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floating-mid-air · 1 year

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The Princess of all Saiyans

Masterlist

Two months in a row with new chapters! New year, new me! I don't know how long this will last, but I'm going to ride the high for now. Tbh, I was really struggling with this chapter. I rewrote it so many times. But I think I like how everything turned out! As always, DM's/Comments are always open if you have any comments, questions, or concerns. I always love to hear your kind words and feedback!

Also, I'ma apologize for what I've done in advance.

Chapter 15

You soar through the air, the wind smacking against your face as you head straight for the ship. You'd rather be on the battlefield, but instead, you're fleeing like one of Frieza's cowardly soldiers. Stupid Vegeta. Always barking orders at you. He thinks he can boss you around like an underling. You've proven to be more than capable over the years, and yet Vegeta still treats you like a child. It's demeaning. And to make matters worse, Vegeta made you leave, but not only does Raditz get to stay, but those pathetic earthlings do too. Talk about adding insult to injury.

You finally arrive at the ship, landing gracefully on the terrain. You sigh dramatically, keeping your eyes fixated on the aircraft. At least after today, you'll never have to see one of these crappy ships ever again. You'll be free of the Frieza Force's terror. Though you're unsure if it'll be you in hell or Frieza. All you know is one of you is being sent on a first-class trip to eternal damnation. You take one last deep breath before heading into the ship.

On impulse, you walk straight into the room with the healing chamber. Your stone-cold gaze lands on Goku, who's still taking his sweet-ass time healing. "Ya, ya. Don't look so happy to see me." You snarl, placing your hands on your hips. "I'm not here by choice." You step closer to the chamber, sliding down against the machine. You rest your head against the cool metal, shutting your eyes. "You know, you're lucky, Kakarot. You didn't have to grow up with your pain in the ass, older brother. You didn't even have to deal with being bossed around past infancy. And you don't even remember it at all."

It takes you a while, but you eventually grow accustomed to the faint buzzing of the machine. Finally, being able to relax, well, relax as much as you can, considering your current situation. That is, until the ground starts violently shaking. Your eyes snap open as you place your hands against the floor, steadying yourself. Various objects fly off the shelves, scattering across the room. Luckily nothing damaged the healing chamber. What the hell is going on out there? You shift your focus to the direction of the battle. Frieza's energy has spiked drastically. He must have undergone one of his transformations. You know he has multiple forms, though you've never seen him transform with your own eyes. They must be giving him a harder time than you thought. Wait. There's another power level there. You were so focused on Frieza that you hadn't even noticed the new arrival. That must be the Namekian. Better late than never, you suppose. Wait, no. That's Kakarot's motto.

Your surroundings finally calm down. Frieza must be done transforming. "Frieza really does like flexing his power." You sigh. That smug bastard. You wonder if he had to transform to destroy planet Vegeta. Probably not. "I wish you remembered our homeworld. You were there long enough to at least form some basic memories. The Saiyan race was something else entirely. Life on planet Vegeta was constant destruction--- it was glorious." You grin, chuckling to yourself. "You would've hated it, Kakarot. But--- I'd give anything just to spend one more day on planet Vegeta."

You shut your eyes again, retreating into the one place you can avoid Frieza, your mind. At least, you thought you could, but even in your mind, it seems like you can't avoid Frieza or the havoc he's caused. Frieza's been this catalyst in your life, a constant sign of misery. Childhood monsters aren't supposed to be real. The monster under the bed is simply the result of an overactive imagination. But your monster is very real. Your monster took away your home, slaughtered your entire race, and then forced you to serve him. You can't seem to escape your monster, no matter how much you try.

Twenty-Something Years Ago:

"Where the hell are we going?" You shout at Cui for the millionth time. Frieza's lackeys put you and Raditz on this ship hours ago with absolutely no explanation. When you first arrived at your previous location, you wanted nothing more than to leave that prison. But now you're free from that hell hole, and you can't ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. You don't like this. You don't like this at all.

"Then come over here, and try. I dare you!" You growl back.

"Shut your mouth, brat. Before I shut it for you!" Cui's all bark and no bite. You'd love to see him try. You could probably take Cui even before your training with Lord Frieza.

"Listen here----" Cui's screaming is cut off once he notices Zarbon poking his head into the room.

"Cui!" Zarbon's voice booms. "Stop instigating her!"

"Me? She's the one who started it!"

"She's a child." Zarbon pinches the bridge of his nose, an annoyed look crossing his features. "You're a grown man. Act like it." And with that, Zarbon once again leaves you and Raditz alone with Cui. Definitely a big mistake on Zarbon's part.

"Ya, act like it." You mock Cui as Raditz laughs hysterically.

"You're lucky I don't strangle you!" Cui is really getting worked up. Some anger management classes could do wonders for him.

"Oh, no." You hold up your hands. "I'm shaking."

"Why, you little---" Cui snarls as he stands up from his seat. But rather than storming towards you, he stomps towards the door, going out into the hall. "Someone switch jobs with me! I can't take this hell anymore! I'll even do grunt work to get away from those brats!"

"Wow." You turn to Raditz, who's mirroring your pleased expression. "I didn't think he would snap that fast."

Frieza's buffoons decide to leave you and Raditz alone for the duration of the trip. You wish you knew where they were taking you. You thought nothing could be worse than the prison they just had you in, but now you're not so sure. It's been a long---- year? Has it only been a year? It feels like it's been much longer. You feel like you've aged twenty years in only one.

The ship suddenly comes to a halt. There has to be some way to find out where you are before those clowns come to get you. Your gaze darts all over the room. No, nothing ---- wait. Bingo! There's a window, but it's a bit high up. You'd have to fly to reach it, but you don't want to attract any unwanted attention. Flying would raise your power level, and a scouter would definitely pick that up.

"Raditz, give me a boost." He raises his brows before ultimately complying. "Move over to that window." He struggles, staggering a bit. But he's able to get you to the window. You press your face against the glass, boxing your face in with your hands.

"What do you see?"

"Give me a minute!" You carefully take in the surroundings outside of the glass. It's another one of the Frieza Force's outposts, which isn't a surprise. But it seems less secure. That's strange. It's less prison-like than where you were last. Why would Lord Frieza move you here?

"What do you two think you're doing?" Zarbon's voice booms from behind. Raditz flinches, accidentally dropping you. You fall to the ground, landing on your ass. You look up at him from the floor, your eyes burning with fury.

"Oops." Raditz's eyes widen. "S-Sorry, Y/N!" You stand up, brushing yourself off. You shift your gaze back to Raditz, narrowing your eyes at the slightly larger Saiyan. Before you can scold the big idiot, Zarbon speaks up.

"Let's go." Zarbon flips around, leading you out of the room. The three of you exit the aircraft, heading straight into the unfamiliar building. You tread carefully behind Zarbon, making sure not to fall too far behind. "Lord Frieza has decided to be generous and move you here. Don't take advantage of his generosity, understand me?" Oh, yes, Lord Frieza is so generous. After destroying your planet and slaughtering your people like cattle, at least he's decided to improve your living arrangements.

Zarbon leads you both into an empty room. He turns around, looking you dead in the eyes. "Wait here."

He exits the room, leaving you both alone. "Y/N, what's going on? They've never left us alone like this. We could literally leave right now. The door is right there."

"I--- I don't know." Having more freedom is somehow worse. You can't help but feel on edge. You keep your gaze fixated on the door. It's the only way in and out. You begin to hear faint mumbling from the hallway. The murmuring quickly turns to yelling. You'd recognize that shouting anywhere, even if it's been so long since you've heard it. "Vegeta." You whisper to yourself in disbelief. He's here. He's alive. You didn't think you'd ever see your brother again.

Vegeta walks through the doorway first, followed closely by Zarbon. Nappa and Cado straggle into the room a few moments after. The room is dead silent, that is, until Zarbon clears his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "Lord Frieza has given things some thought, and he believes you Saiyans will be more productive as one unit. So he's generously decided to grant your request and reunite you. This is your one warning to behave yourselves. I'll leave you alone to get reacquainted with each other." The green-haired man turns to your brother. "And Vegeta, I trust you can show Y/N and Raditz around." Zarbon stays true to his word, leaving the room.

Once again, that eerie silence takes over. No one seems to know what to say. Vegeta walks over to you. He's gotten taller. He moves his hands toward you, dusting off your armor. "Have you been sticking to your training regime?" You nod. "And you've been eating well? I know how you are. If it was up to you, you'd eat junk all day."

"Yes, Vegeta." Vegeta moves his hands into your hair, fixing all the stray strands. Making you look more presentable.

"Did--- Did anyone hurt you?" His eyes meet yours, his expression becoming gravely serious. "Did somebody lay a hand on you? Answer me!" Your lack of response does not put him at ease. "I'll fucking kill them!" Your gaze lands on the ground as you begin mumbling. "You look me in the eyes when you answer me, Y/N."

You look back up at him, pouting. "No, Vegeta." You shake your head. "No one hurt me." It's best not to tell Vegeta the truth. He'd go on a warpath and just end up getting himself killed.

"Raditz!" His head snaps toward the taller boy. "Is she telling the truth?" Raditz's eyes widen, his entire body turning stiff. "Raditz?" Raditz's gaze meets yours. "Don't look at her for help! Look at me!"

