#Dreadnoughts make me smile I love em

[jet-teeth]

Even more dreadnoughts!! This was actually one of the first pages I did, just got kinda distracted with drawing other variants for a bit there haha

Individual sketches/cutouts under the cut for easier viewing on mobile:

#Dreadnoughts #Castaferrum #Ironclad #Wh40k #sketches #Jet art #I'm never quite sure how to arrange/present sketch compilations without making posts TOO long #I just draw whatever and then later stress about formatting pff #not that it really matters #more goofy little dudes!!!! #Dreadnoughts make me smile I love em

[aphroditestummyrolls]

Tagged by: @rhubarbdreams @cactusdragon517 @morallygreywaren and @ceraunos (I’m so sorry this took so long! Thank you for thinking of me, it is so flattering <3)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

This was SO FUN. It was so nice to go through my old stories... I’m really proud of my writing. That’s something I never thought I’d say, and it’s something I’ve decided I’m going to do unabashedly from now on. <3 Happy almost April, everyone! 

Gaining Heart (Spartacus) 

The days following the defeat of Glaber had been a flurry of activity.

Agron found himself not only leading on field of battle, but leading organization and defensive strategy. Those fucking Romans had moved into the temple as if it was their own home, claiming all that they saw— but they had also brought much of their own. Food, wine, supplies— it was a gift from the fucking gods, and needed proper inventory.

Agron knew not how to do that. Nasir and Naevia were invaluable, cleaning each chamber of any evidence of battle, cataloguing lists and categorizing everything from barrels of grain to rolls of bandages.

Tangles and Roots (The Old Guard)

He was covering Andy.

The hangar was dark, shadowed by the last of the night while dawn crept up over the skyline outside. The plane was set to land any minute now, and Nicky’s eyes flicked from corner to corner, finger on the trigger of his gun and his jaw grinding hard. He could swear he saw shapes moving along the roof— the banks of high windows above them left eerie patches of weak blue light, flickering with little flashes of darkness.

It was probably just birds. He was out of practice— they had done nothing but sit around in the six months since Merrick, trying to heal the deep wounds left in their minds… and bodies, in Andy’s case.

Nicky swallowed, stepping that much closer to his friend’s side as they took their places in the shadows.

Still Awake? (The Old Guard)

He pretended to sleep. His eyes were closed, and his muscles were stiff, tying themselves into knots where he laid in his cot between Andy’s empty bedroll and Joe and Nicky’s snuggled up bodies. Booker refused to be comfortable— he refused to rest. The day had been rough, and the fighting had left a bone deep ache inside him, even while the physical wounds had healed.

All the Time in the World (The Old Guard) 

The first time Nicolo and Yusuf bathed together, it was by the river— he wasn’t sure which river. It had probably changed names and countries a hundred times by now. All he remembered was that, by the time they heard the steady rush of water and cleared the brush and trees to the bank, he was half mad with annoyance.

If that man made one more grumbled complaint— one more clearly telegraphed grimace— about the supposed smell of him, Nicoló might have to break their truce and run the bastard through.

Kissed by an Angel (The Old Guard)

Nicky felt his lips flicker into a private smile, setting the pot on the stove to simmer and turning to look out the window into the garden. Joe’s garden.

He was humming to himself— Nicky couldn’t quite hear it, but he could tell by the set of the other man’s jaw under his beard and the purse of his lips as he concentrated. The weeds wouldn’t rip themselves, the overgrown shrubs wouldn’t miraculously be already pruned and waiting for them.

They were finally back in Valletta. Finally home.

Patron Saint of Satisfaction (The Old Guard)

It had been a long, long few weeks.

Joe’s shoulders were tense and knotted, and his whole body still ached from the train ride he and Nicky had taken all that day. There was a stifling, choked sensation in his gut that would rise in waves, up his throat to the tip of his tongue until he was ready to scream. The whole way to their safehouse, he brushed shoulders with his lover— practically leaning on him— and let himself take refuge in the feeling of Nicky’s warm hand entwining their fingers.

Waking Dreams (The Old Guard)

At first, they could’ve been anywhere for all Joe knew.

There was nothing in the world but Nicky— his scent, his body, his quiet sleeping breaths. Joe felt himself hover on the edge of sleep and wakefulness, the familiar thrum of pleasure making up the backdrop of his thoughts.

He nuzzled into his Nico’s neck, pressing sloppy, half asleep kisses to the back of his neck.

Here There Be Monsters (The Old Guard) 

The morning had been blustery and hot. The scent of ozone made the sea air thick as it blew through his hair where they all stood, crowded around the lower deck. They all squinted against the bright sunshine, but Joe knew better than to trust the blue sky.

”If I’m getting in, I’ve gotta do it soon—“ he spoke up, cutting into some conversation that he hadn’t been listening to, “There’s a storm coming in from the East.”

Nile— still so young, so far from the American Midwest, and in her first field season— raised an eyebrow at him from behind her sunglasses.

He smiled at her bemused look, shooting his gaze over to Andy. Andy smirked, huffing a laugh. “If anybody knows, Joe knows.”

In Loving Memory (The Old Guard)

The wind whipped up off the water, cold and salty despite the way the sun beat down on them. It was alright, honestly— refreshing after all those stuffy hours in the car.

These immortals were highly resistant to normal modes of transport. Like a plane— a real passenger plane, not a Russian cargo plane full of drugs. It was all cars and boats and trains, low to the ground, literally under the radar.

Nile understood why. She didn’t want to end up strapped down to a lab table like the one they escaped all those months ago. She’d just rather take a nice plane from the closest airport to Provence and get to Valletta in a matter of hours, rather than drive through three countries and all the way down the Italian boot, just to bribe a fishing boat.

Feed My Soul (The Old Guard) 

Malta looked good on Nicolò.

Joe leaned on the railing of their balcony, looking down into their old, old walled garden where his Nico shuffled around in the herbs. He was looking for something particular, the bridge of his nose scrunching as he peered at the mess of overgrown pots.

Joe beamed, the familiar, all-encompassing warmth of loving that man filling him up and making him feel expansive and bright. There was a cathedral ceiling in his chest, airy and golden with the light of dawn through its tall, jeweled windows. There was a house of worship where his heart should be, and he traced the lines of the other man’s body like he was devoting a painting to him.

Sono Qui (The Old Guard)

Andy left Booker on the beach.

She felt his gaze follow her, but couldn’t bring herself to look back.

It wasn’t as if they had never separated before— as if the four of them had been constantly attached from the time they finally found the Frenchman, even after months and months of dreaming and searching. There were plenty of times where they spent months, or sometimes years apart. They took breaks from each other, they traveled. Just a year ago, Andy had declared that she needed a break— was that last year of being alone the thing that led Booker to betray them? Maybe they should’ve stayed together. She never should have left him. She understood how it felt to be alone in the world… to lose someone so precious that life loses its color.

Andy had left Booker plenty of times. It wasn’t something she liked to think about now, but she had… She had assumed he was handling it like her. Somber and drunk, wishing for some type of release. They’d talked about it enough times. But not like this.

Brother of My Heart  (The Old Guard)

Joe clenched his hands on the steering wheel, flexing his fingers to feel the stretch in the tendons, even though any injuries from the fighting had long since healed.

While driving away from the ruins of Merrick’s car, the adrenaline was still rushing in his veins, and all his self control was devoted to staying reasonably within the speed limit. The last thing they needed was to get stopped by some bobby cop while covered in blood and dust, with a bullet through Andy’s stomach.

Right now, they needed to blend in. So, Joe didn’t press the gas pedal into the floor.

Care and Feeding (The Old Guard) 

Nile couldn’t ever remember liking the cold.

Even at home in Chicago. Sure, her memories of warm Christmas masses, bright lights on the tree, and gently falling snow outside the kitchen window made her throat dry with that familiar, wistful grief. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to seeing pine trees or twinkle lights without thinking of her mom’s mac n cheese, or how early her brother would wake her up on Christmas morning.

But loving Christmas, and loving snow? Those were two completely different things.

Going Underground (Star Wars) 

Poe wasn’t sure what it was like when they broke through the atmosphere into Yavin IV. He didn’t watch through the Falcon’s wide front window as the familiar jungles passed by in a blur of green underneath them, and he couldn’t pick out the roof of home from the surrounding grasses as they came in for a landing.

The first thing he saw as he came to, bleary and aching, was Finn. They’d fallen asleep right where they were, pressed shoulder to shoulder at the holochess table, Poe’s head on Finn’s shoulder. It took him a sluggish moment to recall why his hand had its own throbbing pulse, and why Finn’s soft, dark skin was pockmarked with strange cuts, glistening with bacta.

The second thing he saw, swallowing against the rush of memories filling his fuzzy mind, must have been a hallucination.

STAR WARS VIII: The Battle of the Force (Star Wars) 

“General, I don’t know how much longer we can hold ‘em off—”

Poe’s voice crackled from the shoddy reception, nearly engulfed by the constant bombardment in the background.

“Commander, the Resistance depends on taking down this dreadnought.” Leia kept her voice steady and strong “Stand your ground.”

Beyond What We Can See (Star Wars) 

If he was being honest with himself, he supposed that he’d been feeling the Force his whole life. He’d always just brushed it off as basic intuition— he thought everybody felt this way. It wasn’t until he started seeing the way the Force was treated in the First Order—as a myth, a fearful, distant thing—that he realized how much he needed to keep his head down. Even though he only felt it in small ways, he was different. He buried the feelings, tried to ignore the nagging dread that said that he didn’t belong there in his platoon. That none of them did.

But that wasn’t something he was allowed to feel. The Force wasn’t supposed to be something any of the troops knew firsthand.

