#fateless are the fateful

[marshy-mallow-art]

Commission for @wintryethereal !

Thank you for commissioning me <3

[starwriterulia]

Presenting Prifim Osmone from Fateless are the Fateful!

Art by the wonderful and talented @freaky-chips once again, who went beyond what I described at first (there was no design described on the notes, as Prifim, like most of the FatF original trolls, didn't God Tier, or even play SGRUB!), so now Prifim's shirt has two paws instead of panther claws! Fancy! If you like what you see, go and commission her!

Prifim Osmone

He/him, olive

Relationships: 

Gadroin Cudzak - moirail with benefits

Haadra Alyeke, Vonseu Trigex, Zhedax Druyem, Razocc Ostard, Dinsea Eemqos, Stonvai Evralo, Cielka Ishema, Eridan Ampora, Feferi Peixes - friendly terms

Ilmurk Crusia - friendly terms, former

Biography

Prifim’s stomach was sliced and eaten by Ilmurk in Ilmurk’s hive on an unknown date, Prifim unprepared for Ilmurk’s sudden attack and unprotected by Gadroin who had just been amputated by four animatronics, Prifim having expected an animatronic to attack him instead.

Prifim was gifted a red string bracelet with an olive green panther pendant by Gadroin during their moirallegiance. This bracelet is one of the first two Troll Treasures Fawn and her friends find in the Stone Burrows, and is infused with Prifim’s soul Remnant, allowing Prifim to request to speak and act through the wearer of the necklace. Can be destroyed with fire.

CHARACTER APPEARANCE NOTES

Heart shape faced (with a small, droopy nose)

His lusus, Puerum (child in Latin), is an olive Panther.

His horns are two clawed shaped horns bunched together, facing outwards.

He has very short hair that wraps around the back of his horns and protrudes in two parts horizontally like whiskers.

He wears a spaghetti strap tank top the colour of his blood with a white outline of a panther paw on each chest, dark grey jeans and dark grey flat ankle boots, and his white socks peak out.

[starwriterulia]

ART. that is what i made you do.

i'm posting Fateless are the Fateful tomorrow plus a "dave strider fucking suffers" fic, both on here and Ao3 :p

what the fuck did you make me do @wintryethereal

[malglories]

“They never noted the date. He said to Morgan, I don’t mind. I don’t have a natal chart. So I don’t have a fate.”

— Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall

[scribblertown]

Fates of the Fateless Masterlist

A time travel Arthur Morgan x Reader Romance (Ongoing)

Browsing the many articles and advertisements that described an incredibly dated way of life. And as much as you tried to convince yourself of all the excuses to explain your twisted journey up to this point. The number 1891 burned in your mind with a sickly feeling this wasn’t any sort of rural community.

All our fates are intertwined, but it seems yours needed a slight shift several hundred years into the past. A time travel romance Inspired by "A Single Frayed Rope" by thejamesoldier

Updates are sporadic due to school, work, and cycling hyperfixations.

ao3 wattpad

This story is mature so obviously expect mature themes.

TW: Sexual assault, sexism, misogyny, attempted rape/non-con, violence against women, graphic depictions of violence/corpses/gore, verbal abuse, physical abuse, implications of rape/non-con, implied/referenced suicide, thoughts of suicide (will add to as needed).

Chapter 1: A Slight Shift

Chapter 2: First impressions Matter

Chapter 3: But Second Impressions are What Really Matter

Chapter 4: Suspicions in Sarsaparilla

Chapter 5: A Broken Mystery (Camp Interaction)

Chapter 6: New Faces New Places and a Horse

Chapter 7: Idle Gossips (Camp Interaction)

Chapter 8: Welcome Party, Unwelcome Discovery

Chapter 9: Outlaw's Staple (Camp Interaction)

Chapter 10: Service with a Grimace

Chapter 11: Got some Dirt in your Eye (TW)

[scytheral]

could the trustee of the damned get titles related to breaking fate or not having a fate / being lost ?

The angelic Serpent hopes That these Are merry. && Apologies if These seem To restrain From your Prompts essences. 🖤

︵︵︵ㅤBreaking FateㅤﾉㅤFatelessㅤﾉㅤBeing Lost related Titlesㅤ;ㅤㅤㅤThe starless One.ㅤThe adrift Fortuity.ㅤThe defecit of Kismet.ㅤThe strayed Stars.ㅤThe kismet Nemesis.ㅤThe ones aboves erroneous Will.ㅤThe misconceived Dignity.ㅤOne of Incredulity.ㅤOne destined with a Death Warrant.ㅤOne fated across Unrecalls.ㅤOnes misled Allocate.ㅤVe dissipating ver Potion.ㅤVer loss / devoid of the astral Influence.ㅤVer forfeiture Destiny.

01 : Any of These may Be altered in Any way one Would like.

02 : Pronouns may Be swapped With anything.

[jackattack20writes]

because Fate/Stay Night clawed it's way forward in my Rolodex of interests over the last month (yes I'm mixing metaphors no I don't care) I wanted to make a friendly PSA to any IchiRuki fans that you should also try Shirou/Saber.

