who dropped her spear and scrambled away as the Xaela woman cleaved the ground behind her. Further ahead, Alphinaud's carbuncle knocked a soldier to the ground, and Pipin bashed the pommel of his blade against their helmet, knocking them out cold. Alisaie locked blades with the commander and stared into his visor.

"If you value your life and those of your remaining men, surrender now," she said coldly. The commander glanced past the Elezen lass to see Kharia charging through the river, axe held high, and swore.

"Surrender? My girl, I'd rather fight to the death than face Lord Zenos' punishment for failure."

"Have it your way," Alisaie sighed, and a burst of flame erupted from her hand, sending him flying backwards. As he struggled to regain his footing, Pipin threw his shield, which clanged against the commander's helmed and knocked him back to the ground. Those soldiers who remained scattered, with their commander defeated and Kharia approaching rapidly.

"Run, cowards!" she cried, "and pray to your emperor you never see me again!" She paused to catch her breath, and Alphinaud put a hand on her shoulder.

"Easy Kharia," he said, weaving a spell of healing. "We may have won this skirmish, but the greater battle is still ahead. Retrieve your blade - quickly. Judging by the smoke, we've no time to waste." Kharia nodded and returned to the Garlean corpse her weapon was lodged in. Standing on their chest for leverage, she unsheathed it from the unfortunate soldier's burned armor, and rinsed the blood off in the waters of the river. Indistinct cries drew her attention to the valley, where a group of resistance soldiers were retreating, Krile and Arenvald in their midst.

"Kharia!" Arenvald yelled. "Thank the gods. It's a bloodbath in there. Zenos, he's- he's a monster. A few stayed behind to cover our retreat, but-"

"Where's Y'shtola?" Alisaie asked. "And Lyse?"

"Still fighting," Krile shook her head.

"I'm going in there," Kharia said. "Viceroy be damned, I'm not letting anyone else die if I can help if."

"I'm coming too," Alphinaud agreed. "I can tend to any wounded."

"I'll lead these folks back to Castrum Oriens," Arenvald volunteered. "What of the rest of you?"

"I need to see the situation firsthand," Pipin said grimly. "I'll join the Warrior of Light."

"And I'm not going to let my brother get himself killed playing hero," Alisaie answered.

"Then it's settled," Krile said, "I'll lead them back to the Reach. There are some Garlean patrols in the valley, and we'll want to avoid them." Arenvald nodded.

"Twelve protect you," he said, then turned towards the broken ranks of the Resistance. "The Warrior of Light and the general are here," he called out, "let's leave the heroics to them and get ourselves back to safety."

The scene in Rhalgr's Reach was worse than any of them had feared. Bodies of Garlean and Resistance soldiers were everywhere. Fires raged and buildings laid in rubble. Spells and bullets flew about, and dozens of skirmishes taking place, far too many in the Garleans' favor. Kharia charged the nearest fight and cut down an unsuspecting swordsman, rallying the few Resistance fighters they were engaged with. With help from the twins and Pipin, the remaining soldiers were quickly dispatched. Alphinaud tended the Resistance fighters' wounds.

"Situation report," Pipin ordered.

"The battle's all but lost, sir," a Roegadyn man sighed. "We were outnumbered and unprepared to begin with, and even with the Scions' help, we'd have been hard-pressed to fend them off. But the damned Viceroy..."

"Where is he?" Kharia demanded.

"No offense miss," a Miqo'te woman interrupted, "but that man's a force of nature. It's not worth it."

"That's not what I asked," Kharia replied through gritted teeth. "Where is he?"

"Last I saw, headed north," the Roegadyn man answered. "Probably leading his damn Crania Lupi to go after the commander."

"Conrad..." Alisaie muttered. "Let's go." She and Kharia took off towards Conrad's tent, and arrived in time to see a towering man in black steel armor cut down two Resistance fighters in a single blow.

"Shall I have the Skulls flush them out milord?" a blonde Hyuran woman called to the behemoth.

"No," he replied, "I will deal with their leaders myself. Tell your men to aid the rest of the rank and file in cleaning up this mess."

"Yes milord," she replied, clearly disappointed. She waved for the other Garlean soldiers to follow her and they set off to another part of the reach.

"That's Zenos?" Alisaie whispered, her voice a mix of awe and fear.

"We need to stop him," Pipin said, climbing over the rubble. "We can't let him kill Conrad." The Garlean viceroy strolled towards the mouth of a tunnel with unnerving casuality, turning only slightly as a blast of wind magic flew past him. In the entrance of the tunnel stood Y'shtola, who was already winding up another spell.

"I won't let you in," she said calmly. Zenos scoffed.

"You think a barbarian like yourself has the right to tell the crown prince of Garlemald whete he can or cannot go? Your hubris knows no bounds." The man put a hand to the hilt of one of his blades. Y'shtola threw a spear of ice at him, and he deflected it as if he was swatting away a fly. As she began to prepare another spell, Pipin let loose a battle cry and charged Zenos from behind. The viceroy seemed to not notice, until the Lalafel was but a few feet away, at which point he intercepted with a whirling kick and sent him flying. "Is this truly the best your so-called Resistance has to offer?" he asked. His voice was bored and disappointed. "Where is your fury? Your rage? Where is the sport?" Y'shtola conjured a bolt of lightning, which Zenos caught with his blade and sent arcing harmlessly into the soil. "I was promised a hunt, yet I find only vermin before me. This has been a waste of my time." With supernatural speed, he dashed towards Y'shtola and brought his katana to bear. The sorceress' eyes widened and she fell to the floor, and Zenos nonchalantly wiped his blade on his cloak. Kharia charged, gunblade at the ready, and lept into the air. Zenos whirled around and caught her sword with his own, sparks flying from the clash. "Is there no end to the pests seeking to dull my blade?" he complained, turning Kharia's strike aside. The Xaela grit her teeth and unleashed a flurry of swings, each effortless parried in time. As the two dueled, Alisaie slipped past to check on Y'shtola's wounds.

"Thank the gods, you're still breathing," she murmured, casting a spell to staunch the bleeding. "The Warrior of Light is here now, don't worry." Kharia's onslaught continued, and though her blows continued to be deflected in clashes of sparks and ringing steel, ilm by ilm she eventually forced the viceroy to take a proper defensive stance, gripping his blade in two hands and drawing his full attention.

