#This is absolutely the same tone he took with the bandits | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

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The Hell he’s been through;

The Knights have no clue of the suffering Merlin has endured… until one day, they do.

TW: Scars, panic attacks, nightmares, PTSD except they don’t have a word for that, non-graphic description of scars/injuries

Part 2(final part)

It was the height of summer, the bright blue sky was utterly free of clouds and the noon sun beat viciously down onto the training field.

Only the central six knights, their King, and Merlin braved the exhausting heat, the other knights had chosen to train later in the day, when it was cooler, so the field was empty of anyone else. Merlin was sat cross-legged in the shade of a tree, jacket and neckerchief removed (not that Arth- anyone noticed. Definitely not.), though his sleeves were still pulled low over his wrists and his tunic was fastened high up his neck. Despite that, the lack of an extra layer definitely displayed Merlin’s surprisingly broad shoulders more than normal (another thing that Ar-no one noticed).

The knights were shirtless, despite Merlin’s warning of sunburn, sparring semi-playfully with wooden dummy swords, the type squires train with, and no armour.

Merlin rubs absent-mindedly at the dull, almost gone ache in his ribs, just below his armpit, as he rolls his shoulder. The injury, if it could even be called that, had never been serious and hadn’t even hurt that much when he’d gotten it on the last patrol (a stray mace swing from a bandit just clipped him), at least, not compared to other injuries he’s sustained over the years, but it was an annoyance that made his shoulder stiff on occasion.

Unfortunately, the movement caught Arthur’s eye, and the King frowns, stopping his observation of Elyan and Mordred’s spar to lay a crudely hidden concerned gaze upon his manservant.

He’d fussed endlessly when he found that Merlin had bandaged his own torso after the fight, demanding that he let someone help next time; Merlin just rolled his eyes at that. The other knights had wisely chosen not to comment, knowing that the attack, and Merlin’s subsequent injury, had already put Arthur in a bad enough mood; though admittedly, the only thing stopping Gwaine from ruthlessly taking the piss out of Arthur’s mother-hen tendencies all the way home was Percival harshly clamping a hand over his mouth and pushing him away.

Merlin looks up to see Arthur staring at him, and the King quickly covers his concern with a look of annoyance when the manservant raises an eyebrow:

“If you’re not going to do anything useful Merlin, get up here, you clearly can’t be trusted to even cower effectively, so you’re going to have to learn to defend yourself.”

Merlin’s eyebrow just rises higher as the rest of the knights’ attention is drawn to the conversation. Lancelot and Mordred hide knowing smiles, well aware than Merlin was more than capable of defending himself, if he really needed to. Gwaine went to open his mouth with teasing grin, though quickly pouts when Percival punches him on the shoulder, and Leon and Elyan smirk at each other before moving their amused gazes to Arthur.

When Merlin doesn’t move, just stares at him disbelievingly, Arthur rolls his eyes and gestures at the half-empty rack of wooden swords:

“Come on, Merlin, up on your feet, grab a sword.”

Merlin just snorts in amusement and shakes his head, settling back against the tree trunk even more:

“Absolutely not. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much.”

The knights (bar Lancelot and Mordred of course) raise their own eyebrows. Gwaine snorts out loud, stepping up next to Arthur and dropping an overly-friendly hand on his shoulder, much to The King’s displeasure:

“I know you can hold your own in a tavern brawl Merls, but that’s not the same thing as facing bandits and assassins and shit. Princess is right, it might be worth it for you to at least know how to use a sword.”

Arthur turns an accusing gaze on Gwaine, shrugging his hand off as he says:

“And I presume all the tavern brawls Merlin has apparently been getting into are your fault?”

Gwaine grimaces slightly before shrugging with a smirk, and Merlin hides his laughter with a cough before inserting:

“Entirely his fault. Gwaine starts the fights, promptly passes out, and I have to finish them.”

Arthur laughs incredulously; Mordred has to hide the angry clench of his jaw and Lancelot has to hide his sorrow when Arthur replies in a taunting tone:

“I’m meant to believe that you are regularly winning Gwaine’s unfinished fights, am I?”