Like She Always Did (Star Wars) 

The first time she left was barely a memory. More of a dream. He didn’t remember the fight they had, but he knew in hindsight that they must’ve had it for much longer than the tail end that he saw. Maybe it was what got his little feet out of bed in the first place. Daddy’s eyes were rimmed with red and Mama was pacing out her anger into the sitting room rug. Poe’s eyes were wide as he watched from the threshold to the hall, his little hand gripping onto the pillow that he’d tugged along with him from his room.

Love Will Help You Heal (Star Wars) 

Every inch of him throbbed, the last dregs of whatever the interrogation droid had injected him with still pumping through his bloodstream. He was so tired. How long had it even been? Getting captured on Jakku felt like a hazy dream, as if it was weeks ago.

No one was coming for him. He knew that much—he’d probably be mad if they endangered the resources to try—but he couldn’t help but wish anyway. Death seemed so close, like a cold hand on his shoulder, by his side in the recirculated air of the Star Destroyer.

He wished they’d just hurry up. His drug-addled, sleep deprived mind didn’t know if he was asking for rescue or death. Maybe they were the same thing now.

Dying a martyr. At least it suited the image—Poe Dameron, Poster Boy of the Resistance.

Ghosts of Future and Past (MCU/Captain America) 

His head was throbbing. His back ached. Everything in him pulsed with agony like he’d been hit by a train.

A train. Bucky.

“Bucky is alive.” 

He could feel the winter cold at the memory, his eyes snapping open as the past few moments came flooding back to him.

There had been another Steve. Even without the mask, he’d looked just like him. It must have been Loki playing tricks again, it had to be.

Sweet as Honey, Gold Like the Sun (Stranger Things) 

Steve was drifting after high school graduation. He drifted right out of the halls of Hawkins High and into a desk job at his dad’s office. If he was being honest, he’d been drifting since the Gate closed— maybe even since Nancy broke it off.

He wasn’t mad. She was his best friend. He and Jonathan were even friends now. No, he hadn’t been mad for a long time— but he was lost. The kids were going to high school. Dustin would be getting his license one of these days, and Steve’s last function to his little gaggle of brats would become all but useless.

The idea of not serving a purpose left the bitter tang of anxiety in his throat. Once the kids didn’t need him— and Joyce and Hopper and even Nancy— Steve would be left behind. Again.

Okay... Some of these may have been more than just what is considered “Opening Lines”, but I can’t just leave something feeling unfinished, and I’m a little tipsy, which means I am bending the rules <3

**EDIT** i forgot to look for patterns and pick my favorite! I mean, I think all storytelling/creative expression (anything from developing a recipe to composing a painting to writing a story) follows a distinct formula. And the best way to establish the story is by starting it with the most important element front and center— I almost always start with my main character. A thought or a feeling, a situation or a sensation. They’re the focal point from which everything ripples out. Those first ripples (the 2nd, 3rd or 4th lines) are usually about building the setting. It’s an equation that works so well for me, and though I sometimes shake it up by adding immediate dialogue or flipping the positions of setting and main character, it has served me well ❤️ i think my favorite has to be Brother of My Heart. It’s the first really, immediately big story Ive ever had. So many comments, so much warmth, so many kind people— it grew my confidence and helped me make friends. It reminds me of how truly wonderful fandom can be, even just with the first few lines.

I’m going to continue to bend the rules by not tagging anyone immediately-- it’s giving me weird anxiety levels, so I’m gonna wait and do it later maybe. If, in the meantime, you see this and want to do it, write me down as the one who tagged you! <3 Feel frrrreeeeeeee! 

#spartacus #the old guard #star wars #fanfiction #writing #writing by ME #<3 thank you friends #for thinking of me #it was really nice of you

[unofferable-fic]

The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 5 - To Go For a Drink is One Thing

Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they’ve made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws. And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made. No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?

Originally posted by lotherings-rose

————

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language, alcohol, violence, some fluff and drunken cowpeeps.

Word Count: 5,051

Previous Chapter    Next Chapter

Playlist: “The Railroad” — Goodnight, Texas, “Randy Dandy-Oh” — The Dreadnoughts, “Little Sadie” — Crooked Still, “Devil Do” — Holly Golightly & The Brokeoffs

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A/N: Also available on AO3. Chapter five comin’ at y’all.

Evening descended upon Madison County. With the dwindling sun setting the clear sky alight with vibrant yellows and oranges, the Van der Linde gang were already cracking open some beers and celebrating their successful venture in Winterset. After her earlier conversation with Arthur, Maebh had managed to convince Dutch to let her take her new horse out for a short trot outside camp. He seemed a little hesitant, but willingly relented when she insisted she felt much better after resting for so long. His one condition was that William go with her, and for some reason she got the feeling that her brother would have insisted anyway had Dutch not suggested it.

“I’m pretty sure she’s a Thoroughbred,” William announced as he made sure her saddle was securely strapped to the animal’s back. “If I was to take a guess anyway.”

Maebh was busy brushing the horse’s dark mane and raised a brow at her brother. “How can ye tell? Cause she’s mad tall?”

“That and the distinctive brindle coat. Plus, look at her — she’s all lean muscle for racin’. You picked yourself up a beaut.”

She grinned at the prospect of owning such a lovely animal. “Guess I finally had some luck with horses for once.”

“I guess you did.” He took a step back and pulled himself up on to Banquo. “Alright, up ye get. Let’s stretch their legs a bit.”

With slightly stiff arms, Maebh managed to climb atop the mare. Once seated comfortably, she let out a breath and rubbed the side of her neck. “Maith an cailín. Let’s get you movin’.”

As they lead their horses out of camp, William called to her over his shoulder. “You got a name for her yet?”

“Well, I was thinkin’ ’bout it, and then I realised I can’t give her a simple name like Bonnie or Biscuit because she’ll be surrounded by horses called Banquo and Dantés, so that wouldn’t fly.”

“Is that a sly dig at me?”

“It’s not sly if it’s true.”

Once they reached the outskirts of camp, they lead the horses around the outer perimeter at a slow trot. Her new mare seemed easy enough to direct and tolerated her more than Banquo ever had.

“Alright,” William admitted. “I’ll give you that. What names did you have in mind for her then?”

“I’d been thinkin’,” she began. “’Bout one of my favourite stories that ma used to tell during Samhain. You remember the Dullahan, yeah?”

William eased his horse so that he was trotting alongside his sister. He seemed amused by the suggestion. “The headless horsemen? Very clever.”

“I think it suits her. And this way, she’ll be on the same level as your two.”

“I’m kinda jealous I didn’t come up with that myself...”

Maebh chuckled and looked down at her mount. “You hear that, Dullahan? I think William wants to steal you off me. Not that I can blame him.”

After a short silence, William spoke up again. “What d’you think they’d think of us now?”

Maebh turned her head to find him watching her with a serious expression. “Who?”

“Ma and Da.”

She gripped the reigns firmly in her hands as they turned over a slight bend in the road. “I think they’d be proud of us.”

“Ye think?”

“Yeah,” she answered with certainty. “I do. Think about it — did you think we’d get this far after what happened to ’em? I don’t think most kids would’ve. We were lucky enough that we found the gang when we did.”

“What ’bout all the robbin’?” he asked thoughtfully. “I like to think that they don’t mind it.”

“I’d say as long as we don’t rob the innocent, then they’re all for it. Robbin’ the rich to give back to the poor? That’s basically like all those Robin Hood stories they used to tell us.”

“You’re in my boat so.” He smiled at the fond memories, seemingly miles away in his head. “Yeah, I think we’re right; they’d be proud of us.”

“Once we don’t lose ourselves in any of this or literally lose track of how we’re survivin’, they’ll stay proud of our choices.”

They didn’t stay out riding for long. Once they had done a few laps around the outer perimeter, the horses were lead back the way they came. They returned just before nightfall, as Dutch had asked, and went to his tent to announce her return.

“How was the ride?” Dutch asked upon their return, casually smoking a cigar with a glass of whiskey in his free hand. “Any trouble?”

“Us? Trouble?” Maebh asked, feigning innocence. “No such thing.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He stood up and pulled two beer bottles from a nearby crate and passed them on to the siblings. “How’s that new mount comin’ along?”

“She’s doin’ great,” Maebh replied, glancing over to where the horse was hitched beside their tent. “Really nice horse to ride too. I think I might actually have a name for her now.”

“Is it also somethin’ Shakespearean?”

“Nah, but it’s somethin’ Irish.”

Dutch let out a small laugh. “Well, why ain’t I surprised?”

“I’m goin’ t’call her Dullahan.”

Dutch appeared thoughtful before repeating the name himself. “Sounds like a good choice to me. Now I ain’t got a clue what it means, but I like it.”

“The Dullahan were famous horsemen from Irish mythology,” William explained between sips of beer. “Usually known for bein’ headless and ghostly. I think it suits her.”

“That it does, son. A fine choice for a fine stead. Just make sure you don’t lose your head anytime soon, Miss Maebh.”

At that moment, Mac Callander came strolling over to Dutch’s tent. He had already had a few judging by his slightly slurred speech. “We headin’ into town or what, Dutch?”

“O’course,” Dutch replied while getting to his feet. “I was waitin’ for these two to come back first.”

Maebh’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “Wait, are we finally celebratin’ the take from the bank?”

“Damn right,” Mac replied. “I’ll let the others know we’re headin’ out.”

As their companion walked away, William asked curiously. “We aren’t headin’ into Winterset itself, are we?”

“Indeed we ain’t. We’re headin’ north to De Soto instead. They got a decent enough saloon up there for such an occasion.” Dutch grinned at the siblings. “Y’all best get those horses ready again.”