"Warrior of Light you say..." he mused. After dodging to the side of an uppercut, he struck at Kharia' open flank. Regonizing she had no time to parry, and that dodging or retreating would cause her to lose the meager ground she'd gained, she raised her hand and caught the blow with her forearm, clenching her teeth against the pain. Zenos paused for the briefest moment at this maneuver, and Kharia seized the opportunity to fire her gunblade into his knee, forcing him to withdraw his strike to prevent further injury. She roared in defiance and chambered another cartridge. She raised her blade over her head and brought it down with two hands. Zenos caught her blade as she knew he would, and she pressed harder, the strain causing her forearm wound to bleed even more. As Zenos' blade shifted to better parry, Kharia fired all of her cartridges in rapid succession, the barrage of gunfire knocking Zenos back and cracking the visor of his helmet. To Kharia's surprise, Zenos began to laugh. "Yes, I see it now," he chuckled, "You must be the one who laid van Baelsar low. It is obvious to me now." He put a hand to his damaged helm and undid the latch. "I will admit, I did not expect such... tenacity from a barbarian, but you will not get so lucky again." The crown prince pulled off his helmet and shook his head, blond hair falling upon his armor. Kharia glared daggers at him as his expression turned from boredom to a smirk. He threw his sword aside and drew the second from its sheath. "Come, Champion of Eorzea. Let us see if you're worthy of providing me with entertainment." Kharia fell for his obvious goading and charged once more, loading another two rounds into her gunblade. Rather than take a swing herself, however, she threw her legs into a slide, causing Zenos' attack to go over her head and letting her elbow him in the back of the leg. She winced as pain radiated through her arm, and rolled to her feet, turning to face Zenos as he regained his balance. She ran back at him, blade brace on her side like a lance, forcing him to dodge rather than parry. She continued to strike with reckless aggression, constantly shifting her approach and strategy to prevent Zenos from establishing a rhythm. Eventually, the crown prince decided to begin his counterattack, which Kharia answered with her own dodges and parries. More than once, she let his blade find purchase where the blow would only be glancing to give herself the opportunity to gain ground. As they continued their chaotic dance, Kharia realized that the longer this went on, the worse her odds would become. During one brief gap in their swordplay, she cast aside her bloodied, torn duster, relishing in the feeling of air against her sweat-and-blood soaked body. After this short respite, their duel resumed, a concerto of clashing steel, booming gunfire, and cries of exertion. While their battle raged, the rest of Rhalgr's Reach grew quiet. Resistance fighters watched in quiet trepidation as their blood-soaked savior danced about the viceroy, and Garleans looked on in amazement as beads of sweat dripped from their unstoppable leader's brow. For what felt like the hundredth time in the fight, Kharia reached for more ammunition, only to find her supply was finally spent. As Zenos charged, she bit her lip, and poured her own aether into the chamber of the gunblade. As her strength waned, the blade glowed with magic, and her mind returned to Radovan's tutelage.

"This technique was only taught to the most skilled of Gunbreakers," he'd explained, opening the gunblade's chamber. "By channeling your aether through the weapon, you negate the need for proper ammunition. But it is only to be used as a last resort - to finish a fight - or you'll leave yourself on death's door and make for easy prey." Kharia watched intently as Radovan performed the rituals and motions required to attune his aether with the firing chamber, and then with three quick shots, dispatched a curious drake that had been circling overhead. Veins of energy ran across his body and blade, and as the beast's corpse landed with a thud, he let out a deep sigh and collapsed in the snow.

Kharia finished the ritual and closed the chamber just as Zenos angled his sword to strike, and it clashed against her shoulder, cutting deep. Rather than an expected spray of blood, however, the wound glowed blue, and Kharia yelled and drove her own weapon upwards, cracking Zenos' armor and forcing him to roll to the side and abandon his weapon to avoid greater injury. Kharia fired a barrage of aether-shots his way, but before she could follow through, her legs gave out and her grip weakened. She fell to her knees and, gritting her teeth, wrenched the katana from her shoulder. As she tried to steady herself, Zenos kicked her to the ground.

"Is this all you've got?!" he roared. "Is this truly the best Eorzea has to offer?" His voice was a mixture of fury and disappointment. Kharia tried again to steady herself, and Zenos wrapped an armored gauntlet around her shoulder. He lifted her into the air, and she grimaced and clenched her teeth as pain filled her senses. "You disappoint me," he said quietly, his words laced with venom. Kharia lifted her head and stared into his eyes. Zenos shook his damaged gauntlet off of his hand and grabbed her chin. "For a moment, I thought you might finally be prey worthy of my time, but you're nothing more than a hound answering to the so-called Alliance's beck and call. What a waste." Fire raged behind Kharia's eyes, and though she willed her body to fight, her strength was gone, and her limbs failed her. Zenos gave her one last disapproving look, running his thumb along her bloodied jaw. Kharia seized the opportunity and bit down hard, at last drawing blood from Zenos, who threw her aside and laughed. "Yes..." he murmured. "Yes!" He began to laugh, to the confusion of the gathered crowds. "You are no mere pup after all," he said, running his hand through his hair, leaving red, bloody streaks. "You have a fire in you, one I've tried and failed to stole in this miserable country for years. Feed the flames, girl, and feed them well. I am not wont to show mercy again." The viceroy turned to the assembled crowds. "Enough! We withdraw. Return to Castrum Abania."

"Sir?" the hyuran woman from earlier asked in disbelief. "What are you saying? We've all but won."

"Do not question me, Fordola," he replied coldly. "I've finally gotten what I want. I will not squander it. We are to withdraw immediately. That is an order." He walked to the side and kneeled next to Kharia's limp body. She strained and raised her head to give him one last defiant glare. "I will be seeing you again," he whispered, "do not disappoint me."

[hmshermitcraft]

:For theme:

The Scarlet Pearl the dreaded monster of the dark oak forests a monster all fear. She who commands a legion of wolves armed with an axe of crying obsidian they say if she catches you in her gaze you will never be seen again….of course that’s the horrible legend Pearl has been associated with since she was a baby. You see Pearl was abandoned in the forest as a baby all because she was born with a crescent moon shaped birth mark on her face that runs from her left eye to her chin luckily she was found by a rather abnormally large pack of wolves and raised her like their own.

And sure as she got older she turned the red cloth she was found in into a very comfy and soft jacket. But that doesn’t mean she’s an omen of freaking death! The only reason she has this stinking axe is because she found it in some ruins from a broken nether portal not to mention she didn’t have claws and fangs like her family so she needed some way to defend herself. No that’s not what hurt the first time she came across another human it was a family of three and when she tried to say hi they ran away like she was a monster…so fine if they wanted a monster she’ll be a monster.

Now Etho, Cleo, and Mumbo are in their opinion’s decent monster hunters so when they get called to hunt down the omen of death called the Scarlet Pearl they thought it would be a normal gig go in kill the monster get the reward money go home. So they tried to gather some info on this monster and all they got were a bunch of random folktales and vague descriptions at best the only solid information they were given is that the monster wore a bright red cloth that was visible even in the dark oak forest surrounding the village.

Now the three were used to getting vague descriptions of their targets but this was pushing it! But they luckily learned something important the Scarlet Pearl won’t attack as long as you pay an offering usually of meats and coins now this the trio can work with. So they geared up Mumbo with his netherite shield and redstone bombs, Etho and his trusty fishing rod, and Cleo with her potions and sword. After they double check everything they head into the forest at night getting ready for the hunt to begin.