Raditz nods rapidly. "Yes. Why--- why would she lie?"

Vegeta's gaze shifts between you and Raditz. No one dares to even move. Vegeta turns around, huffing to himself. "Alright then. We'll give you the tour of this death trap." Vegeta, Nappa, and Cado show you around the building. Showing you the ins and outs of every nook and cranny. And most importantly, they show you every exit.

You circle back around to the sleeping quarters of the building. "Half of these rooms are unoccupied. Raditz, feel free to pick any one you want." Vegeta points to another room. "Y/N, that one's yours. It's right next to mine." Of course, you and Vegeta aren't even reunited for five minutes, and he's already bossing you around. You're not even mad about it. It's nice to see that some things are still the same. There's one thing you can always count on, and that's that Vegeta will be well, Vegeta. Vegeta shoos the others off with his hand. "You three can do whatever you want for the time being." Your brother turns to you. "Follow me. There's something I want to show you."

Vegeta walks into his room with you in tow. He moves straight into a corner of the room, which seems to have some sort of bag on the floor. He kneels down, rummaging through the duffle. It takes him a bit, but he finally finds what he's looking for. "I found this a while ago and figured you'd want it." He stands up, flipping back toward you. You can now see the object in his hands. It's a book. He moves back over to you, handing you the novel.

You take it, observing the cover carefully. From what you can gather just from the front, it's all about domesticated animals. Well, the book calls them pets. You didn't have those on planet Vegeta. "Thanks, Vegeta." Your face falls as you hand the book back to him. "But I don't have time for childish stuff like that anymore." Vegeta's mouth hangs ajar as he stares at you like you've grown another head. "I'm going to go to my room now, okay?" Vegeta stands still, unable to move as you leave his room, heading directly into your own.

Vegeta snaps out of his trance, moving quickly toward the doorway. Where he can see Raditz struggling to choose between two rooms. "Raditz!" The taller boy turns around. "What the hell happened this past year?"

Raditz's brows crinkle. "What do you mean?"

"Y/N's acting strange. She's not behaving like herself."

"It's just been a long day, Vegeta." Raditz sighs. "She's probably just tired." No. Vegeta doesn't care how long you've been apart. He knows that something is wrong. Something has changed. And not in a good way.

In typical Vegeta fashion, he storms into your room, slamming the door shut behind him. He finds you on your bed. You're lying on your stomach, with your face buried in a pillow. He treads carefully, moving closer to you. "Y/N--- tell me what's going on." He now hovers right over you, his eyes filled with concern.

"Nothing." You mumble into the pillow. "Just sleepy."

"Y/N---" He moves a hand into your hair, stroking it comfortingly. "I'm not going to yell. Just tell me. If--- If you did something you shouldn't have, we can figure it out together."

"That's not it." You sigh. "It's just time for me to grow up." You move your head to the side to look at your brother. "It's time for me to start taking things seriously. Like you do."

"No. That isn't your job." He says sternly. "Your job is to give everyone shit and do the things you enjoy. Like reading those dumb books, you love so much."

"But--- everything going on here is so complicated. And now we have to deal with Lord Frieza."

"And it's my job to worry about that, not yours. We're all together now. You don't have to worry anymore. I'll deal with all the difficult stuff from now on, alright? All our burdens are mine, and mine alone."

"Okay, Vegeta." You nod. For the first time in over a year, you can finally let your guard down completely. "I---" You sob. "I--- I dont--- I wanna go home." You know it's stupid. You don't have a home to go back to. You're just so exhausted. And maybe, just maybe, a little scared too.

"I know." He moves a hand to your face, wiping away your tears. "Listen to me. When we're older and back at the top of the food chain. I'll conquer whichever planet you want. And that can be our new home."

You stare up at him through tear-filled eyes, your voice cracking. "Promise?"

"Of course. I'll make sure you'll have whatever you want, baby sister. Anything and everything." He wipes a few more stray tears off your face. "Now get some sleep." He moves over to the edge of your bed, placing the book on your mattress before leaving the room. Vegeta knows something happened to you, but he doesn't want to upset you any further. And honestly, he's just happy to have you back, right by his side, where you belong.

Your eyes snap open, your head darting toward the massive spike in power. Frieza's energy has elevated significantly. Did he--- Did he transform again? But his new power level is on a whole other planet compared to his previous form. Did you miss one of his transformations? Wait--- there's an energy source missing. The loss is so small you barely noticed it. Frieza must have killed someone. But who? The Namekian child? He went after the weakest being in the group. But why? A scare tactic, maybe? Frieza does like being unnecessarily cruel. What else did you miss when your mind was elsewhere? You knew you should've stayed focused, but you needed to escape, even if it was only for a little bit.

Now Frieza is fighting someone as well. This is so frustrating. Your eyes are much more accurate than this dumb energy-sensing technique. You wish you could see what was happening. It takes you a moment, but you're finally able to recognize Frieza's adversary as Vegeta. How the hell did your brother get so much stronger? You barely even recognized his power level. Vegeta wasn't nearly that strong when you saw him last. You're more confused than you've ever been. Last time you checked, Saiyans don't just magically get stronger without dedicated training or a massive injury. Something isn't adding up.

Even though Vegeta's significantly stronger, you know it's not enough. He doesn't stand a chance against Frieza alone. Your eyes land back onto the healing chamber, well rather the man inside. "Come on, Kakarot." You mutter to yourself. "Hurry the fuck up." With every second that passes, you become more frantic. Vegeta's power level is dropping, and it's dropping fast. You don't like this. Should you go back to the battlefield? You run a hand through your hair, trying to calm your nerves. But it feels like your brain is moving a thousand miles a second. You can't just stand here while Frieza manhandles your brother. But what help would you be? You're strong--- but you know your power isn't enough to even stand a chance against Frieza. And if your wound opens back up, it's game over. You need time to weigh the pros and cons. Time that you don't have.

You need to make a decision. You know Vegeta wouldn't want you to get involved, but---- before you can even finish your thought, bright red lights flash in the room. You move your attention back onto the healing chamber. Finally! Kakarot's done. You walk to the control panel, mashing the buttons to release him. With one last push of a button, the door opens. "It's about time, Kakarot. You have a nasty habit of showing up late, don't you?" Immediately as he steps into the room, your breath hitches. You're at a loss for words. You carefully observe the man in front of you, watching the water-like substance drip off his sculpted body. He looks the same, but he feels so different. He's like a whole new man.

His energy has changed entirely. You can't wrap your brain around it. You can't even formulate the words to describe what's different about Goku. But you know that you've never seen anything like this before.

"Y/N?" You're snapped back to reality by Goku waving a hand in front of your face. "Are you alright?"

"Mhm." You nod, still unable to form a coherent sentence. It's like he put a spell on you. One that makes you hear the rapid thumping of your heart in your ears. And sets your entire body aflame with his gaze.

"Are you sure? Cause you're looking at me kinda funny." You gasp, your gaze darting all over the room. You're looking at everything besides the man in front of you. That helps you regain your sanity. Simple, just don't look at Kakarot, and you'll be fine.

"Never better." Keep your words short and sweet, and you'll be able to put up a facade of normalcy.

"If you say so." Goku looks at his hands. "Wow. This is amazing." He's in awe. It's kinda cute, in a sickening sort of way. "We have nothing like that on Earth. It would usually take me weeks to get healed, but that was pretty much instant. It healed me so fast." He looks back at you. "And thanks for coming back to let me out. Even if it wasn't completely your choice." Oh, right. Kakarot heard everything you said to him. Damn it.

"That's not why Vegeta screamed at me to come here." You pat the side of your torso, reminding Goku of your injury.

"Oh, right." He chuckles lightly. "I forgot about that. Do you need help with the healing chamber?"

"No." You scoff. "You'd probably just break something. Or you'd end up locking me in the chamber for a year. I have it----" You cut yourself off, noticing another significant drop in your brother's power level. "I have everything under control. Just go!" He nods, ascending into the air. "And Kakarot, good luck. You're gonna need it." He blasts a hole through the roof before taking off to face Frieza.

The sooner you get healed up, the sooner you can get back to join the others. You still don't like this, but you know it's the smart thing to do. Once you're one hundred percent, you can give Frieza some real hell. You start pressing the buttons again, this time to activate the process. Luckily, you won't be in there as long as Kakarot. You're dealing with something much more minor.

You step into the chamber, and the goo-like substance fills your surroundings. Eww, you shutter. You forgot how gross and slimy this shit is. But you know your slight discomfort will be worth it in the end. Even though you hate this damn machine. During your childhood, you spent many hours in these rust buckets after your training. None of them were pleasant. You take a deep breath, trying to remain calm, as you desperately avoid checking to see how the battle is going. Because if you even look once, you know it'll be all you can think about. You'll drive yourself crazy before you're even close to being healed.

You're not sure how long you've been in the chamber now. Time always seems to disappear when you're in here. The water-like substance in the chamber is supposed to have a tranquil effect, so maybe that's why? You've never felt it, but that might just be tied to all your unpleasant memories of being trapped in healing chambers after being beaten half to death. You just hope you'll be done soon. This might be worse than being trapped for months in a pod, and that's saying a lot.