Merlin shrugs in mock defeat, a grin on his face:

“Believe what you want, Sire, I’ve faced worse than you lot and come out singing, I don’t need training.”

Arthur resists the urge to smirk at the appealing way Merlin manages to make his title sound insulting, and he instead raises his eyebrows:

“You’re not getting out of this, Merlin. I can’t have you bruising yourself every time we leave the city.”

Merlin takes in a deep breath, settling a disconcertingly assessing gaze on The King for a few moments before he sighs and stands up, walking towards the equipment and picking up a sword before turning back to Arthur:

“I suppose you’re right, I doubt any of the other servants would be willing to put up with you if I got too injured. Who would you like me to spar, My Lord?”

Arthur scoffs and shakes his head as the others step back, looking upon the whole scene with fond amusement, bar, once again, Lancelot and Mordred, who are looking an odd mix between concerned and proud. They know that Merlin is capable of more than he lets on, even with a wooden blade.

“You can’t spar with any of us, Merlin, that would be far too dangerous. We’ll start with some basic moves, and then maybe we can move on to a slow, choreographed spar.”

Merlin twirls the sword expertly in his hand, and he’s vaguely away of Gwaine nodding approvingly and Leon raising an eyebrow out the corner of his eye, though he pays them no mind, raising an eyebrow of his own at Arthur:

“Surely starting with a simple spar will tell you my exact skill levels so you can tailor the lessons? You need to know how crap I am before we start.”

Lancelot hides a snort behind a hand, knowing full well that Merlin is just trying to goad Arthur into letting the servant show off his skills without too much effort beforehand. Or without giving Arthur the satisfaction of thinking that he was the one who taught Merlin how to fight. Thankfully, Arthur takes Lance’s snort as a teasing one aimed at Merlin, as opposed to what it really is, so waves him into the ring with a smirk.

Merlin just rolls his eyes, moving to stand opposite his best friend and muttering, just loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Fine, but I’m not taking my shirt off, I’m not as arrogant as you lot.”

Lancelot widens his eyes as Arthur freezes, dread growing in his stomach at the knowledge that The King would take that as a challenge. Arthur turns slowly, a shit-eating grin on his face, and Lancelot grimaces as Arthur claps his hands together:

“Right! I wasn’t going to mention it, but you do have a point, Merlin, if you are to train, you must train as one of us. Come on, tunic off.”

Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine just laugh, but Leon rolls his eyes exasperatedly, and Mordred and Lancelot frown in concern. Neither of them have seen Merlin’s scars in their entirety before, but knowing about the servant’s secret second life had definitely made them more observant than the others, and they had seen hints of old injuries here and there. That’s not even mentioning the times he’s shown up in their chambers, bloody and bruised and in need of treatment, but not wanting to worry Gaius.

Merlin just flushed and stared at him indignantly and Arthur’s teasing grin grew:

“Don’t be shy, Merlin, I’m sure whatever horrific mole or ugly birth mark you’re ashamed of isn’t that bad.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, stepping away from Arthur when he moves towards him. The demand to de-robe, even partially, had immediately put him on edge, and he had gone from playfully annoyed to genuinely irate in a split second. He crosses his arms over his chest protectively when Arthur gestures at him demandingly:

“I don’t have a weird mole, Arthur, you Clotpole, but unlike you lot, I’m not all that keen to show off my old scars.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Merlin was hoping that mentioning his scars in passing would appeal to the knights’ warrior sides, would make them sympathetic to his… shy-ness. It did not. It just made them laugh, even Leon, and they all began to point out various scars they had on their chests and back, remarking that he couldn’t have worse than them.

Gwaine twisted to the side, patting a pink, jagged circle halfway down his back, a grin on his face:

“This beauty is from when I propositioned a lovely fella who was, apparently, already taken. Man’s wife smashed her bottle on the counter and damn near took my eye out with it.”

Elyan cackles at Gwaine’s story, pointing to a perfectly square burn on his shoulder-blade:

“Yeah, well at least you didn’t fall back into a red hot brand at the ripe old age of fifteen because a girl smiled at you.”