It was just another night for Pearl patrol the woods maybe hunt some game but no this time she had visitors so time to go through the whole “I’m a big scary monster routine” whoopee…so when she arrived to where these visitors were she noticed something different these people looked like they were looking to fight already spotting her family hiding in the bushes and behind the trees…this was gonna be fun. So she slowly walked out of the woods with her head down axe grinding against the ground before stopping looking at the three.

“Do you have the toll?” She asked in the low ominous voice look just cause she didn’t like this part of her routine doesn’t mean she can’t have fun every now and then. And when the woman with snake hair stepped forward saying “No we’re here to stop a monster and I’m guessing that’s you?” Oh boy these ones are actually smart and kinda pretty wait no! Focus Pearl! Before the woman could step closer she snapped her fingers causing her family to appear from the tree lines making the mustached one jump gave Pearl a little laugh.

And that’s when the mayhem began as they all began to fight in the dead of night the sound of exploding redstone and the shattering of potion bottles filled the air before the clashing of blades did. Now the trio knows they’ve been fooled for one this wasn’t a monster this was a person albeit a very powerful person she tore mumbo’s shield in half with her bare hands! That was 7inches of solid enchanted netherite?! They only managed to get her to stop when Cleo pinned an older looking wolf to a tree causing Pearl to drop her axe and run over to Cleo only to be tied up by Etho’s fishing rod and once the adrenaline wore off the three noticed this woman was covered in dried blood, scars, and muck the only remotely clean thing on her was the red jacket she was wearing so they took the opportunity to do some questioning.

And boy oh boy! Did they get some answers because it turns out Pearl as she was called was not only abandoned because of a birthmark but was feared by a regional superstition by association with it and they were just hired to kill her! And Pearl learned who the three were and thought this was the end but nope Etho let her go and asked if she wanted to tag along with them if her family would allow it and they did on the condition Pearl’s closest sister Tilly came along with. But now the village is in for a very rude awakening not only in ethics but also learning why pissing off monster hunters was a bad idea.

(Might actually turn this into a fic!)

Pearl knows her original parents had... Intentions. She's not sure if she'd say they're good, but it was abandon her or to let the people in the village kill her. The village assumed she'd died, which protected her and her family until Pearl was old enough to fight back.

She never saw the point in revenge, though. She lived a happy life with her family. They didn't have much, but they didn't need much. A comfy place to sleep, enough food to eat, and plenty of time for grooming is good enough for them.

Well, it was certainly a challenge as Cleo tried to brush Pearl's hair for the first time. They begin to realise there is some truth in calling Pearl a monster, because Cleo thinks those bite marks in her arm might actually scar. They're able to get Pearl into cleaner clothes, even if she refuses to let go of the cloak. Nobody is allowed to touch it.

Pearl, it turns out, is a very useful addition to her ranks. Pearl's pack is on good terms with a lot of other ones, so Pearl is privy to the local gossip. If a monster has been nearby, the wolves are going to know about it. The fearsome creatures that once terrorised them are now valuable allies.

Pearl is also very easy to please romantically. She nearly falls over at any gesture! They just wish she'd maybe find an alternative to licking them...

[undertale-writing-times]

how many children do they want? For everyone?

Normally I might not do something for every single one, but because this is simple! (if you have any questions about why I put the number that I did, I would love the question!)

Let's get it going >:3

Sans: 0-1

Papyrus: 1-3

Blueberry: 1-2

Stretch: 1

Red: 0-1

Edge: 0-2

Axe: 1-6

Noodle: 0

Lord: 1-3

Mutt: 1-2

King: 1

Alpha: 0

Overlord: 1-5

Pup: 0

Commander: 1

Hound: 0-4

Chief: 0-1

Wolf: 2-6

Royal: 1

Fang: 0

Prince: 0-3

Canine: 1

Leader: 3

Beast: 2

Grandeur: 2

Behemoth: 3(already has one!)

Tycoon: 1

Brute: 10

Cloud: 0

Bat: 0

Superior: 1

Exo: 0

Briliance: 0

Werewolf: 3

Vivid: 1

Lycan: 0

Ruler: 0

Pooch: 0

Sheriff: 0

K9: 0-1

Crowned: 0-3

Whelp: 0

Dynast: 2

Mongrel: 0

Rebel: 0

Shards: 0-4

Regicide: 0

Cur: 0

Luce: 0-12

Hellhound: 3-6

Baron: 2

Pawls: 2

Palace: 5

Cad: 7 (in Fellswap Blush, large 'litters' of babies is seen as very good luck!)

Duke: 0-3

Bull: 0-2

Captain: 0

Dogfish: 1-2

Regent: 0-3

Coyote: 0-4

Cosmos: 1

Galaxy: 0

Nightmare: This one really depends tbh.

Dream: 0-3

Passive: 2!

Oxi: 0

Sleeper: 4

Coma: 0-3

Gloom: 0-1

Wiseguy: 0

Bones: 0

Clip: 0-4

Boss: 1

Books: 0-4

Crank: 000000000000!

Envy: 3

Pride: 0

Calamity: 4

Tragedy: 3

Crisis: 0-2

Misfortune: 0-2

Scourge: 0

Field: 0!

Crop: 0-1

Diva: 0

Charm: 0-3

Vibrant: 0-1

Corn: 3-6

Harvest: 2-7

Sheep: 2-7

Duster: 1-9

Shot: 0

Soil: 1

Repeat: 0

Lover: 0-3

Hearts: 1-6

Heartbreak: 0

Beau: 0-3

Dreamboat: 0

Reap: 0

David: 0

Wraith: 0(duh)

Screen: 0-3

Keys: 1

Mimic: 3

Ringer: 0

Burn: 6

Arman: 2

Levi: 0

Chua: 2

Dracul: 3

Shifter: 0 >:\

Maiden: 0

Vestal: 0

Eros: 4

Aphro: 1

Venus: 1-2

Cuddles: 0

Astra: 1

Aloith: 0

Sugar: 3-5

Sweetie: 5!

Hop: 1

Sway: 2

Stomper: 0-1

Jazz: 0

Flamenco: 2

Uprock: 2

Ballet: 1

Taps: 2

Waltz: 4

Boogie: 0

Cross: 0

Error: 0

Ink: 5(but shouldn't have any)

Drain: 0

Glitchy: 0

Static: 0

Fairy: 0

Splat: 3

Fresh: 0

Rad: 0

Fresh Ink: 0

Dusty: 0-2

Powder: 0-2

Cupid: 0

Fragment: 0

Stardust: 0-3

Shooting Star: 0-3

Slay: 2

Killer: 2

Yanberry: 6

Snap: 4

Echo: 1

Pinks: 0-10

Passion: 0-2

Desire: 1

Feral: 0-3

Sharp: 0

Oak: 5

Sunflower: 0

Supernova: 3

Sunspot: 0

Snackers: 3

Butcher: 0-3

Timber: 4

Bark: 5

Bud: 0-4

Vine: 0-1

Strawberry: 2

Chum: uhhh

Rigel: 0-2

Vega: 1

Light: 1-4

Deep: 0-2

Daydream: 4

Delusion: 0-3

Mur: 1

Solar: 2-3

Nightfall: 0-4

Sunset: 0-5

Scarlet: 0-1

Leopard: 1-10 (wants a lot of babies but is okay with only just one or even none!)

