#but have rapid fire on for the Gate fight...

[fell-maverick]

Beating Gate with the Shadow Armor is so satisfying...

[mayvora]

ㅤㅤHello!! I write things sometimes and have a habit of writing my random thoughts and saving them for later!! and then never using them. lol. so I bring them to you today!! with hope that they can inspire you !! tell me if you like them! (likes are cool but sharing is caring! :D)

ㅤㅤLook under the text block to see them!!

‎‧₊˚✧ [ Accidental Thoughts / Ideas ]

I'm a storyteller; I love my stories, I live them, I love telling them to others and dragging them into my world.

But sometimes my stories start telling themselves in my head...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Lips with a taste of stars...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

" So this is love... "

With their blood on your hands, with their lips whispering one last breath?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Just ask me and i will answer

Just ask me and i will answer

Just ask me and i will answer

Just-

But no one ever does.

And the world are burried in chest, the fire in chest, so hot and painful.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Words are meant to be shared, not hoarded!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

We learn to dream to fight the nightmare.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

The story has a soul when the creator loves their creation.

Love is in small things; in little symbols, in second-lasting smiles, in carefully written words, in songs and rhythm. The more you give in the beginning the more you get in the end.

We step our ways through nothingness into everything.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Without falling you will never learn to love flying.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

I do not want the pedestal, I do not care for role of sun; I can lead but do not want to, I can shine but don't wish to; my role is to mirror the light I see in others so the world can know the beauty of the stars that surround me and love them like the suns; and love them like I love them; the moon will always crave the shine of stars and give them back the fraction of their light.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Through our light we reach immortality.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"I don't miss you. I miss knowing that you're safe. "

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Loving people is easy. What's not easy is being hurt by what you love most.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

You run away with my heart in your hands

And I feel that it is how it ends

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Some sing about love

Some sing about fate

And duets sing about falling again.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

I wanna breath in my last life;

Breathe before I die;

I choke on broken lullaby

And sing my last goodbye, I sing my last goodbye;

Heart is silent; a simple lie; I die, I die, I die.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Any happiness must be returned.

One good word can save someone's life. One bad thing can kill.

Other people's anger is not your problem. It's a problem for them. they have to live with hatred and anger in their hearts, and you can move on, because the only one who should suffer from evil is its creator.

‎‧₊˚✧ [ Parts of the unwritten stories ]

The gates of the kingdom of death opens with the fading light of dawn; the clouds shape the gate, forming it's structure on the star patterns created by the loving hand of death themselves.

Would you dare to walk the paths of dead?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Time is running out. It is fleeting, rapid; we do not see its real power, looking only at what seems to us eternal and reliable.

But the rocks are breaking. The seas are drying up. Epochs are passing away.

Epochs... they leave with the people who held them on their shoulders.

Are you still here?

Go home.

Go.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Everything in the world ends one day. Good things go away faster. Not because they are short-lived, but because we do not feel the time when we are happy. And we get lost when it turns out that it's gone.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

They were dying in the arms of their love - but they were smiling anyway.

"I want you to forget me."

I want you to never miss someone who cannot come back.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

[Character name], rolling up their sleeves; tattoos on their arms; pattern glows with a cursed green, and their eyes twinkle with pure darkness; they are a magician, and magic awakens on their hands, obeying only a confident smile and one simple yet crushing word.

"Fall down."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

their blood on her hands / drawing blood patterns on their cheeks / a dead soul on her cold lips / her broken heart in crystal tears.

I want to love you / I never want to love again.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

The hand of cards has always played in your favor.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

Sometimes she will hear a song of wind in her heart; the sound of universe singing to her the melody of a thousand lives she lived.

She opens her eyes - the feeling dissapears.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

No one ever loved him. So how could he learn to love if he never had a good example?

‎‧₊˚✧ [ Bits of dialogue ]

" I can take the pain! "

" We can't. Do you want us to live with bargain of guilt, knowing that we hurt our love with every touch?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"I wanted to do something special. I felt the urge and couldn't resist it! Its like a fire burning down my bare chest, something I can't summon with a simple word. I wanted to move, I wanted to dance, I... "

"You were still hurting. "

" I felt better! I swear I did! It was just shiwers, I got up so easily, I... I thought I could make it. "

" It wasn't enough. "

"No... No. It's never enough. Im always behind and always crashing. "

"It doesn't make us love you any less. "

"...you know, huh... What is inside of me. You always do."

Their partner smiled - but their eyes were full of pain, and soft laught didnt reach their sea of sadness.

"I always do."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"The time is not right. Go home. "

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"I collect stars for you. I think they would look nice on your skin. The universe needs their stars, don't you think so, my precious galaxy?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"I don't want your soul"

"Then what do you want?"

"Your love."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"I adore what you are deeply."

"The bump of chaos, humor and impulsivity?"

"The universe itself recreating its own code in such small yet beautiful shape. "

‎‧₊˚✧ [ From the One Special Au ]

"You always take care of everyone around you. Let me take care of you this time."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"Emperor... "

"Don't call me that."

"It is what you are. Making choices for the whole world. Like it's yours. "

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

How long did you think you can take it?

"As long as my lungs would breathe and my heart would burn. "

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"You wanted to make me a king, Fate? Here's your chance! I accept my crown."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

The Storyteller never got a chance to ask for forgiveness. The Leader never had the time to tell them that they forgave them long time ago.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

He was a hero. And a hero is a very bad thing to be.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"Its MY destiny to die for them, why did you take him? Why couldn't you take me instead? It is what you predicted to me, why did he had to pay the price?"

"Everyone has their own destiny. He completed his."

"What WAS his destiny? To DIE?!"

"No. To bless you with his love when he was still living."

"I don't understand."

"You will."

...

[the last moments of their life] "I do now."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"I was supposed to die."

"Who told you that I'll let you?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"The sun will never stop shining, and you will never stop loving; I was not wrong about you."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"It was so easy to love you. You've always been so sincere. You admired us, you loved us; sometimes it seemed to me that you had been waiting for us all your life, keeping love in your heart for us to drown in it when we met. I longed for this love, I wanted to fall into the ocean of your heart, burying my soul and all of myself in it; I had to bury the stubbornness that kept me so far from you, convincing my anxious mind that I should not trust you. I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help but believe, because that's how you are... You can get into the heart of anyone and stay there forever. You're a whirlwind that couldn't be resisted; at some point I stopped and just... accepted you. And what was supposed to burn with cold turned out to be a warm spring wind, smelling of lilac and warming every cell of the body better than any fire. "

"You are my fire. I love you. "

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"Until my faith is extinguished or I find out that he is dead, my connection will continue to give me fragments of his emotions, creating a lie based on hope, even if he is no longer alive. My brain will deceive me over and over again until I accept that I have lost him forever. "

"There have been stories about souls who, even after seeing the death of their loved one with their own eyes, still felt these ghostly emotions – this happened to those who went crazy, refusing to admit that their soul mate was not alive. They could keep talking into the void, looking for them, cooking for two, making a place for them, calling their name... I was always afraid that this would happen to me, I was afraid of this madness. I felt contempt for it. "

"But now I understand... that I couldn't give him up even if he died in my arms. He's like breathing to me, you know? And my people get attached strongly and never let go."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

How it begins.

"They say that we always get what we deserve. But did we deserve to die? What have we done to be exterminated? Burned at the stake?"

And how it ends.

"Shh, sunshine, it's okay. I deserve it. I deserve every bit of pain that fate puts on my shoulders; I let down those who trusted me and betrayed their love. I get what I deserve."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"The poem of the End on his last breathing lips."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

People were afraid of magic; but They wanted to drink it like the purest water, they wanted to breathe it in full, so that magic filled every alveoli and soaked into hot blood.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"The war is on our heels; it follows every step we make, never too close and never too far, not losing us no matter where we try to hide, not letting go no matter how hard we fight. "

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"Let me explain. There is a theory that says that our planet and all other planets revolve around the Sun. And the Moons circle the planets and reflect the light of the Sun. Of course, I'm not saying that this theory is true. But if we lived in a world where we all circle around the Sun, then you would be our Sun. And each of us is the Moon, circling around its goals, motives and beliefs that make up our planets. And we all reflect your light."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"You are all that I am and all that I want to be. I would give you the world, but you are my world. "

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

How it begins.

"This place is my home.".. I would like it to become your home too. "

And how it ends.

"Thank you for sharing your home with me. "

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

He loved them more than life; he shouldn't have.

He was born to love; he had no right to love; his love would have killed them as it once killed him.

He won't let them experience the pain he went through once.

Even if it means cutting them all off from himself.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‧₊˚✧˚₊‧

"The universe began with infinite Darkness; Darkness was its first creation, its first essence, its first state. At first there was only Darkness; but Darkness was not alone forever. In the midst of Darkness, in its dim surface, the very first Light was born; the opposite of the Darkness, so fragile, but so infinitely strong; The Darkness hated her. In the Light, she saw her main enemy and sought to destroy her immediately, to engulf her, as the sea buries ships in the waves. But the Light turned out to be stronger than Darkness might have seemed; she did not want to lose the fight, not daring to give her very first life into the arms of death."

" Light was the first Life; Light gave birth to the first World. It wasn't our world, and no one knows if the first world still exists in the universe. But many people strive to find it, to touch its origins; even, it seems, in human religion there is a mention of the first earth, abandoned a long time ago. There were the first creatures in the first world; not the humans, no, we do not agree to admit that humans were the first. Because people are not capable of what the First Ones could do! The first ones could create worlds, you know? And ours was created like this too! Created by them!"

"You believe me, I know. You're not one of them; you never have been. One day you will understand my faith in them, one day you will hear the universe singing; it is something that cannot be forgotten. But I digress! Shame on me, of course. And we were talking about the First..."

"He was one of them, the first son of Light, the first birth, the first life; he was the first love. He loved the world he was born into; he loved admiring the Darkness at the edge of Light, he loved the dance of creation and the birth of worlds, he loved his brothers and sisters, he loved Life. But it was hard to keep alive; The Darkness was hungry, angry and merciless, sweeping away everything in her path, biting into the Light with sharp fangs, destroying young worlds. Pain pierced his crystal heart when he saw Her cruelty. And at some point, he couldn't afford to just watch anymore."

The Storyteller raises his eyes to the sky, peering into the endless darkness; the stars blink at him and he, smiling absently, reflects their light, shining in rhythm with his distant brothers. His friend, delighted with him, does not even dare to breathe; he only freezes, not taking his gentle gaze away from the light that has taken such a fragile and beautiful form and descended to this earth.

"He loved as none of us can love," the Storyteller whispered, suddenly turning to his listener and looking at him as if he was... everything. "I thought so before. But now I understand that he loved the way you love. I look at you and see his gaze, his touch; his love in your eyes, in your heart and your immortal soul."

A moment of silence; a moment of awareness. A moment of sacred silence. The Storyteller looks away, but it is clear that he is trembling from this confession...

"...He gathered all the love that was in his heart and turned it into the purest Light. It is said that at that moment his heart was beating to the beat of the universe itself; therefore, his spell, his sacrifice, his oath is called by us "The Last Heartbeat". He gave us every beat of his heart. He gave himself to us, turning into the brightest of the stars, illuminating each of the worlds of the universe, no matter how far away it was. He shines for us, allowing us to live at the expense of our lives; we all owe ourselves to him, my friend. He is our Sun, and he will shine for us until the universe dies, destroying us all along with itself."

ㅤYou are still here? Want to stay and hear campfire stories? Or you wanna go? Don't forget the lamp then. Nights are dark; don't get lost. And visit me again! I love telling stories :]

ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ

ㅤ

[atlasthegreatest]

Reunion Amid the Chaos / Summer Landsdown x Brother! Male Reader

In a desolate wasteland, Y/n Landsdown, separated from his sister Summer during an attack years ago, journeys toward Corinth, the last haven amidst the chaos of a war against Venjix. As he approaches the city gates, Y/n finds himself surrounded by Grinders, mechanical enemies threatening her survival. Just when he feels all hope is lost, Summer, now a skilled Power Ranger, intervenes, saving him from the onslaught.

Word count: 3208

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

The desert stretched endlessly, a wasteland scorched by war and ruin. Dust storms whipped across the cracked earth, and the faint hum of enemy machines echoed in the distance. But Y/n pushed forward, driven by a singular hope—the city of Corinth. The last haven. The place where his sister, Summer, might still be alive.

Years had passed since Y/n was separated from her, and memories of those moments haunted him: the fires, the panic, the attack that split their family apart. Summer had told him to run, promising she’d find him. But she never did. Not until now.

Y/n adjusted the scarf covering his face as Corinth’s towering walls came into view, glimmering like salvation on the horizon. With every aching step closer, his heart pounded with renewed hope—and gnawing fear. What if she wasn’t there? Or worse… What if she didn’t remember him?

————————-

Summer sat cross-legged in the Rangers’ base, absently scrolling through the city’s CCTV feeds. Dillon and Ziggy were arguing in the background, Flynn was explaining a new upgrade to the city’s shield systems, and Doctor K… well, she was being her usual deadpan self. But Summer wasn’t paying attention to any of it.

Her heart wasn’t in it today, not really. The past few weeks had dredged up old memories of her family—of Y/n. She had no idea where he was or if he had even survived outside the city walls. She had tried not to think about it, but something always reminded her. Sometimes a random face in the street. Or a dream. Or even just the way the sun hit the desert horizon, the same way it had the day she lost him.

Then, she saw it. A flicker on one of the CCTV feeds.

Summer leaned in her brow furrowing. “Wait…” she muttered, clicking the image to zoom in.

There, staggering through the wasteland just beyond Corinth’s gates, was someone wrapped in a tattered scarf and jacket. Summer’s eyes widened as the figure turned toward the camera. It was blurry, but something about the way they stood—the tilt of their head, the slouch in their posture—was unmistakable. It was Y/n.

“Guys!” Summer shot up from her seat, startling the others. “It’s him!”

Dillon gave her a puzzled look. “Who?”

“My brother.” The words rushed out like a secret she’d kept buried too long. “It’s him—his outside the gates!”

Before anyone could stop her, Summer was already racing for the exit.

————————

Y/n had made it so close—so agonizingly close. The gates of Corinth were just ahead, their metal surface shimmering in the heat. Relief surged through him, but it was short-lived.

The ground trembled. Y/n turned, his heart sinking as a familiar buzzing filled the air. Grinders. Dozens of them. Their cold, skeletal forms glinted under the sun as they swarmed toward him, their lifeless eyes locked on their target—him.

Y/n clenched his fists. Running wasn’t an option anymore; the Grinders had cut him off. If he wanted to reach Corinth, he’d have to fight. And he had no weapons.

One Grinder lunged at him, and Y/n barely managed to sidestep it. Another swung a metal arm toward his head, and he ducked just in time. But there were too many, and Y/n was already exhausted from the journey.

Just when it felt like the end, a yellow blur shot through the horde. A figure vaulted into the fray, taking down three Grinders in a series of rapid, fluid movements. The metallic clang of weapons striking echoed in Y/n’s ears.

“Get away from him!”

Y/n froze. That voice—her voice.

Summer.

She fought like she was born for it, every move was precise and deadly. She ducked, flipped, and struck with a ferocity he’d never seen before. One by one, the Grinders fell. She had them on the run in minutes. When the last of them crumbled into scrap, Summer turned to Y/n, breathing heavily, her yellow suit shining under the sun.

Y/n pulled down his scarf, revealing his dirt-streaked face.

“Summer…” Y/n’s voice cracked, disbelief and relief washing over him.

Her visor snapped up, and for a moment, all the years, all the separation, melted away.

“It’s really you…” Summer whispered, her blue eyes wide with emotion.

Y/n barely had time to react before she ran to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. She squeezed him so hard it almost hurt, but he didn’t care. Y/n clung to her like a lifeline, tears stinging his eyes.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered against Y/n’s shoulder. “I looked everywhere, but…” Her voice faltered.

“I thought I lost you too,” he murmured, holding her just as tightly.

For a moment, the wasteland, the Grinders, the chaos—it all disappeared. There was only the two of them, finally reunited after so many years apart.

Summer pulled back slightly, studying Y/n’s face like she couldn’t believe he was real. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Y/n nodded, but before he could take a step, she added, “And you’re never leaving my sight again, got it?”

A small, breathless laugh escaped him. “Got it.”

With one last glance toward the wasteland, the two of them turned toward the gates of Corinth. Whatever dangers lay ahead, they knew one thing for sure: this time, they weren’t going to lose each other again. Not ever.

As Summer led Y/n through the gates, her hand never leaving his, Y/n realized that maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something new. A chance to fight, to survive… together.

—————————-

The gates of Corinth hissed open as Summer held Y/n close, her arm around his shoulders like she was afraid he might vanish again if she let go. The massive steel doors groaned under their weight, opening just wide enough for the two of them to slip through before slamming shut behind them. The city’s air smelled different—crisper, cleaner, and charged with an undertone of electricity.

It felt surreal. Y/n was inside. Safe.

Summer didn’t say a word, but she kept stealing glances at Y/n, her lips pressed together like she wanted to say everything at once but didn’t know where to start.