Like IchiRuki it also has canonically linked nicknames with Saber being the sword and Shirou the scabbard, then it also has the male’s motivation shifting from protecting people to wanting to see the Girl smile.

It also has seemingly normal boy who knows there's another world then is forcibly dragged in by a girl promising her power to him. They're also both urban fantasy series set in the early 2000s.and they both motivate the other to be better because of who they are in their hearts.

[virune]

scourge never believed that he could be happy.

after all, fate hadn't exactly been cordial with him. growing up without a mother, and also without a father, in some ways - not physically, but lacking the warmth and closeness he yearned for as his father ruled over the land, scourge had grown up deciding that he was worthless. that he was nothing.

this nothingness festered inside him. from young, quilling hoglet to scarred and snaggletoothed adult, fate had told him that he was nothing more than the villain, the evil counterpart to some perfect, adored hero, and scourge played the role, for he thought himself undeserving of anything else.

it was when he met mighty, then, that suddenly his fate seemed so strange, so questionable in its certainty, that scourge began to doubt. began to question. they did not get along at first - understandably so, as mighty was one of the good guys; not like scourge, who was a brute, a thug, a bad guy. but he could not stop his thoughts. could not temper his newfound attraction to someone so hopelessly unattainable to him that it hurt.

scourge ruminated far too many times on the way his reality had shifted since that day. when everything had seemed so sure, so set in place for him, the actor on his stage, the king on his throne, that the moment the curtains were drawn and his identity cast askew that scourge felt lost. directionless. fateless.

what was he to do, then? suddenly, giving in to his broken spirit and falling into the motions of a villain were no longer appealing. suddenly, his broken spirit had started to piece itself back together, somehow, when he wasn't paying attention. when all of his attention was on mighty.

so he stopped. stopped hurting, stopped conniving. stopped acting. he didn't want this life anymore. fate be damned. scourge wanted something else for himself. he wanted what the heroes had; trust, respect, acceptance. affection.

he was lonely. he wanted affection.

it didn't happen all at once, of course - it took time for him to convince the hero that he wanted something better for himself. wanted to be better. sonic wasn't immediately convinced, but if scourge knew anything about sonic, and he should, since they were two sides of the same coin, then he knew that sonic would give him a chance. even sonic's greatest enemy had gotten that.

scourge tried. tried the best he could. he wasn't used to it, this new way of life, but he tried. he knew he wouldn't flourish the way he wanted if he stayed where he was, so he left. inconspicuously, when everybody's backs were turned, he swiped the warp ring he needed and ran away to the prime dimension. he looked for mighty.

mighty was a pacifist, scourge had learned. stronger than anyone he'd ever met, but didn't like to fight. a year ago, scourge wouldn't have been able to understand it, but now he had a lot of respect for a guy who stuck to his principles. after all, scourge did that once, too. except his own principles didn't fit him. not really. his own principles had been like thorns digging into his skin, and he'd been running around like that was perfectly acceptable.

not anymore. scourge was ready to rip out those thorns and begin to heal.

[thesaddhatter]

Lost From Light: pursues fatelessness

Fate: heh, you will never succeed! just like every version of yourself hasn't, your no different

Lost From Light about to have his soul scraped by a bastard bird:

Fate:

Lost From Light, in indescribable pain:

Fate: WHERE TF ARE YOU!!!!???

Sunny after deciding to make the coffee shop aus canon before anyone else can make fanfiction: :)

[tutchando74]

What are the fears of all your characters, including the ones from your original works

Split Drones

J: Becoming like N.

Eldritch: Death.

N: NX.

NX: Don't even know what that is.

V: Nothing really scares me.

Uzi: My life.

Doll: Не имея возможности что-либо сделать.

Lizzy: Being in danger alone.

Thad: Nothing.

Rebecca: Being away from N.

Nori: Hurting my daughter.Yeva: Теряю себя.

Khan: Alir izivcxlmrk mw yrhiv qc gsrxvsp, M lezi rsxlmrk xs jiev.

Tessa: This uneasy feeling I have.

Cyn: Nothing.

CYN?: Fear?

IT: 01000110 01100101 01100001 01110010 00111111

Headache

C.O.M: What is there to fear?

Humanity

Human: I lost all my fears in the crash.

Uzi: Losing N.

N: Losing my friends.

V: Nothing.

J: Losing Tessa.

Tessa: Don't remember anything.

H: Nothing.

I: IDK.

S: Living.

Domuz Eti: Someone as mighty as I am would never fear anything.

Cursed Ownership

N-0body: Nothing.

Uzi: My dad.

Doll: Khan.

Yeva: Khan.

Khan: Failing Nori.

Mechal: Failing the church.

D: Losing to those damn zombies.

C: We don't need to fear.

F: What's fear?

A: I can't fear anything, that's against the company.

Test Drones

N: The company.

U: M.

H: N.

Test 0: ...

Marks

N: My brother.