Rosy: 5(has some already, but he just sorta uh… found those)

Shadow: 0-1

Lace: 0

Lamp: 0-4

Shade: 0-3

Luna: 0

Chills: 0-2

Shiver: 1

Nymph: 4

Fae: 6

Sprinkles: 0-4

Crumble: 0-1

Sticky: 4 (isn't sure if he even could)

Mallow: 1-5(already has the hungry time trio lol)

Empire: 0-3

Aquatica: 1-4

Skillet: 0-3

Determ: 5

Cielo: 3

Comet: 3

Badar: 5

Soul: 2

Chains: 0

Moonlight: 0

Suns: 0

Breaker: 4

Undertaker: 2

Corpse: 1

Inker: 0

Angel: 0

Bane: 2

Defect: 0

Fable: 1

Thorn: 1

[veliara]

Lost Part 2

Grinnaux`s PoV Grinnaux kicked the door with his foot, attracting the maximum attention of those in the room. The etheric chains instantly closed around the necks of those standing across the room. He only withdrew the chains as Zephirin and Paule approached the fallen pair of Elezens. Hyur, on the other hand, decided not to give up just yet. The dark-haired man, tried to slip through the door and ran into a very unhappy warrior. Dropping the man to the ground, Grinnaux easily held him in place with a foot on his back and an axe to his neck. Lilac eyes slid across the small room and stopped on the motionless, like a broken doll, body . He couldn't see if the boy's chest was rising, and at this distance he couldn't hear the usually frantically beating heart. He just stared unblinkingly at the motionless body and felt something inside him grow cold. Their commander stood up and walked over to the boy. He took a potion from his pocket, handed it to the mage and helped him pour its contents into Ciel's mouth.

He was sure it was the first time he had seen the commander in such a state. All lines in the normally soft face seemed to have sharpened. The eyes, which often resembled summer greens, were now more like light green ice. Grinnaux couldn't hear what the mage was saying, but it was clear he was addressing the boy. After a moment, too long in the warrior's opinion, there was a painful groan and then the boy moved.

Eyes clouded with pain glanced around the room, at the knights standing there, but closed almost immediately. Inquisitor cursed quietly.

(Warning: what follows are my self-made, laughable attempts at photoshop bruises.I've never used photoshop before. There was no time to redo it and to ask someone else was not possible…well, brace yourselves.)

"Grinnaux, Paule, take these three to the temple cells. Alive please. I think brother Charibert will wish to speak to them later. " "I'm already burning with anticipation" mage practically purred. But his tone sent a chill down Grinnaux's spine. "I`ll take Ciel to the infirmary. Charibert, please, find Haumeric and Noudenet," Zephirin commanded softly.

From the looks on their faces, Grinnaux assumed that the captured trio wouldn't be in the world of living for long. P.S.I purposely skipped the scene from Ciel's side. When I do gather courage to translate and post the story I'm writing (at least part 1, which is already written), you'll be able to read the full version.

[fence-macabre]

Scales of Eidolon - Session Twelve

Vivistrasza guides Fiona’s Pride ever closer to the Lost Glacier. The journey is filled with a lingering anxiety and anticipation. The sealskin coats, gifted by the Qayassiq, keep bodies warm and protected from the frigid, biting air as Fence Macabre and the dragons make landfall, alone, upon the glacier.

The dragons forge ahead, clearing a path through swaths of feral scourge to reach Kyranastrasz’s final resting place as Fence Macabre prepares themselves. They rush through the opening, temporarily rid of undead, and join the others.

The Scales of Eidolon began their work, channeling their magic into a blossom already radiating with energy. A miracle in the snow as the flowers pulse with magical warmth - it is certain a small part of Kyranastrasz’s spirit still remains here in this hellish, frozen landscape.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the scourge abandoned on that lonely glacier took notice, and gradually Fence Macabre noticed them prowling up the edges of the icy cliffs surrounding them.

Salix, Royalle, and Neil are quick to throw up their barriers, the massive burst of energy too tempting for some, and curious scourge inching too close disintegrated in a puff of ash. A damned Scourgelord, accompanied by a horde of undead and its mindless abominations, presses forward to the trio, hungering for their magic.

Outside the shields, thousands of feral undead of every shape, size, and state of decay wait with a ravenous stare, crowding the cliffs in every direction. Among them, a colossal skeletal amalgamation comes over the horizon, wielding a massive ax made of bone. Three gargantuan skulls, six glowing blue eyes, all watch with an eerie silence. And wait.

There was no telling how long the three could hold that barrier against what waited outside of it, and every precious second needed, all the available firepower they could muster to rid themselves of the scourge advancing forward.

It was time. Do, or die.

The feral scourge that made it inside the barrier surged forward at the band of heroes.

The scourgelord commanding them, turns to one of his abominations, channeling dark energy to empower it as it throws its hook at its first victim, yanking them over.

Fence Macabre engages with ferocity, slaying some of the weaker scourge where they stood. The abominations were tanky, dealing harsh blows with their axes and spewing poison haphazardly.

Hours felt like minutes as the bodies of scourge began to pile up, until… The scourgelord raises its arms into the air, necrotic energy swirls around. The defeated undead are given life and rise again! Fence Macabre is flabbergasted. How were they going to get to the scourgelord when its entire battalion just resurrected?! Would they even have the energy and will to do this same exact fight all over again?!

The dragons are notably starting to struggle as they continue to channel all they can into a single blossom.

Salix focuses, taking a deep breath as embers come fluttering down from his shield. As each one lands upon them, Fence Macabre suddenly feels stronger. Much Stronger.

With this renewed vigor, the undead drop again at a much faster rate, the flames of passion literally burning at the bodies. The scourgelord cannot keep up, its desperate efforts to empower its comrades have drained it so much it has left itself vulnerable. Fence Macabre makes quick work in slaying the foul creature.

The scourgelords waiting above lean back, ever so slightly, judging the fall of their fellow with careful observation.

Vivistrasza calls out, straining to keep up her channeling, “I … I do not know how much more I can give!”

Illavia calls beside her, “We are so close! I can feel it!”

The Scourgelords turn back, blue pinpoints set in their skulls glowing brighter with interest as they sense the faltering. A collective howling rises from the feral scourge as they begin throwing themselves at the barrier.

Neil, Roy, and Salix are now under added pressure as they do their best to keep up their concentration of holding the line.