De Soto, over an hour’s ride from their camp outside Winterset, was a small enough town. Only a few of them had been in and out of it in comparison to some of the other bigger places around the county. It was certainly a more practical idea to drink there instead of going back into a town they robbed mere days ago. As they arrived at the local saloon, Maebh looked on at the gang in amusement. Most of them were already half cut and singing songs as she hitched her horse next to William’s. Inside, the place was already hopping. A musician played away at the saloon piano, managing to rouse some of the more inebriated patrons into song and dance. Noisy chatter filled the room and barely any notice was taken of them as they arrived. Some of the gang including Mr Pearson, Hosea, Miss Grimshaw, and Uncle commandeered the Black Jack table while others surrounded the bar. Before Maebh could make a decision about where to go, a hand on her arm pulled her towards the bar. A slightly tipsy John Marston guided her to a small opening amongst the crowd and helped ease her to the front of the bar before standing beside her.

“It’s a tight squeeze in here,” she commented, pressed between her friend on her right and a stranger on her left. “Gettin’ drinks is gonna be a pain.”

“Whatchu drinkin’?” John asked her as he tried to count the coins in his hand with one eye closed and his tongue sticking out between his lips. “First round’s on me.”

Maebh gave him an incredulous look. “What, you dyin’ or somethin’, Marston? What’s with the generosity?”

“Guess I’m just feelin’ generous for once. That, and you nearly died a few days ago.”

“I’m only messin’,” she assured him with a gentle half hug around the shoulders even though they were already packed together like sardines as it was. “Thanks. Next one is on me.”

“I ain’t gonna refuse that.” Just then, the barman had a spare minute to take their orders.  John took it upon himself to order four beers — two each — given the slightly longer wait.

She had been about to go join her brother when John struck up a conversation. “How you feelin’?”

“Much better than how I felt a few days ago,” she admitted after having a sip of her drink. “The rest did a lot for me.”

John’s brown eyes appeared focused despite the fact he was usually a massive lightweight. “I know the feelin’. I’ve gotten in and outta plenty of scraps with my fair share of knocks. Sometimes rest will do ya a world of good, even if ya hate doin’ it.”

She chuckled slightly. “I definitely hated it. So I plan on gettin’ excessively drunk tonight to make up for lost time.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He clinked his bottle against hers and had another sup. “I intend on joinin’ you.”

“How much’ve you had to drink already?”

He shrugged. “A couple beers back at camp. Why?”

“I’m just surprised you’re not on the ground already.”

John rolled his eyes, though the small smirk on his face told her he didn’t take it to heart. Slagging him for being a lightweight was a common occurrence at that point. “You best be careful, Miss Hennigan, or I’ll drag you down there with me.”

“Always one for the dramatics—”

The arrival of William cut the conversation off. He had a whiskey in hand and a slightly sour expression as he addressed his sister. “Are you goin’ t’stay at the bar all night or come join the rest of us?”

Maebh looked at John and nodded her head towards the rest of the gang. “You comin’ to rejoin civilisation?”

“I’ll catch up. You two go ahead.”

Once more thanking him for the drinks, Maebh grabbed her beers and allowed William to usher her to a nearby table where Dutch, Arthur, and Bessie were sitting. Upon seeing the siblings, Dutch enthusiastically requested a song. The demand left no room for refusal, and when Hosea and Uncle encouraged it from their Black Jack game, William shrugged and slung an arm around Maebh’s shoulders.

He started them off with a classic their father had taught them as children. “Now we are ready to sail for the horn!”

Maebh let out a hearty laugh and joined in at the chorus lines. “Weigh hey, roll and go!”

As William took the lead, he gestured for the others to join in with whatever words they knew. It certainly wasn’t the first time they had sung this song. “Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn!”

Bessie’s voice joined Maebh at the chorus again. “To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!”

Soon, other members of the gang were joining in, mostly with each second line, and a sing-song had well and truly started.

“Heave a pawl, o heave away

Weigh hey, roll and go!

The anchor's on board and the cable's all stored

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Mac appeared at the table with more rounds of beers, passing pint glasses around the group.

Man the stout caps'n and heave with a will,

Weigh hey, roll an' go!

For soon we'll be drivin' her 'way up the hill.

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Soon, the glasses Mac had provided were being used to bash the table top, keeping a steady beat as William lead them in enthusiastic song.

Heave away, bullies, ye parish-rigged bums,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

Take yer hands from yer pockets and don't suck yer thumbs.

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

John appeared at the tables, rousing more welcoming cheers from them. Now with everyone joining in, the chorus reached an impressive volume, flourished with intermittent cheers and whistles between lines.

We're outward bound for Vallipo Bay,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

Get crackin', me lads, it's a hell of a way.

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!

Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,

Weigh hey, roll and go!

The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,

To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!”

The gang cheered in delight as the song came to an end. Applause were shared as people settled into conversation once more.

“You’re quite the showman, son,” Dutch complimented young William as he downed the end of his drink. “For such a reserved and hardened criminal.”

“It takes one to know one, right?” William shot back in jest, offering his bottle up in a gesture of cheers.

Arthur chuckled. “He’s got ya there, Dutch.”

Their leader found the response amusing. “That he does! C’mon, lemme buy you another drink.”

As the pair left for more alcohol, Hosea joined Maebh, Arthur, and Bessie at the table.

“It’s far too easy to lose money on that game,” he announced as he took a seat beside his wife. “Far too easy.”

“Don’t tell me you bust out already, old man?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“No, I just have enough sense to know when to call it a day.”

“That’s certainly debatable,” Bessie argues with a wry grin. “I can remember you emptying your wallet on more than one occasion.”

“My beautiful wife defendin’ my honour as always!”

“At least we’ve got some extra cash to spend on drinks and games this time,” Maebh added with a shrug and raised her glass. “To us, for actually gettin’ away with it despite a bit of a mess.”

The four of them clinked their drinks together, a small chorus of positive responses raising above the noise. As she took a sip of her drink, she noticed Arthur sitting with a slightly sour expression at the mention of the robbery. He cleared his throat suddenly. “I gotta ask, Hosea, what happened back in the bank?”

Hosea’s brow raised slightly. “What d’you mean?”

“While we was grabbin’ the money,” he elaborated. “We come back and suddenly a lawman is dead. That ain’t exactly like us.”

“I thought Dutch said he had to do it?” Maebh said. “That our cover would’ve been blown otherwise?”

“That’s what he says.” Though Hosea was merely repeating her words, there was something in his tone that left her unsettled. “I thought there might have been another way to go about things, that killin’ should’ve been a last resort. And maybe he panicked when he saw that man sniffin’ about. He says he saw us and was runnin’ for backup. Hell, I didn’t see any of it until I heard Dutch smashin’ the window and unloading a bullet into him. Regardless of whether he shot him or not, we were in trouble the second that lawman saw what was goin’ on. About the only good thing was that he couldn’t tell his friends how many of us were involved, which helped us escape afterwards.”

Bessie chose that moment to add her own thoughts. “If he was goin’ for backup, then surely it was a case of bein’ either you or him?”  

“I don’t ever agree with it unless it’s either you or the guy pointin’ the gun in your face, but trust in Dutch. I mean hell, he got us outta there alive.”

Maebh nodded her head towards Reverend Swanson, who sat nearby gulping down a whiskey. “With a little help from God.”

“I guess we also had some luck too.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout,” Arthur said rather dismissively. “It was a once off.”

“He ain’t steered us wrong yet,” Bessie added. “As long as we don’t start killin’ willy-nilly, we’ll be fine.”

“As long as that’s how things remain then I’m fine with it,” Hosea agreed. “No unnecessary killin’ or robbin’; we ain’t petty criminals. D’you remember what Dutch said to you when you were younger, Arthur? When you stole from that poor man’s house?”

Arthur nodded, lit himself a cigarette and then offered the box to his friends. “If we go ’round robbin’ and killin’ aimlessly, then we’re no better than the government that’s corruptin’ this land. We help people.”

“What does he say?” Maebh asked with a small laugh as she accepted a cigarette for herself. “We gotta have faith, right?”

Hosea nodded. “Exactly. Keep the faith in him and you’ll be fine. He’s a great man; one I’m proud to stand alongside.”

“You’s don’t fancy tryin’ to get out of it all again, then? I remember you told me that you tried before.”

“Ain’t no gettin’ out,” Bessie answered and placed her hand on her husband’s. “But I go where he goes. I agreed to a lot of things when I married him, and stickin’ by him through thick and thin is part of it.”

Her words had Maebh feeling curious. Her thoughts wandered to her parents and their attempted escape from a similar lifestyle. “You really think there’s no gettin’ out?”

“When you’ve been in it as long as we have, no. These old men don’t know any better. Can you see Dutch becomin’ a farmer one day? Maybe a ranch worker? Ain’t no chance.”

The notion was amusing to her, and she certainly agreed that it wasn’t a very likely future for the gang. She threw a glance in Dutch’s direction, seeing him speaking intently with William at the bar. His hand lay reassuringly on the younger man’s shoulder. Whatever they were talking about, it seemed intense.

The next time Maebh drunkenly waddled her way to the bar, she saw Marston and Davey talking to some working women. John, ever the prolific ladies man, already had his arm wrapped around one of them. Originally she had gone in search of him to pay him back with a drink, but decided to leave them to their escapades. She chuckled at the sight while asking the barman for some more beers.

“I know an Irish accent when I hear one,” a voice called from her right and she turned her head to see a man standing next to her. He nodded to her from beneath his worn flat cap. “Howiya, Miss.”

“Do I know you?” she asked as she handed the barman his money.

“No, but hopefully I’ll get to know you.” Though she didn’t know him, the stranger spoke in a distinctive Northern Irish accent.

“Oh! You’re a Paddy too.”

“Ah, see? Ye do know me, Miss…?”

“I don’t give my name out to strangers, Mister,” she replied with a wary smile. “Even if they come from Éire too.”