J: What the company plans.

V: Nothing.

Rescue Drones

N: Being useless.

θ: Places with too many people, they remember of... some times.

Ω: Urrgh (Touching)

Frainkebot

N-o: Everything about me.

An Error Ocurred to the Virus

Deleted: [Deleted]

Java: Speaking.

Error: Not doing anything.

String: Nothing that I can rememver.

Push: Losing them.

Code: Missdjuge someone.

Script: Looking too much to the abysm.

💣︎♓︎⬧︎⧫︎♋︎🙵♏︎: Staying here.

Human: Their little plan completing.

AU'sed

___: ...

Grafitti: Losing my brother.

Painter: Letting them suffer what I did.

After Dream

Dreamer: Myself.

Nightmare: Dream.

Blind Happines

Flowey: Those freaks.

Napstablook: What happened to my cousin.

Momma: Not receiving happines from our savior.

Shivers: Not receiving happines from our savior.

Leader: Not receiving happines from our savior.

Hot: Not receiving happines from our savior.

Protector: Not receiving happines from our savior.

Mind: Not receiving happines from our savior.

Messenger: Not receiving happines from our savior.

Seller: Not receiving happines from our savior.

Him: Not receiving happines from our savior.

Nature's tale

Shroom: I can't feel.

All Father: Nature dying.

All Mother: Nature dying.

Frisk: Death.

Chara: The monsters, the ones in the forest and the ones in my home.

Nature's Will: Mature dying.

Natural Frisk: Nature dying.

Tales from the war

Determined: They.

Patiencent: Time.

Brave: I can't fear anything.

Integrated: Not seeing the full picture.

Persevere: Giving up.

Kind: Not helping those poor souls.

Just: Being wrong on my judgement.

Asgore: Failing everyone.

Toriel: Being unable to protect my kingdom.

Gerson: Not doing my job.

Gaster: The humans power.

They: *Inaudible*

Reality Falls

Pines: What is beyond.

Star: Losing my brother.

The Amazing Fate of Gumball

Fateless Cat: I lost all my fears when I lost my fate.

Monkey wars

Primary: The militars.

Militar: Losing power.

Magic: Losing the forest.

Support: The other 3 groups.

Inicio

YHWA: ...

Devil: I fear myself and YHWA.

Miguel: Nothing.

Gabriel: Nothing scares me as I tell everything.

Uriel: Nothing.

Samuel: YHWA's granted me the miracle of leading his army, I shall not fear even the Devil itself.

Rafael: I fear my fear of YHWA getting hurt, since that's a lack of belief on my part.

Jofiel: I shall not fear, since that's what the Devil created.

Zadkiel: My lack of respect in my deepest thoughts.

Avarice: Emptiness

Gluttony: Nothing to eat.

Envy: I envy fear, since everyone has it, but everyone has me too.

Anger: AAAAAAAAARGRHRAAAAAAAA *In whispers*

Lust: Ooooh, I LOVE fear!

Laziness: ...

Pride: I don't feel fear.

Adam: Not being me.

Eve: The end.

Lilith: Telling stories.

Death: Nothing.

Judgement: Hospitality's lack of judgement.

Hospitality: Judgement being wrong.

History Teller: Your twisted minds hehehe.

Loop

Blue: Something I don't know.

Red: Purple fiding a way to end me.

Purple: Losing to Red.

White: ...

Master: It.

Layers of Hopelesness

Medic: This world. This dammed world.

Brzilian legends

Enzo: Bandeirantes.

Gabriel: Mapinguari.

Maria: Boto Cor de Rosa.

Meaning

I: What is fear if not something our mind makes us feel in preparation for something. Or is it?

Cicle of the Broken

Bovic: Craoline, she's unpredictable.

Craoline: Bovic, he's too smart.

Angelic Blood

Blood angel: God.

Kindergaten Nightmares

Cloudy: Losing money.

Dirty: Adults.

Sunny: Cold.

Flowy: If my meds end.

Watery: What they do.

Kid: Getting caught by them.

My myself:

Me: Losing myself in this madness.

Why?

Me: My lack of purpose. Why do I care. People have their purpose. Why do I care, My lack of purpose.

Narrated

Narrator: It.

Character: Continuing in this narrative.

Devilish journey

Devil: Humans and their little shit thoughts.

[starwriterulia]

Presenting Haadra Alyeke from Fateless are the Fateful!

Art by the wonderful and talented @freaky-chips . If you like what you see, go check out her commission page.

Haadra Alyeke

She/her, burgundy

Title: Page of Light [The Light Aspect - Dahni, Tumblr]

Zodiac: Arpio, The Seeker

Age: 6.9 Sweeps (15 Earth years)

Relationships:

Ilmurk Crusia - matesprit

Vonseu Trigex, Zhedax Druyem, Razocc Ostard, Prifim Osmone, Dinsea Eemqos, Stonvai Evralo, Cielka Ishema, Gadroin Cudzak, Eridan Ampora, Feferi Peixes - friendly terms

Biography

Was gifted a red string necklace with a ruddy shelduck pendant by Ilmurk during their matespritship. This necklace is the last Troll Treasure Fawn and her friends find in the Stone Burrows, and is infused with Haadra’s soul Remnant, allowing Haadra to request to speak and act through the wearer of the necklace. Can be destroyed with fire.