Fence Macabre rushes back to aid however they can. However, one by one, the dragons begin to fall to their knees, trying to hold it just a little longer. A desperate attempt as Vivistrasza channels her very life essence. Just a little more to allow Kyranastrasz to find his way… Vivstrasza’s eyes start to flutter…

But then, Salix inhales harshly through his nose, his breathing increasing as his heart pounds. His chest feels tight, and tears sting the corners of his eyes as he falters.

“VIVISTRASZA!!” Salix breaks his concentration. The great fire barrier reinforcing Royalle and Neil’s barriers disappears instantly. He whirls around, sprinting towards the Blossom. Neil and Roy are now simply repelling the scourge as they are no longer being vaporized, taking the full brunt of the scourge’s increased assault.

It is as though everything slows, as Salix sprints forward. Petals kick up from under his feet, as he clutches his staff in his hand. He throws a hand out, the other slamming the end of his staff into the ground as he pours all of his magic into the Blossom.

His scream echoes across the frigid landscape, as he joins briefly with the raw magics of five powerful dragons. It is too much for his mortal form, as the recoil rockets through him, forced through every vein in his body. His eyes flare with unimaginable power, and then dim as quickly as a snuffed candle. He drops. Gone before his corpse lands amidst the gently swaying flowers.

Vivistrasza’s screams rip through the air, a deafening roar as her magic snaps back into her. She visages once more and rushes to the side of her fallen son. Tears flow down her cheeks, cradling him against her as her life magic fails to return him.

Lucidre, the small green whelp, finally collapses onto the snow. The child is thoroughly exhausted from trying to keep up with the much older dragons.

Illvaia, Glaros, and Saudormu are filled with shock as their channeling too ceases. They visage and join the others. Saudormu gathers up the whelp into his arms, holding them close as they all approach Salix.

It is immediately after that Royalle can no longer sustain the toll being taken on her body and mind as she blacks out and collapses. One barrier falls. Neil calls out to her. With sharp instinct, he catches her just before she hits the ground and he falls to his knees with her. The last barrier falls.

As the final barrier drops, the Scourgelords above brim with accursed magic, and the scourge bristle with anticipation. The colossal three-headed Amalgamation, no longer looming menacingly, begins its slow advance upon the Fence Macabre and the Scales of Eidolon.

They have run out of time.

Remington calls out to Fence Macabre to brace for the worst, should they need to clear a way back to the barge.

Ilvaia begs Vivistrasza that there is still time to escape but she refuses - she wants to stay with her son, so tired after enduring everything. Glaros urges the others that they must leave. Now. Ilvaia reluctantly agrees.

Remington tells Fence that even if they fall today, she is proud to be alongside them. Everyone braces as the scourge starts to close in.

A small gasp comes from Lucidre… Their voice is barely above a whisper, soft and full of awe.

“Ooh…. the flower…”

The single blossom among the warm patch of green, surrounded by cold snow, begins to glow. Brighter and brighter, the green magics of life blossom and dance outwards. A great roar rises, echoing, musical, joyful as massive wings spread and the spirit of a mighty dragon takes flight straight into the air.

Vivistrasza reaches upwards with a trembling hand, smiling through her grief as she sobs. “Brother…”

Fence Macabre and the Scales of Eidolon stand and witness the wonder unfolding in the sky.

As Kyranastrasz’s spirit enters the Emerald Dream, a great pulse of Life magic spills out, spreading above like a sacred arc. His joyful roars are heard, alongside the beating of great wings ascending, accompanied by birdsong and the warmth of hope. The magic crests into the scourge surrounding atop the cliffs, and with a clattering, they are felled.

A second pulse and the advancing Amalgamation collapses, all magic fading from its bones, and everyone feels their injuries and exhaustion fade away to a distant memory. Above, a faint outline of the sunlight is seen, a dappled canopy of G’Hanir as Kyranastrasz soars higher and higher.

A third pulse, and he is gone, rejoined with his brethren on the branches of G’Hanir. The air stills with peace, as flower petals softly rain below.

Salix opens his eyes with a soft groan, “Mother..?”

Vivistrasza is overwhelmed, weeping with joy and embracing her son as she rocks back and forth with him.

Tears, smiles, shouts, and cheers. A miracle has happened on this cold, lonely glacier. Friends and loved ones embrace each other, thankful to have each other and to see another day.

Remington is happy to break the tension with a grin as she turns to Ilvaia.

“Now, I’m all for touchin’ brushes ‘a near annihilation. But, ya know what I’m goin’ ta ask. And after today, I think we sure as hell have earned our part. Ilvaia, where are the Blacktalons?”

Ilvaia can only break out into a full-bellied laughter, erupting with joy and relief.

“A deal is a deal. Let’s talk further..”

The walk back to the barge doesn’t seem so cold anymore.

[frostbittenfemme]

“Sir. She’s here.”

Flatline looks up at the main screen on the console, mouth curling into a grin as his red optics meet the bright glare of Wild’s.

It’s been so long but she’s finally here. The scientist has no doubt in his mind she’ll make it past his trio of trials. They’re not there to stop her. Oh no, he doesn't want her to stop. He has other plans.

“Sir shall I put this lab into lockdown procedure?”

“No! Unlock the door and make sure we have live footage of her at all time. I will not lose her. Not again.” Flatline orders.

“But-“ “But nothing! Open the door!” He commands.

The assistant does as she’s told, pressing a series of buttons to prompt the unlocking of the main entrance door. As she does so she catches Flatline reaching over to the screen, stroking at the image of Wild with the back of his servo as if she were some pet.

The grin on Flatline’s faceplates only grows as he watches Wild raise one of her axes to her throat and mimics slitting her own throat. The assistant isn’t sure what frightens her most; the threat of subject 001 coming to kill them or the fact Flatline is taking it like it’s a joke.

There’s only one thought on Flatline’s mind as he observes Wild enter the laboratory.

Soon, she’ll be back in her rightful place. Under his control.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Kingdom Hearts II: Final Mix Recap: Beast's Castle (Don't Fall in Love)

Before you can even access the world, you again have to complete a Gummi Route. In this case, Stardust Sweep.

Just like Asteroid Sweep, the Gummi Ship flies between various asteroids while battling Heartless and Nobodies. Unlike Asteroid Sweep’s red-tinted asteroids, these are tinted green.

Later routes contain more interesting gimmicks.

(Corner’s note: I am attempting to add a ‘readmore’ tag because I love these but I don’t want to subject everyone to the KH version of the ‘color of the sky’ post!)

 Sora, Donald, and Goofy arrive in the Entrance Hall, taken aback by both its size and how gloomy it is.

Sora wonders who lives here, and the trio is startled by a distant roar from deeper in the castle.

However, it doesn’t take long for them to recognize the roar as the Beast’s and, excited to reunite with one of their old friends, decide to check up on him as a Shadow Heartless creeps into a small room to the East.

Sora notices this, and the heroes disembark to battle the Heartless.

FUN FACT!: The overworld theme for this world is known as “Waltz of the Damned”. This got the rhythm game a “mild language” mark on its ESRB rating.

