This little NPC is lost. The Narrator [Black] has come to guide her back to where she needs to be. [Blank Scripts AU]
I imagine Black would be a lot more tolerant toward his NPCs since they're basically just the Dungeons spawns, and by extension, his own creations.
[If you're familiar with manhwas / manhuas that features the dungeon / system genre, you'd be able to understand this AU a lot easier. The majority of my inspiration for worldbuilding came from those specific genres.]
[NOTE: 'Dungeon' is just another term for the Parable. Technically, Black owns a Dungeon and the Parable is just a small part of it. The Dungeon itself is much, much larger.]
For context, the comic below references this post about the Dungeon's children/guard dogs.
[They're more like the immune system since all they do is make sure the (body) is safe.]
[The reason the Narrator [Black] considers them his children is that the Dungeon is feeding off his energy and in turn shares the 'nutrients' to the monsters it produces, which transforms them into an image that resembles his power.]
And the old man below is Joseph!
Joseph is NOT AN NPC! He is a person who exists outside of the Dungeon!
[There are two separate 'worlds' for this AU. Inside the Dungeon (where most of the game-like stuff is happening) and the world outside (pretty much their normal world.)]
[There is a secret third world, and that's our world. Our reality.]
These characters are not actually important or anything, I just made them to make the AU feel more lively. To make a world that exists, you know?
When the Narrator [Black] first established himself in their world, he found a growing problem with homelessness. Not understanding human norms or why this has become a problem in the first place, he offers (tricks) them into working for him as janitors for the Dungeon and they accept for the money.
Most of them left after they got paid, but Joseph was one of the people who stayed. He doesn't have anywhere else to go and has no ambitions in life. He just wishes to live a peaceful life with food and a roof over his head.
Joseph defaults to referring to the Narrator [Black] with feminine terms due to his appearance despite his voice. The Narrator [Black] is not the type to care for such terms anyway so he doesn't care how other people refer to him as long as there's respect.
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This post focuses more on the worldbuilding and background aspects of the AU! There are a lot more in store for the Blank Scripts AU, and I want to explore more on how the characters might interact with their surroundings and how this would work to make a world that makes sense.
It would be so cool if people made self-inserts or OCs for my AU actually. I'd love to see how you guys would work with my stuff. Play around with it like a barbie world for your little barbie dolls. Be canon compliant, be canon divergent, who cares, have fun.
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So @kacievvbbbb asking about modern AU headcanons had me revisiting my 'modernised' MiShanks AU I thought up a couple months ago.
I call it 'modernised' because it is more of a medium modern AU, where I keep much of the base OP lore and history, but shrink the 'active' world down to just a few islands. The overall tech level and societal developments are much closer to what we have now and I do away with most of the political plot. I haven't yet decided if Devil Fruits still exist, but if they do, they are much more rare and are kind of a thing of legend most people don't believe in. Only very select few people would know about them and the curse associated with them.
So lets get into it, I've got plenty of thoughts on Mihawk, Shanks and how their relationship plays together in a more modern world. (And because Rosinante is also one of my favourites, and I can't seem to not smush them all together, there is a CoraMiShanks bit at the end too.)
- Mihawk -
Basic weaponry is a bit more in line with modern expectations in this AU, but that will never ever stop Mihawk from being a swords guy. Mihawk is the authority on fencing, especially in historical context. He's basically got a PHD in swords, identifying them, maintaining them, using them. He's filthy rich, not just because he won every fencing tournament there is, but also because he straight up inherited that half maintained castle outside of town along with stupid amounts of money from an uncle everyone thought already died decades before Mihawk received his testament.
These days Mihawk only competes in the highest level tournament once a year to defend the title (his 'rivalry' with Shanks makes the news every time) and otherwise spends his time at home, reading, drinking, occasionally taking small sailing trips with his beloved Hitsugibune, and of course training his swordsmanship. Everyone thinks he's just living it up big in Kuraigana castle, but the people in town know that he just wants to raise his kids in peace.