CHARACTER APPEARANCE NOTES

Round faced (with a bulbous nose) 

Her lusus, Quaadckr (quAd-khr, cracker but you start saying it like ‘quack’)  is a ruddy shelduck. 

Her horns look like the duck's bill turned upwards. 

She wears her hair, which goes over her shoulders, to the side and has a "duck tail" style to it (interpret it using the reference picture). 

She wears a specific black halter (pic 2) with Arpio (pic 3) on the stomach, burgundy pyjama pants with a black stripe on the thighs, cuffs and waistband, and is always barefoot (like Ilmurk lol)

[creaturefeaster]

Ooh, now I’m intrigued… Could you get into Atrox’s lore? /nf

☁️

Atrox is in that range of color where things get weird and unstable. He is very weak, as I previously stated, and because he's so far off into the more "impossible" side of hues, he doesn't have close contact with a lot of the other mimes until he arrives in the physical plane. He was somewhat isolated, if that makes sense.

He was somewhat indifferent to the idea of coming into reality, because he felt safer sticking to what he knew. But, everyone he ever knew was occupied jumping ship, and he didn't want to feel even more alone. So down he went with Calamea, that situation also previously explained.

Atrox, as one of the most unstable mimes on the spectrum, has this pretty unique thing about him, a trait he shares with only one other character in the cast-- it's that he is unaffected by the tides of fate. There is nothing persuasion can do to him, and he is not tethered to a specific fate like most people are. On it's own this probably sounds flashy, but insignificant. However, because of this, he cannot be doomed for doing things that "controllers of fate"* don't like.

*Those who harbor the power of Persuasion, who can alter fate through a magical force that... well, persuades things to happen!! And the people who can control this are generally very aware of things that can/will seriously fuck up the continuum. So if they're faced with someone who is unaffected by their magic, seriously fucking up something that is fated to happen, there is no way of stopping them. Short of just outright killing them, I guess? But that can be a drastic solution depending on the circumstances, so these Persuasion users prefer to stick their expertise.

Anyway, Atrox is fateless and learns pretty early on of some dire, dire straits in the works. Terrible things that are meant to happen, and if anyone involved in this fate were to know about it, it would alter reality. But there's no telling if that's for better or worse, and there are people on both sides of persuasion-- those who want things to turn out well and those who want it to stay terrible. This gets Atrox shoehorned into a game of capture the flag, where he's the flag.

He is pulled around a bunch into the hold of many different people, he is lied to and made to feel confused and unsure about everything, he is threatened, and so on and so forth. It's really unfortunate. Because of this he is too afraid to speak on some of the most serious things that go on in the story, and prefers to stay out of everything, as much as he can.

He finds friends though, to help him through his woes and come to his aid when he is in danger. So a lot of his story revolves around a balance between his struggles, and his healing & coping. At least, that's what I've always hoped to achieve for him.

[allknowingofnir]

What is the meaning of life, All-Knowing One?

"It is both objective in that it seeks to propagate itself to its fullest extent, and subjective in that we determine our own fates, save we fateless Tarnished tossed to the wolves in dogged pursuit of the Throne."

[synesindri]

hey do you think gabriel skipped out on heaven in part to avoid his own destiny (as he understood his destiny at the time) — to go from being backup to his brothers' destinies in a way he didn't want to be, to being fateless

do you think he set himself up as loki, fated to be instrumental to ragnarok, on purpose, to mirror lucifer (just ignore for a moment that a lot of the mythology is christianized and so the mythological lucifer//loki parallels probably aren't entirely coincidental)

do you think he understood what it felt like to be lucifer because of that. to know the impending chaos, destruction, and downfall of the universe as you know it is going to be largely because of you. and to bear the blame for that. do you think he got it more than any other angel could, whether or not he believed ragnarok was going to happen as foretold, whether or not he was loki for real or just carrying the name, because everyone treated him like he was going to be to blame for that regardless. do you think he did it on purpose. do you think he thought about it much

[scribblertown]

Fates of the Fateless Ch. 8: Welcome Party, Unwelcome Discovery

ao3

wattpad

“Hey can I read that when you’re done?” You call out to Tilly, depositing another bale of hay for the horses. She was hanging out with you on the outskirts of camp, near one of the extra campfires, the smaller one away from everyone else.

“Sure.” Her eyes never leaving the pages. Her brows furrowed slightly and concentrated like a laser.

“Anything interesting?” You can’t help but ask.

“Well do you wanna read it or do you want me to just tell you?” she replies with a sarcastic tone.

“Hey kid, respect your elders.” You shake your finger at her jokingly. Which immediately made your brain hurt to think she should be telling you that. “I’m just bored, if you couldn’t tell.”