In the Parlor, our heroes find a rose under a glass dome, and are immediately surrounded by Heartless.

After enough time has passed, enough Heartless have been defeated, or Sora has lost, the trio get overwhelmed by the Heartless’ sheer numbers.

At this point, the Beast barges into the room, curb-stomps all the Heartless without breaking a sweat, swats the heroes aside just as easily, takes the rose, and leaves without a word of acknowledgement.

Goofy wonders if the Beast forgot about them, Sora notes that the Heartless’ presence must mean something, and Donald’s salty over getting swatted like a bug.

This room holds a Save Point and Monty’s Moogle Shop. Monty adds the Silver Ring accessory to the shops in Twilight Town and Hollow Bastion.

Out in the Entrance Hall, Donald notices a lady at the top of the stars.

Goofy surmises that the lady would have to be Belle, since this is Beast’s Castle and all, and Sora suggests that she might know what happened to the Beast.

On the way, the heroes are beset by various Heartless, including two notable types.

Sometimes, while walking down the halls or through the Courtyard, some of the gargoyles will be possessed by Heartless and come to life. These are Gargoyle Knights (wielding swords) and Gargoyle Warriors (wielding axes). Blocking the Gargoyle Knight’s attacks will stagger it, allowing Sora to use the “Release” Reaction Command to instakill it by expelling the Heartless animating it. The same can be done to Gargoyle Warriors by avoiding their spin-attack.

Upon ascending the stairs up to the East Wing, Sora hushes Donald and Goofy so they can sneak in.

Belle laments her situation, wondering what she’s going to do, and Donald tries to break the door down!

Slapstick ensues when Belle opens the door anyway, and she greets Donald with an (unwanted) hug, before also giving a verbal welcome to Sora and Goofy as the party’s Mage struggles in her embrace. This also makes her one of the few characters to break the sacred order of “Sora, Donald, and Goofy” when addressing the party.

After she releases Donald, she explains the situation to the party.

They’re having some relationship troubles lately, with the Beast not really talking to her anymore and locking himself in the West Wing.

More worryingly, he’s also locked up most of his servants, and Belle has no idea why.

The only way to access it is via the West Hall, and Sora volunteers to help, though Belle urges our heroes to be careful, given that the Beast hasn’t been himself lately.

Inside Belle’s room are a couple of chests, one of which contains the Castle Map.

The West Hall is found opposite the East Wing in the Entrance Hall.

There are some suits of armor for Sora to smash for free MP, HP, and Drive Gauge prizes, some unbreakable suits of armor blocking the way to the West Wing, and a sleeping Wardrobe (Beauty and the Beast) blocking the way to the Undercroft.

Upon trying to push the Wardrobe, she wakes up, briefly, shoves Sora out of the way, then hops back into place in front of the door, before falling back to sleep.

In order to complete this section, you must use the “Push” Reaction Command while the Wardrobe is sleeping in order to move her.

Sometimes, however, the Wardrobe will wake up, and “Push” will become “Waken”. The “Waken” Reaction Command causes the Wardrobe to counter attack, wherein she swats Sora out of the way, before hopping back into place.

Leaving the Wardrobe unpushed for too long will ALSO cause her to reset her position.

Once she’s fully shoved out of the way, she COMPLETELY awakens and asks what they want.

Sora explains that Belle needs them to go into the Dungeon, and the Wardrobe realizes that they’re here to help her friends.

She apologizes for startling them, and mentions that she was human before the enchantress cast her spell.

She was turned into a wardrobe, while the prince was turned into a beast.

Donald’s shocked to learn that the prince is the Beast, while Goofy’s shocked to learn that the Beast is a prince.

Sora wants more details on the spell, and the Wardrobe says that it was a cold winter’s night, before stopping there and saying that the rest can wait for AFTER the others have been rescued, much to SDG’s disappointment.

Inside the Undercroft, the heroes find that the door is a stone slab with a massive keyhole engraved between two semi-humanoid engravings.

Then, the stone turns to darkness, ten fingers curl around the keyhole, and the now living engravings fistbump.

 Say hello to the Thresholder, the first boss of this world.

 The thresholder slams and flails its arms around, summons Gargoyles identical to the others in the castle to fight for it, but otherwise remains stationary.

It will also Summon Hook Bats to defend itself after the Gargoyles are beaten. Sora can use the “Bat Cry” reaction command to grab the Hook Bats and bludgeon other Heartless (including the Thresholder) with it.

The Thresholder will also sometimes blast globs of darkness from its keyhole.

When it’s HP is depleted, Sora can use the “Release” Reaction Command to fire a beam of light into the Thresholder’s Keyhole, expelling the Heartless giving it life: The Possessor.

The Possessor is not a particularly powerful Heartless (later games have it as a regular enemy, even), and is the same species as the various Heartless that animate the Gargoyle Knights and Gargoyle Warriors (in fact, you can even see Possessors fly out of them when they’re destroyed, as a neat bit of foreshadowing).

The Possessor in this game has no means of attacking or defending outside of drifting aimlessly until it can repossess the Thresholder.

This is the second boss that the King can save Sora from. But remember, the King showing up is NOT a guarantee, and every time he appears, his chances for showing up again are permanently decreased for ALL bosses he can save Sora from.

Defeating the Possessor earns Sora the “Upper Slash” ability (knocks the target into the air if the block button is pressed in the middle of a Ground Combo, 4 AP to equip), Donald the “Donald Fire” ability (basically the same as the Fire spell), and Goofy 4 more Max HP.

After the Possessor is destroyed, the Thresholder turns to stone and dissolves into darkness.

Even though it had already turned to stone in the gameplay when the Possessor was destroyed.

Regardless, the doorway to the dungeon can now be opened.

Inside, the dungeon is empty, except for a clock, candelabra, teapot, and teacup.

“There’s no one to rescue?” Donald questions.

Sora sighs.

“Did someone say rescue?” an obviously French voice questions, only to be hushed.

“Keep quiet,” another voice speaks, “It might be THEM.”

“Oh they look like nice boys to me,” a more motherly voice chimes in.

Goofy assures the unseen speakers that they are nice, and that they’re friends.

Sora reveals that Belle sent them, and the various objects come to life, revealing themselves to be Cogsworth (Beauty and the Beast), Lumiere (Beauty and the Beast), Mrs. Potts

Sora introduces himself, Donald, and Goofy (in that order), and Donald picks up the clock to inspect him.

While Donald is a bit slow on the uptake, Sora takes it in stride, and Goofy asks if a spell was placed on them as well.

The servants explain their story:

One winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and asked for shelter.

The cruel prince of the castle refused because of her “unsightly appearance”.

She then revealed her true form, her true power even, and placed a curse on the prince and his servants. The prince became the Beast (now as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside), and his servants all became various appliances, tools, and furnishings in order to further punish him.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy consider this to be MASSIVELY out of line, and Donald suggests they hunt the enchantress down to fix this mess.