Where did the kids come from? No one knows. They're definitely not his though. Anyway, turns out that Mihawk is really good with kids, so it takes barely a couple years for the whole town to load off their kids with him during holidays and days off school.
(Look, Zeff runs a busy kitchen, and as much as Sanji tries to help, he's still too young for the holiday rush. Garp has to leave on Marine assignments at the most random times, and his bum of a son has vanished to who knows where years ago, and the grandkids are friends with Zoro and Sanji anyway and can do with burning out their energy running around the woods behind the castle. Bellemère has to leave on those assignments with Garp most of the time, so Nami joins the fray while Nojiko mostly plays with Perona. Mihawk usually leaves the teen girls be on their own, especially since Robin showed up a while ago to join them [she seems to stay on her own, and Mihawk keeps an eye on her in case she needs additional help, but Crocodile seems to have that sorted already]. Usopp's mom is still sick, and she's grateful to know her son is out there having fun with his friends while she tries the next medicine with horrible side effects.)
The kids love Mihawk. Mihawk loves the kids too and to much of his dismay, the kids know it. He is a figure of authority to them, but also a person of trust, who they can approach with problems and worries when their usual parental figure is unavailable or out of reach. Given that Mihawk is pretty much always around, he begrudgingly accepts his new job as free childcare provider for the town (Garp tried to pay once. They all realised very quickly they get much farther by paying in favours, food, or doing little odd jobs because that old castle always needs something done).
Mihawk promised to teach Ace and Sabo to sail this summer, and with Luffy insisting to bounce around them, he already plans on doing more swimming and child fishing than actual sailing.
- Shanks -
Shanks is still a pirate, but it's all on a much smaller scale. He's still got the 'Red Emperor' epithet, but his reputation is much more Robin Hood of the seas. The Red Force gets into small tussles with other pirates more often than the Marines, and really, as long as they have food and alcohol on board they are all perfectly fine just sailing and enjoying their freedom. No one ever knows where the Red Force is at any given time, but they are known to show up when natural disasters strike, not to plunder the remains, but to help the people rebuild long before the Marines get around to offer their help (once the Marines show up on the horizon the Red Force clears out, a couple shots are exchanged, none of them ever hit). Garp tried to yell them into joining the Marines more than once, really Shanks could even stay captain and keep his ship and crew, he just needs to fly the Marine flag, but they all simply laugh and wave as they go off again to who knows where.
However, there is one week every year, where everyone knows exactly where the Red Force will be. Shanks won't ever miss his chance to duel Mihawk in the grand fencing tournament a couple islands over from Mihawk's home. As opposed to Mihawk, who has his fixed position as defending champion, Shanks fights his way through the other contenders every year. He leans into the pirate reputation, taunting opponents, refusing protective gear, tiptoe-ing the line to breaking the rules. The people love to hate him, it's a spectacle every time. The grand finale inevitably is a duel between Mihawk and Shanks, even after Shanks lost his arm (he sat out for a year and people thought that was the end. They were very relieved when Shanks made his over the top entrance again the year after).
They have long abandoned the actual fencing rules and equipment during the finale. People clap and scream when Mihawk steps on stage carrying Yoru, the black blade just as legendary as his own reputation. Shanks never fails to grin and deliver a witty one liner (the people's boo is part of the performance) and then they lunge.
Watching that fight is exhilarating. No protective gear, real blades, and two absolute masters going at each other with a force that would leave less competent fighters with the gravest of wounds. It's every bit as real as it is a performance. Everyone knows Mihawk will win before they even start, and the people can recognise a small collection of moves that they build in every time, the more flashy and wide swipes that could easily be punished but never are. It's not simply about Mihawk winning and Shanks losing, it's about witnessing a piece of history being brought back to life right in front of their eyes.