Finally, she squeezed Y/n’s shoulder, grounding herself in the reality that he was here, walking beside her again. “Let’s get you checked out first, okay?” she whispered, her voice gentle but firm. “You look like hell.”

Y/n snorted. “Feel like it too.”

When they reached the base, Summer led Y/n through a maze of corridors until he found himself in the Rangers’ hub. As Y/n stepped inside, the team waiting there took in the sight of him—dusty, disheveled, and leaning on Summer as he’d collapse at any second.

Ziggy’s mouth fell open. “Whoa, this is your bother? The one you’ve been talking about?”

Summer shot him a warning glare, and he quickly backed off, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! No stupid comments, got it.”

Flynn gave you a kind smile, his Scottish accent thick and warm. “Glad ye made it here, mate. It’s no’ easy out there.”

And then there was Dr. K. She didn’t even look up from the tablet in her hands. “He’ll need a medical evaluation. Then, I suggest food, water, and rest. Preferably in that order.”

Summer rolled her eyes but gave a quick nod. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it covered.” She turned back to Y/n. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

—————————

The bright lights of the medical bay stung Y/n’s eyes, and his muscles protested as he sat on the edge of a sterile bed. Summer hovered nearby, refusing to sit down, pacing like a restless cat. Y/n could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fists clenched every time she glanced at him.

“Stop pacing. You’re making me nervous,” Y/n teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Summer shot you a look, her lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. “Sorry.” She sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, exhaling like the weight of the entire world was pressing down on her.

There was a long silence. Not awkward—just… heavy. So much had happened, so much time lost. Y/n could feel the questions bubbling up between the two of them, unspoken but urgent.

“How did you survive out there?” Summer finally asked, her voice quiet, almost fragile.

Y/n shrugged, suddenly feeling the exhaustion settle deep in his bones. “I kept moving. Ran when I had to. Hid when I could. I heard rumors about Corinth… I figured it was my only shot. I thought maybe you’d…” Y/n trailed off, swallowing hard.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he finished softly.

Summer’s eyes darkened with guilt. “I tried to find you, I swear. I went back for you, but there were… Grinders everywhere. It was chaos. I didn’t know if you made it.” She shook her head, frustration flashing across her face. “I shouldn’t have left you that day.”

Y/n reached out and squeezed her hand. “You didn’t have a choice. You were trying to protect me.”

Summer’s hand tightened around his like she was afraid to let go again. “Yeah, well, I’m not making that mistake twice.”

Before Y/n could respond, the door hissed open, and Ziggy stuck his head inside. “Hey, uh, just checking—everything okay in here? No emotional breakdowns or anything?”

Summer groaned. “Ziggy, seriously?”

Y/n couldn’t help it—he laughed. And after a moment, Summer did too.

—————————-

After the medics finished treating Y/n’s wounds and he’d scarfed down a meal like he hadn’t eaten in days—which, to be fair, he hadn’t—Summer brought him to her quarters. It wasn’t much, just a small room with a bed and a few personal touches: photos on the wall, a potted plant in the corner. But it felt… cozy. Like her.

She rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a spare blanket and pillow, tossing them onto the couch. “You can crash here tonight,” she said, trying to sound casual. But Y/n could see the flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes as if she was afraid he might disappear in the night.

Y/n gave her a small, tired smile. “Thanks, Summer.”

She hesitated, standing there awkwardly for a moment. Then, as if on impulse, she crossed the room and hugged him again—this time slower, softer, like she was trying to make up for all the years they’d been apart.

“I’m really glad you made it,” she whispered into Y/n’s shoulder.

Y/n hugged her back just as tightly. “Me too.”

When she finally pulled away, she gave him a playful nudge. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crazy team properly.”

Y/n nodded, settling onto the couch with the blanket wrapped around him. As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, a strange warmth filled his chest. It wasn’t just relief. It was something more—something that felt like home.

Y/n wasn’t just surviving anymore. He was here, withhs sister. And that made all the difference.

—-———————-

The morning sun filtered through the small window, casting soft beams of light across the room. Summer was already awake, lacing up her boots and getting ready for the day’s patrol. Y/n yawned, sitting up on the couch as the events of the last 24 hours came rushing back to him.

She glanced over at Y/n with a grin. “You ready to see what it’s like fighting alongside the Rangers?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, stretching his stiff limbs. “Do I get a cool suit too?”

Summer chuckled, shaking her head. “One thing at a time, okay?”

As Y/n stood up and joined her by the door, she gave him a mischievous smirk. “But, hey… stick close, and you might just get your hands on some gear sooner than you think.”

With a final playful nudge, the two of them stepped out into the bustling city of Corinth, side by side. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/n knew this was where he was meant to be.

Together.

Bonus chapter:

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over Corinth as the city bustled with activity. The morning had been uneventful, but an undercurrent of tension hummed through the air. Y/n could feel it in his bones, a chill that whispered of impending danger.

After his first day as part of the team, he was determined to prove himself. Y/n had trained with Summer and the others, practicing the fighting techniques they had honed during their battles against the forces of Venjix. Despite his enthusiasm, he still felt the weight of uncertainty. He wasn’t a Ranger yet—just a survivor trying to find his place.

“Hey, ready for today’s training session?” Summer asked, her eyes bright with excitement as she approached her brother in the command center.

“Absolutely!” Y/n replied, trying to match her enthusiasm, though a small knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach.

“Great! Flynn and I are going to go over some combat scenarios, and then you can join Ziggy for target practice.”

Y/n nodded, mentally preparing himself. As he moved through the command center, he spotted Dr. K in her lab, tinkering with a gadget that looked like a mix between a computer and a bomb. She glanced up as he passed, her expression inscrutable.

“Are you sure you want to participate in today’s training?” she asked, her voice steady. “You might find the simulations quite intense.”

Y/n gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m ready for whatever comes my way.”

“Good,” she replied, a hint of approval flickering in her eyes. “Just remember: in a real battle, hesitation can be fatal.”

————————

The training grounds were bustling as Summer called the team together. Y/n stood alongside Ziggy, watching as Flynn demonstrated a complex maneuver, weaving through invisible foes with fluid precision. Summer was Y/n’s anchor, her presence a source of confidence as he watched and learned.

“Alright, everyone! Today we’re going to simulate a Grinders attack,” Summer announced, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Remember to stay alert and communicate with each other!”

As the training began, Y/n found himself falling into a rhythm, blocking and countering moves with growing confidence. He mimicked the techniques Summer had shown him, combining his survival instincts with their strategies.

But then, just as he began to feel the thrill of combat, the air shifted. A low rumble echoed in the distance, causing the ground to tremble beneath his feet.

“What the—?” Flynn halted mid-move, looking up at the sky.

A shadow loomed over the training grounds. Y/n squinted against the sunlight, spotting a formation of Grinders descending upon the city, their metallic bodies glinting ominously. The tension snapped like a taut string, and adrenaline flooded Y/n’s system.

“Everyone, to your positions!” Summer shouted, urgency lacing her voice.

As the Grinders landed, chaos erupted. They charged toward the command center, their cold, relentless eyes set on destruction. Y/n felt a surge of fear but pushed it aside. This was his moment—to show Summer and the team that he was more than ready.

Y/n sprinted alongside Summer, joining the others as they fought off the advancing Grinders. His heart raced as he recalled the training drills—this was the real deal now.

“Stay close!” Flynn called, his voice cutting through the cacophony of battle.

Y/n nodded, adrenaline propelling him forward. He ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding a swinging arm from a Grinder, and retaliated with a swift kick to its knee joint. The machine staggered but quickly righted itself, targeting Y/n with renewed aggression.

“Watch out!” Summer shouted, her weapon striking down another Grinder as she leaped in front of him, blocking the incoming attack with a quick parry.

“Thanks!” Y/n gasped, his heart pounding as he regained his footing.

“Just keep fighting!” she urged, her focus shifting back to the battle.

Y/n joined her side, their movements synchronized as they fought together against the relentless machines. Every punch and kick felt like a step toward reclaiming the years they’d lost, a way to prove he belonged with her—here in Corinth, fighting for their lives.

————————

The battle raged on, the clang of metal and the shouts of the Rangers filling the air. As he fought, Y/n began to notice the patterns in the Grinders’ movements, their mechanical nature betraying a predictable rhythm.

“Summer!” Y/n shouted over the noise, his voice barely cutting through the chaos. “We can funnel them into the narrow passage near the command center!”

She glanced at him, a flash of understanding sparking in her eyes. “Good idea! Everyone, form a line! We’ll channel them!”

The Rangers responded immediately, moving to create a defensive line as the Grinders charged. Y/n felt a surge of adrenaline as he fell into formation, the plan taking shape in front of him.

With careful coordination, the team funneled the Grinders into the tight space. Y/n fought alongside Summer, his confidence growing with each blow. Finally, as the last of the Grinders stumbled into the trap, Y/n and the Rangers struck together, knocking them down one by one until the last one fell with a resounding crash.

The field fell silent, the weight of the battle settling around Y/n as he caught his breath. The adrenaline slowly ebbed, replaced with a sense of triumph.

As the dust settled, Y/n turned to Summer, breathless and exhilarated. “We did it! We actually did it!”

She grinned, pride radiating from her. “You were amazing out there! I knew you could handle yourself.”

Y/n could hardly believe it. The fear that had gripped him before the battle had transformed into something exhilarating. He felt alive—part of something greater than himself.

Flynn, panting, joined you, his expression amused. “That was good teamwork. We all played our parts.”

Ziggy bounded over, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. “And you, my friend, were the surprise star of the show! Can’t wait to see what else you can do!”

Y/n chuckled, still riding high on the adrenaline. But beneath the laughter, a deeper realization settled in his heart. He was no longer just Summer’s brother—he was a Ranger, part of this incredible team, fighting alongside them to protect what mattered.

As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Y/n looked at Summer, who was sharing a laugh with Flynn and Ziggy. A warmth spread through him, a sense of belonging that he hadn’t felt in years.

The battle had tested him, but it had also forged a new bond—one that was unbreakable. Whatever lay ahead, Y/n knew they could face it together, side by side.

And as Y/n joined his sister and the rest of the team, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of his journey.

[deletarius-draws]

Memaella 'Star-Shattered' Axia

A portrait piece of Memaella and her personal assigned pixie, Sparknix. This is a oc of mine from the originally created Feywild world of Rubellyn of the Forgotten Realms. A separate realm in which her story and many others take place. She has little relation to Solus Aximand, my Tav from my Baldur's Gate 3 playthrough, but he is part of their lineage. Memaella does know Solus' father Lucaulrhus Aximand, whom I'll cover more on whenever I have more on him. But for now, here is some character lore, ending with a bit of dialogue for Memaella.

(You have my sincerest and humblest thanks for reading or just glancing at the illustrations.)

Memaella ‘Star-Shattered’ Axia – An albino Axia, wielding her golden great axe with green gems crested within and maroon wrapping decorated with gold accent embroidery. She is often said by Jhulqira himself to be one of his proudest projects and successful specimens, her pain was one of his most memorable pleasures. Often stating, “Ah Memaella…She was exquisite indeed. Now, she is perfect.” 

 Memaella was born into a respected Aelvaren family known for their valor and dedication within the Astral Spaces and Rubellyn Feywild. From a young age, she exhibited an unyielding determination and an uncanny knack for combat, quickly rising through the ranks as a soldier. Driven by a desire to protect her people and prove her worth, Memaella volunteered for the Aximand Axia project. She entered the process with optimism, excitement and bravery, ready to face any trial. Her past as an Aelvaren soldier is marked by countless battles and sacrifices. 

Transformation and trials - During the mind-scraping process overseen by Jhulqira, Memaella’s psyche was irreversibly shattered. Her mind, already tested by countless battles, succumbed to the brutal treatment. Yet, unlike the others, her spirit remained unbroken. She continued to press forward, driven by an inner fire that refused to be extinguished. The trials left her with an offbeat, cracked psyche. Her unpredictability and the sense of whimsy mixed with an edge of madness earned her the moniker, ‘Star-Shattered’. The stars in Aelvaren high elf culture representing the minds of the many. Despite – or perhaps because of her fractured mind, she emerged as one of the most formidable warriors of the Axi warriors. Even with the permanent mental scars of Jhulqira’s mind-scraping, Memaella’s determination to protect her people and her realm never wavered. 

Her transformation into an Axi warrior was painful, physically and mentally taxing, but her spirit remained indomitable. Her quaint, fractured mind became both her strength and her shield, allowing her to embrace the madness and turn it into a weapon. 

Memaella’s skin is of pale ivory, with reddish flushed joints, cheeks and rosy nose on a freckled face. Her gold-blond coiled hair is streaked with white stress strands. Her slightly slanted, vibrant silver eyes with a hint of blue, wears a wide and crazed grin or widely closed smile. Her ears chipped from past battles, sporting abnormally sharp canine teeth. These characteristics add to her intimidating and demoralizing presence on the battlefield for the opposition. 

Memaella is taller and leaner than other Axia, with muscle fibers that are among the most adaptive, enhanced and hardened quirks of her anatomy. Despite her lanky stature, she moves with an almost maniacal precise and rapid grace, making her a fierce and unpredictable fighter.  

Combat Style – Memaella wields her golden great axe with green gems encrusted within and maroon wrapping decorated with gold accent embroidery. Her combat style is a blend of whimsy and hyper amusement, mixed with a menacing grin that demoralizes enemies. 

Her occasional clever taunts mid-fight, along with her maniacal grace, serve to psych out her adversaries. She is known to laugh and jest even in the heat of battle, unnerving foes, giving her a psychological edge. 

Memaella’s Interaction with Sparknix 

Memaella’s pixie companion, named ‘Sparknix’, mirrors her wild and crazy nature. Sparknix is a tiny whirlwind of chaos, with a name that reflects her electric personality and penchant for causing sparks of both trouble and amusement. Sparknix acts as a wild card and ability buff support familiar for Memaella, constantly recharging Memaella’s Alkanine essence, amplifying her damage output. Sparknix can also stun enemies by electrocuting them, placing a status effect that shocks them over time. Sparknix is a nuisance in battle for their adversaries, acting as a distraction zipping, zapping and giggling across the battlefield. 

Sparknix: “Did you see the look on that Ogre’s face? I swear, he almost wet himself!” 

Memaella: “He did more than that. I Think he might have lost his lunch too with all the viscera leaking from his belly. 

Sparknix: “Oh, we do make a delightful mess. Onwards, to the next Victim – I mean, Target!” 

Memaella’s Interaction with other Feywild Allies 

Memaella’s interactions with other members of the Feywild alliance are marked by a playful respect. Her eccentric nature and fractured mind are both a source of amusement and inspiration for her allies. 

Dryad Ally: *Light giggles* “Memaella, your laughter is infectious. It brings a strange comfort in these dark times.” 

Memaella: “Laughter is the one of the best weapons, my dear Dryad. And if that doesn’t work, there’s always the axe!”

[queenvidal]

The Queen For A King

Negan x Reader (Rick's Daughter)

Chapter 2: Be My Guest

Chapter Summary: Carl will kill Negan for what he's done to you. Your brother is already at The Sanctuary, all he needs to do is pull the trigger.

Wordcount: 4336

Era: Season 7

- Part 4 of the The One And Only Series -

Chapter Index:

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Masterlist /Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

Negan's convoy has been driving for a long while now. It’s dead silent in the cargo hold aside from the occasional clicking of bottles when hitting a bump on the road. Carl is still clinging to the rifle in his hand, adrenaline still running through his system. It can’t take much longer for them to reach the Saviors base, the two men driving already talked about it.

What’s he going to do once there? Carl still has no idea. Shot Negan of course, but he didn’t think of much more. He won’t be able to go home, that much he knew when he decided to kill Negan. His big sister will be heart-broken, a thought he absolutely hates, but in his mind it’s still better than having her suffer through whatever Negan was and is still putting her through. 

Groaning can be heard outside and the truck is slowing down. Carl peeks up from one of the crates, trying to see what's going on. They are passing a gate that is surrounded by tied up walkers, they must have reached their destination. After a few more moments the convoy finally stops. Carl’s heart is about to jump out of his chest.

All of the saviors exit their vehicles, doors can be heard shut and more and more voices fill the area. Negan's voice catches the boys attention immediately. He's giving orders but before Carl can decide whether to stay put or jump and surprise them, one of the saviors climbs into the cargo hold. He reaches for a crate full of cans when his eyes meet Carls. “What the fuc-”

Carl opens fire immediately, killing the savior and running towards the edge of the hold. More saviors are standing around the truck, looking up at the young boy in surprise. Carl quickly scans the era but is unable to find the man he’s looking for.

“I only want Negan!” Carl yells at the gathering crowd. “He hurt my sister! No one else needs to die!”

Time seems to stop. Everyone is looking at Carl, no one moving a muscle. The whole place is quiet until a familiar tune makes Carl turn his head. Negan is strutting towards the truck with a big grin on his face, angering Carl even more. He is not scared? Carl takes aim at him, but that doesn’t seem to bother Negan in slightes, his smile only grows.