Her eyes scan to you and then the horses. “How goes the riding?”

“I can get on and off. Make ‘em stop and go. Not sure what else I need to know.”

“You keep it up, you’ll make headlines as the first woman horse jockey!” Tilly says with a bit of a sarcastic whimsy.

“That’ll be the day.” You approach your training horse, the one with black and white splotches. Even if he was a bit of a trouble maker, you didn’t have the heart to take on a different horse. “What’s his name?” you ask Tilly, brushing the slope of his back. Dust and hair flying off into the air.

“The horse?”

“Yeah, does he have a name?”

“Mmm… I think some of the boys call him Big Enough.”

Your eyebrows raise and your face morphs into one of disbelief. “Big Enough? That’s not a real name.”

“I didn’t choose it.” She side-eyes the two of you. “Would you prefer, Could Be Bigger?” you chuckle at her quick wit.

“No, I think Little Shit would be perfectly ironic.”

“He’s a Big Shit is what he is.”

“No, that title goes to Samson.” You both laugh.

Your laughs pitter down and your focus slips to the deep slope of Big Enough’s back. Mind wandering to the man in question.

“Has he… Has Samson done anything to you?” You ask with a bit of hesitancy.

“No, I think he’s too scared of me.” Her eyes crinkle with mischief and a smirk on her lips. It falls away when she sees the concerned look on your face. “Why do you ask?” She tilts her head and her eyes widen a fraction bigger. She lifts herself from her spot quickly, hands finding your shoulders, big brown eyes peering into yours. “Has he touched you?! I swear if he did anything, the boys’ll have him strung up like a pig!”

You shake your head, forcing a smile and a soft laugh, patting her little fingers that grip the fibers of your blouse firmly. “I just wanted to know you’re ok!” You curl your own digits around hers as you hold her gaze. “But… I mean other than just Samson. Have any of the men treated you…. Have any them hurt you?”

She ponders your question, eyes softening and a breath of air pushes out of her nose. “Never.”

“Good.” You breathe out with a smile, “I’m happy to hear that.” She squeezes your hand before letting go, grabbing the newspaper and depositing it into your hands.

The two of you jump slightly as a shriek, like that of a banshee is let out. Calling Tilly’s name.

“But if there’s one person I’m afraid of, it’s Miss Grimshaw.” Tilly takes a peek over her shoulder; your eyes follow to see said woman stomping around down below in camp with a scowl and marching with vigor. You see Joseph scramble to get out of her way, nearly dumping his breakfast all over Mr. Abadiano in the process.

Another shriek rings out into the air.

“How come she’s got a vendetta out against me recently? Haven’t heard her barking for you the past couple weeks!” Tilly eyes you suspiciously, arms crossed with a stink eye.

“Clearly I’m her new favorite.”

“Hmph! Must be, that or I pissed her off real good.” Tilly slips behind you towards the horses, quick to saddle up on her own. “Do me a favor, pretend you didn’t see me.”

“See ya.” Sitting down under a somewhat shady spot, newspaper in hand. Your eyes drift up to the date in the corner.

July 19, 1891

Not sure what I was expecting… the date’s still the same.

The news itself didn’t exactly stand out to you either. Nothing all that interesting. Something about politics, tidbits of history you don’t ever remember being taught. Likely because it was so mundane and easily overshadowed when compared to the World Wars.

Holy shit, that would be coming up in a matter of years…

Holy shit! You’d be alive to see some of the worst and best history has to offer.

Could I prevent such a thing? Could I prevent a lot of things?

You envision a version of yourself standing on a podium, preaching to the masses on how they can save themselves and their children from a terrible fate. Only to likely and without a doubt be assassinated for being a crazed woman speaking above her station.

Not to mention how dependent you’d be on the outcomes of history not going askew all because of your involvement. Even now, just being here existing where you shouldn’t exist; Could that be affecting the future?

Or… Or have you always been sent back to this time? Was this predetermined?

“Nope. Nope. We’re not going down that rabbit hole.” Shaking your head, forcing your focus on the paper. Only to fall onto a very blatant cutout.

“What the hell?” You mutter annoyed. As you gaze through the little peep hole, a body is seen approaching.

“Heey if it isn’t our little stowaway!” Swaggering over to you was none other than the infamous Uncle. A mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Whatchu’ doin’ out here all by your lonesome?”

“Cherishing my solitude.” You deadpan at him.

“Well, you can be a hermit later, we got a party prepare for!”

“A party?”

“Don’t get to celebrate too often, convinced Dutch and the boys to let us have some fun! Oh uh Pearson’s gonna need some help preppin’ the grub. And uh you still got that 10 bucks on ya?”

You nod at him silently.

“Great! Be seein’ ya at the poker table!”

As his body descends a familiar bulbous head of graying hair comes into view, Grimshaw giving Uncle a stern look before spotting you.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to do. Come on then, there’s work to be done!” 