The fencing tournament has always been held within the context of the summer solstice, and with Mihawk and Shanks putting on their show its become a part of a bigger festival that focusses on celebrating history and old rites, the origins of which aren't always known anymore. Every year after the finale they throw a huge feast, traditional food all over, as historically accurate to a long past pirate era as it can get (Mihawk makes sure of it, that history PHD has to be good for something), dressing up accordingly is very much encouraged. Shanks and Mihawk keep carrying their blades and play up their daring villain and chivalrous hero act and no one thinks twice about drinking with the Red Hair Pirates (they have amazing stories to tell). Usually Mihawk ends up in the middle of a group of kids and answers all kinds of history questions, all professor like, but in his full on historical get up. Shanks catches a glimpse of him and sighs dreamily and all the people he's jokingly been flirting with and threatening to kidnap as part of his role know that they're talking to a very much taken man. They enjoy his company anyway and talk to him about what it is like to raise a kid out at sea as they watch Perona and Uta tease Zoro in the distance.
What people don't know, is that the Red Force winters. Pretty much everyone aside from a volunteer skeleton crew leaves the ship for home during the winter months.
No one in town mentions to outsiders that the Red Emperor stays with the Strongest Swordsman up in Kuraigana castle. Why would they? They're great with the kids. And Uta singing with Brook during the Baratie winter solstice celebration sells out the house every time (the townsfolk get a cheeky 50% off that day, it's a community event after all [except for Mihawk. His filthy rich ass can pay double and wouldn't notice {he does pay double. He does notice. He does not care}]).
- Rosinante & Law -
Because I can't help myself and I love thinking about Rosinante together with MiShanks, this story's active events that would make up a proper fic make it a CoraMiShanks story, which starts with Cora-san and Law arriving in town. (Rosinante is genuinely a situational mute in this one, and Law's illness is a bit less horrifying, and potentially cured/managed with medicine.)
They're on assignment from Doflamingo who heard that there's a spot that has gone unfilled in the island's underworld and wants to take full advantage of the opportunity to weasel into Crocodile's operations.
Little does Doffy know that:
a) Corazón accepted the assignment so he could get away from him;
b) Corazón insisted on taking Law because he's still working on getting Law's illness cured;
[c) {depending on if Devil Fruits exist} Corazón may have secretly taken the Ope Ope no Mi on his way out;]
d) Dracule Mihawk personally checks out every newcomer in town and seems to know much more than he reasonably should;
e) Dracule Mihawk loves kids and bonds with Rosinante in a single meeting that included him pulling Law out of a lake;
f) gods damned Dracule Mihawk directly protects Crocodile's operations in a infuriating 'someone will do it so I pick the smallest evil' mindset and Crocodile is so damn smug about it;
g) fucking Dracule Mihawk decides to keep Rosinante and Law under his protection;
h) and WHERE DID THE FUCKING RED EMPEROR COME FROM???
Doffy is seething at his plans foiled. Crocodile laughs at him, tells him to go pound sand and uses the opportunity to poach a couple of Doffy's operatives. Doffy has no choice but to retreat and plot his vengeance for later.
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The degree to which Davos and Brienne are going to become reluctant BFFs, because their lieges keep coming to them complaining about each other, is UNREAL
or, more from this fic that's slowly eating my life
~
Their journey to the Northern army's camp had revealed a great deal about Lady Stark and her lords and petty chieftains: their patronizing generosity, their gruff suspicion of outsiders, and above all their mind-boggling obstinacy. Ned and Lyanna had been much the same, from what he remembered, and Stannis had seen shades of it in Jon Snow, though couched more gently than he'd expected from a bastard. He'd imagined — insofar as he'd imagined her at all — that Lady Stark would be gentler still, her mother's line warming that chilled Northern blood.
He had been disastrously mistaken. It was a wonder only one Stark had survived, but it was already clear that she had gathered the entire share of Stark mulishness.