“Damn, kid.” the head of the Saviors says, walking in between his men, making it impossible for Carl to aim properly. “You are adorable. Did you pick that gun ‘cause it looks cool? You totally did, right?” The boss comes to stop right behind one of his men, using him as a meatshild. “Kid, I ain't gonna lie, you scare the shit outta me.”

While being distracted, one of the saviors takes the chance to tackle Carl down but the boy reacts quickly, shooting the man down. The others jump into action also. Dwight, who was ordered to unload the trucks, grabs Carl's feet, tearing him off the truck. Once on the ground, Dwight disarms him, landing a hard blow on Carl’ chest to immobilize him before taking the rifle and aiming at the boy’s heart. Carl looks up at him with wide open eyes, raising his hands to his head, surrendering. 

“Dwight, back off.” Negan orders, slowly walking up to the two of them. “Is that any way to treat our new guest?” Carl’s staring up at Negan, his chest heaving from rapid breaths. The boy is scared out of his mind. With a smile Negan’s reaching out his hand. “Come on, kid. I'll show you around.”

But Carl doesn’t move. While still fighting for his breath, he keeps staring at Negan. “You know, you do the same damn stink-eye as your dad.” Negan tells him, slowly getting annoyed. “Except yours is only half as good ‘cause, well, you’re missing an eye.”

Carl starts to glare at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of eliciting a reaction from him.

Negan's smile is slowly fading. “Really, kid?” He asks, the teasing tone in his voice gone. “You really not gonna take my hand? ‘Cause you’re lucky to even still have a hand. A circumstance we can easily change, don’t you think?”

After one final glare, Carl eventually casts his eyes away to the ground, giving in. He reaches out to take Negan's hand, who helps him up onto his feet.

“Ah, smart kid.” Negan chuckles, before turning around to his men. “Dwighty-boy, why don’t you go to the kitchen and do a little prep?” Dwight only nods before disappearing behind the trucks. “New plan, boys”, Negan addresses the remaining men “Let’s burn the dead, unload the trucks after and then restock two of ‘em for later.”

The Saviors get moving and Negan turns back to Carl. “Damn, I got a feeling this is gonna be a long day, kid. I won’t have time to screw any of my wives today.” The comment paired with the shit-eating grin on Negan’s face makes Carl’s blood boil. And just like his father the boy is unable to keep his true emotions from reflecting on his face, amusing Negan to no end. He nods towards the entrance of the building behind them. “Come on.”

Negan takes the lead, but Carl doesn’t move, instead he asks. “What are you gonna do with me?”

The man stops in his tracks, taking a long breath before turning around to face the boy again. After an annoyed sigh, he considers Carl for a moment. Eventually Negan tells him, “Number one, do not shader my image of you. You're a badass, you’re not scared of shit. Don’t be scared of me, it’s a disappointment. Number two-” Negan takes a few steps closer, standing right in front of Carl's face. “You really want me to ruin the surprise?” Carl doesn’t answer, now really pissing Negan off. “Screw you kid.” Negan puts his hand on Carl's shoulder, pushing him forward to get him moving. "Seriously, screw you.”

The both of them go inside the building. Carl takes the chance to look around. The Saviors base seems to be an old factory. From the short glimpse he could get on the truck this place must be huge.

The both of them take a small flight of stairs before stopping in front of two big metal doors. Negan opens one of them and nods at Carl to move inside. He does so a bit hesitant, his eyes not leaving the man. Once the big metal doors close behind them, Negan whispers to Carl. “Check that out.” Before moving on to a balustrade. 

Carl follows carefully, looking down at the level below them. It indeed is a huge place. People are swarming around. They don’t look like the Saviors, none of them carry any weapons or are wearing protective gear. Are they off duty? If so, Negan’s army is even bigger than Rick and the others have ever assumed. 

When a woman spots Negan leaning against the metal, she quickly hushes the people around her and goes down on her knees. Immediately the whole room, busting with noise, goes silent and everyone follows suit, kneeling down. 

Carl can’t help but to frown at that. What are they doing?

Negan casts a quick smile at Carl before talking to his people. “The Saviors have gone out into the world, fought the dead and came back with some really good stuff. Some of that stuff can be yours, if you work hard and-” He pauses to give Carl a quick side eye, “Play by the rules. Today, everybody gets fresh vegetables at dinner, no points needed.” 

Smiles all over the place, some clapping and some thank yous here and there. Carl watches the scene in complete disbelief. Negan turns his back to the people. “You see that?” He asks, grinning slightly. “Respect. Cool, huh? They’re still on their knees.” Negan turns his head, yelling over his shoulder “As you were!”

And the people go on about their day. Carl is unable to look away. What the hell is this place?

Only when Negan calls him, does Carl react and get moving. 

“Alright, kid.” Negan sighs as he leads them through the factory. “I have some business to attend to before we get to your little surprise.” Carl doesn’t like the sound of that. If Negan wants to kill him, why won’t he just finally get it over with? “Since you’re my guest I figure I’ll just drag you along till we get to you.” 

After climbing five more flights of stairs, they’ve reached their destination. This floor looks different from the others, Carl takes a look around while still following Negan. There are plants in every corner, some nice decor here and there, chairs and tables. And a lot of guards. 

“Nice up here, huh?” Negan asks, not looking at Carl. “You might recognize some stuff, some was yours before we got it.” Carl ignores Negan’s teasing, which makes him turn his head. “Oh, come one, kid. Brighten up a little. The best thing about this floor is right around the corner.” 

Carl keeps following Negan and both enter a new room through big wooden doors. Carl is taken aback. The room is full of what must have been crazy expensive furniture back in the day. His eye lands on the five women huddled around each other.

“Ladies,” Negan announces his presents. All heads turn towards them and the women quickly move to different sections of the room. “Don’t mind the kid.” They must be Negan's wives. Carl doesn’t know how to feel about this. The atmosphere in the room is strange. None of them seems to be happy to see them. Their reaction is nothing like he knows from his parents or Y/N with her boyfriend.

“I know.” Negan smiles at the boy, “Hot, huh? They all look like they're doing the books at an auto shop. You wanna look at their titties?” Carl looks at Negan with wide open eyes. “Hey, I won’t mind, they won't mind. Knock yourself out, kid.”

Negan turns his attention to one of the women. “Can I talk to you for a minute, dear wife?”

A woman with auburn hair looks up at him, she pats the blonde next to her on the shoulder with a small smile before standing up. Negan leads her to the bar, leaving Carl standing in the middle of the room. 

To say he feels uncomfortable would be an understatement. While Negan talks to the woman, Carl looks at the other women. They all seem irritated, all but one. The blonde woman sitting alone on a sofa looks like she’s about to cry at any moment. She doesn’t look up from her hands, nervously fidgeting with the jewelry around her fingers. Carl feels sorry for her, something horrible must have happened to put her in such distress.

“Hold that for me, kid.” Negan says, approaching Carl and placing a beer bottle in his hands. “Help yourself, if you want to.” He turns his attention to the woman on the sofa, leaving Carl’s side again.

“Amber, baby,” Negan calls her when sitting down onto the coffee table right in front of her. The woman is shaking like a leaf, not meeting Negnas eyes. “You know I don’t wanna anybody in here who doesn’t wanna be in here, right?”

The woman nods slightly, still looking at her hands. A quiet “Mh-hm.” leaves her lips.

“Mh-hm,” Negan repeats in an almost mocking tone. “So, if you wanna go back to Mark and your mum you can.” He frowns at her. “But what can’t you do?”

The woman takes a deep breath. “Ch… cheat on you-”

“That is-” Negan is only inches away from her face, glaring at her. "Exactly right! You can’t cheat on me.” Amber’s eyes move from Negans back to her hands. Tears start to well in her eyes. Negan doesn’t seem to care. He leans back a little and tells her, “There’s plenty of other gals who would love to take your place and there’s a few job offerings I can think of.”

Negan lets that sink in for a moment, before leaning into her personal space again. “So, Amber, tell me. You wanna go back to Mark and your mum?” There is no response, visibly angering Negan. “Hell, I’ll even put y'all on the same job.”

“No!” Amber’s pleading with him. “No, please. I want to be here. I’ll stay, please. I- I am sorry.”

Negan carefully cups her chin with his hand. “You do know what that means, right?” Amber only starts shaking again, a silent tear falling on her cheek. “You do know what that means, right?”

“I do.” She sobs, “I am so sorry. I love you, Negan.”

“Oh, of course you do, darlin’.” Negan tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know why you’re crying. It’s all gonna work out easy for you.” After a short glance at Carl, Negan gives Amber a quick kiss on her forehead before standing up again. He can see the kid is troubled about all of this. Good. 

Carl watches Negan making his way back to the woman at the bar he talked to earlier. That’s what Darly and his father were talking about late at night, when they thought the others were sleeping. He’s overheard quite the view conversations. That Negan forces women to be with him, although he never could picture what they’ve meant. Now he does. Negan is using loved ones against them. Is he doing the same thing to his sister? Most likely, she’d do everything for them.

When Negan is kissing the woman at the bar, nausea is hitting Carl like a wave. Why does he have to do all of this? He has five wives, why can’t he leave Y/N alone?

Dwight appears next to him, stopping right at the door. 

When Negan’s done, he throws a dirty smile at Dwight before making his way over to them. “Dwighty, whatcha got for me?”

Dwight’s holding a tray full of bread and fresh fruits and vegetables. Negan takes a toothpick and picks up a piece of what seems to be a strawberry. ���Carl,” he says, “You gonna take the tray for me?” The boy quickly places the beer he's been still holding onto a table to take the tray from Dwight. “D, fire up the furnace. We’ll be there in a few. Time for a little déjà vu, huh?” Negan nods at Carl, signaling him to get moving. “Ladies.” The boss takes a last glance at his wives before leaving again.

Negan takes the lead again with Carl following behind. The tray in Carl’s hands is shaking. He is so upset about what he's just seen. Negan frowns at him. “Man, calm down, kid. I can’t hit the olive with the way you’re sha-

“What is Y/N to you?” Carl bursts out loud. “Just another trophy?”

This makes Negan stop walking, his mimic changing grim. “Watch your tongue, small boy. Your sister is my queen and if I had it my way, she'd be sitting on a fucking throne right next to me but since she loves you fuckers so much and declines my offers to come to The Sanctuary, I have get my rocks off somewhere else.”

“You’re absolutely disgusting.” Carl glares at him, unable to hold himself back any longer. “These women don’t love you, no one ever will-”

“Do not make me put this toothpick through the only eye you have.” 

Negan’s towering over Carl and he is dead serious about his threat. Carl endures the glare for a moment longer, before casting his eye down again. 

“From now on you’ll only speak when spoken to. Are we clear?” Carl wonders if he's struck a nerve there. Negan seems to be beyond pissed. “Are we cl-”

“Yes.” Carl finally answers.

After one final warning glare, Negan turns around again. “Good. Come on, I wanna show you something.”

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

“If I find him, I’ll kill him,” you whisper angrily to yourself. You’ve been searching for Carl the whole morning , asking everyone in your path if they've seen him, only to always get the same answer: no.

When you see Olivia at the pantry, you yell over the street, “Liv, have you seen my brother?”

The other woman turns around, shaking her head. “No, I am sorry.” 

You can’t help but to groan in annoyance. “Fuck.” Where the hell can he be? This is not normal for Carl, he always informs somebody about his whereabouts.

“Oh, Y/N?” Oliva calls, “We still have to go through Michonne’s findings from yesterday. We’ve stored them in the severs for now. Are you free this afternoon?”

“Sure thing.” You tell her, already moving on to go back up the street, hoping to find the boy may be at the gardens, “Come see me later.” 

When you cross the street to reach the gardens, you hear your name being called. You turn around to find Spencer running towards you. Perfect, just what you needed right now. “Hey, Y/N!” You slow down, waiting for him to catch up on you. Once at your side, he smiles at you. “You look pretty today.”

"Thanks, Spencer.” You force yourself to smile at him. Compliments from him always have a weird taste to them.

His own smile grows a bit, “I mean, you do look pretty everyday, just-”

“Spencer.” You interrupt his rambling, already annoyed. “What do you want?”

Spencer's smile suddenly vanishes. His eyes wander around, making sure no one is eavesdropping. “I gotta talk with you. ‘Bout Rick.”

You frown at him, already not liking where this is going. “What about him?”

He lets out a sigh before quietly stating. “You know, he’s gonna get us all killed, right? If he already thought about attacking Negan again, there is nothing we can say or do to stop him from doing that. You know that.”

You do and you hate to agree with him on that one. “And what do you want from me?”

Spencer takes a step closer to you, whispering. “I want you to work with me. I think together we would be better leaders than your father.” What now? You just stare at him, lost for words. “You’re obviously willing to make sacrifices for our survival and I am good with people. I think-”

“You don’t think and that’s the problem.” You hiss, aggravated by his talk. 

“Hey, I know you don’t want to hear this, okay?” Spencer’s holding up his hands, trying to calm you down again. “But you, out of everyone, know best that his decisions are rarely the best ones. You’ve lost your previous home because of him and now we all could be losing Alexandria, if we don’t do something about it.”

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your anger in check. “You’ve never lived outside these walls since the dead started walking. What the hell makes you believe you could make better decisions than him? You don’t know shit-”

“That's why I need you.” He states, “I might be lacking the knowledge of the world outside, but you have plenty of experience. We’d complement each other.”

“Spencer, I am this close to expl-”

“Y/N. come on.” He sighs. “Be honest, do you think the way he’s handling the situation with the Saviors is how things are supposed to go?” You bite your cheeks. Spencer does have a point. “You know, my mum was a good leader and I as her son would be that, too.” You just shake your head in disbelief, this man is delusional. “I know, Rick teached you a lot of skills as well and you are smart and dedicated. I mean, your arrangement with Negan shows that you are willing to do what it takes to survive.” 

That's it! You storm towards him, stopping right in front of his face. “You don’t know shit about me and Negan, nor my father. Now listen carefully.” You stare him down, anger making your hands tremble. “My father got us through four fucking hard years outside of Alexandira. We wouldn’t be alive today if not for him. He made mistakes on our way and people died, yes, but never ever will I or you be able to replace him as a leader.” 

“Y/N, please. I’m just saying-”

“If I hear you plotting against him one more time, exile will be my least concern.” 

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

Negan opens up another door, waving Carl inside. The boy walks into what seems to be Negan's private quarters. Just like every other room on this floor, this one, too, is furnished with expensive stuff with decor and clutter everywhere. But Carl doesn't pay much attention to it, he is still trying to process what has just happened. Nausea is still making his stomach churn. Negan just melted someone's face with an iron. It was so awful to watch and he’s sure he won’t forget the smell anytime soon.

“Sit.” Negan points at one of the armchairs. Carl silently does as he’s been told to, while Negan sits down on the sofa across from him, folding his hands. “Well, let's get started."

“Started on what?”

“Hm, work it out.” Negan shrugs with his shoulders. “You’re smart, kid. In fact, I’m gonna tell you how smart you are in case you don’t already know. You see, I’d expect kids your age to be mopin’ around, not doing shit except crying about missing the prom. But you?” Negan points at Carl for a second. “You go out on a mission. You find me, you kill two of my men and you’re smart enough to know that I won’t let that slide.”

Carl starts to get nervous. What’s he going to do with him? Melt his face, too? Shot him, get Lucille?

Negan chuckles suddenly. “Oh, man. I can’t. It’s like talking to a birthday present. You gotta take that crap off your face. I wanna see what grandma got me.”

His bandages? Absolutely not. Carl shakes his head. “No-”

“Two men!” Negan yells. “Punishment. You really wanna piss me off?”

Afraid of Negan’s threats, Carl obeys eventually. He takes off his hat, before removing the bandages around his head. When he’s removed them all, he looks up at Negan again.

“Jesus Christ,” Negan chuckles. “That shit’s nasty! I can see your fucking socket.” He leans forward to take it all in. “Damn, kid. How did that happen?”

“Why do you care?”

“For shits and giggles.” Negan mocks. “Now tell me.” Carl’s fidgeting with the bandages in his hand, unwilling to tell what happened. “Speak up, kid.”

Carl's gaze wanders to the floor again. “Someone wanted to shoot my father but got distracted and hit me instead.”

Negan’s eyebrows rise up at that. “Really?” Carl nods in conformation. “Damn.” Negan leans back into the cushions of the sofa. “Your dad really has a knack for pissing people off. Really sucks that he’s dragging his kids into the mess all the time.”

“Can… Can I wrap it up again?” Carl asks carefully.

“Oh, you absolutely cannot.” Negan dismisses his question.

“Why the hell not?”

Negan has to smile at Carl’s anger. “Look at this badass. You can’t because I am not done with you. I like looking at your disgusting bad ass, rad ass eye, so it’s staying out.” Carl is visibly upset and holding himself back. “What? You got something to say?”

They boy thinks about saying something and eventually he asks. “Why haven't you killed me, or my Dad, Daryl, Y/N?”