Your eyes snap open, your breath hitching. That was a mistake. You blink rapidly, trying to get the liquid out of your eyes. Your eyes are on fire, but you ignore the burning. Something's wrong--- it's this unexplainable feeling you have in your gut. You give in to your intuition, focusing on the one area you've been desperately avoiding, the battlefield. When you do, your heart sinks. You've never felt this way in your life. Vegeta's energy isn't just low. It's faintly present. If you didn't know better, you would've mistaken him for an insect. What the hell is going on? Vegeta isn't--- he isn't even fighting back. That isn't like your brother. You can feel his energy getting weaker and weaker. You can't--- you can't just stay here. You know it would be wiser to finish healing. You would be more helpful in the fight against Frieza when you're in top form. But for once--- you don't care. The rational part of your mind has gone blank. You've been spending far too much time with those earthlings. They must be rubbing off on you.

You manage to wiggle your fingers, focusing all your energy on your hand. The liquid in the chamber makes it very difficult to move. You move your hand slightly up. But it feels like there's a weight pulling you back down. You dismiss the feeling, moving your hand parallel to the window. You use all your strength, shooting a blast of energy straight ahead. Shards of glass fly across the room, and the liquid sprays violently out of the chamber, flooding the area. You step out of your former prison, wiping the drops of water off your face. You fling yourself up into the air, speeding through the same hole Goku made not too long ago.

You fly faster than you've ever flown before. You didn't even think that was possible since you're one of the fastest beings in the universe. You don't remember it taking this long to arrive last time. It feels like an eternity. You are so wrapped up in your thoughts that you almost fly past everyone. You almost missed Frieza's massive energy. You're slipping.

Your gaze fixates on the person you are most worried about, Vegeta. He's in worse shape than you thought. You look into your brother's eyes, and you can't believe what you see. Tears. You've never seen Vegeta cry before, not once. Your father even said he didn't cry as a baby. Then you hear something even less likely than Vegeta shedding tears. It's so unbelievable that you thought your ears were deceiving you. He begs Kakarot for help. Vegeta, your brother, one of the most prideful beings to ever exist. Begging someone, no, a third-class Saiyan, a clown-like Kakarot, for help. You can't even wrap your head around it. It feels like you're in some sort of bizarre dream. Or is it a nightmare? You finally notice the gaping hole in your brother's chest. That's--- That's not good.

Vegeta's chest rises and falls. He takes one last shallow breath before his head plops down on the ground, motionless. It's happened. You're now trapped in your worst nightmare. The worst fear of your childhood has come to life. The only thing that was more horrifying than Frieza's existence. Vegeta--- he's just gone. You hear this obnoxious shriek of hysteria. It's loud enough to pierce the eardrums of beings on other planets, planets that are far outside of this solar system. Wait. Did that--- come from you? Did you make that sound? You've never ever made a noise like that in your life.

"Y/N. How nice of you to join us." Frieza's mocking invades your ears, but you don't care. You don't even think your brain registered his taunting. You rush over to Vegeta's side, dropping to your knees.

"V-Vegeta." He looks so weak. So pathetic. As kids, you always looked up to Vegeta, and that's not just because he was taller in stature. Even as adults, you still thought the world of him. Hell, he was your world. Vegeta was always so brave and so strong. He was your hero. As a child, you wanted to be just like him. You idolized him. Sure, you butted heads more often than not, but that's just how you were. Now--- now he's just gone. One second he was here. He was breathing. And now he's not. "No, no, no, no. No! You promised. You promised me!" You were so mad at him only a few minutes ago, wishing him a fate worse than death. Now, you're incoherently sobbing at his side.

The others surrounding you are silent. There are no words that can be said to you at this moment. "And the Saiyan Princess sheds tears for the Prince. How sad. Though, who would've thought you'd be the last one from your bloodline, Y/N. I had my money on Vegeta. I always thought your recklessness would've gotten you killed first." All you can see is red as the freak's grating voice echoes in your mind. "I almost single-handedly wiped out your bloodline too. When I exterminated your dreadful race, I personally took care of your pathetic father. And, I guess you can see what I did to poor Vegeta." Your mind clouds further, deeper shades of red filling your vision. "Too bad I didn't have the chance to get rid of the little one. Some insect probably took care of him." You clench your hand into the ground, digging up clumps of dirt with your hands. "As I recall, you were quite protective over him." You unclench your fist, tears now shamelessly running down your face. "Y/N--- there's no need to cry. Don't worry. You'll see them all again momentarily. Your father, Vegeta, your other brother. I can't seem to remember his name, but I suppose it really doesn't matter. No one who knew him will be around anyway."

"Y/N!" Raditz shouts. "Get the hell out of the way!" Your legs feel like lead. You can't find the energy to move. It's like you've lost your will with Vegeta. Or maybe you're in shock? You snap your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the inevitable. At least it'll be quick.

You can hear the blast incoming like a missile. You knew Frieza would probably be the one to cause your demise, but you didn't think it would be like this. Your eyelids grow heavy as you feel something splatter all over your back. After a few moments, you gain the courage to open your eyes. You look down at your torso, but everything seems fine. Your chest piece is fully intact, and you're not in any pain. You move your hand to your back, wiping off the unknown substance. You observe your hand closely. That's definitely blood. "W-What the hell?" Your voice is inaudible. Not even a faint whisper escapes your lips.

"Well, not who I was aiming for. But I suppose that's one more Saiyan out of the way." Frieza states, with minor irritation.

You turn around to find Raditz, who's fallen onto the ground. "Rad---Raditz!" You shriek, flipping his body back over. "You big fucking idiot! Why would--- why did you do that?"

"Over the years, you've taken so many beatings for me. It's about time I repaid the favor." He chuckles briefly before wincing in pain. "And you know. It's about time I actually did my job for once."

"That's not you're job! It's not your job to protect me." You grimace at him. "At least not anymore."

"Yes, it is. It's what I was tasked with on planet Vegeta. And I'm finally seeing it through." Raditz's eyes begin to droop. "Besides, use your head. Who do you think stands a better chance against that purple freak? Me or you?"

"You must really be losing it." You can tell Raditz is struggling to keep his eyes open, but the stubborn fool is even fighting his own body's natural instincts. "You were always so terrified of Frieza. And now you have no problem running your mouth."

"It's what I do best." Raditz coughs. "Who knew dying fucking hurt so much. Whenever we killed someone, I always thought they were being dramatic. But damn, this sucks."

"Developing a conscience in your final moments?" You can't help but laugh. This fool always knows how to make you feel better, even when he's down.

Raditz chuckles. "Hell no. I'd do it all again." He finally gives in, snapping his eyes closed. "Y/N." He pauses. "Make him pay. For what he did to our planet. Our people. My--- My mother." You run a hand through his wild hair, hushing him.

"I will, Raditz. You don't have to worry about that."

"And--- one more thing, Y/N."

"Damn, you sure have a lot of last requests." He opens his eyes a crack, staring at you through lidded eyes.

"I'm dying! Let me have my moment." You chuckle but decide to let him continue. "Try to get along with Kakarot. Or at least don't kill him. I know his personality is a lot--- but."

You sigh dramatically. "I'll try. But no promises."

Raditz grins one last time. "You know. You've made this entire shitty existence a lot better, Y/N. I can't even picture my life without you in it anymore." His head falls to the ground, his eyes returning to their closed state. You watch him take one final breath, and just like that, he's gone too. Raditz and Vegeta are both dead. There's two more people added to the lengthy list of things Freiza has taken from you.

"Ya, me too, Raditz." You snap your tear-filled eyes shut, a few stray tears rolling down your face. At least with Raditz, you got to say goodbye.

"As loyal as the dog that he was till the end. How pathetic." You finally stand up, clenching your fists. "Now, Y/N. I'd love to see how you plan to make me pay."

Goku walks to stand beside you. It looks like he's going to move over to Frieza, but you raise your hand, stopping him dead in his tracks. "He's mine, Kakarot." You practically growl. Goku wants to get involved, but the expression on your face makes his blood run cold.

The two of you stare at each other for some time as if you are communicating telepathically. Goku shuts his eyes, nodding. "Alright, Y/N." He moves back to stand beside the others who are staring at him, horrified. Goku backing down from a fight is unheard of. All you needed was a few minutes, and you could make him stand down completely. It's like you're some sort of Goku whisperer. Krillin sure wishes he had that ability. That would've saved him a lot of trouble over the years.

"After all these years, I don't have to hold back anymore." Your eyes linger between both corpses. "I played nice--- well, as nice as I could. I bit my tongue all this time." Your eyes lock on Vegeta. "Looks like you did me a favor." You smirk. "Now, I don't have to protect Vegeta's ego."

Frieza laughs uncontrollably like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "You're even more delusional than that brother of yours. What's next? Are you going to tell me you're a Super Saiyan too?"

"I'm no Super Saiyan." You scoff. "I'm not that strong. But I do have to thank you, Frieza. You did help me become the woman I am today. You underestimated me, just like I expected you to. You played right into my hand."

"How so?" Frieza actually sounds alarmed. There isn't even a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Back when I was little, my father would always tell me how there were things that I was capable of that Vegeta wasn't. I thought he was full of shit. That he was trying to make me feel better about being so mediocre compared to my brother. But I've grown to understand what he meant. Vegeta was always stronger---- but I was smarter, less prideful. Even if I didn't always act like it. I'm sure that's in one of your little reports from your underlings from back when you were scouting planet Vegeta."