You’d think for a party there’d be a switch up on food. Maybe something a bit more indulgent or at the very least different. But no, it was the same old mystery meat stew with a side of stale rock hard bread and hot coffee to wash it down. That or alcohol. The stuff practically appeared out of thin air. Whiskey, beer, and something that smelled like straight up rubbing alcohol.

And it went FAST.

Forcing you to bring out a new crate to the table, nearly dumping the whole thing at the sight of a certain someone taking a generous swig.

“Hey wow wow!” Closing the distance with a stark leap, you nearly spill the whole bottle down Tilly’s front yanking it out of her grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?” Hand on your hip and a stern eye. She just gives you a stern eye back.

“Enjoying myself, what do you think?”

“I’m thinking you aren’t old enough to drink!” Her face contorts into one of absolute confusion.

“What are ye talkin’ about, ye daft woman?” William scoffs.

Everyone in the circle is looking at you like you just grew another head. You feel your face flushing hot with embarrassment before relenting. “Fine!” you extend the drink back to her, only to pull it back before she could finally grasp it, “Just be sure to drink plenty of water and eat something ok?”

Terrible influences. Everyone.

“I for one am willing to forgive that terrifying display of temperance.” Uncle breaks open another bottle of beer, “But! Only if you play a game of poker with us. Or are you a stick in the mud with that too?”” He waves the mouth of the bottle at you teasingly.

“I don’t-” you ponder a moment, are you really going to admit you don’t know how? It’ll just be another nail in your social coffin. “-remember how to play.”

“That’s fine, gotta kick one of these boys out before you can join anyhow.” The five men, Uncle, Mr. Abadiano, Arthur, William, and Jie all sit in a circle with lone little Tilly who was dealing this round. “Just watch and learn from the master.” Uncle shimming in his seat with a smile eyeing his cards. You curiously watch as they each go about throwing in chips increasing the amount each round, eyeing the cards on the table displayed for all to see that would make or break each of their chances. You ask questions as the game moves forward, picking up the rules as they go.

“Ah! I bet one o’yas was cheatin’!” William slaps his cards onto the table hard, chugging the rest of his bottle of beer as he begrudgingly leaves the table.

“I know when not to push my luck.” Jie slides off, leaving with what little money he didn’t gamble away.

Tilly’s good, holding her own for quite a while. But Mr. Abadiano was better. The whole table groans as he reveals a heavy hand.

“Damn!” Her once untouchable mountain of chips topples, swept across the table to their new champion. “If this was dominos, you’d all be weeping at my feet.” She shimmies her way over to you, hip to hip. “I’ll help you out with the next game.”

“Why wait! Let ‘er hop in while the games hot!” Uncle threw his hand into the community cards, mixing them together causing Arthur and Mr. Abadiano to grumble in protest.

“Damn it Uncle! I had a good hand!” Arthur grumbles, flicking his cards into the pile.

“¡Ay! Viejo estúpido…”

“Hey now! I know an insult when I hear one.” Uncle quickly shuffles the deck before you find your first two cards. Upon revelation, you have no idea what you’re looking at.

“Ooo! That’s not a bad hand!” Tilly whispers into your ear. “Start small, put in maybe… 10 cents to start off. Catch them off guard.”

The table goes around the next few rounds, each of the men standing firm and increasing the pot. Tilly whispering little hints along the way. It’s time everyone reveals their cards.

“Read ‘em and weep boys!” Uncle flaunts.

“Tsk!” Arthur slumps in his seat throwing his cards.

You follow with uncertainty, giving Tilly a glance. She just pats your arm.

“Well not too bad kid! Let’s see how your luck runs.” Uncle flips the next set of community cards. “Damn it!” He exclaims.

“You won!” Tilly grips your shoulders in excitement.

“Cool! I guess…” you look back to the table, still unsure of what you were looking at. You couldn’t help but notice the looks the others gave you at the modern slip of the tongue. You look at your earnings, you won maybe… 2$?

William comes barging back over with a bundle of bills in his hands, “Alright, dis time I ain’t losin’!” Sitting with gusto, a cigarette and an open bottle of liquor, nearly toppling his stool over in the process.

“Haha! A glutton for punishment!” Uncle cracks, turning his attention to Mr. Abadiano. “And you, you a member of temperance like this girly here?” Only now do you notice everyone has a drink in hand. Everyone minus you and Mr. Abadiano.

“Liqueur loosens lips. Makes men stupid.” Abadiano leers at uncle, creasing his wrinkles. “You’re a perfect example of that.”

Uncle peers at him a moment in shock before losing himself in a fit of giggles. “G-good Lord! Live a little both of ya!”

“Sorry, I guess we have different definitions of fun.” you speak.

“Well what did you do for fun back… uh… home?” Arthur inquires, clearly regretting his use of the word “home”.

“Um… board games, reading-” God, what do you say that wouldn’t be too modern? Movies in old timey terms would beee… “-Plays?”

“Plays! What kinds of plays did you see?” Tilly eagerly inquired.

“There was one about dinosaurs-uh- and scientists at a park.” A mental hand smacks your forehead, why’d it have to be that one to pop into your head.