Mrs. Potts shoots that idea down, and the servants explain that they already know how to lift the curse, but they can’t do anything about it with the current state the Beast is in.

He’s become extremely paranoid, and forgotten how to trust others, seeing everything and everyone as a potential threat. He’s even MORE closed off than he was when he first met Belle.

Cogsworth worries that he may have turned into a Heartless, and while SDG are HORRIFIED at the thought, they reason that it’s probably NOT that bad yet, though they do believe that the Heartless may be responsible for whatever’s happened to the Beast.

With everyone determined to save the Beast from whatever’s sunk its claws into his heart, Lumiere leads the way to a shortcut.

The Dungeon holds a couple of chests, one of which holds the Map of the Basement, and a Save Point.

Cogsworth is in the upstairs portion of the Undercroft, and if you talk to Chip, he’ll mention that Cogsworth can make an alarm sound so loud it can wake up anyone.

Also, while Lumiere was the one who lead the way in the cutscene, its Cogsworth you have to talk to in order to progress the story.

Cogsworth, when spoken to, tells the two Suits of Armor guarding the upstairs door to step out of the way to let their guests through.

In the next room, we have a puzzle.

In order to open the way forward, all of the lanterns need to be lit, but they’re REALLY high up.

As such, Cogsworth will have to hold a lever down in order to keep the lanterns within range for Lumiere to light.

However, the lanterns have all been “lit” with dark flames, so Mrs. Potts with have to extinguish them so they may be lit properly. However, because the flames are dark by their nature, Sora will have to lend the power of light with the “Sprinkle” reaction Command to light the lanterns.

But Cogsworth can’t hold the handle down indefinitely. If he gets tired and loses his grip, all the unlit lanterns will go back to the ceiling. Whenever he loses his grip, Sora will have to use the “Restore” Reaction Command to restore Cogsworth’s strength by having Mrs. Potts give him water.

In short, Sora will have to guide Lumiere and Mrs. Potts to every lantern AND run back to Cogsworth whenever his arms give out.

Welcome to the most tedious puzzle in the entire game that I can remember at the moment.

It does not help that there are crates that slow down Lumiere and Mrs. Potts, and the “Sprinkle” command can only be used when everyone is standing next to the lantern.

Lumiere will always head to the next lantern, while Mrs. Potts will slowly hop after Sora.

Mercifully, the first of the four lanterns is lit automatically in a cutscene demonstrating how to progress through this puzzle, but this is still an infamously annoying section.

But once all four are lit, Sora opens the secret passage by pushing in the brick that was sticking out of the wall.

With that taken care of, Lumiere and Mrs. Potts head back to their stations to go back to work (with Chip following his mother) while Cogsworth explains that the Beast’s bedroom is at the very end of the west wing. He’ll be heading there to wait for SDG to help save the Beast.

The secret passage deposits SDG behind the impassable suits of armor from before, right by some gargoyles that have a chance of being Possessed, and granting access to the West Wing. The Beast’s Room lies at the end of this Heartless-filled Hallway.

Inside, we get our cutscene, and the next boss battle.

“It’s time you dealt with Belle,” III of Organization XIII remarks as he and Beast stand by the cursed rose, “She’s scheming to take everything you have.” He turns to walk away from the window, towards the door. “This castle, your precious rose-

“And then – your life.

“Trust no one, feed your anger!

“Only anger will keep you strong.”

“I’ve had enough of strength,” the Beast replies, “There’s only one thing I want –”

“What?” III questions, “to love and be loved in return?”

“Who could ever love a beast?”

The beast roars at III as SDG brandish their weapons to fight the Organization member.

“See?” III remarks, “She has accomplices.”

III glides back, and with a wave of his hand, raises an invisible barrier that blocks off the enchanted rose, before vanishing into a Corridor of Darkness.

 “Hey, prince,” Sora greats.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as the Beast roars loud enough to shake the room.

“Oh dear! Master!” Cogsworth shouts.

The Beast lunges forwards, having completely lost himself to his primal instincts, as Sora, Donald, and Goofy raise their weapons.

If they want to save their friend, they’re going to have to fight him.

The Beast is radiating a dark power, the same darkness III has been stoking to cloud his judgement and influence his decisions.

When near Cogsworth, Sora can use the “Wake Up!” reaction command to stun the Beast and deal massive damage to him.

The Beast however, can briefly knock Cogsworth away and stun him by roaring “Leave, NOW!!!”, though Cogsworth will recover.

Otherwise, he mostly attacks with the same claw swipes he used while protecting Sora in KH1.

When the Beast’s HP is depleted, the “Charge” reaction command becomes available. You need to spam this Reaction Command in order to give Cogsworth the power needed to wake up the Beast. Failing to do so will lead to the Beast reviving. Success leads to “Charge” becoming “Get Up!”, which ends the battle when used. As well as earning the following Victory Bonus:

Sora gets an Armor Slot.

Donald gets 3 more Max HP.

Goofy learns Defender (increases defense when HP is critical).

“Cogsworth, what happened?” the Beast questions upon waking up.

Cogsworth tries to explain it delicately, while Donald rips off the bandage and just tells the Beast that he locked all his servants up in the dungeon.

The Beast is, understandably, horrified.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?” Sora asks, “The one in black?”

The Beast gasps.

“Xaldin!” he exclaims, “… That’s his name.

"He came from the darkness. He used my anger to control me!

“He took all my sorrow, my sadness, my pain – and turned it all into rage.

“There was nothing I could do. I could no longer see the truth.”

Goofy theorizes that the Beast threw all his friends into the dungeon for their own safety, because he might’ve been JUST aware enough of what was going on to realize he might end up hurting them in his berserk state if he didn’t get them somewhere he couldn’t reach them.

The fact that he locked himself in his room adds further credence to this theory, though the Beast can’t remember enough to know if Goofy is right.

Cogsworth, at least, believes it to be true, and cites Belle seeing the goodness in his heart as evidence.

Unfortunately, hearing Belle’s name reminds him of how he treated HER while under Xaldin’s control, and he starts another depressive spiral. He hasn’t done anything to PHYSICALLY harm her (he’d never dream of it), but that doesn’t mean he’s been treating her well either.

Sora tries to explain that Belle was more worried FOR the Beast than worried about anything he might do to her, but the Beast is convinced that Belle wouldn’t have said anything even if the Beast HAD harmed her, thinking she’s too nice for her own good.

(In short, his self-loathing’s kinda at an all-time high.)

Sora suggests talking to her, and even offers to go with him to supply moral support.

THE BEAST HAS JOINED THE PARTY!!!

There’s a Save Point in the Beast’s Room, but let’s go over his abilities real quick:

Right Claw Swipe: Swipes sideways with right claw.

Left Claw Swipe: Ditto, but with the left claw.

Diagonal Claw: Swings and swipes diagonally with right hand.

Rising Claw Swipe: Jumps while scratching with left hand.

Falling Claw Swipe: After jumping, he swings the right hand down to scratch while falling.