"And how did you manipulate me, Y/N?"

"I'm getting to that. I was content with living in my brother's shadow, letting everyone degrade me."

"Are you saying that you're stronger than Vegeta was?" Frieza asks in total disbelief.

"Exactly." You nod. "And it's all because of you, Lord Frieza." You're getting too cocky, but you can't help yourself. "When you'd train me, I'd never let you know how strong I was. Only using half my strength, sometimes even less than that."

"I miscalculated you." He grins eerily. "I applaud you, honestly. That doesn't happen often. But I can tell you right now, I won't be making that mistake again."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." You glance once more at your fallen comrades. If you're going to fight Frieza, you need to be angry.

"Come on then, show me how strong you actually are. I'm assuming you'll be quite manageable." You stretch your arms out, cracking your knuckles. "And that's if you're not bluffing. Cause there's no reason to delay this any longer, Y/N, if you're really as strong as you claim."

You speed toward Frieza, starting your barrage of attacks. Frieza dodges every one. "You know what they say about Saiyans. There's only one thing more dangerous than a Saiyan with damaged pride. And that's a Saiyan with nothing left to lose. And unfortunately for you, I'm the latter." You finally manage to land a blow on Frieza, knocking him back. You and Frieza end up in the air, trading punches back and forth. You're both moving at lightspeed. The others probably can't even track you.

"You've taken everything from me." It all comes bubbling back up. The years of humiliation. The years of bullshit you've had to put up with. The years of being trapped under Frieza's thumb. Bending over backwards to complete his every whim. But even with all of that. Nothing compares to losing Vegeta and Raditz within minutes of each other. Things can only build up for so long. This time you've finally cracked. "You've taken everything!" You shriek. Strong winds form around you, and the ground below begins to shake rapidly. "I'm going to make you regret the day you decided to keep me alive!" You know a way that you can do some real damage to Frieza. You might even be able to kill him, but it's risky.

There's one thing that isn't worth all the strength in the world. And that's losing control. Relinquishing control of your body and actions is the greatest horror you can imagine. But at this point, you're willing to give up everything just to give Frieza a taste of his own medicine. And you know if things go south, Kakarot's here. He'll be able to stop you when things go astray.

You stop dead in the air, flashing Frieza a sinister grin. "It's really not fair." You pout. "You shouldn't be the only one who gets to power up."

"Are you talking about your pathetic monkey transformation?" Frieza cackles. "You know that wouldn't be of any use against me. There's no point in even wasting your time."

You scoff. "No, I'm talking about something even better." You land back onto the ground, and Frieza quickly follows.

"Well, if it's so great, show me." You have to channel all your anger. It shouldn't be too hard. Everything that freak has ever done, all of the pain he's caused you, flashes through your mind. "Come on, I'm waiting." You glance back one last time at what's left of Raditz and Vegeta. You clench your fists, gritting your teeth. You huff and puff as fresh tears stream down your face. You scream, similar to the way when you saw Vegeta.

The ground beneath you shakes, and rapid winds form around you as your piercing shriek only elevates. Your power level, which was once undetectable, now skyrockets. But it's not enough to scare Frieza. "You Saiyans are always so dramatic. So far, this is quite the underwhelming performance." Frieza yawns dramatically. "It's putting me to sleep. You know what. After I'm done with this planet. I'll do a sweep around the galaxy for the last of King Vegeta's offspring. In the rare chance that he did survive, that is. I want to nip this Saiyan problem in the butt for good. I sware you're like roaches. You kill one, and four more pop up in its place."

You spent the majority of your childhood protecting Tarble from the wrath of anyone that came his way. Frieza going after you is one thing. But Tarble is a whole other story. Your brother being alive is this invasive thought that pops up in your mind now and again. You know it's incredibly unlikely. You always did everything for him. Even if it's hypothetical, even if you believe he's dead. You've never let a single being lay a hand on your twin, and you sure as hell won't let it start happening now.

Your screaming only amplifies as the entirety of the planet quakes. Violent waves form in the waters of Namek as strong winds take over the atmosphere. You're so wrapped up in your rage that you can't hear the conversations of the earthlings. You can't even see the rising panic on Frieza's features. The color of your irises drains, the entirety of your eyes turning into a glowing white before becoming a vibrant teal. Your hair hovers into the air, turning into a shade of gold. You chuckle deeply, twisting a strand of your hair. "Not what I was trying to do. But this works too."

Frieza's eyes bulge out of his head. "Are you claiming to have another form?!"

The world around you has stilled. It's returned back to normalcy. "Looks like that old legend was true after all. I always thought it was one of those old wives' tales that was told to Saiyan children to scare them into not skipping training." If only your father could see you now. He'd be proud.

"You're--- You're a. No! It's not possible!" Frieza's panic grows more incoherent with every word. "You're a Super Saiyan!"

"Wow!" Gohan gasps in awe. "I've never seen anything like that before." Why does the brat sound so cheery? One happy-go-lucky buffoon is more than enough.

You move towards Frieza. Even if you can't defeat him, the way he's looking at you is enough to satisfy you. You've never seen the great Lord Frieza fearful before. "Come on then, let's get this show on the road." You and Frieza get straight back into it, destroying any terrain that crosses your path. Nothing gets your blood pumping more than a good fight. Well, that was until recently. Kakarot has the same effect on you, but that's something you consider an undesirable nuisance. "I'm going to make you pay! For everything you've done to me---- to my people!" Your emotions in this form seem to run even more rampant than usual.

You punch Freiza into the air. "That's for my planet!" You teleport behind him, smacking Frieza back toward the ground. "My people!" Right before he can hit the ground, you grab him by the neck. You tighten your grip, restricting his airflow. "This one's for me." You toss him back into the air like it's nothing. This time you stay on the ground, lifting your index finger. You create a bright blue beam with your finger. "And this is for my father!" You shoot a beam of light at him, slicing his tail in two. To Frieza, that's the worst attack you've done all day. Before he can react, you speed towards him, grabbing his arm. You swing him around like a fan, tossing him back into the sky. "That's for Raditz!" Frieza now hovers in the air, slightly dazed. You create a giant blinding ball of energy. "And this one! This one is for Vegeta!" You send the orb straight to Frieza, blasting him into the ground. The bright light disappears, revealing the giant crater you've made.

Frieza lays still in the hole, not moving a muscle. "Is he?" You cut Krillin off before he can even continue his foolishness.

"Don't be stupid! You really think a little blast like that could put down Frieza?"

Frieza stands back up, cracking his neck. His expression is grim. It makes your stomach churn. "Are you done with your little tantrum? Without Vegeta, there's no one to keep you in check." He huffs, looking at his back, swaying what's left of his tail. "Though I intend to make you pay for what you did to my tail."

The fight continues. You never thought you'd be able to hold your own against Frieza for this long. This form is amazing. Too bad you won't be able to truly appreciate your newfound strength. Frieza kicks you full force in the one spot you desperately hoped he'd miss. The second he did, you knew you were in trouble. Your wound opened back up. "Fuck!" You fall to your knees, wincing in pain. One hit, which usually wouldn't even make you flinch, takes you out of commission. Your hair falls limp, returning to its normal shade, and your eyes do the same.

"So one blow to the torso takes out the mighty Super Saiyan completely." Frieza chuckles. "Looks like I had nothing to fear after all." He notices you gripping your side. "Oh, so that's why you weren't here. You're injured. That Super Saiyan form of yours could've been quite the problem. But I guess there's no need to worry now." He flies down to the ground, standing right in front of you. "Any last words?" You look up at him, and with all the energy you can muster, you spit in his face.

Frieza narrows his eyes, wiping your saliva off his eyelid. "I'm sure you're excited to join the rest of your race in hell."

You can't open your eyes. The blow you took must have made your injury even worse than it was before. Burter must be staring up at you from hell, laughing his ass off about indirectly taking you out. In your final moments, you're so weak. You always thought you'd go out in a blaze of glory. "Can't wait. I'm sure I'll see you there real soon too. There must be lots of people down there that are anxiously anticipating your arrival."

It's not like Frieza to draw things out this long. He doesn't like to play with his victims for extended periods. "That's enough." You've never heard Kakarot sound so serious before. You manage to open your eyes, and you can't believe it. Goku's right in front of that monster, holding Frieza's wrist tightly. There's no hesitation, Kakrot's fearless. Goku teleports over to you, picking you up like you're weightless. For someone so powerful, he's surprisingly gentle. "Don't make that face at me." You're not--- okay, you're glaring at him, but Kakrot deserves it. "You're lucky, Y/N. I don't usually let people fight before me when I'm able to. But this seemed really important to you."

"Fuck you---Kakarot!" He's grinning at you. Why does he always do that? It's so infuriating.

"Would you have rather me let Frieza kill you?" He carries you over to the others.

"Yes."

"Well, too bad!" He carefully places you on the ground. "You stay here with the others. Let me take care of everything, okay?" He turns to his son. "Gohan, take care of Y/N. Make sure she doesn't get hurt any worse."

"I hope Frieza slaughters you." You snarl.