“Hm,” Negan rests his feet on the coffee table, “Your dad, as annoying as he is, gets shit for me, so there is that. Daryl will make a good soldier for me, we were close to breaking him before we brought him back to Alexandria. Y/N, well, she is the only useful person in your damned community. She was quite disobedient in the beginning , true, but I think we’ve figured that out.”

Carl narrows his eye at that but keeps his mouth shut.

“You on the other hand? Well, we shall see.” Negan removes his feet from the table, moving to rest his arms on his knees. “It’s more productive to break you, more fun, too. You’re a smart kid, Carl. You know I can’t let you go, so…”

Carl keeps playing with the bandages, not meeting Negan's eyes.

“Should I kill you? Or iron your face? Maybe chop off an arm? Tell me, Carl. What do you think?”

Carl throws his bandages to the side, standing up and sneering at the man in front of him, “I think you should jump out of the window and save me the trouble of killing you.”

Negan lets out a whistle “Now there is the kid that impressed the shit out of me.”

With a narrowed eye, Carl tells him. “You won’t tell me what you’ll be doing to be because you won’t do anything to me.”

Negan huffs a laugh, “And why’s that?”

“Because Y/N would kill you.” That statement wipes the smile from Negan’s face. “She’d find you and she’d kill you if you’d kill any of us. That's why we're still alive. If you knew us, if you knew anything you would kill us but you can’t.”

“Wow.” Negan looks at Carl in awe. “Huh. Maybe your right. Maybe I can't." After a short moment, the boss stands up himself, moving past the boy to pick up Lucille from his desk. “Let’s go for a ride, kid."

Chapter Index:

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Masterlist /Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

Taglist: @starry-night-20 / @joceymoo / @srhxpci / @ladykxxx08 / @sunneeflower / @frombloodandflesh / @lanamiller / @fanfic-n-tabulous

[epicnessunfolds]

Maybe not all is lost

Fandom: Castlevania (cartoon 2017-2021) Pairing: Alucard x Greta (foreshadowed) Rating: G Word count: 1988

Summary: Retelling Alucard and Greta's first meeting. Based on the script of Season 4 Episode 4, having added Alucard's inner thoughts and feelings.

Damn his blasted heart and mind for still holding on to a shred of decency and going to the aid of the people of Danesti. A bunch of villagers in need of a champion to fend off nightcreatures - Alucard kept thinking while riding hard that it was an act for himself more so than for those poor people. He’d help them out shortly, leave them with a little bit more defense and be on his merry way back to his pisspoor wine and enormous deserted castle. With rotten creatures on stakes as sentries. What a prosperous life!

Alucard saw the nightcreatures pounding at the wooden gate of Danesti and allowing his body to take control, he flung himself off the horse, his loyal sword by his side, and smashed the creatures to smithereens. It all happened fast, the rush of the fight fueling the fire in Alucard’s veins. He felt alive for the first time in a long time - being in action, doing something that was helpful (maybe not only for himself), cutting down nightcreatures like they were nothing. It was all done too soon. Not even winded, he stepped off the head of the last slaughtered Hell-spun demon.

He met the eyes of the woman at the front who had held the gate. A beautiful darker-skinned woman with amber eyes and angular features and chestnut hair. Disarmed on the inside by the woman’s appeal, he forced his tone and body language to remain cool and aloof.

“You sent me a letter?” The awed expression on the woman’s face didn’t pass unnoticed. However, it lasted the briefest of moments. Almost like it had never been there. Alucard felt a shock down his spine. It’s been so long since someone gazed at him with naked wonder. And back then it hadn’t ended up pleasantly. The woman’s words drew Alucard back to the present.

At his nonchalance her brow furrowed and without hesitations, she replied, “Yes. Welcome to Danesti.”

“I presume it’s seen better days,” he said, casting a look around.

“Quieter ones,” she added and in the next breath, she introduced herself. “I’m Greta, the village headwoman.”

“Call me Alucard. No ‘the’.” Even to himself, the tone of his voice sounded distant, half-dead.

Greta couldn’t have possibly been older than 25, a young woman as head of the village, not something usual around Wallachia. Or other parts of Europe, for that matter. Either the village recognised her as justly being worthy of leading and chose her or she had inherited the position. The former seemed to be closer to the truth based on the way the people around looked at her. With pride. And also considering the unmasked concern that showed on the young woman’s face when she inquired about Marius, the dead messenger whose steed carried his dead body all the way to Alucard’s front door.

At Greta’s display of true feelings, Alucard allowed himself to feel sorry for the boy. He said as much.

“Well, he’s not the only one we’ve lost. But he was the last of his family, which is why he risked the journey. Still, I’d hoped...,” for a second Greta had a faraway look, her posture ever so slightly slumped by a pang of grief. “Well, that’s what hoping gets you, I suppose.”

Her rapid regain of control over her emotions stumped Alucard. How much death had she seen that she could set the grief and burden of leading a village for later, for when there’d be time to mourn and process?

“I have a lot more people to save, Alucard.”

He chose to ignore the people around them eyeing Alucard with a mix of awe and fear. As if sensing the turmoil of the sparse crowd, Greta addressed them kindly.

“Get some rest, everybody, while you can.”

Alucard refocused on their conversation, inquiring about the times the village had been attacked. He still didn’t really know why he’d agreed to come and talk. It was obvious the village needed help and him being so close to it... a part of Alucard had to admit there was something comforting knowing there were people some miles away from the castle. That he wasn’t truly alone in the world. It would be a shame for them to die and desert him, too.

Greta had no hesitation on putting Alucard on the spot. “Will you help us?”

He couldn’t say Yes outright. He took a moment to will his sword into its scabbard, thinking of a way to answer in a way that wouldn’t give her or himself too much hope. “I’m sure I can do something for you.”

Greta’s face hardened, her eyes taking the wooden houses scattered around the field. His answer clearly displeased her.

“I’m not interested in magic tricks and one fight. These people are under my care. Will you stay and defend them for as long as it takes?”

Alucard wasn’t particularly fond of backing off, so he made a futile attempt at enforcing his position. “I said-,” he was cut off.

Greta crossed her arms. “You have to understand. I don’t know you. You’ve been 20-odd miles away for months. You creep around the forest. You’ve got bodies on stakes outside your weird castle. You’re obviously half-vampire and you stink of wine, and you appear to me to be at least half-crazy. But you were the only possible advantage I could think of. I don’t need to be impressed by low-key swagger. I need you to commit to saving these people. Because my life isn’t worth living if I can’t save theirs.”

The conviction with which Greta spoke, the way she determinately conveyed her trust in Alucard, admitting to not actually knowing him, the plan she came up with based on sheer proximity to seeing how he lived. She considered him an advantage. After living alone and having been through the trauma inflicted by those two siblings whose bare bones hung on spears, Alucard couldn’t allow himself to get close to anyone again. And yet, Greta’s words hit their mark. She didn’t need his trust, but she willingly gave hers. It was good enough for Alucard. Besides, he quite appreciated her response to his unplanned provocation.

In a split second Alucard made up his mind and sent a short prayer to the skies to not regret this later. He arched a surprisingly well-groomed eyebrow - well, he had cleaned up before riding, but he couldn’t help not indulging in a couple wine glasses before riding out.

“All done?” He sounded almost bored.

Greata’s lips twitched in withheld amusement. “Did it work?”

“Yes,” he replied lightly.

“Then I’m all done.” A full smile appeared on Greta’s lips, one that lit up her entire face. “Thank you.” As if holding on to not waste her chance, still grinning, she added, “And that was one hell of an entrance.”

Before Alucard could come up with a witty reply, a voice carried from the shabby latrine.

The new comer, Saint Germain, Greta was obviously not pleased with him, and his pompous way of acting put him instantly into the category of people Alucard had no care for getting to know better. Excentric man with a bit too much wit for his own good and a knack for already stepping on Alucard’s toes so soon.

When startled by noises coming from the forest causing Alucard and Greta to tense a prepare for another fight, a bunch of refugees arrived. Greta went their side to welcome them inside the barely defended village. Taking advantage of their solitude, Saint Germain whispered to Alucard.

“She’s very good, isn’t she? It’s a shame.”

Squaring his jaw, Alucard entertained the bearded man. “What is?”

“Well, such a talent with the common people, but it’s wasted out here, don’t you think?” The audacity of this eccentric traveller to throw shade at Greta’s standing when it was clear as day that she cared for these people. That she considered them kin. Saint Germain had dismissed her and Alucard’s growing disdain for the man.

“I think she’s probably right where she’s supposed to be.” Alucard was surprised at the chill in his voice, but Germain didn’t even flinch.

Greta came up to their side once more, informing them about the people seeking shelter. Putting all the pieces of information side by side, Alucard was troubled by the complexity of the situation - vampires and nightcreatures working together, unheard of.

“I am, of course, not a military man, although I have certainly advised generals and kings, but might I suggest that this village is inherently indefensible?” Saint Germain butted in, his question functioning as a point of focus.

Alucard and Greta took in their surroundings anew, the reality sinking in and twisting Greta’s features into pure worry and remorse. “It hasn’t worked out well, so far, has it?”

There was a hardness in her gaze, a hint of regret at not doing better, but also determination to do better. To take care of her people and have them somewhere safe.

“You may have a point, Saint Germain,” Alucard begrudgingly agreed. His frown hid a mind at work, trying to come up with a solution as fast as possible that would ensure the village to be better defended. A moat dug, perhaps, water from the river redirected towards it to fill the ditch, but that’d take weeks, maybe even months. And nightcreatures attacked nightly. It wasn’t a plausible defense method at all.

Alucard would’ve preferred to ignore Saint Germain, but his low tone and grating voice pushed through the half-human’s thoughts. “Perhaps, just until we all find out what’s going on, perhaps the remaining persons in your charge might be moved to a more secure location, like, um...,” the pause caused something to churn in Alucard’s stomach, dreading what was to come, “y-your castle...possibly.”

Alucard gasped, the words hitting him like a punch to his solar plexus, taking his breath away. That castle was his fortress, his home, his refuge, his prison. And the one place where he was safe by keeping everyone at bay. If he were to let the villagers to take refuge there, he’d have to give up on his peace of mind. He’d have to be on alert at all times, to guard his castle’s entrance, to enforce the windows, to do anything and everything to keep people out . And them... gathering and settling in his front yard... unimaginable.

Alucard growled at Saint Germain, reminding the old man who he was talking to. He took a moment to himself, muttering under his breath. “And God shits in my dinner once again.”

Only after the fact, registering what he said, Alucard groaned and hung his head. “Oh, no. I really am turning into Belmont.” Growing more desperate by the moment, he contemplated, “Is life even worth living now?”

With his thoughts drifting towards Belmont... and Sypha, and how he, Alucard, had felt in their company, not lonely, but content, considering Sypha a friend and Belmont... an acquaintance, a close one who could take Alucard’s shit and give more shit right back. A bond. Forged with people. And the memory of those two people reminded Alucard that people could be good, too, with the desire to the best they can to live. Like Greta did, like the villagers that called her ‘headwoman’, like the refugees whose fault lay in being in the path of vampires and nightcreatures.

Alucard really hoped he would not regret his decision later. Besides, Greta, she was interesting. He thought he wouldn’t mind to learn more about her. After all, Alucard had to face it - he almost didn’t recognise himself anymore. Maybe, just maybe, while keeping his guard up, he also let go of his humanity. Or so he thought. But Greta, first through her letter, then through her shrewdness proved to Alucard that a ray of humanity was still left in him. One that could grow back... in time.

[a-painful-ordeal]

3. Don’t Push Me, I’ll Fight

CW: Branding aftermath. Descriptions of third degree burns. References to Slavery. Beatings. Manhandling.

 A haze of pain swamps Evan and his surroundings. At some point, the hulking knight enters, and the boy’s limbs are released. There’s shouting, but Evan can’t make out what is being said. The whooshing of blood is still too loud to hear through.

Itchy clothes are dumped in front of him, and he’s ordered to get dressed.

Pulling the clothes on is agony and movement jars the skin around the burn. However, he quickly finds that the burn itself seems… numb. The new breeches sit over the bleeding wound, but only the surrounding area cries out in pain. Not where the metal made contact with his flesh.

Cold horror slices through Evan, as he realizes that the large patch of charred flesh on his hip, which should incapacitate him with pain is numb. The pain itself is coming from the singed area around. He pulls his focus through the haze to look to his hip. His eyes focus on the fabric covering it, which blood seems to be weeping through. His finger trembles as it goes to poke at the actual burn. Rather than the searing, excruciating pain that he expects, there’s nothing…

His jaw quivers slightly. It’s just the shock…right? It’ll heal back… please. He prays silently to the god of luck and thieves, that it’ll be fine and will heal back. A god, who up till now had been his only religious alliance. A god who might have just damned him.

 Orders are given, but he doesn’t seem to hear.

Finally, he is dragged by the collar of his shirt out of the room and past the other cells. Walking stretches and pulls at the skin surrounding the burn. Tighten and ripping at the wound, making him bite his lip to stop himself from crying out. Both from the pain and panic. 

 Evan is dragged out of the building into the blinding sunlight of the outside. He squints as his head screams. It takes a few moments for the boy’s eyes to adjust to the light, as a stone courtyard flickers into view. In the centre of the courtyard stands a large wooden stage not dissimilar to the stages used at a farmer’s market.

 His eyes are slowly drawn to two wagons. Both have cages attached to the back of them, however, the one on the left remains empty, with a small handful of hay scattered across the ground. The right-hand cage is larger and has a group of people inside, huddled together away from the door. Evan swallows before a jerky yank is given to the collar of his shirt as he’s dragged to the empty cage.

 Evan makes eye contact with a woman, whose hair is knotted, and her face is filthy. He squints at her, wishing he could fire rapid questions asking what the fuck is going on. But instead, he is roughly pushed into the cage. His hands scrap painfully along the floor, and he stumbles into a pile of stinking hay.

The pain in his hip flares up again, as the abused skin is fallen on. Evan gasps and quickly scrambles to his other side. The fog on his brain clouds as his world throbs in agony. He curls into a ball, fighting back tears, as he tries to protect himself.

 His eyes drift to the large grey fortress that he was just inside. It seems to stretch up into the sky. The light of the sun highlights each individual brick, all so uniform and pressed tightly together. 

The gate to the cage is locked, and with a jolt, they begin to move. Evan wishes he had the strength to lunge at the door and try to leave, but right now, his body feels too heavy. The exhaustion from everything seeps into his body and begins to take over. He just lies there, his eyes drifting shut as he wills himself into an unconscious escape.

 ***

Evan is jarred awake, as the wagon transitions to cobblestone. He looks around, trying to make sense of where the fuck he is, as the wagon enters a sprawling city.

 Evan’s skin crawls as people stare through the bars of the cage at him. He sits up slightly more, hugging his knees slightly. His breathing increases as he feels the gaze of random people piercing through him. Humiliation fills his stomach. He does what he can to shoot back dirty expressions. These fuckers can fuck off. Pieces of shit. He’s done fuck all and yet they are staring at him as though he’s the criminal?!

 He is paraded in front of strangers as they move through the city until they arrive at what seems like a large manor house near the sea. It's surrounded by a huge stone wall, too high to climb. Large, beautifully carved ornate gates swing open allowing the wagon to pass through. Evan doesn't need to look back to know once they've closed, as the loud thud echoes around.

 Inside the walls, stretches a large well-kept garden. There are perfectly cut grass and flower beds with precisely placed plants, creating beautiful patterns in the earth. Hedges are cut so not even a leaf sticks out of place. Despite how well-maintained everything seems to be, the area seems devoid of people. A long cobble driveway leads up to the entrance of a large manor.

 The hulking knight dismounts from the horse and wanders over to the cage. He squints at Evan before gesturing to a couple of guards to open the cage door. He looks to Evan waiting expectantly for the boy to come out.

 Evan responds by glaring back, and not moving. Like hell was he going to do what this bastard told him to. This man treated him like cattle and had Evan branded with the fucking initials of a name. The agony from earlier remains as the fear and pain burn into anger as he holds his ground.

 The knight stands there, he snaps his fingers as if signalling a dog to come. Waiting.

 A small, satisfied feeling of spite fills Evan, as he does… nothing. Who does he think he is, trying to order people around with a fucking pretentious finger snap. This man can go and eat shit. As the boy takes the moment to check his nails, pretending he is completely oblivious to the situation. He forces a pout as he picks a bit of dirt out from under his nail and flicks it in the direction of the knight.

 A surge of blood rushes into the knight's face. “Get out here now.” His voice is low and in a furious growl.

 Evan looks back at him, taking the time to scan the man with a scowl, fuelled by pain, fear, and humiliation. “Suck. A. Dick.” He mimics the lowness of the knight's voice and his accent.

 The knight gives a sharp gesture to one of the guards, who climbs into the cage and approaches Evan. 

The boy’s bravado drops, as he pushes himself into the corner of the cage. His arm is wrenched with the strength that only a trained soldier could muster as he is dragged out of the cage. Another guard grabs his other arm, as he is restrained. Being held completely at the mercy of the hulking man in front of him.

 The knight stares at him with a venomous look. He raises a fist and strikes him once across his already bruised cheek. 