"I have conditions, Your Grace," said Lady Stark. "If this alliance is to succeed in retaking Winterfell, I feel it right that you hear them." She placed the parchment in her hand carefully on his table and stepped back, hands folded primly.
She had requested, and been granted, this conference shortly after Stannis's army had made camp alongside the Northern soldiers. Stannis's tent had barely been erected when she came to him with this parchment, her wolf, and a determined expression. He had thought he'd listened to her enough on the journey as she'd prattled away with Shireen, but he was in the mood to be permissive.
Reading through her list of demands, he could feel the headache building along his jaw and up through his skull. "Have you lost your mind?" he said, for the second time in a week to an unreasonable woman.
Melisandre had brushed his question aside, but Lady Stark was not made of such supple stuff; she stiffened and glowered at him. "That is a peculiar way to agree to my terms, Your Grace."
"Your terms are rather more than peculiar, my lady," he said, tossing the parchment back on the table.
In truth, the first one was not so peculiar: it said that should they regain the Keep, he would recognize Sansa Stark as Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North in her own right. He would not pass her over in favor of some lesser Northern male relative, nor would he obligate her to marry and rule only as companion to her husband. Considering Stannis's own intention to ensure Shireen sat on the Iron Throne after his death, he could hardly begrudge her this.
Considering the other two stipulations, however, he felt very much inclined to begrudge her everything.
"Supposing your younger brothers turn up?" he asked, thrusting his chin at the parchment. "Or Jon Snow is legitimized?"
This question didn't faze her, he suspected because it was a question of logistics and protocol rather than a personal remark. "If Jon is made legitimate, I don't believe he would want Winterfell—"
"Duty is not a question of wanting, Lady Stark," he reminded her. "And the Lord Commander is—"
"The Lord Commander, as you say, is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," she retorted. "His life has already been pledged to the Wall. If he didn't abandon that cause in aid of my brother Robb, he won't abandon it now."
Stannis observed her. There was bitterness there, certainly, though less than he would have thought. Lady Stark clearly understood the ties that bound men to their duty, even if she did not like them.
"However," she continued, "Should any of my brothers wish to make a claim to Winterfell in my place, I won't stand against them." She paused for a moment, and added, "I have no wish to die at their hands out of misplaced pride."
Stannis clenched his jaw but let that go for the moment — it would be addressed soon enough. "You call me 'Your Grace,'" he said, tapping at the parchment, "Yet your second stipulation says that you will not bend the knee to me, even if I regain Winterfell for you."
"No, it says that I will not bend the knee to any claimant to the throne until they hold the majority of the kingdoms," she shot back. "The Lannisters hold the Crownlands, the Westerlands and the Reach at present. The Riverlands are still in chaos, the Vale has withdrawn from all alliances to sulk in their mountains, and both Dorne and the Iron Islands have declared for themselves, more or less. You can, at best, claim that the Stormlands still support you, though I've seen no evidence for it — they didn't march under your banner at first, did they?"
That was the second time she had brought up Renly, however obliquely. If she were trying to drive him mad, she couldn't go about it any better. "When I hold the North, my lady, I will have more land—"
"Setting aside the notion that it will be you alone who holds the North, you'll have more land and fewer men than any other region. If you wish to win against the Lannisters, you'll need more than mountains and glaciers fighting your battles. And if I wish to be Warden of the North, I can't keep the respect of my lords by swearing fealty to a man who has yet to earn it."
"I could have you burned for such talk," he said, getting to his feet and pouring himself some water, hoping it would ease the throbbing in his head.
"You don't burn nobles, you behead them," she replied cooly. "I should know. I was there when the Lannisters took my own father's head for supporting your claim to the Iron Throne. I have no intention of sharing his fate." She took a deep breath, and only then did he note that her hands had been clenched together, her right covering the balled-up fist of her left. "I won't take arms against you now or in the future, on that I give my word."
"And if I do have you beheaded?" he asked, putting the tin cup down before he crumpled it in his hand.