Merlin’s back-up plan, which was sneakily sulking off whilst the knights compared their most embarrassing scars, was cut short basically immediately when he heard Arthur yell out:

“Absolutely not, Merlin, I’ve already told you that you’re not getting out of this. Tunic off, spar Lancelot.”

Merlin huffs, annoyed, feeling rather like he was backed into a corner, and Mordred walks forward, to be between him and The King, quietly saying:

“You don’t have to Merlin, just fight with it on.”

Arthur narrows his eyes in suspicion, but before he can say anything, Merlin squares his shoulders and looks at him defiantly, dropping his sword to the floor as he begins unlacing his tunic, his words coming out harshly, his tone dark:

“No, no it’s fine. The King wants to see my scars, and we all know that The King gets whatever he wants.”

The smiles melt rather quickly off the knights’ faces as Merlin speaks, and Arthur flinches slightly at his tone, starting to realise with just a little guilt that maybe this wasn’t funny anymore. He opens his mouth to take it back, to tell Merlin that he was only teasing and he could keep the tunic on if he really wanted to, but before any words come out, Merlin is gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head swiftly and screwing it up before tossing it to the side, not once breaking his stare on the now pale King.

Arthur lets out a sharp breath at the patchwork of scars that cover Merlin’s chest, and he’s vaguely aware of the various low cries and gasps of outrage coming from the knights behind him. There are so many, some are large and some are small, some look to be from clumsiness, but others look like they should have been fatal. Arthur’s eyes can’t focus on just one, he’s barely taking in each scar before his gaze is drawn to another, and then another, and then another; it’s a little overwhelming, and it’s only when he starts to feel a little woozy that he remembers to breath.

When he finally comes to the conclusion that his brain isn’t going to able to process this for a while, he looks up to Merlin’s face, instead taking in his resolute expression and hard eyes:

“Merlin, what… what happened to you?”

Merlin raises a slow, mocking eyebrow before breaking his statue-like stillness and picking his sword up again, turning to face a distraught looking Lancelot. This movement only reveals the second mosaic of scars covering his back, but he speaks over the next round of gasps and muffled curses, his tone still unbearably dark as he gestures Lance to get into position:

“I told you, I’ve faced worse than you lot and come out singing.”

The knights are so distracted by the myriad of scars covering Merlin’s torso that it takes the servant’s first harsh, well-aimed blow with his sword to break them out of their stupor. They watch the ensuing spar with morbid fascination, finding that not only can Merlin hold his own, he’s winning. Lancelot loses his breath and rhythm much quicker than Merlin does, and the fast-paced spar only lasts around three minutes before Merlin lands a strong punch to the centre of Lance’s chest and the knight stumbles back in shock, lowering his sword just enough for Merlin to step forward and trip him up.

The scarred servant’s chest rises and falls deeply, but not too rapidly as he lowers his sword and offers a hand down to the beaten knight. Lancelot takes it with a slightly shocked smile, patting Merlin on the shoulder as he stands. Merlin flinches away from the touch, no one misses it, clearly not too fond of people touching his bare skin, and Lance drops his hand rapidly, frowning only briefly before he smiles again:

“Bloody hell, Merlin. I knew you were good, but not that good.”

Merlin gives him a strained smile, grateful for the distraction. Everyone sees the moment Merlin’s mask goes up again; he gives Lance a smug grin and twirls his sword once again as he shrugs mockingly:

“I’ve been watching you lot train for ten years, and I’ve been in a few sword fights in my time. I picked up a few things.”

Arthur finally reacts, scoffing as he shakes his head in disbelief, scars momentarily forgotten:

“There’s no way that you can- that was a fluke.-”

He looks smug as he says it, like he’s figured out some great secret, and Mordred lets out a low, annoyed growl; no one notices thankfully, but Merlin shoots him a quick frustrated line across their mental link:

“Please try not to antagonise him any further.”

Mordred looks to him, keeping his face blank as he nods almost imperceptibly. Lancelot and Gwaine look openly disapproving of Arthur’s assertion, but Leon, Percival, and Elyan look almost convinced. Arthur nods decisively, picking up his sword once again and waving it in Merlin’s direction:

“-My turn. And once I’ve beaten you, you’re going to tell us about all of… that.”