"You don't mean that." He chuckles, smiling warmly at you. He turns to Frieza, his expression turning ice cold. "I'm going to make you pay! For everything you've done! For every one you've hurt!" And there he goes again. With his whole selfless hero act. This is nauseating. You wish you were dead.

Who will be victorious, Goku or Frieza? Will Goku become a Super Saiyan too? And will Y/N ever be grateful to Goku for saving her life? Find out all of this and more in the next chapter of The Princess of All Saiyans!

#goku x reader #dragon ball x reader #dbz x reader #saiyan reader #son goku x reader #vegeta's sister #dbz fanfiction #goku #dragon ball fanfiction #the princess of all sayians

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garaksapprentice · 3 months

Text

Operation Stash-Down

This post was originally published on my blog: https://garaksapprentice.blogspot.com/2024/01/operation-stash-down.html

***

Last month, I spent a week thoroughly cleaning and reorganising my workroom so that I could actually get to all the shelves, and not have my back to the door. I even made space to fit a skinny bookshelf (I can finally have all my books out where I can reach them. It's been more than seven years since that last happened).

Last week, I watched one of my favourite YouTubers issue their now-annual "January is for working on The Pile" challenge. I considered my Piles (what a phrase) and decided this was an excellent use for the rest of January. I went through the mending pile, adding and subtracting as necessary, and updated the running list I keep of the things in there (it's the only way to stop things from disappearing into the aether). I tidied up the cabbage patch, taking the opportunity to go through a few boxes that were stored outside the workroom and sort their contents into piles.

Yesterday, I looked around my workroom (it had once again gone from clean and tidy with actual floor space, to One Big Trip Hazard within half a day), and decided that I have too much bloody stuff.

This was almost completely clear twelve hours ago. L-R, T-B: for coleslaw (green), cabbage once deconstructed (yellow), actual recycling (blue), and rag rug bits (red).

More specifically, I have too many supplies. Despite spending the last two years cleaning and decluttering and KonMari-ing and making a concerted effort to start with what I have before I go shopping for new stuff, I still have overflow.

There's an entire garage shelf in what is technically the spare bedroom (in reality it's my partner's room - they have their own place, but I have air conditioning and they don't) full of knitting yarn, embroidery supplies, and fleeces. There's more fleeces and some sewing notions on top of a bookshelf, and a couple more boxes of knitting yarn on a different bookshelf. To top it all off, there's a whopping monster of a raw wool fleece in the back room.

And, to be clear, this is all stuff left after multiple decluttering rounds. This is all stuff that I absolutely fucking love and have no desire whatsoever to part with. I just... haven't got around to using it yet.

Me when I go through my stash nowadays.

Even though I buy 95+% of my supplies second-hand (between the guild and the plethora of local op shops, I'm remarkably spoiled), I'm still not using things as fast as I'm capable of buying them. Saving things from landfill to repurpose later only works if I actually use the things I'm saving. (Yes, I still need this reminder. Frequently.)

Thus were the seeds from which Operation Stash-down was born.

The Goal

I want to fit all my fibre supplies in my workroom. Every. Single. Thing.

That means all the:

knitting yarn

fabric (stash AND scraps)

embroidery supplies

sewing notions

fleece

weaving, sewing, and spinning tools

leatherworking tools and supplies

whatever other random fibre-related gubbins I pick up along the way

The only exception is for things that need a more controlled climate than my workroom. It's on the western side of the house, with a window in said western wall, and it regularly gets above 30ºC in there during summer. So if I end up with any dyes or other heat-sensitive chemicals, I'll have to find a cooler spot for them.

The Plan

Donating, giving away, and selling things are all options. But that hasn't made a much of a dent the last six times I went through The Stash, so I'm not counting on it doing much this time, either. No, the thing I need to concentrate on right now is using the stash.

So instead of my current "shop the stash then go buy what I need when I don't have it in there", my standard needs to shift to "ONLY use stash things, and if they won't work with what I've planned, change the plan".

How does this translate to actual, practical projects for the year?

Longer warps, and more of them on the floor loom. Lately I've been defaulting to inkle bands, because they're 1) fun, 2) fast, and 3) easy to do in all sorts of cool colour combinations. But they don't use a lot of material - I could weave nothing but narrow wares for the rest of my life and still have yarn left over. And I want to start weaving clothing yardage anyway, so this is a good kick in the pants to actually do it.

Stop putting off those patchwork projects. I have a couple of big ideas I've been procrastinating on for a few years now. Sure, they'll probably take multiple years each to finish, and I'm not sure if I even have enough scrap for one of them (a crazy patchwork coat from all the wrap scrap I've been holding onto), but I won't know unless I actually take the time to start working on them.

Scour more fleece. Out of all the spinning stash, the raw fleeces take up by far the most room. Prepping them to spin might not reduce their volume by much, but actually being able to spin them sure will. (Unfortunately, this strategy will require equipment purchasing. My hand cards aren't fine enough to use with some of the fleeces I have.)

Obviously just doing any project at all will help reduce stash levels, too. Some of the things on my list will make a bigger impact than others, though, and I'm going to try to focus on doing those first. (After I've started to reduce the current WIPs, of course. My 2024 goals are still in effect.)

If all goes to plan, I'll update every few months with progress. Maybe even before and after pictures.

***

If you like my stuff, please consider throwing me a few dollars on my Ko-Fi in support.

#stash busting #I haven't even approached SABLE with any of it #I know because I weighed all the knitting yarn once and divided it by my average weekly knitting. I have ~5 year's worth of knitting yarn #Same with fabric. Even if I hand stitched everything for the rest of my life I'd still only have 5-8 years of supplies #No idea about the spinning and weaving stuff though. I just know that it's not SABLE

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askagamedev · 4 years

Note

How often do games get cancelled? To make it reasonably specific, what's the approximate ratio of games, in general AAA space, that are passed on in preproduction, and how many games go into some level of proper development but are shelved or cancelled for one reason or another? I'm assuming most cancelled games are well before the point of ever even being announced, so I wonder.

The best way to describe the process is that there are a series of executive approvals that games must obtain in order to continue. Those that are not approved are canceled. The early approvals are generally harder to pass than the later ones, primarily because the total quantity of development resources spent by then represents a much more significant investment. It’s better to minimize lost resources when you cancel a project, so canceling early is cheaper than canceling late.

The vast majority of game projects never pass the initial pitch process. For the last round of pitches at my current employer, I believe something like one pitch in twenty or so was approved for exploration (~5%). Exploration is the very first step - exploring the concept in the pitch, writing early documentation, and assembling a prototype/demo to show to executives and hopefully obtain the next round of approvals. Many of these exploratory projects only consist of one to three people, the bare minimum necessary to craft the prototype demo. If the demo is received well, the next step is to add a few more people to the team and build a more cohesive demo that incorporates more elements into it. After passing one or more rounds of this, the project can get approved for preproduction and continue to move forward. Most (more than 50%) don’t get approval and die on the vine before completing this stage.

As you may have surmised, the further along a project is, the more resources and money it cost to reach that point. “Time is money” after all - the time and resources spent by developers working on one project could have been spent on other projects instead. Thus, most projects are canceled before their costs start ballooning, when they’re still extremely early in development and the team size is still minimal. This minimizes wasted resources. By the time the projects are approved for preproduction, the team is getting pretty big and capable of making production-quality work. Most of the tech is planned out and the foundations are already laid by that point. It’s fairly rare to cancel a project during preproduction, I believe that more than 50% of projects that reach preproduction usually get released.

This principle also extends to marketing - a full marketing campaign is not free and can cost tens of millions. If a project is canceled before building a marketing campaign, then the marketing money isn’t spent. But if you do so after the marketing machine has started rolling, you’re going to incur losses there. Announcing a game title that is in development is the first public step of a marketing campaign. We don’t do it unless we’ve already put together a marketing schedule for additional reveals over time. This is why canceling a project after it’s been announced is extremely rare (less than 5% of games) - we’ve already committed so many resources to its development and marketing that it may incur a tremendous loss to the publisher.

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#pitching to a publisher #game cancelled #approval process #game production cycle

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words-writ-in-starlight · 5 years

Note

would read the intensive level-up scenes, because I too DM with a ton of backstory and not enough actual session prep, also my current party is lacking in marketable/reusable details AND I'M NOT CREATIVE ENOUGH TO COME UP WITH MORE IDEAS

HERE, THEY LONG, THEY DETAILED, THEY UNDER A CUT

MY PLAYERS BETTER NOT BE READING THIS

(Technically I wrote these all as choose-your-own-adventure style things, and they have breaks for people to choose an outcome, but, A, I only included the path they took in this post, and, B, I knew my players pretty well and was fairly capable of scripting what they were going to do. They were all going up to Level 3, so the last thing noted is what they were choosing in-game--their class specialization.)

AZARA (SCOURGE AASIMAR, WARLOCK OF THE RAVEN QUEEN, PACT OF THE CHAIN)

You fall asleep, and it’s strange—you can feel time passingin the black of unconsciousness, leaving you to linger there for a long, darknight without any sign of dawn. Just asit begins to be too much, you feel something in the endless black for the firsttime. It’s cold, and hard, and touchingyour feet—no. You’re standing, barefoot,on stone.