Evan’s head snaps to the side. His lip splits on impact. However, instead of falling over, the guards tighten the grip on his arms, keeping him upright.

 The hulking knight then takes the opportunity to bring his fist down into the boy’s gut. Once. Then twice. Then a third time. He then takes two more swings at Evan’s face. Each one is more full of rage than the last.

 Evan finds himself gasping for breath, hanging limply from his arms as a mixture of blood and saliva drops from his mouth. 

 “I am in charge here.” The hulking knight broadens his shoulders, showing off his full size. The glints of chain mail catch the light, like the carapace of a beetle. As he speaks, little flecks of spit fly from his mouth, hitting Evan’s face. “And there will be consequences for your behaviour.”

The knight takes two clanking steps forwards, and grabs the boy by his jaw, forcing eye contact to be made. “I know brats like you like to cause trouble. Well let me tell you, that the Lord won’t let that fly, and neither will I.” His grip painfully tightens, fingers digging into the bruises on Evan’s cheek provoking a wince. “Now. This,” another punch, this time into the ribs. “Was a warning. Cross me again and I won't be as lenient.” He lets go of Evan’s chin. 

 The guards seem to take a hint and allow Evan to sink to the floor, gasping. Evan resists the temptation to look up and spit a wade of blood at this cunt. No. He must save his fight for another day.

 The hulking knight looks over to the half-orc who seems to have materialized during the beating. “Take him to the kitchens and show him what to do.”

The half-orc nods “Yes Master.”

 He orders, dusting his hands. Off before looking at Evan. “Let’s try this again, shall we? Get. Up.” He makes a hand gesture as if directing a dog.

 Evan stares at the ground, discreetly pulling a face before wiping the expression off. He’s gotten into his fair share of fights in the past. From Geldod and his boys, down by the docks to that summer where everyone put aside their differences to attack a particularly dickish city guard. One thing he’d learnt is: sometimes giving up early can allow you to get a hit in when they don’t expect it. Let them drop their guard. 

 Slowly he gets to his feet and looks at the half-orc.

 The half-orc bows his head to the knight, before pausing to wait for Evan, before continuing to a side entrance, rather than the grand doors.

 Evan grits his teeth, trying to ignore the pain that seems to encompass his entire body, and follows.

 The orc quietly takes him through a scullery and a long thin servant’s corridor. Once they move out of earshot of the guards and the knight, he looks over to Evan. The passive look in his eyes vanishes, replaced with a look of genuine concern. “How are you feeling?? I’m gonna focus on getting you cleaned up… alright?”

 “Or what? You and the others‘ll give me another beating?” Evan spits before clenching his jaw.

 The half-orc blinks as he slowly registers what’s happened. “Wait… no… I’m- like you…” he puts a hand and taps the side of his own hip.

 Evan pauses and the tension seems to melt away “Oh…” he just about manages a nod, as the adrenaline drains from him.

 The half-orc leads him to a small room off the side. It seems to not be much more than the cupboard with a stool in it. “You sit here… I’ll be back in a moment.”

 Evan sits down before his legs collapse. He brings his uninjured leg up onto the stool and hugs it, breathing slowly. A small lump moves into his throat and sits there. He hugs his knee as tight as he dares and forces the threat of tears back again. He wonders what M and Meg are doing. Have they noticed he’s gone? Do they think he’d left them? He must get back to them. To his friends. He takes a shaky breath in, despite the pain and slowly releases it. They are all he has in the world. He will not leave them to think he abandoned them.

 The orc returns not long after, with a bucket of cool water. “Lift up your shirt. I can try to help with the burn. And here.” He passes a cool, damp cloth. “It will help with the bruising.”

 Evan takes the cloth, internally debating whether to let the man touch his burn, before slowly shifting his shirt and breeches so the wound is exposed. He winces at the sight. The fabric is peeled away from the skin; however, Evan’s blood had clotted with the fabric embedded.

 The orc breathes, in sharp sympathy. “Here. Let me.” He gently begins to wash and dab away the clumps of blood, giving cool relief to the intact skin, however, Evan still cannot feel the actual burn.

“What’s your name?” the orc asks as he works. He is patient and methodical about his work. 

 “…Evan…” Evan responds cautiously “Tyrnearth…You...?”

 “I’m Trygve.” His accent has a soft Vuchguian twang to it as he gives Evan a small attempt at a smile, before continuing to clean the burn.

 Evan nods slowly before leaning back a little, letting this man begin to tend to his wounds.

 -------

 AN: Please shout if you want adding to the tag list or spot a typo!

Masterlist Next

 Tag list: @sunshiline-writes  @kixngiggles @pumpkin-spice-whump

[pyroclaststan]

For a prompt. No editing, no rereading, I’m 80% I didn’t conjugate things correctly but it was 3am when I wrote it and I am too frustrated with technical complications to try now. POV Ortega, post-HB, just going through it.

Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the effort and exertion, or maybe it’s the creeping frustration that always seems to catch up to you at some point of the day, the weeping wound of remembrance of your world being off axis. With a growl of annoyance you launch the hay off of your shoulder and into the trough with more force than necessary: it feels good to hit something in the few ways you can—to make something else the punching bag for once while you lick your own wounds. A trough is no villain, but you can resent it all the same, which is to say for no real reason at all.

That alone burns you up inside, that there’s no real reason for any of this.

Loud, sharp whistling like a songbird from hell draws your attention to the edge of the pen: mamá stands with a foot up on the fence, frowning pointedly in your direction. The patented Ortega look of disappointment or the street disapproval of a mother, both cutting.

“¿Te pedí que alimentarán a los animales o que los asustaras hasta la mierda?” she reprimands, shaking her head.

It’s no fault of hers that you’re irritated, frustrated, and struggling. You know that. But you can’t help the constant crawling that makes you want to curse and scream and fight the world. You can’t tune out all the ways in which everything demands your attention.

Battered by sensations of the sweat dripping down your spine, the way your denim rubs against your legs, the loose string in your work glove incessantly catching on a broken nail, and the pigs pushing you about you let out a string of rapid-fire curses—everything is too much and too little. Too numb and too sensitive.

So overwhelming without that familiar weight by your side.

Stomping feels like the only way to get anything out of your system, so you step heavily towards the gate to talk with your mother before catching yourself, trying to cool off first in a repeating tread back and forth to calm yourself before you come to your mother in any disrespectful fashion. It’s like you’re a child again, a silly little tantrum that boils in your blood but you can find no other escape for—it’s the only way you can get out whatever’s trying to worm its way in. You’ve got to get it out somehow and this is the only place you can safely do so so you let the pot boil over, the cork pop, the dam break.

You let out another stream of curses, fully aware of the weight of your mother’s gaze on you, prickling your skin further.

Not the right gaze.

“Fucking… FUCK!” you shout so loud it holds you in place and echoes out, the desert around you carrying the sentiment all the way back to Kingsley’s hometown, wherever that was.

Mamá however, just chuckles at your outburst, shaking her head and pulling her cream and turquoise stetson lower. “Fucking fuck? If I’d known Mi Rey had possessed you, I’d have put a pot of coffee on.”

“It’s not funny, none of this—“ you’re interrupted by a feeling like your stomach wants to escape up and out of your throat and mouth, and the mindfulness that you’re talking to your own mother. None of this is how it should be, none of this was how it was supposed to go. You’re washed up and retired and even that would’ve been manageable with a bitter shadow beside you chiding you along the way, but you’ve lost your best friend. All you can do is make more annoyed noises, willing yourself to get your shit together before you kick your own ass, trying to express something you haven’t fully fathomed.

Your mother just looks at you knowingly, ever-patient, ever kind. “Vamos, joder joder, lucky for you I did put a pot on ‘cause I’m always prepared for mi Flora.” Without further word she throws a tea towel at you and turns to walk away, back to the house proper.

There’s a small shake of her head, a tiny rise and fall of her shoulders as she goes: you know Kingsley’s loss had affected her, too, but she had chosen to remain strong for her remaining child—for you.

You use the cloth to mop up the sweat that’s gathered on your face and neck from the day’s chores before moving on to your bare arms and chest on your way back. A proper shower will be required to remove the grime and grit but even that little bit of cleaning has made you feel a bit more human, and pulling off your offending gloves and shoving them into your pocket removes a bit of tension.

Making your way through the well-loved ranch home you breathe deep: the smells of leathers and furs and spices as they sit in the heat, despite the windows being left open to keep a drafting breeze. Or maybe all of that is you, but you’re not willing to give yourself a sniff to find out.

She sits at a table, bathed in sepia sunlight, looking far older than you remember her ever being, or maybe just tired… like you’re tired. Silently, your steaming mug is pushed towards you, telling you where to sit. “I know that feeling well,” she warbles, voice sounding full to the brim with emotion as she gently spins and turns the jewellery on her fingers. “Vamos, sientate.”

You take your seat silently, equally drained and somber, but you can’t touch that cup. That mug that isn’t yours. Someone else’s. Theirs.

Before you, your mother steels herself, and within her you see all of the focus of the woman who was almost an Olympian, the woman who was once a wife, the woman who will always be your mother.

“This is the last thing that any child wants to hear, mi amor, but you’re going to hear it: I know what you’re going through. How you’re feeling. Perder a un ser querido, a un ser cercano, nunca es fácil. Especialmente cuando son parte de nosotros mismos... I went through the same thing when we lost your father—do not make that face, because no matter what he was to you, you must think of what he was to me.” Your heart hurts at how her voice cracks but she’ll say her piece through it, you know.

“So you can be mad, be angry—ser un matón si es necesario—but you must get it out before that, like poison, seeps into your bones.” She pushes the mug towards you roughly, guiding you to look down into black depths. “You need to learn to take what’s bitter, and to accept it and appreciate it for what it is, and for how it reminds you to appreciate the sweet. Es una cosa cursi decirlo, lo sé, pero nunca preparé mucha sabiduría para algo como esto.”

She looks you in the eye, taking a sip of coffee before crossing her arms.

“Este es el comienzo, la resta depende de ti.”

[maddiedott]

The Mourning Dove

Chapter Four-

Warnings: Baldur’s Gate Spoilers, cannon violence, ocs, insults, looting corpses, prying a brain from a skull, injured, slight cussing, fighting mentioned

A/n: finally getting to the actual story!! Lmk if I missed any warnings, it’s a little rushed I think, tried to stick to the original plot, and also like change it a little? I’m also hoping this is longer than the rest so… enjoy!

The sharp pain in my skull was the first thing to alert me to my survival. The ache in my arm and side was the next as I was thrusted out of the strange pod-like structure. The sticky, smooth, hard surface I fell on caused my body to repulse. Cringing as I swiped the feeling of it off of my hand and onto my trousers.

I push myself to stand, trying not to retch at the sight of where I was standing. The place was intestine-like, from the fleshy walls to the vein colored floors that held a slimy sheen to it as it was meant to resemble bone. And the smell- dear Gods, the smell! Ash and something indescribable.

Normally the first thing to notice would be the giant hole in the wall and the site of demons and… what in the hells was even going on outside? Some type of battle or something? That would explain the fires around the room.

“Ow. Fucks sake.”

My head whips around, hair smacking my cheek and neck from rapid movement. I wasn’t alone.

To my right lay a girl, sat back on her heels as she held a hand towards her forehead which was leaking blood from her temple. Her hands glow a moment before the wound closes and the blood stops pooling out onto her greyish-purple skin. Even with vitiligo pigmentation.

A drow.

“Are you alright? You’re bleeding, sweetheart.” I call out, not daring to step closer.

Drows were unpredictable. Though this one seemed civil. Nothing like the stories I heard my father tell to his friends about the Underdark and the drow he had encountered. This one had a cleric uniform. Chainmail tunic and simple brown leather pants paired with worn boots. The necklace of a Selûne was certainly an eye-catcher, a sign of someone trustworthy, at least for the moment.

Her head snaps up, eyes scouring the area from where my voice had come from. I give a little wave in order to gain her attention. A friendly smile plasters itself onto my face, a concerned look taking over my features. I needed an ally, that was clear. From this shit-show that was happening, a friendly companion could do well here.

“Yes. Yes, I'm fine.” She replies curtly, pushing herself off the ground and dusting herself off from whatever slime it had collected.

I give a sharp nod, eyes leisurely glancing around while she stands. She was stand-offish. That was easy to see, her trust was something that would not come easily. And a cleric could be very useful should a battle come into play.

“I don’t suppose you have an idea of where we are or what we’ve been dragged into?” I ask, beginning to inch towards a large vat of what looked like discolored water in the middle of the room.

I could feel her eyes on me as I moved, clearly on guard and hand lowering to the handle of her mace as she observed.

“No.”

“Right… Well, guess we should explore huh?” I suggest, tearing my eyes away from the weird calderon. “I’m Dovie.”

She stares at me for a moment before she slowly lets her hand relax and drop to her side, no longer believing me as a threat to her life.

“Hala.”

“Lovely to meet you.”

My eyes darted from one side of the room to the other, beginning to walk around in search of some kind of door or way out of this place. I take particular interest in what looked like… well… one could only describe it as an arsehole. Gods, where in the hell were we?

“Almost as lovely as this… architecture.” I joke, cringing as I turn towards my new found ally. “I believe this is a door over here.”

She simply hums before walking over. She nears the puckered flesh of a door, only making it about a foot away before it opens on its own. I could see the disgusted face of the drow, her nose turned up at the sight.

“How pleasant.” She comments, voice filled with repulsion.

I watch as she walks forward, exiting through the anus looking door and into the next room. Taking a deep breath I follow after her, quickening my steps in order to catch up with her strides. I push through the disgust as I pass through the door and into the identical looking fleshy room. While there were no pods in this room there were tables, one with a corpse of a goblin and the other seemed to be filled with a few stone tablets.

Stepping further into the room I make my way towards the corpse, bracing my nerves before stealthily slipping my hand into the pockets and fishing around for anything useful. In the left pocket I manage to get a few gold pieces, pocketing them and turning around to face Hala who stood there with a look of disdain.

“What?”

“Have you no self control? We were taken and placed in those pods with some sort of tadpole shoved into our eye and your first instinct is to loot a corpse?”

I simply shrug my shoulders, strolling past her and towards an out of place podium with a glowing red orb. Gingerly placing my hand over it I stumbled as the floor beneath began to move. Listing upwards to a suspended platform. This one held a unique chair and another person, mumbling and groaning as his exposed brain twitched and surrounded by jars filled with brains.

As I step closer the brain begins to speak, begging to be released from its confinement.

“What’s up here?” Hala calls out as she arrives on the platform, walking up the ramped flooring on the right. “Is that a brain, and is it speaking?”

“Mhm.” I hum in acknowledgement before gently gliding my fingers over the wrinkly organ and sliding them into the skull. Giving a solid pull, the brain slides out and sits idle in my palms.

“You’re psychotic.” Hala gasps.

“No. Simply curious.”

The brain twitched again before leaping from my hand and falling to the floor with a grotesque squelch. It proceeded to sprout four arms with claws at the ends and antenna-like limbs from its top.

“Ew, ew, ew!”

“We are free. Our freedom is ours. Friend.” It says, voice echoing.

From behind my eye the squirming feeling returns, causing me to place a hand against my temple. Hala seems to have the same infliction.

“We must go to the helm. At the helm we are needed.” The brain urges.

It takes me a moment before I can recoup, grouting softly as the tingling itch behind my eye ceases.

“Sure. What could go wrong, listening to a… brain.”

It sounds pleased by my statement as it scoots closer, crawling while its claws scrape against the floor. I step backwards and it follows, almost obediently.

“You have yourself a new pet.” Hala comments, a mixture of amusement and disgust lacing her words.

I glance from the brain back to her. It’s almost laughable. I had always wanted a pet, a companion even during my time in my father’s home, he forbade anything that had fur, feathers, and scales. But to have my first pet be a brain, one that is exempted from my father’s rules as it was entirely flesh… the gods are cruel tricksters.

“Well, companionship aside, let’s continue on, yes?” I conclude, clearing my throat and using the elevator platform back down.

Continuing on through a hole in the wall, as there was nowhere else really left for us to go towards,I finally notice that this thing that we are in is flying. Soaring through the air past mountains and gray air and skies. Dragons swirl around us, screaming as they zoom past. They’re accompanied by demons as I soon realize.

“Are we… Are we in Avernus?” Hala asks.

“That would explain the fire and sweltering heat.” I agree.

We come to a stop in both conversation and speed. I’m not entirely sure where she comes from, but a woman spins through the air above us before dropping in front of me, silver longsword drawn and pointed towards our small group.

“Abomination. This is your end.” She growls out.

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what or who she is. Gith. From the olive colored skin, the circular markings along her face, small scrunched nose that sits directly in the middle of her face, and the large pointed ears with ridges along the shell. That would explain the dragons.

A sharp throbbing pain quickly ebbs into my mind, skin tingling. Suddenly I am witnessing memories I don’t contain- dragons, sword, and my own face in quick rapid movement. I realize soon that it is her memories I am seeing. No- this is the current time, I am looking through her eyes.