The man grinned at her. “Well how ’bout you let me get to know you better so I’m not considered a stranger. My name’s Padraig.”

At that moment, the barman set down her order on the counter and Maebh noticed Arthur take up a spot on her left at the bar. She knew what he was doing — usually if she or any of the other ladies were being bothered by pushy lads, Mr Morgan was more than happy to stand somewhere nearby just in case they fancied a hand in telling them to clear off. She heard him make an order, but pretended that she didn’t know him.

She instead replied to the Irishman. “Well, aren’t you forward, Padraig.”

“I am when I know what I want, Miss, so how much will it cost me to get yer name?”

Her brow piqued, and she could feel Arthur tense slightly behind her. “Cost?”

“Yeah. I don’t mind spendin’ a pretty penny on you. I’d say you’re up for anythin’ by the look of ye.”

A smile slowly tugged at Maebh’s lips. The man clearly mistook that for a good sign. He should have known better.

In as sultry a movement she could muster, Maebh slide up the side of the bar to stand a little closer to the clueless chap.

“Well, Padraig,” she began, and lightly traced his clean-shaven jawline. “You really know how to make a lady blush.”

“You aren’t no lady,” he replied with a smirk, probably thinking he was about to get lucky. “I can spot women whorin’ a mile off. Told you I knew ye.”

“I uh, think you might be right. I certainly amen’t no lady.”

In an instant, her demeanour changed. Padraig hardly had time to react before she grabbed him round the back of the head and slammed him face-first into the countertop. The crunch and cry that came from him grabbed the attention of those nearaby, while some were distracted by the booming music and rabble filling the bar. The barman let out a shocked profanity as Maebh stood over the whimpering stranger. “How ’bout you clear out of here before you insult someone else with your rude assumptions, ye bleedin’ gobshite.”

Padraig, clutching his blood-stained nose, glared up at her in anger. “You mad bitch—!”

“You heard the lady, boy!” Arthur growled, choosing that moment to take his place by her side and send the man a look that could kill. “Get the hell outta here!”

Now everyone in the saloon had noticed the ruckus, setting down their drinks to see what might happen next. Dutch got up from his seat at the table, silently backing up his gang by placing a hand on his holstered pistol. William stood too, entirely ready to defend them if needs be. A man she presumed to be a friend of Padraig hurried to his side and helped to haul him to his unsteady feet.

“Hey!” the barman exclaimed as he pointed a finger at the pair. “I thought I told you lot to stay outta my establishment!”

“Leave it, right,” Padraig’s companion urged him. “Let’s go!”

“I’ll get you back for that,” the injured man sneered as he allowed himself to be dragged out of the saloon. “Mark my words!”

“Proddy bastard!” Maebh called after him with a glare.

As the two men left the building, slowly but surely the music began to play again and people returned to their earlier conversations. It was right back to business.

“You okay?” Arthur asked her with a small smile on his.

“I’m fine,” she replied before looking back at him. “What’re you smilin’ at?”

“Just replayin’ how you broke that bastard’s nose in my head. I found it quite amusin’.”

Knowing he was getting a kick out of the confrontation, Maebh couldn’t help but smile too. “He definitely deserved it, right?”

“O’course. He needs to learn when to shut his damn mouth.”

“Right then, I don’t feel as bad about it now.”

“But I gotta ask… What the hell is a proddy?”

From his spot behind the counter, the barman cleared his throat to gain their attention. “No more fights in my saloon, please. I don’t want no more trouble in here effecting my business.”

“I can assure you, Mister,” Arthur began, holding up his hands. “We won’t bring no more trouble ’round. That feller was insinuatin’ some nasty things to the lady.”

“It won’t happen again,” she added, seeing the man frowning at them from beneath his bushy beard. “We can promise you that.”

“Good, I appreciate that. Now go make sure your friends behave.”

On that note, Marston and Davey appeared before her. They wore visible frowns, and the former was the first to express his displeasure. “Our company up and left thanks to your brawlin’.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and clasped his belt buckle in his hands. “You mean your expensive company? I doubt you’re missin’ much.”

“They was company no less, Morgan.”

“That they was,” John grumbled, looking rather unamused. “Thanks for the damn help, Hennigan. It’s not like I was tryin’ to get my frustrations out or anythin’.”

“A few more nights of your hand won’t kill ye,” she replied dismissively. “And knowin’ you, you’ll find more willing women in the next town over.”

Despite his threats, Padraig and his friend didn’t return to the saloon that night. With a brawl avoided, Dutch’s boys continued their celebrations and drank into the early hours of the morning. When they were finally forced to leave, they slowly stumbled out into De Soto’s streets and regrouped. Somehow, Maebh and John ended up in a harmless scuffle, which is turn led to William giving her a jockeyback, while Arthur did the same with John. They ended up drunkenly wrestling in these positions, with the loser being the first one to fall from their partner’s back. The whole thing had been hilarious in their drunken stupor, and it was only broken up when Hosea reluctantly got involved and said they needed to return to camp. While John tried to get down without falling flat on his face, William let Maebh stay where she was, and opted to carry her to her horse. In the haze of clambering on to Dullahan’s saddle, she caught a glance of Dutch speaking to a woman she didn’t recognise. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see him placing a kiss on her knuckles — he and Miss Grimshaw had called it quits last year, and though they had remained on good terms, Dutch’s didn’t stop his womanising ways. Though it was difficult for her eyes to focus, she seemed to be a pretty blonde, closer in age to Arthur than herself. She watched as Dutch saw her off and she rejoined the small group with whom she had come. Though unusual to see women in saloons at that time of night, she wasn’t surprised that Dutch had seen an opportunity to talk to a beautiful lady and subsequently taken it.

The ride back to camp was filled with singing and people nearly falling off their horses on to the dusty road below. Thankfully there were no injuries and everyone made it back in mostly one piece. On the outskirts of camp, people were either rearing for more alcohol, or already half passed out and ready for bed. Maebh, however, was dying for the loo.

“Anyone else need to take a leak?” she asked the group as she brought Dullahan to a stop. “I’m burstin’.”

“I do,” Karen replied in a slur and nearly stumbled off her horse. “Gotta make room for more beers.”

John’s face wore a drunken smirk. “I think I’ll join you ladies in the bushes.”

The statement earned him a smack around the back of the head from William, who glared at him from atop Banquo. “Ye will in your hole. Get t’fuck into camp, you.”

“Little Johnny Marston!” Karen teased him as he rubbed the back of his sore head. “Ever the ladies man!”

Maebh handed William her horse’s reigns while Mac grabbed Karen’s and the two stumbled off into the nearby bushes. Together they squatted amongst the shrubbery, and Maebh began to regret her decision to wear trousers instead of a skirt.

Around them, the small thicket was alive with whatever nocturnal animals made this spot their home. Above them, owls hooted and crickets sang their own tunes in response. The wind had died down, causing the leaves to lightly rustle every now and then. In the moonlight, it was difficult for either of them to see very far ahead. Even still, the night was calm and the atmosphere relaxing.

“I think John might’ve been comin’ on to us,” Karen pondered casually as they were left alone. “That boy is one messy drunk.”

Maebh shrugged as she finally relieved some pressure on her bladder. “He doesn’t mean anythin’ by it. I’m pretty sure he’s just desperate for his hole after I ruined his chances with yer wan.”

“I saw that! Jeesh, how’re you after breakin’ that fellers nose?”

“I’m grand. He was bein’ a right prick, if I’m honest.”

“I heard. Arthur told me he deserved it for bein’ a little shit. You know we always have each other’s backs in those nasty situations.”

“Thankin’ you. And if Arthur says that, then you know it’s bad—”

Maebh’s reply was cut short. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” she asked as she pulled her trousers back up. “All I can hear is you pissin’.”

“I thought I heard a twig snappin’,” Karen replied as she too stood up. “I’m sorry — the beers are gettin’ to me. I had way too many…”

“I’m sure it was just a racoon or somethin’.”

“Or maybe it was John comin’ back to try his luck?”

Maebh let out a barking laugh at the suggestion and slowly began to make her way back to camp in Karen’s company. “If that’s the case then I’m makin’ a run for it now!”

“Ugh, I ain’t able to run,” the blonde grumbled and linked her arm around her friend’s. “You can’t leave me out here while I’m drunk and sleepy.”

“I think we best get ourselves to our bedrolls.”

The women went back to camp with empty bladders and full intentions on going to sleep. But, Karen’s resilience broke as soon as Uncle offered her another beer, and suddenly Maebh was being dragged back into the throng, a whiskey finding its way into her hand. Yes, she had definitely planned on retiring to her tent and trying to sleep off the copious amounts of alcohol she had consumed, but her gang mates were bursting into song and dance yet again, and as Mac Callander pulled her into a jig around the campfire, suddenly rest was the last thing on her mind. She was more than happy to stay up with her friends and see the sun rise to begin a new day.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #john marston #red dead redemption fandom #rdr #rdr2 #fanfiction #fanfic #arthur morgan fanfic #the flower and the serpent #dutch van der linde #hosea mathews #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x ofc

[siren-dragon]

Long Live the King - (Ardyn Izunia x Reader) Ch. 4

Hey everyone, I managed to finish the next chapter! Now, I know this one may seem rather fast pace, but FFXV story is really long when you have to write it out -__-. So please don’t be surprised or angry if I rush past certain parts, because the best is yet to come. ;)

Anyway, lets get started!

The drive back to Insomnia was silent, no one wanting to speak after reading the paper this morning, every article speaking of the same topic. Insomnia had fallen; taken by the Empire.

“I hope…everyone’s okay.” Prompto spoke, unable to take the tense silence any longer.

Noctis huffed, “lot a good hoping is gonna do.”