Realizing this is like opening a dam. Sensation comes back to you in a blindingrush, all at once, and it hurts.

That’s what tips you off. You spent years being tortured. You know that dreams can’t make you hurt, but this—this hurts, light and sound and touch soharsh and immediate that they burn. You’ve had this happen before. Just once. You cover your earsand close your eyes like a child afraid of the dark, and wait to adjust.

You open your eyes, and this time the light is bright butnot blinding, and you uncover your ears slowly and discover that you can hearclearly, and you straighten up.

You are barefoot, unarmed, wearing a plain prisoner’stunic. You recognize the clothes fromprison, but now they’re starless black, so dark you can’t even seeshadows. You do not recognize the heavyiron collar around your neck, but it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t chafe at your skin,it’s just…heavy. Your skin is crackedlike porcelain held together with glue, and golden radiance pours forth likeyou’ve been traced with molten metal, casting a circle of light around yourfeet. Your face feels hot, like someoneis holding a torch directly to the height of your cheekbones, and your eyesdrip something thick and burning down your face.

You look around and see that you’re standing on abattlefield like none you’ve ever seen. Theroar of noise is the bellow of warcries, broken here and there by the sharp andviolent crash of weapons on armor as the posturing armies meet in smallskirmishes.

The armies are small. You are one of sixteen in black, facing sixteen in white. The battlefield is silver and sickly green,alternating squares five feet on all sides, and the armies don’t wear uniformspast their shared colors.

You are still on the back line, with two empty squares toyour left. You can see a black paladincoming under heavy attack from a white sorcerer with fire wreathing her handsto the furthest right side of the fight, and a black rogue with two knivestrying to rip through the white line, there and gone too fast to catch as theychart a jagged course across the battle.

To your right is a towering throne—empty and carved out of asingle piece of black stone, the seat level with your shoulder. You can’t get a good look at the rest of theback line, on the other side of the throne, but you can see that there’ssomeone else still hanging back. Justahead is a tall woman wearing a veil over her eyes, dressed in a priest’s blackrobes and holding her staff of office high with a battlecry. Defending the throne. There is an empty square beside her, in frontof the throne, and a clear line stretching away up and to your left, into theclash ahead.

As you look over the battlefield, trying to get a sense ofwhat’s happening, a soldier on a white horse swings a mace with a roar oflaughter, and sends a black-clad boy no older than twelve to the ground with acrunch and a spray of blood. He stayswhere he’s fallen, and the white horse steps over him to take his square.

You are a strategist. You’ve played chess before. Youknow that this is skirmish is just the beginning of the midgame, and it’s timeto develop the queen.

What do you want todo?

You take a step forward to leave your square, and you can’tmove your feet. Instead, a massivehand—long-fingered and slender—reaches down and scoops you up. Gently, but the fingers are hard and cold anddon’t give any more than the marble chessboard when you scramble to get yourfeet under you.

You’re lifted up and away from the chessboard, toward theinvisible player, and all you can think is that once you touch a piece inchess, by the strict rules, you have no choice but to play it.

The golden light pouring from your skin illuminates a vast porcelainmask with painted-on black eyes without sclera or pupil, a plain almond of inkthat you can feel staring at you. Theonly color on the mask is the bloody red slash of lips, which don’t move when theplayer speaks.

“Here you are,” the voice says. It’s soft and smooth and feminine, butthere’s a note of strain there that makes all the hair on the back of your neckbristle. “You have run for long enough,my warlock. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You are not a soldier anymore,” the voice says. It’s harder, now, almost impatient. “You wanted freedom—I gave it. You walked out of your cage without a mark onyou. Why do you still hide in theshadows? I have given you freedom, andpower, enough of both to be my agent in the world. But you cower in the back line, waiting fororders.”

The voice pauses, and you find that you cannot speak toanswer. Something you haven’t felt in along time is settling over you: panic. You know fear, fear keeps you alive. You even know the feeling of knowing that you are about to die. This is deeper, more honest. Primal. You are faced with something more powerful than any mortal could hope todefeat, something that could sweep worlds clean without breathing hard, and asthe cool porcelain mask stares down at you, surrounded by the quiet whisper offeathers rustling in the wind, you truly understand what it means to feelsmall.

There is a long sigh, and the wind rushes around you withthe force of a gale, laden with the sweet, warm scent of fresh earth.

“You have agreed to a hard thing, my warlock,” the voicegoes on, a touch softer. “But we are allgoing to be faced with hard things, I am afraid.”

What do you want todo?

“You will seek imbalance,” the voice says. It’s not a request, nor is it even really anorder. It is a statement ofreality. “You will fight to restore whatyou can, and you will destroy what you cannot. You will be a scourge on those who betray the balance of the world. You will do these things, and you will dothem alone. I cannot interfere. I am perilously close to breaking my own lawsas we stand now. You are an agent of thegods now, my warlock, not a soldier waiting for a messenger to bring you orderswith a royal seal.” The player pausesfor a moment, and the mask tilts thoughtfully, like a moon consideringyou.

“I will send a guide,” the voice says at last. “To help you. But you must make your own moves now.”

The hand closes over you, so swift and powerful you can’teven think of resisting, and you’re on the chessboard again. The empty throne is on your left. In front of you is the priestess with herstaff. The game is on again.

What do you want todo?

You step forward, down the diagonal, and step into thesquare occupied by a ranger wrapped in white scarves, carrying a recurvedbow. The golden light spilling from thecracks in your skin burns the white ranger where you touch, and she cowers awayfrom you, hitting her knees. You kickher aside, out of the square, and look down the diagonal to the white throne.

You say, “Check.”

The world explodes, and you wake up.

HEINOUS (TIEFLING, BARBARIAN, PATH OF THE ZEALOT)

You are standing in your home—in the kitchen, with a castiron wood stove in one corner and a narrow staircase twisting upward in theother. Your back is to the door to themain room, the door closed firmly behind you, caging you in the kitchen. It’s simple, but big and broad. You paid for this place with money you earnedwith your own hands, as a mercenary, and you cut down trees for the windowsillsand floorboards with your own hatchet. Your wife Yevelda did the real carpentry, sanded things smooth and fit thejoints together, and the two of you together decided on how to furnish it.

Over the years you lived here, the floors grew scuffed andthe walls gained bumps and marks. Youcan see the window in the kitchen, the one that broke during a storm that senta tree branch through the glass, the one with the sill that never quite lookedright again.

None of those marks of life are here now. Your home looks as fine and warm andbeautiful as the day you finished building it, but untouched. The wood glows in the sunlight that spillsthrough the windows, but you can’t see outside, past the light, and when youtry, it makes you feel dizzy and sick, the smell of smoke strong in yournostrils. You’re standing in the kitchenand you know every inch, but none of your things are here—there is no sign ofthe maple table Yevelda made, and no knives or cooking implements on thecounter. The stove is dark and cold, theiron flawless, as if it’s never been touched. There are no pots or pans, no food stored on the shelves. The pantry door stands ajar, without evendust inside.

You are home, and youare alone. What do you want to do?

You ascend the stairs—they’re narrow, twisting sharply ontop of themselves, and you duck your head automatically to keep the rise ofyour horns from thudding into the wood as you take the first three steps.

At the top of the stairs is a small room. It’s empty of furniture, but you can picturewhere the bed should be pushed into the corner, under the window spillingimpenetrable golden light onto the floor, and where the dresser should stretchalong one wall.

There is a figure standing in the light of the window, withher back to you. It’s a half-orc, astall as you are and even broader in the shoulders, wild black curls twistedinto a complicated pattern of plaits along both sides of the skull and spillingloose down the crown and back of her head. She’s dressed in a blue tunic that flatters the green shade of her skin,and trousers, and she has her hands folded behind her back like she’s waiting.

You know her, of course.

Your foot lands on the creaky floorboard at the top of thestairs, the one she kept saying she was going to fix and never did, and Yeveldaturns around.

What do you want todo?

Yevelda doesn’t respond. She looks at you clinically, like you’re a mystery to solve, a finetrick of carving to unravel, and takes a step back from you, leaving you alonein the light falling through the window. Yevelda spreads her hands to either side of her, and you look down.

There are two greataxes lying on the wood. They’re both yours, or at least unnaturallyperfect copies—you recognize the lines of the haft and the curve of the blade,the place where the head fits to the shaft, the marks of use on the butt. But the axes aren’t wood and steel.

On Yevelda’s left, there is an axe made of whiteporcelain. It shines in the light,glazed and polished. You know just fromlooking at it that the porcelain is cold to the touch where the leather gripshave been transformed into ceramic, smooth and slick as water, the bladerefined to a razor-edge. It looks as lightand lethal as a clear winter night.

On Yevelda’s right, there is an axe made of stone—greygranite. There’s no glossy shine to it,but rather a matte finish to the rock where it’s been ground down smooth,interspersed with glints reflected from whatever minerals make up thegrey. The glints dance like sparks oflightning in your vision. Looking, youcan feel the heft of the stone, the way it pulls at your shoulders, the powerbehind each blow, like holding a mountain in your hands—or like breaking one.

You look back to Yevelda, and she is still standing therebetween the axes, expressionless, hands outstretched to display them.

“Choose,” she says.

What do you do?