It seemed to amuse her. "Then my words will mean even less than they do now."
"They mean nothing, because you will not give them!" He pinched his nose and attempted to regain his composure. Surprisingly difficult, with this — child.
She regarded him for a moment. "You call me Lady Stark, Your Grace," she said, "but tell me, have you heard anyone else call me that?"
Stannis, thrown by the question, was forced to consider it. In truth, he had heard only Lady Sansa, though said with more reverence by her men and lords than he could ever recall being addressed himself. "You are Lady Stark."
"Not without Winterfell," she said, shaking her head. "It's more than just the home of the Starks, it is our…place in the world. We belong nowhere else. Just as there must always be a Stark at Winterfell, so too do we need Winterfell to truly be Starks." She gave him a pointed look. "Just as Your Grace needs the Iron Throne, and the fealty of all the Seven Kingdoms, to truly be king."
She was wrong, of course, but Stannis felt the same lurch in his belly whenever his footing slipped during a bout. "Perhaps your reticence has something to do with this last stipulation," he said instead, going back to the table and jabbing his finger at the third line. "Falsely accusing a king is treason."
"Is Lady Brienne falsely accusing you, Your Grace?" she asked, smooth as ice. Her hands were still clenched, he noted.
"I was nowhere near Renly's camp when he died," Stannis said, with perfect truth, even as he felt himself balanced on a knife's edge.
He had been nowhere near. He had woken up just before dawn with the lead weight of certainty in his belly, knowing what had happened — what the Red Woman had said must happen — and lying there, staring up at the tent's canvas, he had wept. Wept for the brothers he had loved and who had never loved him back. He would never know if Renly had had a hand in Robert's death; just as he would never know if he himself had had a hand in Renly's. Had he ordered Melisandre to kill him? Had he believed her when she said she could make such a thing come to pass? Davos had begged to tell him of what had happened in the cave that night, what monstrous thing the Red Woman had done to bring Renly's death about. Stannis had refused to hear it. Perhaps there was a sort of rough justice in facing his accuser now, the only one living who knew the truth.
"Lady Brienne has served me faithfully," said Lady Stark, "and my mother before me, at great cost to herself. I believe her testimony, Your Grace."
"Her testimony that I murdered my own brother."
Lady Stark regarded him steadily. "I will not insult either of you by declaring one more honorable than the other. But when I regain Winterfell, my duty as Warden of the North will be to adjudicate all such matters, and this falls under my purview. Even if you were crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms in the Red Keep itself, the North holds all persons, regardless of title, under its laws while they reside here."
"Renly didn't die in the North," was all he could manage to say.
"He died, Your Grace." Lady Stark looked almost pitying. "And for that, I'm sorry. I know what it is to lose your brothers. But on this point I will not waver."
"Is there any point on which you have?" he asked, curious.
She continued serenely. "Lady Brienne will be permitted to make her accusation publicly; how you respond to it is your affair, but if you prevail, you must give me your word now that she will not be held guilty of treason, nor will she be killed by any member of your party by any means." She put enough emphasis on the last two words to make her meaning plain.
"And if she prevails?" Stannis asked. "Your stipulations do not mention the outcome of the trial, only that it will take place." He smiled grimly. "Your father always said that he who passes the sentence should swing the sword, my lady. Will you behead me yourself?"
"I doubt either of us would find that a pleasant exercise, Your Grace," she said, her lip curling slightly. She didn't blanch, however; young as she was, she had seen worse. Had possibly done worse, if the rumors about the Purple Wedding were true. He'd not asked. "If you are found guilty, then you will ride south. If you win the support of the other kingdoms, the North will bend the knee to you. But you'll never come north of the Neck again. Does that satisfy?"
Stannis glanced down at the parchment again. There it all was, in black and white: the price he must pay for the North. The blasted girl had even provided a space for him to sign at the bottom.
"Not remotely," he said, but reached for his pen.
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