“You mustn’t lose faith,”

“Really? Can faith stop a fleet of Imperial Dreadnoughts?” Noctis sneered.

Gladio sighed, “just give it a rest.”

“My old man had plenty of faith- “

“Enough, Noctis.” You interrupted, your sharp tone silencing the young prince like a misbehaved child.

“The Empire lied. They betrayed us.”

“Conjecture gets us nowhere, we’re searching for the truth.” Ignis answered back.

Noctis slouched against the chair, refusing to look away from the window. “All you’ll find are lies…like that ceasefire….”

You sighed softly and wondered what could have happened to the Kingsglaive. All morning you had tried to call someone, anyone, to find out what was going on; yet none answered. Not even the Marshal or Clarus responded to your messages, nor did Nyx or Drautos try to contact you. And as the silence continued, you began to fear for the worse.

“Look at the size of those things.

Glancing out the window you saw the sight of two Imperial Dreadnoughts flying overhead. With the appearance of the airships, it brought your thoughts back to the meeting you watched between King Regis and Niflheim’s ‘emissary’. Did he truly plan to invade his own city? His own home? You remembered your nightmare from the previous evening and wondered what happened to the King you fell in love with.

“Looks like they won’t be signing that peace treaty…” Prompto said softly.

Speeding past Hammerhead, the Regalia continued toward the West Gate until Ignis slammed on the brakes. In front of the car sat several parked vehicles and their owners, all looking toward the MT tank that stood guard with several units of soldiers. “They’ve set up an inspection point,” Ignis announced, clenching the steering wheel in anger.

“Then we’ll just have to take another route.”

Swerving to the left, Ignis blazed down a small dirt road beside the Wall, coming to a halt once the road ended. Hopping out of the car you unsheathed your bow before following Noctis, who was already rushing ahead of you. Patrolling the small alleyway were several Niflheim soldiers, all of them armed for battle.

“You wanna take ‘em out?” Gladio asked, summoning his massive two-handed claymore.

Noctis glared at the armored Niffs, “oh yeah. Those scrapheaps are gonna wish they had a treaty to protect them.”

The trek up to the hill was long and tedious, with soldiers constantly coming for the kill. By the time you had finally arrived the slight drizzle of rain had become a torrential down pour of water, soaking through your clothes. You gazed at the once beautiful view of Insomnia’s suspension bridge and Wall with a expression of sorrow and horror as plumes of smoke rose into the sky. A crackle of radio static emitted from Prompto’s phone until a signal was finally caught.

“After ceasefire discussions between the two nations, all provisional items have been suspended in light of recent developments. Moreover, in the wake of the news of King Regis’s death, we’ve now received word that Crown Prince Noctis and the Oracle Lunafreya have also been pronounced dead.”

“Keep it on,” both you and Gladio urged Prompto.

Prompto jumped at the demand, causing the phone to slip and tumble onto the ground. “Don’t bother!” Noctis shouted, causing the blonde to pause.

You immediately got out your phone, once again trying to contact anyone within the Kingsglaive as the others tried to contact their own family and friends. At last, one of you managed to reach someone. “Hello? Cor?” Noctis spoke, “the hell’s going on?” the response causing you to sigh in slight relief.

“We’re outside the city; with no way, back in…. Makes sense, are you serious? What about ANY of this makes sense?! The news just told me I’m dead! Along with my father and Luna!” Noctis continued to shout into the mobile phone.

Though you could not hear what the Marshal was saying, it became clear once you saw the look of shock on Noctis’ face before he turned back to look at the fallen Insomnia. His shoulders shook ever so slightly before he mumbled a soft “right…” into phone as his hand fell to his side.

“What did the Marshal…have to say?” Ignis asked, breaking the silence.

“……He said he’d be in Hammerhead.”

“And the King?” Gladio questioned.

Noctis did not reply and simply turned around, walking back down the hillside. The four of you slowly followed the young prince; knowing there was no turning back now.

“Your Highness, I am glad you are safe.”

Having left Insomnia for the final time, you and the four boys managed to return to Hammerhead with no troubles in search of Cor. And it seemed there was no rest for the Immortal, as the Marshal had already left the garage and proceeded to the Leide Hunter Outpost by Keycatrich Trench. Though instead of Cor, you were greeted by Monica Elshett; another member of the Crownsguard when you arrived.

“Lieutenant (f/n), it is good to see you again.”

You smiled, “Likewise Monica, I’m glad you are safe.”

“What happened to the others?” Gladio asked.

“Most of the Crownsguard didn’t make it, and it was all we can do to escort Lady Iris out of the city.”

Gladio sighed, a weight lifted from his shoulders; “I owe you guys big time.”

“Head toward the tomb, the Marshal awaits.”

Following Monica’s instructions, the five of you walked toward the Tomb of the Wise. Though you had never seen a Royal Tomb; you could not help but shudder as you walked toward the small, stone building. There was a deep magic that lingered within these walls…

“At last, your Highness.” Cor spoke when you entered.

“Yeah, you wanna tell me what I’m here for.” Noctis replied, his voice monotone.

“The power of Kings, passed down from the old to the new through the bonding of souls. One such soul lies before you. To claim your forebear’s power is your birthright, and duty as King.”

Noctis snorted, “my duty as King of what.”

“Now is not the time to question your calling,” Cor argued, causing Noctis to tsk angrily. “A King is sworn to protect his people.”

“And yet he chose to protect only one prince…. Was that his calling? Forsake the masses to spare his own son?”

Pale blue eyes narrowed in anger as the Marshal glared at the prince. “How long will you remain the protected? The King entrusted the role of protector to you.”

“Entrusted it to me? Then why didn’t he tell me that? Why did he stand there smiling as I left?! WHY- “Noctis paused, leaning upon the sarcophagus, eyes closed to prevent tears from falling. “Why did he lie to me?”

“Noctis…” you spoke, taking a step toward the prince. “He didn’t want you to remember him as a king. In the time he had left, he wanted to be your father. And though it may seem selfish, King Regis wanted to see you flourish and become the King you were meant to be…. even if it cost him his life.”

“I-…. I guess he left me no choice then….” Noctis whispered, standing tall once more.

Holding out his hand, the short sword began to glow, rising into the air before plunging itself into Noctis’ chest. He winced slightly before a transparent outline appeared, circling around his body as the light faded from his chest.

“The power of Kings goes with you, your Majesty.”

After exiting the Tomb, Cor lead the five of you further into Keycatrich Trench where the next Royal Arm resided. However, upon locating the entrance, Cor requested that you journeyed back to the Outpost with him and let the boys go in alone. Waving farewell to your companions you followed the Marshal back toward the Outpost. “It won’t be a true measure of strength should you have to baby them,” he explained.

“I understand, but I don’t believe that is all you wanted to speak with me about Cor.” You asked, walking beside him.

“I assume you are wondering about the events within the Crown-City after your departure, especially the events of treaty-signing.”

You nodded fiercely, “of course! Why didn’t the Kingsglaive respond to my calls? Such an attack would have been prevented easily!”

Cor stopped walking once the two of you passed the protective fence and turned to face you. “The Kingsglaive was part of a coup ‘d’état and worked with Niflheim to capture the Crystal.”

Your blood ran cold despite the desert heat, eyes widening in shock upon hearing his words. It had to be a mistake, there was no way! Yet Cor was not the type of man to mock you in such a cruel manner; ever the honorable soldier. You placed your hands over your mouth, appalled at the news. “What…What of Nyx? And Crowe? Libertus? Drautos? Were they…. were they all a part of it?”

“Crowe died on assignment before the siege. Though I am afraid Libertus was aiding Niflheim alongisde Galahd refugees with several other glaives. As for Titus and Nyx, I don’t know what became of them…. I’m sorry (f/n).”

“So, I…I am all that remains. The last glaive….”

Cor nodded, “I am afraid so.”

You leaned against the fence, letting your hand fall across your face. “I trained them, you know, back when Galahd was laid to ruin. I still remember Nyx vomiting the first time he tried to warp, only to become bedridden for 2 days afterward….”

“There is only so much we can teach, (f/n). Sooner or later they must make their own choices, and live with the consequences.”

“I know.... they did what they believed to be right….”

“For hearth and home,” Cor hummed.

“...For hearth and home.”

During the boys’ absence, you managed to fill Cor in on the events that had happened so far. Yet when you spoke of your arrival at Galdin Quay, you did not tell Cor about Ardyn. It was wrong to lie to your friend and superior officer and it made you feel terrible; but you felt as if you had no choice. There were too many questions surrounding both of your appearances that you still knew nothing about. And with the loss of Insomnia, you were quite certain the Marshal and the boys would not take kindly to the intimate relationship you shared with the ‘Chancellor of Niflheim.’ No, you had to find out the truth for yourself first.

When the boy’s returned with a new weapon added to Noctis’ Armiger, Cor thought it best to test the boys fully, allowing them to aid in the infiltration of an Imperial Base. Though the battle was rather hard fought, you all emerged triumphant with a new destination to find: Lestallum.

“Lestallum? The city that is powered by the Meteor of the Six correct?” You asked Ignis.

“Indeed. And that is where Iris will be waiting for us.”

“I’m just glad she’s okay.” Gladio spoke, leaning back against the car’s rear seat.

From a tourist’s point of view, Lestallum was defintely a lot different from Galdin Quay. For starters, it was unbearably hot with only the slightest hint of a breeze sweeping across the town. And while Galdin Quay was luxurious and calm; Lestallum was rustic and buzzing with life from its residents. Venders lined the streets with carts selling all manner of items; books, food, curatives, ingredients, weapons, accessories, and much more! You grinned widely at the market district, the Bazaar reminding you of a certain King’s first time within a Bazaar….

‘How do I purchase items?’