You bend down and pick up the stone axe, as strong andpowerful as you imagined, and as you straighten up, the light outside goes greyas wind roars against the walls and,in one sudden burst, the window explodes inwards. The glass tears into your skin, leavingbloody cuts behind. Lightning flashes,so close that you’re blind for a moment as thunder booms, and when your visionclears, you are alone, standing in mist so thick you cannot see Yeveldaanymore. You cannot even see thewalls. There is only the axe in your hands.

What do you do?

You try to drop the axe and you can’t make your fingersmove, can’t force your arms to throw the thing away from you.

Slowly, the blade comes up to rest at your throat.

Do you fight the axe?

A voice that rollslike thunder down a mountain whispers, Fightfor me.

And in one swift motion, the axe slashes yourthroat, and you wake up.

(Note: actually this player failed her Religion roll and therefore does not realize that choosing the stone axe means she’s bound to the Stormlord, not her original god, the Raven Queen. That should be fun.)

NYMERIA (HALFLING, RANGER, MONSTER HUNTER)

You are standing in the square of a small village—the housesaround you are brick, not the river stone and lumber you’ve seen lately, andthe cobbled stones underfoot are red-brown with a dusting of fine goldengrit. You close your eyes and take adeep breath, and you smile, just a touch, as the familiar dry scent of thedesert rushes into your lungs, soothes something in your soul. It’s hard to define the smell of this place,the southern desert of Creshen where the mountains have dried out the ground,stretching all the way to the river delta that cages the desert on the easternedge, but it means home to you.

Opening your eyes, you turn, sure-footed, to look up at thestatue at the center of the square. Thetrinkets in your hair click together, but the sound doesn’t worry you, not now,not when you’re safe in your home and you have no need to hide. You tip your head up, toward the brilliantsun overhead, looking for the face of the statue, the draconic head turningintelligent eyes toward the council hall, each stone scale fletched withprecious silver—one claw on a pile of books and scrolls, and the other raised passant, dexterous talons held out inwarning. You have seen the statue everyday of your life here, it was crafted long before your birth and will finallycrumble long after your death.

You smile, and salute the Platinum Dragon, and blink.

You open your eyes.

The statue is not there.

Something cold twists in your chest, and, Nymeria, standingthere over the smashed rubble of your god’s icon, you know what’s about tohappen.

The village is empty as you rush through the streets,silent. You pass the signs of ruin—bloodand other things splashed against brick, doors battered down and stones clawedout of their moorings—but there are no bodies rotting under the harsh sun. It’s not right, not whatever right is supposed to be, but you can’tthink about that right now. You’rerunning, sprinting flat out, and you know, with strange certainty, that you’reolder now by far than you ever were in this village, but it doesn’t make youany faster to reach your own door.

It’s when you reach the door, splintered in its frame fromthe night your mother died, that you know you are dreaming.

You still step inside, because you have had this nightmarebefore, and you cannot help but see it through.

You know what you will see inside. Your little sister, Hama, sprawled on thefloor of your kitchen, a scant few feet from the safety of the cupboard whereyou told her to hide. A vampire,drinking from her arm, and her blood staining her shirt as red as the ribbon inher hair.

The ribbon in yourhair.

You know that you will blindly grab the nearest thing tohand, and that it will be a fragment of a chair, and that you will drive thefragment through the vampire’s back and into its heart before it can drop Hamaand turn to you. You know that it willlie there, paralyzed, and do nothing to stop you when you cut off its head withyour mother’s cleaver, and that your sister will, somehow, still be clinging tolife when you kneel down beside her.

You know that she will die with blood in her mouth, frombroken ribs and punctured lungs, and suffocate before she can bleed todeath. You know that the stench of deathover the village, of your mother and sister’s bodies in this heat, will saveyour life while you sit here in shock and clutch her to your chest untilsundown.

You step through the door anyway.

And you see your sister holding a tin cup in both hands,filled with water, creeping back to the cabinet.

“Ny!” she blurts. She’s only eight, and the last three days have ben brutal, but she stillsounds defensive when her older sister catches her doing something wrong. “I—I swear I was hiding, I just got so thirsty, it’s so hot in there--”

What do you do?

You’re trying to reassure her, arms around her shoulders, when you hear the voice behind you.

“And here I thought the village was finally empty,” thevoice drawls, and it makes your gut twist and your spine tingle, because itsounds—wrong. Flat, like the vocal cordsaren’t moving enough to imitate human speech.

You turn around, already sure of what you’ll see—the vampireyou killed, in vengeance for your sister’s life.

It’s there, dressed in tatters, skin waxy but flushed withthree days of easy prey. It’s easilythree or four times taller than you, and in the dream you can’t quite make outits face. You never looked at it, whileyou killed it, and now your memory can’t call up its likeness.

Then you glance over its shoulder, and your heartsinks.

It’s not alone.

There are five creatures there, two vampires and three deadthralls—you think you recognize the thralls from your own village. Isn’t that the butcher who always gave yourmother a discount, because she always thought you and Hama were so charming?

You realize, quick and sudden, that you have a choice. You can get Hama to the cupboard and lock herin, or you can bull rush the pack and snatch up the bow you can see on thefloor where the stake should have been, if the chairs had been broken.

Do you save yoursister, or fight the monsters?

You sprint forward before the vampire can stop laughing, andyour hands find the bow—your bow, theone you oil every day, the one you took over the Winter Pass to Desca. You grab blind and an arrow meets yourfingers, and you nock it and fire. Yourfirst shot takes the lead vampire in the throat, and it goes down. You spin, grabbing another arrow, and fire again. And again. And again.

You’re on another level, one you’ve never touchedbefore. The bow feels like an extensionof your body, your arrows hitting truer, your reflexes just a touch faster,your arm strong and unshaken by the work of it.

When you stop firing, the horde is dead all around you—andso is your sister.

You wake up.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #starlight writes stuff #no bullshit this is some of the writing i'm most pleased with of late #it's long but it went pretty quick while i read aloud and the players responded #the warlock almost had a heart attack because i legit pulled up a chessboard on my computer #and she blurted 'YOU CAN'T MAKE ME PLAY CHESS AGAINST YOU YOU'LL KILL ME'#it was...hilarious #god the barbarian fucking whiffed her religion roll so bad #the dc was A MCFUCKING TEN kids #how's that sweet sweet 12 int treating you mom #anyway the point here is that i don't prep numbers for SHIT but i have all the character crap nailed down like...real hard #i'm gonna give them an npc cleric and i love him so much already #i also love that they'll have a cleric #because last session some shit went Awry and someone was down to...not many hit points #and they were like 'what do i do if i hit zero'#and i replied with 'hope someone has a healing potion 'cause y'all ain't got no healers in your party'#queue deeper than the sea of stars #emsondraeling #asked and answered

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loonlynxshenanigans · 6 years

Text

Alright so! Said I'd get a reference up for these nerds, gonna do that now. A basic reference, at least.

The three above- yes, only three- are, from left to right, Papyrus, Gaster and Sans- in that order for their bipedal forms, as well as their quadruped forms. They, uh... aren't actually capable of being both at the same time, this is just sort of for height reference- though it... isn't the best at that either, since Gaster's quadruped form is supposed to be taller- but hey, you get the gist of their appearance! Probably! Moving on, those wings you see on those quadruped forms are made of magic- specifically, the combined magic of all three of them- and can be summoned and desummoned at will, just like any other attack- though when summoned, it's easier to share magic between them- they can even... sort of use their powers for the other- so Sans can teleport the other two, Papyrus can heal, and... well, Gaster has yet to get a handle on his own speciality of magic, and. Might never, so that remains to be seen. But, as for the different forms thing, all three of them are shapeshifters- a kind of shapeshifter specific to their universe (as far as I know) that, usually, only have two forms; their usual, bipedal form, and a quadruped form; in which they can't naturally speak any normal, spoken language- without use of magic that takes a lot of practice to perfect. Instead they use a 'language' called... well, Shapeshifter- which I usually denotate by using >this sorta thing< rather than quotation marks. It's... basically a slighttly more complex version of animal body language and sounds; heck, actual animal body language is often known as basic Shapeshifter. It's possible to do it without any vocal sounds, but it's s little harder to be specific- and, generally, Shapeshifter can't carry an accent, or any specific way of speaking; it's always just a little bit interprative, though... usually not enough so to cause misinterpretation. Shapeshifter can... also be understood by Pokémon. Because this is a crossover. That's where the 'mystery' comes from.

Moving away from physical, and... most magical aspects- I can talk plenty about magic science later- let's get a bit more into the specifics of these characters. Let's start with Sans.