Furious Shout: Spends 10 MP to knock down nearby enemies with a furious shout.

Furious Rush: Spends 10 MP to attack the enemy successively with a rush of enraged tackles.

His Limit is Howling Moon. Like Mulan’s Limit, it consumes all of Sora’s MP to use. To quote the Wiki “The limit begins with Twin Howl in which Sora and Beast roar at enemies. Afterwards, in the Reaction command slot, Stalwart Fang causes Beast to damage nearby enemies with a sonic wave. Meanwhile, in the Attack command slot, Outcry allows Sora to lunge at an enemy at close distance. The finisher move is Last Howl which causes the duo to unleash a powerful howl in an intense burst of light. During the limit, Sora can move freely. The limit can be ended prematurely through the Stop command in the Limit slot.” (Note: All I really cut out was the Japanese names and transliterations of those names.)

Regardless, with the Beast in the party, the suits of armor will let Sora pass now, and the Beast can help clear out any Heartless as they make their way to Belle’s room.

When they reach Belle’s room, however, she’s nowhere to be seen, but the Wardrobe is waiting for them.

She’s thrilled to see that the Beast has regained control from Xaldin.

The Beast, however, is more concerned with Belle’s whereabouts, at which point the Wardrobe reveals that she left to go after the man in black.

“What?!?” the Beast shouts, “Why doesn’t she do as she’s told?”

“Temper, temper!” the Wardrobe lectures as she turns her back to the Beast (and it says a lot about how much she trusts his self-control, even now, that she has no fear talking back to him like this while Donald and Goofy are cowering), “Her spirit is what makes Belle so special.”

Sora reminds Beast that it MIGHT be best that they find Belle before Xaldin does, and the quartet heads out.

Upon reaching the Entrance Hall, they hear the following.

“I’m warning you! You’ll be sorry!”

“Belle! Where are you?” Beast shouts.

“Beast! Help! I’m in the ballroom!”

Entering the ballroom reveals Belle fleeing an unseen pursuer.

Beast calls out to her.

“I’m all right” she assures as she steps out onto the balcony, and a burning Heartless wrapped in chains descends from above.

Having been cut off from its prey, it turns its attention to Sora, Donald, Goofy, and the Beast, and sinks into the ballroom floor.

Its darkness spreads across the floor, pillars, roof, windows, and chandelier.

The Heartless bursts out of the floor, having transformed the iconic Ballroom into a hellish parody of itself, and begins the fight.

This is the Shadow Stalker. During the battle, it will randomly possess parts of the ballroom to attack the heroes. It can send waves of darkness from the window, tendrils from the floor, make the pillars bend like tendrils, and even bring down the Chandelier.

Whenever the Chandelier drops from the ceiling, or a Pillar reaches zero HP, Sora can use the “Release” reaction command to force the Shadow Stalker into the open.

Once it’s been defeated, however, the chains break, and the Shadow Stalker reveals its true form by cloaking itself in darkness and emerging from its evil cocoon as a horned hellhound, a twisted parody of the Beast.

This is the Dark Thorn. It can swipe with its claws, summon Possessors from the floor to act as homing projectiles, grab Sora with its arms, turn invisible, or bring down the chandelier and swing around on it to attack.

When the Dark Thorn is invisible, Sora can use the “Step Vault” Reaction Command to step on its back and jump into the air.

After using Step Vault, Sora can use “Catch” to grab the Chandelier’s chain, drop the Chandelier on top of the invisible Dark Thorn. This deals minor damage and enables “Pendulum Swing”.

Pendulum Swing features Sora swinging the chandelier to grind the Dark Thorn against the pillars at the edge of the room, forcing it to turn visible (but dealing no damage).

If the Dark Thorn throws Sora, you can use the “Slingshot” Reaction Command to recover by swinging off a pillar and spinning into the Dark Thorn, dealing minor damage and forcing it to become visible if it’s cloaked.

Just like the Possessor/Thresholder, Mickey can save Sora.

Upon defeat, it grants Sora 5 more Max HP and Retaliating Slash (pressing the block button after getting knocked into the air makes Sora counterattack), Donald 3 more Max HP, Goofy an item slot, and the Beast 35 more Max HP.

The Dark Thorn is a rare example of a pureblood Heartless boss, meaning that it does not release a heart when killed, its body instead evaporating.

The ballroom returns to normal after a fade to black.

“We did it!” Sora celebrates.

"So you think,” Xaldin taunts.

The Beast attempts to attack Xaldin, but the hooded Nobody simply gives a calm “Farewell” as he vanishes into a Corridor of Darkness, disappearing right as the Beast reaches him.

The Beast wonders what he wants, and SDG theorizes that he was trying to turn the Beast into a Heartless so they could control his Nobody.

Belle is relieved to see that the Beast is back to his old self, and the Beast is thrilled to see that Belle is okay.

He apologizes for how he acted while under Xaldin’s control, and Belle assures him that there’s nothing to apologize for, before immediately going into a lecture about how he could stand to trust her a little more.

Lumiere remarks that time is running out, and comments on the rose from the Beast’s room.

Cogsworth then elaborates, explaining that the curse will only be lifted if the Beast learns to love and is loved in turn before the last petal falls, the spell will be broken.

Sora wonders if he’ll make it, but Mrs. Potts and Goofy are confident that he will, though Sora’s a bit more skeptical.

Then, his Keyblade summons itself, and the enchanted rose, back in Beast’s room, glows and levitates.

Light gathers around the tip of Sora’s Keyblade as a crown symbol appears at his feet, energy swirling around him and creating that sky dimension thing as the rose floats above him.

The rose fires a beam of light in the air, generating a massive, keyhole-shaped Gate above it, allowing Sora to do his thing and fire a beam of light from the tip of his Keyblade and into the keyhole, opening the Gate to the next world.

Beast asks about the lightshow, and Donald explains that the Gate is open.

In other words, it’s time to go.

They bid farewell.

“No more arguing, okay?” Goofy requests.

Belle gives the Beast a Look, and the Beast becomes adorably sheepish.

The servants promise to see to it, and bid our heroes farewell, promising that they’ll be welcome to come back anytime.

 Before leaving, however, Sora requests that they let him know if they learn anything about Riku, King Mickey, the Heartless, and/or Organization XIII in the mean time.

Sora learns Cure!

 In this game, Cure takes up ALL of your MP and puts you in MP recharge.

The amount of HP recovered depends on your Magic stat, BUT it also has an AOE effect that heals any nearby party members!

In short, Cure is nowhere NEAR as broken as it was in KH1. It is now a last resort rather than a panic button.

Upon clearing the world, another route connects to the Gummi Route unlocked by beating Land of Dragons.

However, much to the surprise of SDG, the Gummi Ship starts flying right back to Hollow Bastion without their input.

 I wonder what might be going on over there…

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I agree with Sora, Donald and Goofy. Let’s hunt down the Enchantress and kick her ass!!