‘You select what you wish to acquire then barter for it. When you both have chosen a price you feel is acceptable, then you may pay for it.’

Ardyn gave you a devious grin, ‘so I can lower the cost however much I wish?’

‘Should the merchant find it acceptable,’ you laughed.

It turned out Ardyn would be the one laughing, having charmed every merchant you passed to severely discount the price their merchandise. You could not help but wonder what their faces would look like if they knew the same man was King of their own nation. Suddenly a beautiful rose filled your vision, causing you to give Ardyn a look of confusion. He simply smiled, ‘for you, my dear.’

You smiled, taking the flower delicately within your hands as you breathed in it’s scent. ‘Thank you, Ardyn….’

“(f/n)? Hey, you alright?” Prompto asked, nudging you slightly.

“Of course, just wondering what restaurant we should try first.”

Gladio laughed, “let’s see Iris first; then we’ll eat.”

Arriving at the Leville, Gladio spoke with front desk recptionist about his sister while Ignis reserved rooms for the night. When Iris walked down the staircase, she beamed happily at the sight of all of you, immediately running to her older brother for a hug. “Gladdy! Look at all of you, holding your own out there.”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Prompto grinned.

Iris laughed, “I’ll bet. You guys are staying, here right?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Great! There’s so much I want to tell you all. And you can stay with me (f/n), so you don’t have to be crammed with the guys.”

You smiled, “thank you Iris, but I’d like to explore the city a bit more before I turn in.”

“Hey, no objections here. We’ll see you later then?” Noctis asked.

“Of course, good night everyone.” You said before exiting the hotel.

Prompto sighed, “she’s been rather different since we talked to Cor.”

“Everyone mourns in their own way, all she needs is some space.” Ignis clarified as they watched you leave.

The sun had already set as you walked down the main thoroughfare and toward the Outlook, the flames from the Meteor coloring the evening skyline beautiful shades of blue, purple, and orange. You thought about all your fellow glaives, now only to be remembered as traitors despite their efforts to protect their homeland. And though there was no confirmation, deep down you knew that Nyx and the others no longer remained on Eos. You hummed a soft melody under your breath in honor of your friends, but paused. What was that?

Soft notes of music began to dance through the air, the same notes that you were humming under your breath. There was only one person who knew that song….

Quickly you left the Outlook, following the music like a starving beggar would the scent of food. Faster you jogged; the sound coming from outside of Lestallum. Without a second thought you sprinted into the darkness, eager to catch your prey. Despite the late hour, you could navigate your way with the aid of your flashlight and the moonlight overhead, chasing away the shadows. Louder the music became as you pushed onward until suddenly the music stopped.

Looking around, you now stood within a small clearing, the lights of Lestallum twinkling in the distance. Before you lay a small field of wild flowers and a simple rock structure, upon which laid the source of the music you had followed here: your ocarina. Gently you picked up the instrument up, the porcelain apparatus bearing the brunt of time’s passing despite its polished appearance.

“It seems the gods have shown their mercy.”

You turned around and there he stood; hair the color of wine covered by a old fedora as golden eyes seemed to glow like dying embers in moonlight. He slowly closed the distance between the two of you, as if afraid you would disappear at the slightest moment before you both remained only a single stride away from each other.

“…. Ardyn?” you spoke hesitantly.

His eyes brightened at the name as a small smile pulled graced his lips. “Hello, my sweet nymph.”

Dun, dun, dun, a cliffhanger! XD

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I’ll be sure to start working on the next one, but it may take a bit as I will be watching E3 press conferences. Also be sure to check out chibi-jing’s fanart of the story on my page, she is very talented and sweet enough to draw them.

Hope you all have a great week, take care! :)

#ffxv #ardyn izunia #ardyn izunia x reader #fanfiction #Long Live the King - ch.4

[jaegertango]

The Biggest and the Strongest

I haven’t written some Sigmaine in awhile. So here he is punching stuff with his best buddy in the Brawlpub. These drabbles always come out a lot shorter than I hope them to be.

They still hadn't fixed his seat.

Soren Sigmaine shifted about upon the metal bar stool once more, and it squeaked noisily at his slightest movement. For several months, he had not come to the seedy underdome of Bizmo's Brawlpub, and the dimly-lit club was still as filthy as before. Everything about the Brawlpub screamed that it was a den of violence, from the stained walls to the raucous individuals throwing bottles on occasion. The human had thought that, with the uprising of the Legion, that the gnome owner would find it upon himself to maybe go to church or change his socks. Unfortunately, it seemed like it would take more than an apocalypse to change Bizmo, for the tavern still smelt and looked like an amputated foot.  Even for the armor-clad warrior, the place had a reek that not even nostalgia could properly mask for him – he did not miss that stench at all.

However, the Draenei monk that was sitting beside him, he had missed greatly, even if Xolphiea was wrinkling her nose with the same minor distaste that Soren was behind his horned helm.

“I don'tremember this place stinking so badly,” she muttered, and took a swig of her drink. The tankard she held behind her calloused and roughened knuckles warned she was drinking, but the light sifts of steam streaming from the steel lip explained she was drinking tea. Sigmaine was surprised that there were beverages not drowned in alcohol, but he had to hand it to Bizmo: it only took the barkeep ten minutes to find a dirty case of tea leaves in comparison to the two seconds it took her to find the tap for Soren's ale.

“Gonna be okay?” The zealot rasped in a low growl, his voice crackling with the tone of a man who barely spoke. With a small smile, Xolphiea reached over and gently patted the top of Soren's helmet.

“This smell is strong, but I'm much stronger,” she responded confidently, though she was quick to hide her nose in the depths of her tankard once more.

Sigmaine nodded simply, his eyes leering to her bare shoulders. Once more, she was clad in dark crimson leathers meant to give her strong body as much room for movement as possible. It meant that her tough biceps were on display, as well as her even more powerful thighs. The vest strapped to her torso was open in a v-neck, exposing a great amount of cleavage that strained with the heavy weight of her breasts. Combined with the fact she only wore thigh-high leggings to shroud her broad hooves, this would have been distracting – to the Crusader, he saw only a warrior built on agility and power alike. Speed was something that he did not have much of; his smoldering, black platemail was extremely protective and bulky, but only allowed him to move in short  bursts of power. It was no wonder that the Draenei often won their spars.

“Name should be called s-”

“WHY DO I SIT?! C'MON, WHY DO I SIT?!”

Soren was interrupted crisply by a shrill shout from the lower level of the Brawlpub, calling out to nobody in particular. Xolphiea looked down towards her mug, groaned, and then looked over to Sigmaine in annoyance.

“I just got this!”

“We'll go fast,” the human grunted, setting down his own tankard on the bar.

“WHY DO I SIT?! OI, WHY DO I SIT?!”

The yeller was adamant about getting his message across, his piercing call echoing every three seconds in the tavern. Snickers and jeers screamed back at random, but both Monk and Crusader were silent. With a graceful leap, the Draenei did a soaring backflip from the open balcony, landing just before the human who was bellowing. Most of everyone in the vicinity flinched, only to hoot and holler at the Monk as she stood almost two entire feet over the caller's head.

“Why do I sit?” She asked curiously, cocking her head.

“Why do I sit?” Came the steady response, and the human clucked his tongue sharply, scratching at his parchment. “Couldn't have thought of a better name?”

Before the Draenei could respond, a much more thunderous crash of metal exploded beside Xolphiea, her companion who stood several inches shorter than her making a much noisier landing. The few that had tried to sneak up on the Draenei to get a closer look at her rear was immediately blown away by the sheer impact the zealot had landing next to her; all while she was unaffected.

“No,” he growled in answer for the Monk, craning his neck about readily.

The Brawlpub caller just shook his head, entirely unfazed by either of the two fighter's entrances. “Any sort of name for glory, and you do THIS. Bizmo knows how to pick 'em.”

The Monk merely shrugged and pointed towards the lowered pit behind him, the colosseum for the matches. “Can we-”

“Just GO, you wankers!” He hissed, and the Draenei smirked as she did another agile flip over the railing and into the pit. Soren was quick to follow, though it was with less grace and more metal crunching under his boots as he drew his familiar greatsword Koldraigzharr over his shoulder and circled his right arm around to loosen it up.

In the lowered area of the Brawlpub, just about every one of the dull lights were focused onto it. It made sure that every second of the fights could be seen as brightly as possible, that no inch of gore was spared from sight. Of course, it also revealed just how scarred the walls were, how torched the steel floor was, and overall how badly Bizmo cared for his Pub's death pit. The owner himself was flying above everyone else in his gyrocopter, the gnome's shining grin and curly mustache made less handsome by his shifty, dark eyes. The only thing less obvious than his unsettling smile was the racket echoing from the twin boomboxes jutting from the bottom of the hovering craft, allowing him to announce to the betters and participants as he always had.

“AllllllRIGHT, bets are closed and final!” He buzzed through the microphone merrily, and a pair of spotlights danced into the pit to signal another fight. A rowdy cheer swam through the fetid air, and more of the onlookers began to approach the railing. “Our next round is a crowd favorite! You know it, you love it, and I got paid BIG money to bring it back! So ready your pockets boys – it's the Tag-Team-Tussles!”

Another hooting cheer, and Xolphiea scratched at the back of her dark hair, looking down towards Sigmaine with a slightly-baffled look. “I don't remember this place being so fake either...”

“IN THE FIRST CORNER!” Bizmo boomed, twirling at his mustache as the spotlights focused primarily on human and Draenei. “Maybe ya've seen 'em, maybe they've given ya glory or empty purses! One's got enough kick to make our swill look like water, the other's living on a prayer – to rip and tear your guts! Get yourselves ready boys! IT'S – are you fucking kidding me – WHY DO I SIT!”