“Dinosaurs?! Like them big monsters?” Uncle asks.

“Uh-huh. It used to scare me as a kid.”

“What’s the name of this play?” Mr. Abadiano surprisingly seemed a little interested.

“Uhh… it was a local play. Not sure you’ll be able to find it very easy. Very underground.” You’re getting the hang of the poker rules by now, finally picking out certain combinations that were better than others.

“What kinda focked up town did you crawl out of?” William still can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. “Never heard o’ something so bizarre in my life.”

“Sorry. Shakespear doesn’t exactly do it for me.” You reply shrugging your shoulders.

He eyes you with a bit of confusion and annoyance. “Can’t understand a word your Fokin’ sayin’ half da time.”

“Ditto.” He just squints at you suspiciously, sucking in a drag. Eyes then glance past you and he smirks as he exhales.

“And whatchu’ want ya smug Focker?! Still can’t get any tail?” He yells, your head swivels and your stomach sinks at the sight of Samson lingering maybe 6 feet back for who knows how long, one of the larger liquor bottles in hand and a glaze in his eyes. And they’re looking right at you. He doesn’t move or say anything, just oggling you with a distant look in his eyes. “Here-” William drains the rest of his drink, much of the booze dribbling down his front and completely missing his mouth before it completely empties. “-dis should fit a pecker your size.” He then chucks the bottle with so much gusto he topples over the table, laughing like a maniac as the glass bottle shatters into a million pieces as it hits the rock wall just behind Samson. Said man flinches hard as he curses under his breath. His face twisted with anger and a mean look in his eye. You worry at first if a fight might break out. But the comfort of Arthur comes in his burly voice.

“Move along.” Arthur speaks firmly. Twisted in his chair to meet him face to face. Samson doesn’t even try to argue, stepping slowly to the side eyeing the still laughing William with disdain for a moment before they land on you again. You feel as if his eyes become darker before he finally walks off.

“Hoowee what a piece of work that feller is.” Uncle tuts, shaking his head. “Always someone to sour the mood.” He then smacks William, who is still plastered across the table, upside the head. “At least someone’s got the partyin’ spirit in ‘em!”

“Spirits my friend. I got de Spirits.” William giggles.

“We playing poker or what?” Mr. Abadiano pipes up, grumpy at the interruption.

“Mm I might call it here. Kind of too dark now, can hardly see what I’m holding.” You mutter. You make to stand before Arthur taps your arm, drawing your attention.

“Don’t wander off alone. Ok?” He doesn’t have to say why. And there’s that sort of puppy dog look he gives you. The one that says ‘I’m not a threat’.

“Ok. Thanks Arthur.”

The sound of music blasted out of an old gramophone near Dutch’s tent, playing some sort of European opera, the crusty audio bounced off the stone walls cradling the camp, echoing natural acoustics. The coupled members are all dancing with their lovers, swaying and laughing like they were in a scene of Pride and Prejudice and not in the middle of nowhere. You catch sight of Hosea whispering something in Bessie’s ear causing her to go bright red, smacking him lightly in the chest with a laugh.

You swerve in the opposite direction spotting John lingering expectantly by the group. Perhaps waiting to ask someone to dance. That someone is sure as hell not going to be you. You barely miss his eyes meeting yours, pretending you don’t see him. Beelining for the pot of stew.

There was a certain discomfort in your stomach, it had been building up throughout the day and now only intensified by night. thinking it to be hunger you serve up a generous plate. Sitting off in a little corner by the fire. The first hefty bite proves it to not be the issue. And to make matters a little more awkward, everyone decided your little corner was now the hot spot to be. Whipping out a guitar and chanting a not so harmonious rendition of Ol’ Dan Tucker. Everyone's a little tipsy and overwhelmingly positive.

Happy faces sing along, drunk and slurred but with so much joy. Swaying back and forth giving their all belting out the lyrics. One song ends and another starts. Joseph and Agatha start dancing, everyone starts cheering them on.

Except you.

In a moment accompanied by beautiful music and carefree laughter, to you it was all a mockery. Mockery at your misfortune and unholy circumstance. As if God himself was pointing down at you, igniting a feeling of displacement.

You don’t belong.

Anger rises up. Anger at whatever higher power decided to use you in their game of amusement. Why did you deserve to have your life turned upside down? Why’d you deserve the most baffling impossible curveball thrown your way?

Why’d you make me leave everyone behind?

You tear your eyes away from the sight before you to glare down with misty eyes at your dingy bowl. The same damn food for the hundredth time. The very sight of it made your stomach turn.

You’re quick to lift yourself up and away from the uncomfortable atmosphere, dropping your bowl of unfinished dinner. No one seems to notice.

You can barely see with only the sliver of moonlight to illuminate your path. Your fingers pull on the strands of sage brush as you pass, anxiously plucking the leaves and staining your fingers with their fragrance. Haphazardly grabbing a dry branch here and there, something to keep your hands busy.