“My head. What is this… ugh.” She groans.

I hadn’t realized she had the same reaction, hand holding her head in pain as she slightly hunches, bending at her torso. She must have seen through my eyes just as I have seen through hers.

“Tsk’va. You are no thrall- Vlaakith blesses me this day! Together we might survive.” She speaks once regaining composure.

Hala and I share looks of confusion and concern. She must have seen through the Gith’s eyes just the same as I had.

“Pardon me, thralls?” Hala asks.

“We carry mind flayer parasites. Unless we escape- unless we are cleansed- our bodies and minds will be tainted and twisted. Within days, we will be ghaik. Mind flayers.” The gith explains, eyes narrowed, but a flash of panic sifts through them.

“Yes. Right. Because of course we are! Do you have an idea on how to stop it, or are we simply just doomed?” I ramble, throwing my hands up in annoyance.

Just my luck.

“First, we exterminate the imps,” she gestures towards her left at the three imps feasting on a corpse, “Then we find the helm and take control of the ship.”

“As for that thing,” the gith’s eyes trail towards my pet brain, “It will remain tame as long as it believes we are thralls. It may be of use in the fight to come.”

She ends her sentence and turns, rushing off towards the imps. She’s very eager to fight. My eyes turn back towards Hala who seems conflicted. It was a lot to process in such a short time frame. I go to ask if she’s alright, concerned if something else ailed her. But as if knowing what I was about to ask she holds a hand up and shook her head.

“I’m fine. Let’s continue on.” She brushed off, walking past me and after the gith.

I follow after her hearing said gith shout in her native tongue followed by a loud screech from the imp. There was a battle quickly forming. The gith was quick to strike an imp down in a single blow, my pet brain followed soon after striking another in a fatal swipe of its claws. Hala casted a spell, a sacred flame if I was to believe right, there she quickly disposed of the last standing imp.

It was incredibly fast, leaving me to feel out of place as I had simply just watched and not attacked. No one noticed though, and if they did they had not mentioned it as they continued on, not even looking around. Hala and the gith exchanged a few words but I couldn’t quite catch them. They led as me and my pet brain took up the rear.

I try not to hesitate as they climb up sticky, slimy, and fleshy looking ladders. I hold back my gags and protests as I climb up. The feeling of needing to retch was hard to hold back. Reaching the top, we go through another arsehole door that leads into another strange room.

There was a large red tube in the middle surrounded by tilted tables, each holding people. Pods line the left wall as well. There was yelling coming from one of them, enough to make out even though the sounds were muffled.

“Someone needs help.” I breath out before beelining to the sound of the yelling.

The last pod held a girl, her fists beat against the window of the pod. Thunks and cries for someone to let her out grew louder as I approached. She was not a gith, nor a drow. She was a half elf. A high half elf by the looks of it. Black hair held in some long style as her bangs stuck to her face from sweat. As I step up to the pod I call out to her, asking if she’s alright.

“You! Get me out of this damn thing!” She cries out, fists still pounding.

“We have no time for stragglers.” The gith cuts in, eyes narrowed.

“Like hell we don’t. I am not going to just leave her there! Hold tight, I’ll see what I can find.” I call out to the half elf.

“Try that contraption next to the pod- they did something to it when they sealed me in. Hurry! Please!” She shouts in desperation.

Glancing to the right of the pod, there laid a panel. Like the rest of the ship it was flesh like, although this one seemed more insect than flesh. With buttons that looked like eyes and antennas in the middle where it looked like something could be slot in.

“Let’s split up. It’ll be easier to cover more ground. Me and… brain will take the room on the right, you two search this one.” I command, not allowing them time to argue as I head towards the next room.

The room seemed to be almost like an audience room. Chairs circled a pod that held a lifeless woman, ridged and growing up before splitting like a leaf. I glanced down at my newfound pet, seeing if it had anything to speak about. Perhaps a tour. But it remains silent, as do I.

I continue forward, up some stairs and looting through a chest there and a corpse of another woman. One pocket was filled with gold and a bronze necklace, the other held a rune. It was the perfect shape to fit into the panel next to the half-elf’s pod.

Returning to the first room- stepping over corpses and another brain thing running back and forth between rooms, not sure why it’s out and about- and the panel I gently slot the rune in, praying that when I press the button it will open the pod and not turn her into a mind flayer or something. As I place my hand above the slotted rune, my mind throbs again, aching in discomfort. It fades quickly, and power fills its void as I feel connection with the panel. Willing it to open, it does, and the girl falls from the pod and onto the floor.

I remove my hand from the panel as the feeling fades, rushing towards her and helping her to sit up. She mumbles a few prayers, thanking a god.

“Careful, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I Thought that damn thing was going to be my coffin. Thank you.” She spoke.

I notice her eyes dart from me to the gith, the microexpressions of weariness one seeing her, the twitch of her nose, slight curl of her upper lip and the sharpness her eyes take. She doesn’t seem too fond of our small band.

“You keep dangerous company.” She comments, almost snarling towards the gith.

“I suppose, but she has her uses to help us in fights.” I argue, a lighthearted lilt in my tone to try and keep the mood as light as I could.

“Fair point,” she turns her eyes back to me, expression softening only slightly. “Looks like there’s plenty of fighting ahead. Let me come with you. We can get off this ship, and watch each other’s backs along the way.”

I grin at this, nodding enthusiastically before glancing around our small group. I see the nod of approval from Hala, she seems as eager to have as many allies as possible. The gith seems less accepting though, which is understandable as she was just insulted.

“Yes, the more the merrier. I’m Dovie, this is Hala and… I never caught our gith friend’s name.” I introduce pointing to each woman.

“Lae’zel.” The gith grunts out.

“Shadowheart. One moment.” She spoke.

Turning around she sticks her hand back into the pod before producing a spherical object and stuffing it into her pocket before turning back towards us. My eyes meet Hala’s again, brows furrowed. She seems to share my confusion but shakes her head as to not question the girl. I agree, after all everyone is allowed their secrets.

“Let’s continue on then, yes?” Hala coughs.

“Finally. Let us make for the helm- we’ve wasted enough time already.” Lae’zel scoffs.

“She’s right. Lead on.” Shadowheart agrees.

I give a sharp nod before heading to the door on the other side of the room, ignoring the people passed out on the tables. There was nothing I could do for them at the moment except offer mental condolences and lead on. No one objected to leaving them, although Hala faltered slightly, frowning but followed nonetheless.

The next room was small, just having another door. There must be some sort of separation of powers here? Perhaps the helm is just up ahead. Lae’zel stops mid stride as I approach the door, clearing her throat to gain our attentions.

“We are nearing the helm. Once inside, do as I say.” She announces.

“Who put you in charge? I’ll trust my own judgment.” Shadowheart spat.

My eyes roll, bickering between the two seems to be a common occurrence. Hopefully it won’t get in the way of battle. Hala meets my gaze once more, sharing the sentiment and rolling her eyes once hearing the insult the gith hurls at the half elf in her native tongue.

I push forward.

As we exit the room we seem to some in during the middle of a fight between devils and mind flayers. A particularly nasty one at that. The snap of bones and squelching of flesh paired with the scent of ash and blood hangs and echoes throughout the battle. A mind flayer turns towards us as it snaps the neck of a devil.

“Thrall. Connect the nerves of the transponder. We must escape. Now.” The tentacled being bellowed.

“Do it. We will deal with the ghaik after we escape.” the gith shouts before pulling out her sword.

“Connect the nerves! We will connect them!” My brain pet seemingly cheers.

“Okay, I’ll go connect the nerves. Watch my back!” I call out before sprinting forwards.

Past the imps and devil hogs, and the mind flayer as it enters another battle with a devil. I hear the clashing and shouting and squelching behind me but pay no mind to it. Tunnel vision on the nerves had me pump my legs faster as I ran. Jumping and sidestepping corpses of thralls, imps, devils, and other brains. I could hear my heart beating within my ears and mind. I don’t notice the shouting of my allies, warning me of the new dangers appearing in front of me. I left them to deal with it. Without so much as a scratch I reach the helm. Now I could hear Hala behind me, fighting against imps and devil boars a few feet behind me. Gods she was fearless.

One hand comes up to wrap around one of the blueish tentacles, grabbing another with my other hand. I stare at them for a second before placing them together. It was as if they had a mind of their own, connecting together like they were holding hands. I let out a breath of relief.

Though my relief was short as a bronze dragon head peeked into the room, its eye finding me before it roared and sprayed fire. I scream as the heat licks at my skin, knocking me off guard as I tumble, losing my footing and falling to the ground. I’m not sure what happens to cause me to fly through the air, getting tossed to one side, smacking against the wall before returning to the other side like a rag doll getting tossed around.

I see the hole approach closer, my fate of falling out of the ship and smacking onto the ground was something I wished to avoid if given the chance.

As I reach out towards the nerve panel I connected, I manage to grasp the edge of it, crying out as it cuts and stretches my fingers uncomfortably. I raise my other hand, grabbing onto the nerves in hopes of it righting itself. My efforts are in vain as my fingers slip and I fall once more. Though rather than falling through the hole in the ship wall to meet an untimely end I manage to hit a wall. Grunting in pain I place a hand against my ribs, wincing as the throbbing ache makes itself known.

I glance up, looking around for my comrades but find glowing orange eyes instead. A mind flayer sits across from me, staring intently as if trying to convey it’s thoughts into my skull. I keep it’s gaze. There should be fear, panic, disgust rushing through my body. But I feel nothing. No panic, no fear, not even ease. Just numbness.

I’m not sure what happens next as I am struck in the head, crying out in pain as a sharp stabbing feeling hits my skull, ricocheting and producing a ringing sound. I can’t recall when I lost consciousness. I remember falling. Then nothing.

[four-loose-screws]

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 9 Section 3

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———————————

Chapter 9: Dragon's Gate (Section 3)

Their battle soon began across the entirety of the Dread Isle.

For Hector, it became the outlet for his anger.

He had seen a retainer he was close to dead before his very eyes, and his blood was boiling.

He trudged straight into the fog, swinging at the enemies lunging at him and trying to catch him off guard.

The sight of him rampaging and swinging Wolf Beil around looked like a violent tempest.

“Wherever you are, come and get me!!” He shouted at the enemies hiding within the fog.

Then suddenly, he heard a sound come from behind him. He turned around in a panic, and saw an enemy’s corpse, collapsed on the ground with his neck sliced open. The moment he had tried to attack Hector from behind, someone else killed him. It was none other than…

“Young Lord! I’m back!”

“Matthew! You’ve finished already? There’s no need for you to push yourself and fight…”

“What are you saying?! A creepy place like this, thick with fog, is my time to shine, you know!”

“But still…”

Hector tried to say more, but Matthew cut him off. “And… If Leila knew that I was slacking off on the job, she wouldn’t let me get away with it! I’m fine. I need to work twice as hard for House Ostia in her place.”

“...I understand. Then I’m counting on you!”

“Leave it to me!” He replied and slammed his fist into his chest, then said within his heart to his beloved,

‘Hey, Leila… This is what you think is best, isn’t it? I won’t… stand down. I won’t grieve, nor feel sorrow… not now. I will only complete my mission. So… you can rest in peace. Alright?’

-

The fog floating around them, combined with the thick growth of the trees, made it difficult to ascertain where Uhai was.

And Uhai’s arrows, whizzing through the gaps between the trees, were dealing significant damage to Eliwood and his army.

Despite being within a forest full of obstacles, Uhai was able to expertly maneuver his horse, appearing at the most unexpected moments before them like a phantom. Since they were focusing their attention solely on him, they were completely overlooking the attacks from the other members of the Black Fang.

Eliwood turned towards his allies, who looked like they were about to start fleeing, and shouted, "Everyone, gather in one place! Make a circular formation!!"

If they didn't know where he was going to appear from, their best strategy was to have eyes open in every direction. Eliwood’s thinking was simple, but with everyone having someone watching their back, they were able to fight back against Uhai’s army and this strategy to send them spiraling into chaos.

The plan worked perfectly.

Their fear of arrows shooting them from behind vanished, and they were able to concentrate on the enemies appearing in front of them and push them further and further back. 

Yet their leader Uhai kept up his assault of arrows even as his allies were being defeated.

The moment an arrow flew between the trees…

“Now, Erk! Cast as many Fire spells as you can!”

At Eliwood’s order, Erk turned towards the direction the arrow came from, and shot an array of burning fireballs in rapid succession. Though none of the spells hit Uhai, instead, they caught fire to the trees and underbrush around him.

The intensity of the smoke and fire caused Uhai’s horse to run around against his rider’s wishes.

Eliwood, not letting the opportunity escape, unsheathed his rapier. But before the tip of the blade could reach his chest, he drew the sword at his waist and jumped up. This started a fierce sword fight at close range, but Eliwood slowly began to put pressure on Uhai.

He was more skilled with his bow than he was with his sword, and his horse was so scared by the intense fire around them that the mount would not move as he wished. He could not gain any distance to wield his bow from. 

And Eliwood would not do something so foolish as allow Uhai to utilize his specialty, assaulting him with a relentless flurry of attacks.

Eliwood parried Uhai’s sword with the tip of his rapier and pushed Uhai’s sword to the side, causing Uhai to stumble. 

Eliwood did not let the opportunity go to waste, putting his entire body into a thrust of his rapier that stabbed straight through Uhai’s heart.

“Guh… wh-what a magnificent fight… You are stronger… than I thought…” Uhai collapsed and fell from atop his horse. 

He mustered up his last remaining bit of strength to speak as blood trickled from his mouth. “To show my respect for your strength… I shall give you this as my final gift. From here, head south… turn west at the large, rotting tree… then keep going. That is the path to the Drag…”

At that point, Uhai’s words were cut short.

He had been a proud man of the plains until the very moment of his death.

“Uhai… I wish we had been able to meet you not as an enemy…”

Eliwood expressed his honest feelings, then Hector asked him, “...Do you trust him?”

“He was from the plains of Sacae… With that pride on the line, he would never tell a lie. …Or so I believe, at the very least.”

At Lyn’s words, all of their other allies nodded in agreement.

He was the kind of man to state that he would choose to challenge them to a fair fight, despite having successfully captured a hostage. Even if he was not a nomad of Sacae, those words alone would likely have been enough to believe him.

Eliwood and his allies began to march through the foggy forest once more.

☆

Ninian was lost.

She didn't know what she could do to regain her memory…

She wanted to remember where she was born and grew up, and how she met Lyn and Eliwood.

But at the same time, she knew she had forgotten something terrifying. If her memory returned, then she suspected she would remember that fear, and be crushed by her anxiety and despair…

'What… should I do…?'

Should she regain her lost memory, or live on without any of it at all? Ninian's heart wavered at the choice.

"...nian. Ninian." 

She heard someone calling her name, and snapped back to reality.

"What's the matter, Ninian? Your face is pale…"

"...It's nothing… Lord Eliwood…" Ninian answered while staring down at her feet.

Her response only made him all the more worried. "That's good… But if there's ever anything wrong, tell me. No matter how you look at it, we're in enemy territory now. We don't know when the Black Fang is going to attack."

"Huh…?" Ninian looked all around her.

When she did so, a strange sight stretched before her eyes. 

It was a building clearly not constructed by humans, but some other being. It was abandoned long ago, and had been waiting for hundreds of years for its owners' return.

An ancient ruin meant not for humans, but something overwhelmingly giant... 

While she had been lost in her thoughts, they seem to have arrived at the Dragon’s Gate.

But the moment her eyes laid upon this ruin, she remembered running, and her whole body started shaking. She felt the fear from within her lost memories glaring at her tenaciously like a snake.

"What's wrong, Ninian?" Eliwood asked.

Ninian answered in a fearful voice, "...This place is very scary. I sense… a great power…"

Seeing how Ninian was feeling, Lyn had a hunch about what exactly was wrong. "With your special power?"

"What's that?" Eliwood asked.

"Ninian has the ability to sense danger just before it happens. Though she’s lost her memory, it seems that her power is as strong as ever.”

Her power had also helped them during their battle with Uhai, though in that case, it had not kept Lyn from being captured by Uhai.

“What are you sensing, Ninian?”

Eliwood asked, but Ninian did not answer. Instead screaming as if she was possessed, “...I… I should not have come here. If I am here, something bad will happen… Ahhhhh!!”

“Ninian?! Hold yourself together!”

Eliwood shook her by her shoulders, trying to snap her out of her sudden breakdown and back to sanity. But Ninian only continued to repeat words similar to what she had just said, and showed no sign that she was returning to her normal self.

“I can’t snap her out of it! For now, we should just get out of here!"

But the moment Eliwood made that decision, a voice they had never heard before echoed in the air.

“...I cannot let you do that.” A man appeared before them from within a teleportation circle. His eyes stopped on Ninian, and a long, cold smile crept across his face. “You’ve escaped twice from this little isle, and returned again… You will not escape this time.”

“Who are you?!”

At Hector’s question, the man bowed politely and answered, “So we finally meet. I am but an insignificant being named Ephidel. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“So you’re Ephidel?! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!” Hector howled.