The next round of thundering calls were also scattered with whistles as Sigmaine steadied his claymore, helm focused on the other side of the pit. Xolphiea merely massaged her hands, propping herself into a more readied state.

“AND IN THE OTHER CORNER!” The Gnome roared, the spotlights rearing away from the brawling duo to center on the other side of the pit. “Two newcomers, proud to spread their gore-y! One's cunning but brutal! The other's brutal but cunning! That's right! They're mean, green and sure as hells aren't lean – IT'S KROM AND KROG!”

With the end of Bizmo's call, two monstrous forms suddenly rocketed from seemingly nowhere into the pit. Their green-skinned bodies were tremendous, the Orcs both far more muscular than Sigmaine's bulky form, and their eleven-foot frames towered over even Xolphiea. The few parts of their hulking frames that were covered were by scarred platemail, though the rest of them was left open to reveal their incredible girth. In fact, it was impossible to distinguish the two apart besides their two nameplates emblazoned upon their collars: one that read “KROM” and the other that read “KROG.” The Orcish dreadnoughts were quite proud of their size too, for their dull, deep laughter boomed through the pit like a thunder's snarl.

“DA STRONGEST AN' DA BIGGEST! DAT'S KROM-

“-AN' DAT'S KROG!”

As the two Orcs flexed prominently at the staring brawlers, Bizmo's voice bellowed from above.

“Same rules as always! One-on-one y'hear? Hold out your right arm to tag your second in. Let's have a good ol' fashioned bloodbath, eh?”

Xolphiea looked over towards Sigmaine, and he nodded simply, backing towards the closest corner of the pit and giving her the respectful option of the first punch. It took several more seconds after, but eventually the greenskin named KROG also stomped backward, still chanting and cheering at the same roaring volume as before. The raucous crowd had nearly doubled as they lined the railings, booze splashing around their lips as they did so. The air was a sweaty mix of heat and alcohol. Even as Bizmo bellowed out once more, his boomboxes seemed awash in the atmosphere as he called out:

“BEGIN!”

No sooner did he finish the n in that word that the Draenei was attacking. KROG had no reaction as she swiftly leaped at the Orc and brought her hoof across his jaw in a cyclonic kick. The wet, sickening crunch of the blow grossly crackled through the air and garnered several gasps from the audience half a second afterward, but the green giant barely noticed. He merely grunted, backing up a single step, and raised both of his arms up to crush Xolphiea under fists bigger than her torso.

“KROG CRUSH!” He howled, but at the apex of his smash, the Monk continued her attack. With another jump, she stepped up onto the Orc's tough stomach, and used the leverage to propel herself upward and uppercut the colossus of green in the jaw once more. It was another powerful blow that surged through the pit like a wave, but once more, KROG showed no sign of being affected too greatly. The warrior simply backed another stomp, and an irritated roar grumbled in his throat. The purple-skinned fighter was not stopping though, whipping her hands around the Orc's knifelike ears to circle atop of his head, and then use the same leverage to swing her body's momentum to his back. Even for how much weight her foe head, Xolphiea's strength was enough to unsteady KROG and hurl him to his back in a suplex. The Draenei monk landed far more lightly, exhaling softly as she readied to  bring her hoof down entirely on his face, but she froze as she swiveled around to her peripheral vision – and saw KROM cackling wildly as he rocketed towards her in a full-body tackle. She wound back her right fist to somehow defend herself and back away-

-and felt a light tap as Sigmaine came barreling from behind her, meeting KROM's tremendous bodycheck with his much smaller form. Despite the size difference though, the human was meeting every ounce of the Orc's strength, though that may have also been due to that the newcoming greenskin was also latched onto one of KROG's hands. The amount of jeering raining down upon both sides was enough to make Xolphiea scramble back to safety and let Soren fight his own battle as he silently stood his ground. KROM trumpeted furiously, and brought his free hand sideways to slug at the Crusader, but he moved faster. Revolving in place, he was able to shove off the Orc for just a second to swivel around and slash at the giant with his Koldraigzharr. For how heavy and long the blade was though, it was barely able to carve into the Orc, scratching the colossal brute minutely. Still, a shower of blood that was a shade too bright splashed out onto both the ground and the zealot himself, and KROM bellowed more out of anger than actual pain. The Orc was able to catch Sigmaine off guard with a savage backhand, but for how fast the blow was, the human was able to retreat only a few steps as he grunted gruffly in surprise. Keeping his sword slung low, Soren charged towards the Orc without a second breath, winding up to stab that offending limb into one of the walls with a powerful thrust. As KROM roared in actual pain, the zealot abandoned his sword to snatch onto either ends of the first wound he had slashed into the Orc, his fingers digging knuckle-deep into the flesh and ripping outward to tear the gouge even bigger. It would have been a horrendously-wicked display-

-had KROG not suddenly snatched at the human in one of his meaty hands. He now had two humongous Orcs bearing down upon him as KROG roared triumphantly, his clublike foot pinning the Crusader to the ground as he gripped at his ankles, intending to pull the human into two bloody chunks.

But he never got the chance. Before the towering giant could pull, Xolphiea came soaring from the heavens, bringing the back of her hoof down upon KROG's head and stumbling him with the sickening crunch of her mighty kick. Not even the Orc could keep his grip from the concussive force of such a blow, and Soren swiftly scrambled to his feet unharmed.

“IF YOU FOUR ARE GONNA BREAK THE RULES, YOU BETTER FINISH THIS FAST!” Bizmo roared through the speakers, only just audible above the rowdy cheers of the audience. Now Xolphiea stood beside her blood-soaked companion as both KROM and KROG leered at the two with absolute hate burning in their scarlet gazes, as bright as the blood drenching zealot and the pit.

“I'll handle the ugly one!” Xolphiea grinned widely, ignoring Soren's inquisitive stare as she rushed ahead, seemingly picking KROM at random and storming the Orc with a barrage of blows. Inspired by his guardian angel's enthusiasm, Sigmaine also charged, meeting the wounded Orc once more with Koldraigzharr alight. For someone with a stab in one of his palms and a leaking gash in his side, KROG was just as hearty as before, bellowing like a typhoon as he pounded the ground beside the zealot, and the shockwave was enough to make the entire pit shudder like water. Luckily, the human had thought correctly, and had instead leaped into the air at KROG'S toothy maw. Unaffected by the quaking ground, his boots smashed into the Orc's bare chest, and he cleaved at the giant's collarbone viciously. The human easily had enough power to separate most heads from their shoulders with such a strike, but in this colossal brute's case, it did little more than cut simply into him. KROG nonetheless thundered in pain, showering Soren with another dose of high-velocity blood spray and spit, but he refused to stop. Whipping his claymore downward, he did a short hop and wrenched his arms towards the giant's shoulder, attempting to drag it entirely down the Orc's side and at least remove one of those dangerous arms. While he succeeded at digging the steel two feet inside of KROG, the sword got stuck instead, and the Orc instead toppled in baffled agony. Not ready for it, the human fell aside clumsily as KROG bellowed horribly – and repeated it as KROM collapsed on top of him, Xolphiea's hoof just above his fist-thick jugular.

“THE BOYS ARE DOWN!” Bizmo yelled, and a true combination of cheers and curses swam in the fetid air. “WHY DO I SIT WINS!”

The Orcs groaned gruffly, still definitely alive, but not moving very quickly. Leering over towards the fallen warriors, Soren eyed up his blade warily, as it was still buried in KROG's shoulder but changed his gaze as he offered a hand to help Xolphiea down from her victorious pose.

“You're getting sloppy on me,” she chuckled, smiling to him as she took his bloodstained hand. “Hope my tea's not cold!”

Amongst the wild crowd, among which six different fights of fury and joy had broken out, Sigmaine followed Xolphiea's lead and moved back to their VIP bar on the second floor. Surprisingly, it took a minimal amount of shoving as the two made they way back, and the life fluids were still wet on the human's dark armor as he looked joyfully towards his tankard, straw still offering itself for him.

“Still warm!” The Draenei happily stated, already drinking from her mug as Soren reached for his own. “Well... maybe a bit lukewarm. Should've went faster, Sig!”

Soren merely looked up from his tankard, pulled the straw out of his mug, and blew a stream of air at the Monk's face.

“Y'know, it IS your fault it's cold. I need something warm for myself,” she pouted at him, crossing her arms over her broad chest. At her comment, the human turned towards the barkeep, but he couldn't even respond before Xolphiea was nearly sitting in his lap, smiling much more widely at him.

“I think I know something that's tasty and warm,” she purred, gently pulling up on the side's of Sigmaine's helmet as she almost straddled his bloodsoaked form. He flinched as his black beard and long mustache was revealed to the air, but nothing more to the world. With a coo, the brawler brushed her nose against Soren's own before warmly kissing him, a motion that he gratefully and awkwardly returned as well. Her tail wagged happily as the two of them kissed fondly, something that neither of them wanted to break soon.

His chair wasn't fixed – but he sure didn't want to move out of it now.

#jaegerwrites #also obvious gork and mork are obvious

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 50

Warnings: same as the other chapters

Rating: SFW

“So wait, you’re mom was killed by a Heartless and you suspect that it’s Xehanort?” Sora said. 

“That’s exactly what we said, dummy,” Roxy said. 

“Roxy!” Yui scolded. Roxy grumbled under breath.

“My sister is right. Only you and (Y/N) can stop Xehanort,” Yui said. 

“How do you know that we can stop him?” Sora asked. 

“I have the power of time. To Spirits, that’s considered light. But to Xehanort, it’s considered darkness. I was able to freeze the Organization’s moon so that the twins here can get their father back,” you said. 

“Is their father captured or something?”

“Our father is the leader of the Organization, dumbass. I thought you knew that,” Roxy said. 

“Well, excuse me for trying to save my best friend!”