“God I’m so pathetic…” You take a deep breath in, holding for a second before exhaling through your nose. “You’re fine (y/n)! You’re fine! Keep it together… “ Slapping your face each time you felt you’d break. Leaving your cheeks slightly swollen and stinging.

You repeat the process, slowly calming the tightness in your chest and averting a full on panic attack. Forcing the bad feeling down until it was just a sick pit in your stomach.

When’s this feeling going to end?

You’re pacing, wandering, with no clue where you were going. Only to distract yourself even just a little. Keep from standing in one place for too long. Nearly face planting in the dust after tripping over a decently sized rock. You stare at it irritably, throwing back your leg and delivering a hard kick.

“Rah!”

It ricochets into a flurry of directions, its trajectory changed by new obstacles in its path. The distinct sound of stone-on-stone echoes off the chipped rock. CLACK! CLACK! GONK!

Gonk?

Your eyes cast themselves in the direction of your kick, spotting the outline of a pile of sand rock nestled together in one place. Smoothed edges and worn away by exposure, lichen growing on the undersides. You circle the land mark looking for the source of the odd sound. Your foot accidently kicking away shrubbery that sat unanchored by exposed roots.

You kick another to the side. And another and another until your eyes catch sight of your stone, laying right on top of a wooden chest. Tucked tightly away in the sand rock. Hands grasping at the handles, pulling with some effort to even just slide it forward a few inches. The moon’s light revealed a worn old chest, sun bleached in places and chipped in others.

Wait a minute…

You’ve seen this chest before, while only briefly you definitely recognize it as the one and same chest from the wagon.

Why is it all the way out here and not in camp?

Why keep it tucked away from the safety of the owner’s gaze? Why feel the need to hide it? What makes it worth hiding in the first place?

You should leave it; forget you even saw it. That would be the smart thing to do. That would be the rational thing to do.

But your fingers were already curled greedily under the latches. Your ears painfully straining to hear even the slightest difference in the constant hum of chirping crickets, slowly gripping the worn and chipped chest lid as you shakily eased each latch open only lifting your fingers as soon as you were sure it was firmly touching the wood with no risk of sound. You were almost too afraid to lift the lid to reveal its no doubt controversial confines within, your hands perspiring so much you could feel the hot dampness collect under your palms and dribble down your wrists. With one more assured scan of your surroundings you made the plunge. The hinges creaked slightly causing you to pause each and every time.

Something flashed brightly as the moonlight slipped into the cracked opening, finally open just enough to see what was guarded so secretively. At first you weren’t sure what you were looking at, a bunch of papers, glittering pebbles and other lustrous bits and pieces.

It's just a bunch of…Junk?

Your brows strain against your forehead as your mind flashes through some sort of reasonable explanation for the need to hoard and hide away a seemingly unorganized and mindless collection. Staring long and hard, until the pebbles began to take shape. They weren’t pebbles. They were teeth. Gold and silver teeth gleaming out at you nestled amongst watches and all sorts of jewelry. An obscene amount of beltless belt buckles, various sized rings and bands. And paper money, some stained that unsettlingly familiar deep brownish red. Amongst the oddities laid various scraps of paper. You pick one up in your hands revealing a crude drawing of a man that only takes a second for you to recognize as Mr. Van der linde. Though a vision of him that seemed so out of sorts to what you’ve been accustomed to. A deep set scowl on his face, shrouded dark eyes and a bitterness in his expression that left no inclination of the seemingly always jolly and charming man you’d been traveling with all this time.

The picture is accompanied by text in a bold font that practically jumps off the page.

WANTED

DEAD OR ALIVE

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

Holy shit…

Your heart sinks into your stomach. The secrecy and paranoia, constantly moving, the blood on the shirt, that damned feeling in your gut. It all made sense now.

They’re outlaws.

[elephant-in-the-pride-parade]

It's DONE

The Universe to Mend

Summary: A grieving Q teams up with a temporally displaced version of Kathryn Janeway, offering her a way out of exile in exchange for her help investigating a threat to the universe's existence. Aboard the resurrected USS Protostar, along with Hologram Janeway, they investigate the cause. And when they discover the source of the crisis - the Krenim Imperium - and the scale - a multiverse ending event, will an exiled Q and two lost souls be enough to stop it?

The final four chapters were posted on the 14th, just in time for my Big Bang deadline! 80,834 words in total! It feels so good to be at the end of this one! My favorite that I've written in a while.

The Universe to Mend

1. High above the worlds you tread... 2. When the Fateless Soul and the Faithless God 3. Steal and Unturned Thread. 4. Slipped from her spool, the Fallen Star 5. Ventures where space is fraying, 6. Time unraveling, 7. Paths of unmade lives unweaving. 8. They will the universe to bend. 9. Here, nothing is whole. 10. But hope begins to spin once freed, so 11. A hand takes up a needle. 12. She sews a golden seam. 13. Tatters stitched into tapestry. 14. Now to defy the end. 15. When the Fated God and the Faithed Soul 16. Gather the universe to mend.