He was the man who had orchestrated the rebellion in Lycia from behind the scenes, and possibly killed Leila. 

A terrifying, violent smile spread across Hector’s face, that would make anyone more timid flee, but the sight of it did not change Ephidel’s expression even a little.

“...How bold of you to say. I know who all of you are, of course. You are Lord Hector, younger brother of Marquess Ostia. And this is Lady Lyndis, next-in-line of House Caelin.”

Ephidel’s eyes shifted from Hector, then to Lyn, before he continued on, “Oh, that’s right, I left you a present in the forest… Was it to your liking? The corpse of that red-haired, dirty little vixen…”

“Damn you! Don’t you come any closer, or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!!”

“I see, so she was an Ostian spy? There is no need for you to worry. Her death was not a painful one. …Her life was ended with just a single blow.”

Ephidel’s words made Hector’s anger all the more explosive. 

“Eat this!!” Hector swung Wolf Beil with all of his might, aiming to bring it down on Ephidel’s head.

However, the moment the attack was supposed to land, Ephidel vanished completely.

“He disappeared?!”

Everyone present pulled out their weapons and became wary of their surroundings.

In a show of utter mockery, Ephidel appeared right next to his target. “This girl is necessary for my master’s ceremony.”

“Ninian!!”

“Lord Eliwood! No, let me go!”

Eliwood gripped his rapier and ran over her in a desperate attempt to save her.

However, when he had just a little further to go, Ephidel vanished once more. And Ninian along with him…

“She’s gone…!”

“Dammit!!”

Lyn muttered in shock, and Hector shouted in frustration.

But neither of their emotions were anything like the regret Eliwood experienced.

‘I couldn’t protect you, Ninian…!’

She was a person he had promised to protect. And he couldn’t do it, leaving him feeling entirely powerless.

-

A gigantic gate was located in front of one of the rooms within the shrine.

Darin’s voice was echoing throughout it. “Lord Ephidel! Has the girl returned?!”

Like fish gathering around a piece of bait, Darin rushed over to Ephidel.

“She has indeed…” Ephidel glared down condescendingly at Ninian in his arms. Because she had been resisting so strongly, he used his magic to render her unconscious.

“Ah! Now the ceremony can finally begin!!”

“You are correct. However, the mice are on their way here… They will most likely invade this room any minute. Can I ask you… to take care of them before the ceremony?”

“But of course! Who do you think I am?! I am Marquess Darin of Laus! The man who will rule this entire world!!” Darin nodded calmly, now truly considering himself the king of the world, a thought which fully restored his confidence.

“Then I shall leave them to you.”

“My world… Feh ha ha ha ha ha…” Darin exited the room, lost deep within his dream.

“...Humans are such frail, easy to manipulate creatures.” Ephidel muttered without even a hint of guilt.

Just then, Nergal appeared from a teleportation circle, together with Elbert, whose hands were bound together.

“Well done, Ephidel. Now then, shall we prepare for the ceremony?”

“Nergal…!!” Elbert willed his tired body to move, and stood up with his anger burning like a fire in his eyes.

Nergal watched him struggle with a deep, throaty laugh. “Are you angry, Marquess Pherae? Oh, but fate has long since been decided. No matter how much you struggle, it will all be in vain, and this girl will always return to me.”

“...My son… What happened to Eliwood?!”

“He is still alive, though it is only a matter of time before he falls to the Black Fang.”

The moment Nergal let his guard down to laugh, Elbert made his move. 

“...Nergal! Get ready to die!!” In just the blink of an eye, he loosened the rope around his wrists, and used it as a weapon to try and hit Nergal.

However, his attack missed.

And that was because… a man slipped in between them, and stopped it from happening.

That man was Jaffar, the person responsible for sending Leila to her grave.

“Guh… Guh… ah…!!”

Jaffar’s fist punched deep into Elbert’s abdomen, causing him to collapse on the ground.

“...That was surprising. When did you loosen your bonds?" Nergal cackled. "Keh keh keh, you should listen carefully to the warnings others give you, Marquess Pherae. You cannot oppose fate. It would be wise of you to stop your futile attempts to do so."

“...Guh… Gah...”

Nergal looked down to see Elbert groaning at his feet. He smiled, satisfied, then looked at Jaffar. “Jaffar, take Marquess Pherae and the girl inside. I will begin the preparations for the ceremony.”

“...Understood.”

☆

[adamwatchesmovies]

Enter the Warriors Gate (2016)

Enter the Warriors Gate a.k.a. The Warriors Gate is bad but kind of cute. I could even see some viewers looking past its numerous and obvious flaws and having a good time. That ending though; it’ll convince just about everyone that what they just saw has been done better elsewhere.

Teenaged Jack Bronson (Uriah Shelton) is a wizard at video games. His skills lead a real-life warrior from the past, Zhao (Mark Chao), to confuse him with a skilled fighter. Zhao must protect Princess Su Lin (Ni Ni) from Arun the Cruel (Dave Bautista), who wants to force her into marriage and steal her kingdom. After the princess is kidnapped, Jack is transported to the past and forced to fight.

This setup is nothing special. A normal teen is brought to a mystical world whose inhabitants confuse him for a mighty warrior. Most of the time, our hero/heroine finds a way to become the person they need to be by using knowledge of history or by replicating modern-day technology to combat their enemies. This story by Luc Besson (yes, really) and his frequent collaborator, Robert Mark Kamen gives Jack many unearned wins. Most come rapid-fire in the last 15 minutes of the story where a happy ending is basically served on a golden platter. Many come even earlier. Uriah Shelton looks about as Chinese as a Big Mac but he communicates with all of these people from the past with no problem. They just stop speaking Mandarin a couple of minutes into the film… until the end when director Matthias Hoene suddenly remembers he's trying to appeal to both Western and Eastern audiences simultaneously.

The biggest surprise is that this film never dusts off that old “This hot dog, what kind of dog is it made from?” line. When we learn Jack lives alone with his mom, you assume it’s either so the film can have our hero eventually overcome the grief born from his parents' divorce or so we can swiftly shoo mom away and get the adventure started. Guess which one Enter the Warriors Gate chooses to go with. I’ll give you a hint. It can’t even manage to get its title's grammar correct, much less handle complex character arcs.

Where this picture wins some points is in the comedy. There are numerous off-hand remarks made by Arun the Cruel and his chief executioner that’ll make you laugh. Once in a while, it’ll blindside you with some unexpected gags and you’ll take a break from laughing at the film to laugh along with it. And there are numerous reasons for you to ridicule this adventure. Most come during the conclusion. Even before then, there’s some bad and needless CGI, awful wigs, and cringe-inducing dance numbers. The writing is quite poor, particularly when you realize the wizard (Francis Ng) introduced at the beginning of the movie could’ve probably done everyone a favour by single-handedly defeating the baddie on his own.

Enter the Warriors Gate feels like a release from 30-40 years ago. Everything about this tale you’ve seen done before, many times. Seemingly aware of this, it tries to keep things interesting by having both someone from another world comes to ours, and the reverse too. At least the actors are likeable, which goes a long way. It’s competent but never inspired. (April 4, 2020)

[mandaniprotectionservices]

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[mayhemproduces]

Joshua Bishop (c) vs Jade Suzuki - MPW World Championship

The day Jade Suzuki came into MPW was a shocking one, to say the least, but nothing could have prepared us for what came next. Going undefeated for close to six months; beating Alex Shelley, Sardonyx, and VENY, among other notable names. Luring Lacey into Death Row and aiding them in finally conquering the Chaos Cup. And now, standing toe to toe with the Intense Icon himself, the MPW World Championship on the line. While we can’t imagine what Thunder in Paradise will look like if Jade were to win this, you shouldn’t look past this one - and we’re off! They come slugging it out straight out of the gate, going ham with forearm shots to one another’s faces! Suzuki is eventually able to get Bishop in the corner, lifting him up with some sick sounding chops. Bishop fights back, getting himself out of the corner, but Suzuki is still swinging at him. Bishop backs her up into the corner, but Suzuki reverses, lighting him up with more chops, Bishop’s skin already turning a light shade of red, before Suzuki backs up, finally giving Bishop some room to breathe, and tells him to bring it! And Bishop does, walloping Suzuki with a huge forearm before wrapping her up in a headlock. Suzuki quickly brings them to the ropes, pushing Bishop off, but the champion floors her with a shoulder tackle! Bishop wipes down Suzuki and runs the ropes, picking up steam for another, but Suzuki strikes with a huge big boot! She shoves Bishop into the corner with a high placed chop, landing another in the corner before she clinches Bishop. Holding his head to her chest as she batters him with rising knees to the chest, pummeling his lungs and his torso. Once Bishop can break free and shove her back, he comes at her with forearms, slamming his arm into her jaw with rapid speed, but Suzuki fires back with a WICKED chop, dropping Bishop to a knee! Suzuki lets off more knife edge chops, keeping Bishop at bay as he tries to fight back. Usually, we see Bishop chopping the hell out of people, as he’s very heavy handed himself, but I don’t think we’ve ever seen him in this much peril, especially straight out of the gate like this, but win, lose, or draw, Jade Suzuki is making sure Bishop walks out of the arena with his chest turned into hamburger!

As the chops keep coming, Suzuki switches it up, and slaps Bishop across the face! She boots him down before putting him on the ropes, more chops, before Suzuki starts to alternate between arms, battering his jaw with forearm smashes. As Bishop’s arms begin to droop at his side, we can see his chest is already bright red and beginning to bleed, as Jade has popped some blood vessels in record time. But now, Suzuki backs up, watching Bishop struggle to get up, using the ropes, before booting him back down. She grabs the leg, drawing him away from the ropes, and she sinks into a Cobra Clutch. Going from a hard hitting slugfest to a tightly placed submission, Bishop is already struggling to breathe. We know he isn’t going tp tap out here, but there’s only so much the human body can withstand before it gives out. Bishop tries to crawl to the ropes and tries to reverse the pressure. But Suzuki rolls him onto his stomach. She releases her hold around the neck to tie up the legs, grabs Bishop’s throat, and rocks back into a Bow and Arrow stretch! One of Suzuki’s favorites, as it targets the ribs, the spine, and makes it so difficult to breathe. On a big man like Bishop, it’s a little more awkward to hold it in, but Suzuki holds it for as long as she can, and Bishop starts to fight out. He powers out of the hold and gets back to his feet, but Suzuki catches him with another ferocious chop! Bishop turns around from the force of that one, holding his bruised chest, and Suzuki nails him with a forearm to the back of the neck! She turns Bishop back around, and the champion lights her up with shots to the gut! He’s fighting back, but Suzuki lands an elbow strike! Bishop grabs her by the back of the head and rams his elbow into her face repeatedly - but Suzuki does the same! Another slugfest in the middle of Club La Vela! They’re as evenly matched here as one can get, and Suzuki breaks it up by twisting Bishop’s arm over her head, nailing him with a huge chop! Bishop goes down, but Suzuki still has a grip on his wrist. She stands above him for a moment before pushing Bishop onto his stomach and wrapping him up in an STF Camel Clutch. Tied up like this, Bishop’s got pressure on his neck down to his tailbone, with Suzuki wrenching back as deeply as she can get it- but Bishop doesn’t look hurt. He’s pissed.

Bishop’s staring daggers ahead as Suzuki wrenches back on her hold, but it’s only a matter of moments before Bishop is able to pick the two of them up, getting Suzuki off him, and nailing her with huge elbows to the face! Suzuki quickly ducks and buries him in the corner, more clinched knee strikes quickly popping off before Suzuki grabs him, spins, and tosses him into the turnbuckles with an exploder suplex! Suzuki rolls back, getting to her feet - but Bishop is right there! He turns her inside out with a HUGE Clothesline! Despite all the punishment he’s taken, Bishop is still alive and fighting! He picks Jade up and starts to pound her chest in with hard chops, lighting her up with them. Suzuki falls back to the ropes, holding her chest, before charging Bishop - but he scoops her up, planting her with a Black Hole Slam! Bishop grabs her by the throat, hoisting Suzuki off the mat, wanting to follow up with a Chokeslam, but Suzuki kicks him right on the ribs! Bishop flinches, setting Suzuki down on her feet, and Suzuki fires off one massive forearm! Knocking Bishop back, and she brings the fight back to his door step, firing off several big forearms, but Bishop throws his own back. It’s a test of soul, a test of who can hit harder, who wants it more. Suzuki is able to duck one of Bishop’s shots and slip behind him, tossing the champion with a German suplex - but Bishop gets right back up! He won’t stay down! Bishop gets back up and charges Suzuki, but she catches him with a STIFF forearm! Bishop’s momentum suddenly halts, and he falls back, body suddenly limp. But he bounces back, and CLOBBERS Suzuki with a massive Pump kick! Suzuki just about gets decapitated, and does a little flip! Bishop turns her over, hooking both legs, trying to retain!

1… 2… Kickout!

That’s arguably been Bishop’s best shot of the match so far, and it’s done one hell of a job of flooring the challenger. Now, Bishop tries to send her down to hell with a Chokeslam, but Suzuki fires off elbows to the side of the head before he can lift her this time. Once Bishop’s grip begins to falter, Suzuki breaks free and gets on Bishop’s back, locking him into a rear naked choke! She’s got it locked in deep, dead center in the ring. Bishop tries to fight it off, tries to break the grip, but he drops to a knee. The champion is fading, and fading quickly, and Suzuki releases the hold to set him up for a Gotch Style Piledriver - but Bishop scoops her up, and rams her into the turnbuckles with a Death Valley Driver! Bishop squashes Suzuki and now sends her to the ropes, scooping her up, on the rebound, and planting her with a MASSIVE Black Hole Slam! The mat shakes off that one, and Bishop drops into the cover!

1… 2… Kickout!

Lifting Suzuki up, she’s all but deadweight until Bishop shoves her back, looking for another Pump kick, but she moves! She grabs Bishop by the waist for a suplex, but Bishop elbows that off, shoving her back. Bishop charges - but Suzuki scoops him up! She’s got Bishop on her shoulders! Suzuki charges towards the corner, dumping Bishop with a HUGE Buckle Bomb! Bishop hits hard and stumbles towards the middle of the ring, all the while Suzuki hits the ropes, knocking him down with a huge big boot! Bishop’s down, and Suzuki flattens him with a senton! Suzuki covers!

1… 2… Kickout!

Sitting back on her knees, Suzuki kneels above him, picking Bishop up with a firm hand around the jaw, before slapping the ever loving shit out of him! It sounded like Bishop just got smacked by a frying pan! Holy shit! Despite how hard that hit him, a grin spreads over Bishop’s face, his eyes sparkling with the love of this brand of violence, before throwing back one hell of a forearm back at her. Suzuki responds with a stiff, heavy handed shot, and they end up battling all the way to their feet. Still going hard, putting in everything they’ve got behind these shots. Suzuki ducks a shot from Bishop and grabs the arm, reaching around for the other, and she lifts Bishop up in one fluid motion, slamming him down onto his tailbone in the next. She flattens him on his stomach, going from the Full Nelson bomb into the Rings of Saturn, and sinching it in DEEP. There’s nowhere for Bishop to go, and he’s locked inside one of the most dangerous holds in Suzuki’s arsenal, and maybe all of wrestling! Let’s not forget how many arms and shoulders have been lost to the Rings of Saturn, and with Bishop suffering an arm injury not too long ago, that makes this an even more volatile situation for the champion. But he wouldn’t be the MPW World Champion if he intended to give up. Not now, maybe not ever. Seeing there’s no easy way to get to the ropes, Bishop decides instead to maneuver his hips until his legs are under him. And With Suzuki still hanging onto his shoulders, Bishop stands up. He charges towards the corner, wanting to drive Suzuki into it, but she’s able to put her feet on the ropes and kick Bishop back, forgoing the submission to save herself. But in the end, it doesn’t matter, and Bishop jumps up and SLAMS the top of his noggin into Suzuki’s chin, rocking her with a giant headbutt! Suzuki starts to fall off the ropes when Bishop grabs her, prying her off the ropes, and tosses her with the Bishop Bomb! But Bishop drops to his knees, holding his arm. He crawls into the cover, throwing his arm across Suzuki’s chest, trying to retain!

1… 2… KICKOUT!

Picking Suzuki up, Suzuki nails him with a big forearm! Bishop stumbles back, and Suzuki waves him on, barking at him to come on before she clobbers him with another HUGE forearm! Bishop drops to the mat, and Suzuki is on him in a matter of moments. Sitting on him and holding him down so she can rain down vicious elbows, trying to beat him into submission, into giving up his title, before turning him over and locking him back into the Rear Naked Choke. If Bishop won’t stay down for three, Suzuki is going to choke him out. And choke him out she just might. Suzuki picks him up, wanting to swing Bishop into a deep body scissor, but Bishop throws her off! She scrambles back to her feet, throwing what would be a big boot at Bishop, but he moves out of the way, and rocks her with a colossal forearm! Bishop is back on his feet and raining down elbows at Suzuki. She tries to cover up, but it’s no use. Bishop chops her on the back of the neck, then nails her with a huge forearm to the base of the skull! Suzuki’s out on her feet as Bishop lifts her up, tosses her to the ropes, and plants her with a HUGE Black Hole Slam! Hand around the throat, Bishop hoists her up, and plants her with a ring shaking Chokeslam! Bishop beats his chest before lifting her up one more time, and tossing Suzuki with a huge Bishop Bomb! This is it, Bishop retains! Deep cover!