“Both of you are not helping!” Donald said. 

“Zip it, chicken!” Roxy said. 

“I am not a chicken! I’m a duck!” 

“Is she always like this?” Goofy asked Yui.

“Yep. After our mother died, her personality started to change. As did our fathers,” Yui said. 

“I’m really sorry for ya loss.”

“Thanks. I should stop Roxy before she does something she will regret. Roxy that’s enough!” Roxy and Donald stopped fighting and looked at Yui. Roxy growled lowly and moved closer to you. 

“I hate him,” she said.

“I know. It’s pretty obvious,” you giggled. She laughed under her breath and nudged your arm. 

“Hey, get your arm off my friend!” Sora said. 

“Ugh. Whatever, porcupine,” Roxy said as she walked over to Yui. 

“I am not a porcupine!” 

“Can we focus please?” Yui asked, annoyed by her twin sister and her attitude towards the others. 

“Fine. But don’t go off telling a story. Just get to the point,” Roxy said. 

“We need to stop Kingdom Hearts from completing. If our father completes it, then it’s game over.”

“How do we do that?” you asked. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe we can go to other worlds and see if they can help in any way.” 

“Remember to keep the order,” Donald said. 

“Can’t make any promises, chicken,” Roxy said. 

“I told you that I’m a duck!

~Le Time Skip~

After visiting the other worlds, you, the twins, and the trio boarded the Gummi Ship.

“What's that? That big...thing?” Chip asked as he looked at the map.

“Maybe that's the source of the weird reading we picked up before!” Dale said. 

“And there's something funny about Twilight Town. I'm seeing two of 'em!” (i’m sorry, i just like twilight town for our chaotic twilight trio)

“Look! It's another huge energy reading! And it's coming from someplace near the town.”

“I dunno what's going on, fellas, but it sure looks like there's some big trouble brewing around Twilight Town!” You, the twins, and the trio traveled through the Assault of the Dreadnought to get to Twilight Town.

“Hey! I think we're almost there!” Goofy said. 

“Huh?” you and Sora asked.

“What?” Donald asked.

“What’re you talking about?” Roxy asked. 

“Are you sure?” Yui asked.

“Gawrsh, aren't we here because of the picture?” Goofy asked as he took out a photograph. “Look, I'll show ya!”

“Yeah! Goofy's right!” Donald said. 

“C'mon, let's go find this mansion!” 

“Yeah!” you, Sora, and the twins said. When the six of you reached the Old Mansion, you all saw the gate open and Pence, Hayner, and Olette lying on the ground. Sora ran to Hayner.

“Hey, are you all right?” Sora asked as Hayner started to get up. 

“What happened?” you asked. 

“We came here looking for Kairi. Then those white things attacked us...” Hayner said. 

“You gotta be careful!” Donald said.

“Wait, why do you three look familiar?” Yui asked.

“Yeah, you three look super familiar,” Roxy said. The Twilight Trio looked at the twins in confusion. 

“We don’t know you. Why do you think you know us?” Pence asked. The twins thought about it till it hit them.

“You’re our cousin’s!” Yui said. 

“HUH?!” you and the others exclaimed. 

“Yeah! Our dad was your uncle! And you lived in that mansion behind you!” Roxy said.

“But the thing is, we don’t remember who our uncle was or what happened that made us forget you guys,” Yui said. 

“That’s a lot of info to process in two minutes,” Olette said.

“Okay, say that you are our cousins, how do we know that you’re telling the truth?” Hayner said. 

“We don’t have anymore proof. You just have to believe us,” Yui said. 

“Okay. But why are you looking for Kairi?” you said.

“Because Kairi’s our friend too, ya know,” Hayner said.

“You're right... You know, I never thought of it like that before,” Sora said.

“Word is, this mansion gets a lot of really strange visitors.” 

“We thought this place might be the gateway to some kind of alternate Twilight Town,” Olette said.

“What do you mean, alternate Twilight Town?” you asked. 

“Hey, Goofy, do you think we could see that crystal of yours?” Pence asked. Goofy nodded and took out the crystal and the munny pouch.

“I made that pouch myself, and I still have it. So there shouldn't be two of them here,” Olette said. 

“And this is the trophy Seifer gave you. You left it behind, remember?” Hayner said as he held up the Four Crystal Trophy.

“It's the only one of its kind. Same for the crystals---red, blue, yellow, green---only one of each color. But you've got your own!” Pence said. 

“So...where'd you get it?” Sora thought for a moment. 

“The pouch is from the King. When he gave us munny for the train ride, he gave us the crystal too,” Goofy said.

“But then...where did the KING get it?” Pence asked. 

“See? There's gotta be another town out there like this one. That would explain how the King got that pouch and the crystal. Everything makes sense,” Hayner said. You, the twins, and the trio looked at each other. 

“It...does?” you asked. 

“That other town must be where whatever's missing from here went!” Pence said.  

“Like Kairi,” Olette said. 

“Wait a second. Did you two did something to Kairi?” Sora said as he looked at the twins. 

“No way. We were told to look after (Y/N). But instead, we froze the moon to stop Xehanort,” Yui said. 

“I get it!” Suddenly, a few Dusks appeared. King Mickey swooped down and sliced them.

“Watch out!” he said. You, the twins, and the trio fought alongside Mickey to defeat the Nobodies.

“I got somethin' to tell ya. I found out where Ansem is---Ansem the Wise! The real Ansem! He snuck into Organization XIII's stronghold,” Mickey said. 

“And we've figured out where Kairi is! I'm pretty sure we're right,” Sora said. 

“But why'd you all come here? And why are the daughters of Xemnas here?” 

“Because we want to get our family back the way it was,” Roxy said. 

“Also, someone gave us a clue,” you said. 

“Who?” 

“Well, Your Majesty, Sora thinks it might been Riku,” Goofy said. 

“It's just a feeling I had,” Sora said. 

“Well, if that's what ya think, then it's probably right.”

“You mean Riku's okay!”

“If that's what ya think...” 

“We've waited long enough, Your Majesty! Tell us what you know!” you said, crossing your arms. 

“It's not for me to say.” 

“But Your Majesty! Why?” 

“I don't wanna break my promise.” 

“You made a promise to Riku!? So he's okay! We can see him again!” Sora said. Mickey covered his mouth.

“Huh? Who’s Riku?” Hayner asked.

“Our best friend,” you said. 

“That's IT!” Pence said. 

“Your Majesty? You got the pouch with the crystal from Riku, didn't you? And you promised not to tell, right?” Olette asked. 

“Gosh, guys...” Mickey said. 

“That's enough!” Donald said. 

“Yeah. Let's go!” Sora said as he turned to face the mansion.

“Kairi! Riku! We're on our way!” you said. You and the others entered the main foyer of the mansion.

“There's gotta be a computer somewhere,” Mickey said. 

“A computer... Do you think it's connected to that other Twilight Town?” Pence said. 

“It might be. And there should be a way into the Realm of Darkness there.” 

“Riku told you that, didn't he!?” Sora asked. 

“Please, Sora. I made a promise.” 

“Aha! I knew it!”

“Hey! Stop pestering the King!” Donald said. 

“Right. Sorry...” Yui and Roxy headed up the stairs, seeing if they could find any more clues as to what happened to the Twilight Trio and why they couldn’t remember what happened. They entered a bedroom and saw four beds decorated in the room. The Twilight Trio entered the room and saw that it had pictures of them as kids with another kid with them.

“So you were telling the truth,” Hayner said. 

“Yeah. If only we knew what happened,” Yui said. 

“Well, there’s gotta be something here that can help us,” Olette said. The twins nodded and they began to search. As they were searching, Roxy came across a photo that contained her, Yui, the Twilight Trio, and a girl. She picked up the photo and got a flashback.

~Cue The Flashback~

The twins, the Twilight Trio, and a girl ran around the Gray Area of The Castle That Never Was and laughing. In the distance was Xemnas and his wife along with Ansem SOD and his wife. 

“When was the last time that we got to hang out like this?” Xemnas’s wife asked. 

“I know. It’s been a while since we got to hang out! But you know that we have jobs to do,” Ansem’s wife said. 

“Agreed. Me being a queen and you being an adventure.”

“And let’s not forget that we’re Spirits.” The two Spirits laughed as Xemnas and Ansem brought over some wine. 

“Thank you dear,” Xemnas’s wife said. 

“You’re welcome, love,” Xemnas said as he kissed her cheek. The two man sat down next to their wives and had a conversation with each other. A girl with blonde hair and in pigtails ran up to Ansem’s wife. 

“Mommy, look what I made you!” she said softly. Ansem’s wife looked down and saw her daughter holding up a drawing of the two of them together. 

“Thank you, honey. It looks beautiful!” Ansem’s wife said as she took the drawing. The girl smiled and went back to playing with the other kids. 

~Flashback Over~

Roxy jumped as she felt Yui’s hand touch her shoulder. Yui looked over Roxy’s shoulder and saw the picture.

“If only we could remember what happened,” Roxy said. 

“Yeah. Hey, who’s that girl” Yui asked as she pointed to the girl in the picture. 

“I don’t know. I think she might be Uncle Ansem’s daughter.” 

“How can you tell?” Hayner asked as he looked at the photo. 

“Compare her looks to yours. They’re almost identical,” Roxy said. 

“Does that mean that she’s our sister?” Olette asked. 

“Mhm. And also a Spirit.” 

to be continued...

#kingdom hearts #kingdomhearts #kingdom hearts imagine #kingdom hearts imagines #kingdom hearts x reader #kingdom+hearts+x+reader #kingdom+hearts+imagines #kingdom+hearts+imagine #kingdomhearts x reader #kingdomhearts imagines #kingdomhearts+x+reader #kingdomhearts+imagines