Mysterytale!Sans is much like the ocean, in that he is. Very salty. Granted, it's not entirely unwarrented; he has a lot to be salty about. Usually, the things he's salty about involve someone he knows getting hurt, something close to him being destroyed, that sort of thing. When he isn't being salty, he's... rather laid back, as most Sanses tend to be. He's somehow... allso manage to keep up to date on the latest memes. The current running theory is blame Alphys, but he hasn't directly told anyone yet; he's also, of course, proficient in puns. He isn't exactly opposed to an adventure, though- exploration, when it isn't obviously dangerous or some place he's seen a thousand times in different universes- it actually is exciting for him, and he tends to perk up quite a bit around Papyrus as well. Sans' quadruped form is, decidedly... pretty cat-like. And, as the behaviour of most quadrupeds are, I mean in an incredibly stereotypical way. He will knock things off shelves, stare at nothing, and if Mysterytale had a Sans fight you could defeat him with a lazer pointer. It's... slightly rediculous, and he's. A bit embarrassed about it. You probably won't catch him in quadruped form, alone, very often. He doesn't really get along with most canines outside of Papyrus, and... as of recently, other cats are. A little frightening. In terms of his relationship to the other two, he is. V e r y close to Papyrus, usually depending on him for moral support and sanity checks- as well as. Actually knowing how social situations work. His relationship with Gaster is... a bit more difficult. Sans cares about him quite a significant amount, but he... has a bit of a hard time thinking of Gaster as a dad. The fact that he's rescuing him every two weeks and has to stick around to make sure he doesn't cause property damage while experimenting does not help in this fact. Still, they can certainly talk science together, and they have 'pun wars' on occasion- which. Is just ghem talking back and forth in almost entirely puns. It's great.

Now, to Papyrus! ...I, uh. Gotta be honest, I'm still getting his personality down, but- he's pretty definitely the moral backbone of the three. He's a grand majority of the reason that the other two aren't a broken mess half the time, likely being the most optimistic out of the three. He truly does believr in everyone's ability to change, and it's not because he doesn't know or understand the things people have done. He often knows a lot more than he seems to- he's actually pretty darn good at reading expressions, and social situations in general, and though he isn't the most scientifically-geared, he is v e r y good at understanding people. Still, he hesitates to use this to his advantage in fear of hurting people, or damaging their trust, so he tends to keep most of this to himself. It definitely does help him take care of the other two, though; knowing what's troubling them, and when they aren't actually 'fine'. Which is... most of the time. Papyrus' quadruped form is decidedly canine- generally pretty vocal and not shy at all about it, happy to chase a stick and very willing to... at least attempt to be a lap dog. Thankfully, he doesn't chase bones, and gets along rather well with cats. As for his relationship to the others? As mentioned, he is the moral backbone of the group. He's comforted Sans more times than he can count, and it's always a little frightening for either of them to go exploring someplace without the other. He's also consoled Gaster quite a few times, but... both Sans and Papyrus know significantly less about him than they know about each other, which, at times, make that difficult. Papyrus has... a bit of an easier time seeing Gaster as a father, but... if he's honest, it's partially for Gaster's benefit.

And finally... Gaster. This nerd- this hecking nerd is the most developed character in this entire AU and I'm prrobably going to send him in alone in a grand majority of roleplays I do here because. I... I actually know how to write for him. But- yeah, first and foremost, he's a nerd. He studied magic for a rediculously long time, being one of the first to do so using a more scientific method- and he still does research on the subject when he has tge chance to. He doesn't even really need to, it's simply fun for him. Exploration is also fun, of course- and, ultimately? ...He wants to go to space. He really, really wants to go to space. He knows quite a lot about space, and space agencies, and all of his notes are littered with theoretical designs of a magic-based engine to be used in- yeah, you guessed it- a space shuttle. Though he... doesn't know nearly as much about constellations. He can certainly name a few good stars on sight, though. Of course, given all this research into magic, and a pretty significant knowledge of physics, the increasingly un-constant rules of physics and magic across the multiverse are endlessly frustrating. Especially universes that fail to recognize simple law of conservation of mass. Still, he's... plenty capable of getting over that simply because exploring the multiverse is now necisarry, even if he isn't really the most fond of it. He... doesn't really have the most self-confidence in anything but his knowledge of magic and physics- and space- and... usually isn't too concerned with getting himself hurt, especially if, in any way, it seems to be helping someone- to a rather dangerous degree. He's aware of the impact this has on the people close to him, though, so he does try at least a little bit not to get himself into too bad of trouble, but he... isn't really the best at it. He's also very... very aware of the relationships between many Sans', Papyrus' and their Gasters in other universe- as far as he's seen, most of them being... poor, to say the least. With that knowledge, he's pretty hesitant to so much as tell people his name, speak in Wingdings, or introduce himself in bipedal form, for fear of bringing up unwanted memories. He... has done many things he regrets rather heavily, and if you get to know him enough, it... shows pretty quickly. He probably needs a hug. Like basically everyone in his universe. Moving on yo his quadruped form, though, it's... losely based off of a dragon...? His universe doesn't have a whole lot of stereotypes for dragons, but he is pretty easily distracted by shiny things and tends to rumble-growl a lot. His relationship with Sans and Papyrus is... well, as previously described, but- he is incredibly protective of the both of them, keeping a lot of his problems to himself and generally not letting strangers know they even exist for fear of tgem being used just to get to him. He's... told people that they've died on multiple occasions, and hurting them in any significant ways is one of the very, very few ways to get him actually, significantly mad at you. The other being another version of him or a flowey, though redemption is certainly possible. He just has yet to see thst more than once or twice. He... most definitely does depend heavily on both of the other two for moral support, though- even if he does still refuse to actually explain what's wrong, just being together... seems to help all three of them. He views them, as well as many other members of his universe as family- even if Sans and Papyrus are... really the only ones he regularly talks to, and... for many reasons, he feels like he owes them- both his universe, and the two specifically. He... he really isn't doing too great, but it's not something he always thinks about, and he has plenty of things he can be happy about- just. Exploring the multiverse can often be a bit... stressful, and he doesn't give himself a whole lot of recovery time...

But! Beyond that, there's a whole heckton of backstory, magic shenanigans and such that- for now- I'll keep secret, just to... hopefully make things interesting. But! Have a few extra tidbits!

All of them are... a little uncomfortable around soup, Sans especially

Flirting is Gaster's greatest weakness. He cannot comprehend it.

The Exploration Team that, for convenience sake, now includes... basically their entire universe is called Team Determination.

They use a hybrid between Pocket dimensions and the Treasure bag to have a basically infinite storage space shared between the entire universe, accessable by inventory.

This inventory contains an entire page of 99 stacks of Gravelrocks.

They sometimes use this inventory space to send written messages to eachother.

They use the badges' rescue system as a form of transportation, though they're still working on getting it to bring people to specific locations rather than some random place in the 'dungeon'

Gaster owns a model of the Columbia space shuttle, as well as a turtleneck he will never wear

Strong violet magic, in Mysterytale, is kind of terrifying

None of the three are likely to relax in a flower garden

Gaster has gone to the void twice, and has 0 LV. He is terrified of gaining more, and will take drastic measures to avoid this.

No one in Mysterytale is capable of swearing.

Gaster has a third form, mimicking a monster from his universe known as a Dracfin- semi-aquatic, furred quadrupeds that shapeshift slightly based off of whether they're submerged in water or not, playing off of the way water bends light. They are carnivores. Have a picture of said form- his appearance on land on the left, and his appearance in water on the right. Ignore the fact that both are pictured underwater, I got a little lazy with the background.

Every monster in Mysterytale has a sort of Multiversal camoflauge- which simply means that when they enter a new universe, if the rules of that universe don't allow for Monsters and their magic to exist- say, in a universe without latent magic- they change into the next closest form that obeys that universe's rules, whatever they may be. So, for the most prominent example, if a monster from Mysterytale entered a pokemon universe, they would almost definitely become a pokémon- one that already exists in that universe. So, in all likelyhood...

Gaster would become a Noivern- to be specific, a noivern with the telepathy ability, and Boomburst, Air Slash, Dragon Pulse and Roost

Papyrus would be a lucario- already mega evolved if allowed, but... otherwise just a normal Lucario with the Inner Focus ability, and Bone Rush, Aura Sphere, Heal Pulse and Copycat as moves

And Sans, finally, would be an Alolan Marowak- Cursed Body as an ability, and Bonemarang, Shadow Bone, Bone Rush and Flamethrower as moves; or... just a normal, non-alolan Marowak, depending on whether or not the universe in question actually. Y'know, has an Alola.

...Have some pictures!

They'll actually register as these Pokemon if scanned with a Pokedex, even when they aren't Pokemon. Again... crossover.

...but, uh. Yeah, anything else you want to know, go ahead and ask. We'll see if I can figure out how asks work. You can probably ask the characrers things, too, and I'll give you an in-character response that might spiral into an entire non-cannon au because that's how those things seem to work for whatever reason.

...also, uh. Let's... let's keep this sfw, mkay? mkay. Like you can swear at them and whatever but. Probably not much beyond flirting, aight?

#Mysterytale #Mysterytale!Gaster #Mysterytale!Sans #Mysterytale!Papyrus #Gaster #Sans #Papyrus #Space #lack of self confidence #this hecking nerd needs a hecking hug #like gosh diddly darn #I am not the kindest to my muses #just let the nerd do his space science #with supervision so he doesn't cause extensive property damage #Mysterytale magic is a bit... explosive #sometimes he wears safety goggles- not because he actually needs them #but because he thinks they look cool #he keeps blast shields in his inventory #just in case he finds a half-decent lab someone will actually let him use #condensed magic makes for good fireworks when you have unstable blue magic #salt #so uh if i need to tag something #please tell me to tag the thing because I don't know what I'm doing here with these #tag rambling #and a heckton of it #big giant rambling paragraphs #rambling #big blocks of text #reference #roleplay

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