1… 2… KICKOUT!

NO! SUZUKI KICKS OUT!

Bishop springs to his feet and runs the ropes, diving into Suzuki and CLOBBERING her with a huge forearm to the back of the head! Suzuki goes down, and Bishop rolls her over, cradling her for another deep cover! Is this it?!

1… 2… 3!

“Here is your winner, and STILL MPW World Champion, JOSHUA BISHOP!”

Bishop does it! He retains!

But there’s no time to celebrate! Before Bishop can even grab the title from the referee, he’s attacked from behind by Lacey Karmens! They’re taking the fight to Bishop!

Eventually their brawl ends up on the outside platform of the ring, with Lacey beating down Bishop. They back up, charging towards him for the San Fran Bicycle knee - but Bishop scoops them up! He charges towards the railing, and tosses Lacey into the pool! Lacey’s going for a swim! They’re flopping, trying to get their footing in the water, as Bishop stands tall! And that’s all for tonight, folks! We’ll see you back in the Boardwalk Beach Resort one more time for Thunder in Paradise, next Sunday! See you then!

[deathbind]

The thing about Serot's storyline is, in a more generalized DND verse, it would realistically unfold over many months or years. He'd have time to excavate memories, reconnect with Refhremmit, reckon with Meresankh, weigh his options. He'd also most likely have a group of dedicated companions he's traveled with all this time and with whom he's bonded. There'd likely be more of a support system. Overall, it's less overwhelming for him. I mean it's still overwhelming but at least there's time to process things.

In BG3, though? The game realistically takes place over a couple months at most. Despite how much playtime you put into it, in-universe it would feel very rapid fire. Barely room to breathe. The storyline of the game is on its own overwhelming. Then Serot is contending with his personal storyline on top of that. He's also in a strange land with little support system (which is important to him). Any friends he made in Baldur's Gate beforehand are, well, in Baldur's Gate. He bonds with the companions, but they're all pretty wary initially and he knows from the start they'll be parting ways eventually when he makes for Meket. That doesn't stop him from trying to form lasting bonds; it just that he knows, from the start, he will go it alone again if they survive this.

So it's like. Of course he's not in the best headspace throughout the whole game. Of course he makes rash decisions at certain points. Of course events don't unfold neatly. Of course he feels like he's drowning for at least two thirds of the game, caught in the undertow no matter how hard he fights. Act 1 isn't so bad, but everything after the Underdark is a nightmare sequence.

[8one6]

I mentioned it before but whenever I start gearing up to run a TTRPG for my friends I put together a campaign prospectus. It's a page or so with three to five different campaign ideas that I both think would be fun to play and that I'd be willing to run.

In the past it led to some fun campaigns like the post-post (technically post-post-post) apocalyptic Fantasy Craft game where they had to find the keys to the engine keeping the world running, or the GURPS campaign that was pitched as "Non-military Stargate".

This time I've got five pitches:

Trinity's Gate - 80s cyberpunk/fantasy

The nuclear tests of the 1940s & 50s opened gates to realms beyond Earth. Wonders beyond imagination brought rapid advances in science and technology, allowed the wealthy to prosper, and caused the world to fall into corporate dystopia fueled by suffering and sorcery.

Arcanotronic cyberware, megacorps run by billionaire elves, shadows to run, and scores to settle.

This one is a little light on the description because it's going to be pretty obvious that it's store brand Shadowrun. Most of the players enjoy the various flavors of cyberpunk and I think adding portals to fantasy worlds offers a lot of hooks for the players and for running it. Also making the tech explicitly magic powered means I can go as chrome and neon mirrorshades as I want.

Blood Red Planet - 90s action/horror

The Face of Cydonia was real. Beneath the 10 million year old ruins of the Red Planet the first explorers found strange artifacts that kicked off a 21st century gold rush. You live and work in Muskberg, one of the half dozen cities on Mars, living the normal lives of service workers, corporate drones, or security guards when one day all hell literally breaks loose. Now monsters tear through the aging habitats and leaky domes, strange energies mutate your fellow citizens, and the only way off the planet is through the heart of the ruins. You'll need your wits, some luck, and the biggest fucking gun you can carry to escape from a planet stained blood red.

This is "What if Doom and Total Recall had a baby?" and I'm not even going to pretend it's not. It would likely be a shorter campaign mostly due to there being a pretty firm end goal of either stopping the invasion of Mars or getting off the planet.

Aaron's Troubleshooters - space adventure

Freelance problem-solving you can trust! Courier service, private investigation, security consulting, defense contracting, emergency extractions, resource scouting, and birthday parties. No job is too big. Founded by the child of the former owner/CEO of Aaron-Starjet Astroneering (And Aaron's Errands package delivery), the Troubleshooters have fallen on hard times. You are the crew of the company's last starship, the cryptid-class Chupacabra. Your mission is to take any job worth more than the fuel cost to get there, pay off your debts, save the company, and maybe solve a galactic crisis or two while doing it.

This one is a bit of the opposite. It's an open ended sandbox. The players get a ship and a goal to wipe out their mountain of debt. Also the name is 100% because Aaron sounds like errand and I thought the pun works.

Spears & Spirits - Animal empowered cavemen vs demons of shadow and bronze

You know the rituals to absorb a creature's spirit and take its power and strength for your own. You know how to make stone and claws, wood and bone, fangs and flesh, into tools and weapons for yourself, your band of warriors, and your tribe. You know how to tame flame and turn back the darkest night.

Something evil now encroaches upon the lands of three rivers. Creeping from the depths of dark fire mountain a new threat has arisen, monsters armed with strange, gleaming weapons and commanding the forbidden dark flame.

Think fantasy Far Cry: Primal. The players gain the powers of creatures they hunt (like wolves, cave bears, dragons, etc) and use them to fight the armies of invading demons. I was looking for an idea that wasn't just standard fantasy and I had the idea that stone age vs bronze age (but with magic) would be neat.

Hench-Monsters in the Dimension of Dungeons - Monster dungeoneering

Hench-Monsters: name for the many creatures spawned in endless hordes by the Mother Dungeon, a near limitless expanse of always, mazes, chambers, corridors, caves, and caverns.

Known to the outsiders as the Dimension of Dungeons, the outsiders come seeking treasures, power, and the glory of defeating the Dread-Boss at the heart of every subdomain.

You were a Hench-Monster until something awoke within you. Perhaps by random chance or a gift imbued by the Mother Dungeon herself, it is a spark of greatness, a spark of awareness, and unfortunately for you, a spark that has severed you from the Grand Cycle of battle and rebirth. Without that you are as much an outsider to the other dungeon denizens as any Elf or Human.

By scavenged sword, by tooth and claw, by wits and cunning you fight and survive. Will you carve your own kingdom from the dungeon walls, will you seek the outsider gates and the realms beyond, or will you brave the perils to seek the secrets of Mother Dungeon herself?

Simple idea: what if you played the monsters in the dungeon? The setting is basically the dungeon from Danmachi and the players would use the species creation rules from the Genesys RPGs Keyforge book to build their characters.

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All of these are pitches for a Genesys RPG game because right now it's my favorite generic/universal system (no one wants to play anything goes GURPS for some reason). We've got access to all of the published materials and it's got some decent support on Drivethrurpg.

Once we can get together to discuss what sounds good for the group I'll know which pitch they like and can begin camping prep.

[marvelslegacies]

Noah & Cass | Superior | Past Paragraph

As Noah, Akimi, and Harvard all gathered expectantly outside a large stone wall with a metal gate at its great center, Noah couldn’t help but make small talk. Akimi was a young, thin-framed girl with a slender face, her pin-straight black hair was bent into unnatural waves and her eyes remained narrow the whole time she scowled, as if she felt a suspicion about everything around her. Harvard was a broad-shouldered young man with bleach blonde hair and startling blue eyes which seemed to glow against his pale white skin. Akimi appeared Asian and something else, Harvard might have been Norwegian for all Noah knew.

The three had met once before in a government building which held an exam room. There the three and a handful of others had completed a strange written exam with questions pertaining to hand-to-hand combat, usage of weapons, and a written portion with all prompts relating to using one’s own body as a weapon. Noah could see that of the group, he and Akimi and Harvard were the only three to answer the final question correctly, and locate the next checkpoint: this place. This spot in front of this giant, ambiguous building which was marked by no signs. Just an unknown corporation’s physical presence with no useful information attached.

“I guess we’re the chosen ones.” Noah said, spreading his arms welcomingly as the other two gathered at the gate.

“There will most likely only be one final person.” Akimi informed him sharply.

Noah rolled his eyes but held onto her comment in his mind.

“What I heard is it’s like a master class, so there’ll probably be more than one.” Harvard countered calmly, examining the gate.

Noah wondered what he wrote about on his exam. How did Harvard weaponize himself? If it were with intellect, Noah had a reason to view him as a threat. And Akimi… he considered, he knew she had extra, alien-like appendages that could protrude from her sides. She could adhere to any wall, climb over or under anything. And they were so strong, so agile. Deadly and pointed. Noah decided he would pay special attention to Akimi, as she stood out as the stronger of the three.

“Look, guys, we form a secret alliance now and whoever else we face in there-” Noah started, easily riling himself up- “Shut up.” Akimi spat with rapid fire speed.

Noah obeyed.

Harvard held back a chuckle.

“The gate should open soon. It’s nearly mid-day.” Harvard told them thoughtfully, “At the end of the equation there was a number for the 1200. I assume it simply meant noon.”

Akimi and Noah exchanged glances, Noah looked confused because his solution to the final equation, the one regarding the location of this check point, did not offer up a 1200 at any point. Akimi looked irked that Noah was giving her such a stupid-looking face.

“How- How did you come up with 1200?” Noah asked Harvard seriously.

Harvard cocked his head, looking shocked, “How did you know to come here if you didn’t solve the equation correctly?”

Akimi huffed in a mocking way.

Noah felt hurt, but held this feeling back, and blinked nervously. Finally, he spilled out, “Obviously I got partial credit. I showed up here like the two of you, didn’t I?”

Akimi rolled her eyes this time and she and Harvard remained silent for several minutes. Even Noah consented to the comfortable silence for a time.

“What if Akimi’s right and we three have to fight to the death?” Noah offered up as quickly as the thought occurred to him.

Akimi sighed an irritated sigh and said nothing.

Harvard shook his head disapprovingly. “This is not Ultimate Fighter or Mortal Kombat. We all made it to the final selection. After all this, it’s probably just a standard job interview.” Harvard examined his fingernails for a moment then tossed his gaze to the sky, bored.

A creak of the gate roused the three and they stepped back for the gate to swing itself open, creeping slowly.

The three looked at each other as there was no one there to greet them. Definitely, they filed inside.

Once inside the gates, Noah noticed the lawn was pointedly filled with pure black statues of people with beautiful, natural bodies. All naked.

“Very Greco-Roman,” Noah commented, staring pointedly at a tiny sculpture of a penis.

“Let’s go.” Harvard said, shouldering Noah from behind and pushing onward.

Noah rubbed his shoulder but said nothing and moved forwards after Harvard and Akimi, who was several paces ahead. She clearly had not been distracted by any of the lawn ornaments. No matter how lavish.

“The building itself had an open space the size of a garage door, with a thin layer of purple light forming a translucent wall of force, protecting the opening in some way.

Noah looked at what had to be hundreds of years of scientific research and billions of dollars in funding. “Well, how can you say there is no God where there are bonafide, man-made force fields.” he stared bemusedly at the twinge of purple and found his eyes chasing that color further and further into his periphery.

Gently, he raised up a hand and pressed slowly up against the force field. It repelled his natural movement and sent out unseen, unheard electronic pulses into his fingers and palm. They shot painfully down to the bones past his wrist.

Noah pulled his hand away and wrung it out.

“Hey guys. Don’t forget our alliance.” he hissed at Akimi and Harvard as two figures made their way from within the building towards its only opening.

“You have arrived.” An animatronic voice announced over a loudspeaker.

The purple faded away inaudibly with its force field.

“Whoa.” Noah said to himself in a low tone.

“Welcome, welcome.” said a deep baritone voice. It belonged to a man who stood well over 6 feet tall. Next to this behemoth of a man was an older-looking Asian man with round glasses and all black attire.

“Father.” Akimi spat with malice, causing Noah and Harvard’s heads to swivel towards her.

“It was you this whole time.” she accused.

The Asian man raised up his hand and received dutiful silence from Akimi, though she fumed and teethed with rage.

“I kept the truth from you because you must learn it on your own. There are secrets in secret societies.”

Akimi said nothing, her eyes caught in a dagger glare at her father.

The larger man spoke again, addressing the three of them, “Congratulations. You have been selected as extraordinary individuals for The Academy. The three of you have succeeded in many trials in order to arrive here today, but this is just the beginning.” He pulled in a quiet breath and continued, “Here, you will enter a world in which violent power comes with respect,” a pause, “and opposition. We offer you the highest level of training with and without weapons as well as specialized training for each of your unique, individual… talents.” His eyes fell on Noah. “Here you will be ranked in terms of most dangerous, most deadly. If you accept this offer, we will turn you from human beings… into powerful tools which you may then use to change the world in the way you see fit. Because, although you are not all mutants…” Noah felt another surge of confusion. Akimi was a mutant and he was a mutant. Was Harvard not a mutant?

“...You three are extraordinary individuals. You have been determined: Superior.”

Paperwork followed, medical tests followed, experiments followed. Gut wrenching, excruciating training followed. 

Soon after, some few weeks had passed, another group of ‘extraordinary individuals’ made it successfully to The Academy. A pink-haired girl who couldn’t stop smiling, a thin man with a sharp nose and shaggy brown hair, and a brown-skinned boy with tight curls and hazel eyes. They were brought in by Akimi’s father, Poe, unintroduced and left to mingle with Noah and Akimi and Harvard in their barracks-like dorm room.

“Is this legal?” the boy with hazel eyes said. He looked to be the youngest, about 15, maybe 16.

“Can’t be.” The pink-haired girl piped up cheerily, still smirking at everyone.

The third said nothing. So Noah filled in the empty space with words, and eventually, the six of them got slightly more comfortable with each other.

Training followed, tests followed, sparring sessions followed. Slowly they were being introduced to each other in combat. Noah would spar with Akimi and whenever she grappled him with her strong alien-like arms, he whispered sweet nothings to her, flirting blatantly. Akimi hated this, and fought him harder each time.

Noah could easily overtake Harvard if he were allowed to use his powers, but in the beginning, because Harvard was not a mutant, Noah was disallowed the use of his powers, and had succumbed to Harvard’s might many a time.

Ruki, the pink-haired girl, was quick on her feet and could apparently see and predict every move her opponent would make. She said she could see a path in front of her, and if she strayed from the path, she would be hurt. As long as she stayed on the path before her, no force on Heaven or Earth could harm her.

Noah had never faced Cass in combat after 6 weeks of brutal training. He wondered why the two had not yet been matched together to fight. Cass and Akimi had sparred, and so had Cass and Harvard. Cass had earned both of their respects in these battles. And had even gotten Akimi’s sparse attention. This made Noah grow hot with jealousy. And he prayed for the day he would finally face Cass in battle. How did he get her to like him? How could Noah win back Akimi’s affection? Perhaps the answer was through battle. Noah wasn’t sure.

Still, Noah and Akimi grew closer with time, and developed a friendship. She even changed her sleeping arrangements so as to be closer to Noah’s bunk. Cass and Akimi kept their distance from each other most of the time. But sometimes the two would meet in secret and disappear together. Cass could teleport, one of his many tricks, and the two had the pleasure of coming and going from the Academy completely undetected. Noah relished the thought of slipping away in secret with one he could trust.

As the weeks turned to months, Harvard and Ruki grew restless and longed to leave the Academy behind. They began to question Poe periodically, probing him for information, about how to leave or disengage from the Academy or if there is a graduation date of sorts. Poe gave sparingly what he knew and he feigned to know very little as well. He was hard to crack, and when the two approached Akimi about her father she simply shook her head, eyes closed and face resolved. She knew well that he would not give away anything he did not wish them to know.

As their time passed, the lessons became more grueling and tedious. The level of difficulty never ceased to rise. Harvard, especially had grown stronger and had near impossible human strength. Noah had developed some control especially with his mastery of the elements: water and air. He also had become more connected to the earth, allowing him to bend the element to his will with greater ease. Akimi never used her powers outside of combat, she seemed to long for normalcy although she clearly could not attain it. Ruki never faltered but improved the least. Her ability came so naturally, there was no skill to hone, it was simply her body’s intrinsic reaction. The curly haired boy with hazel eyes, called Sovereign, grew sullen gradually. He withdrew and spoke very little, some days not at all. As the six approached their next set of trials, they found the air had a tinge of finality to it.