Merlin’s eye twitches, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods slightly as he holds a placating hand out in Lancelot’s direction when it becomes obvious that his best friend is going to start trying to defend him.

Arthur takes Lancelot’s place in the ring and Merlin grips his sword tightly, his shoulders tense and his face showing only mild annoyance, despite the anger that Lancelot and Mordred were sure was simmering under his façade. At Arthur’s nod, Leon reluctantly counts them in, and the match begins.

This one is somehow even more fast-paced, though no one is surprised. The last ten minutes had caught Arthur extremely off-guard. An off-guard Arthur is a grumpy Arthur, and a grumpy Arthur is, unfortunately, still the type to take his frustrations out on others. Arthur wasn’t good at dealing with his emotions, meaning the disturbing mix of horror, guilt, and anger at Merlin’s scars, slight… shock, (because he refuses to call it anything else) at his deceptively strong physique, and surprise that apparently his servant can take out one of his best knights without all that much effort, all together have The King bursting with adrenaline.

He throws blow after blow, but Merlin’s defence is incredibly strong, and Arthur has yet to land a hit anywhere other than the opposing sword. After a couple of minutes, Merlin switches styles, and Arthur almost trips when he realises his servant has, in the space of a second, gone from fighting like Arthur, to fighting like Leon. The knights notice it as well; Gwaine lets out a low whistle and Elyan smacks Leon on the shoulder, pointing incredulously at a sequence of complicated footwork that usually only the First Knight can manage so gracefully. Apparently Merlin can do it too.

Arthur adapts to this quickly; Leon was his sparring partner most often, meaning that he was accustomed to switching between their styles, and they were the most similar fighters in all the group.

Another minute passes, and the pair still don’t slow, seemingly unbothered by their dumbfounded audience and the sweltering heat, and this time Merlin suddenly starts fighting more like Gwaine. Instead of staying on the defensive and trying to trip Arthur up, he goes on the attack, landing heavier and heavier hits as The King barely manages to defend himself in time.

Merlin is quickly growing tired, his stamina not nearly as good as Arthur’s, but The King grows complacent, even with the vicious pace, certain that he just has to wait Merlin out. He was wrong. Arthur finally gets an attack of his own in but Merlin dives to the side instead of blocking it, rolling and coming up to Arthur’s left before the blonde has time to regain his balance and turn around. He freezes in place when Merlin touches his wooden sword to the side of Arthur’s neck. He can feel it shaking, but it’s undoubtedly a killing blow, and when Merlin drops the sword to the floor in favour of bending over, one hand on his knee and the other on his side again as he pants, Arthur turns around faster than he thinks he’s ever moved before:

“How the fuck did you do that?”

Merlin is vaguely aware of the knights all clapping and shouting encouragement at him, but he doesn’t look up, just waves dismissively in Arthur’s direction:

“I told you, I’ve been watching you lot train for years. It’s easy to imitate you after a little practice.”

Arthur just stares at him in disbelief, but Leon hands the servant a water-skin, ripping his gaze from the whip marks on his back with clenched teeth before schooling his tone and face into something more friendly:

“Merlin, you switched styles twice in as many minutes… you beat the best swordsman in the Kingdom after already being tired from another spar, that’s… that’s incredible.”

Merlin drinks the entire skin as Leon speaks, looking up with another playful mask on his face:

“Well believe me, I’m so sore I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do it again.”

Merlin’s smile drops when he realises everyone is back to staring at him, more specifically, his scars. He steps away from the curly-haired knight, who furrows his brows in concern and resists the urge to reach a comforting hand out to him. Merlin crosses his arms over his chest defensively, hunching his broad shoulders slightly as he frowns at the floor.

Lancelot quickly throws his tunic to him, and Merlin scrambles to pull it on as quickly as possible, but before he can even get his arms through the right holes, Arthur snatches it away, a stern, angry look on his face. Though every one of then can see the badly hidden concern as well:

“No, you agreed to tell us.”

Merlin makes a move for his tunic, but Arthur jumps out of his reach. The servant huffs, annoyed and close to tears all of a sudden as he petulantly replies:

“Actually, you said once you beat me, I had to tell you. I won.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, taking another step back:

“I’m happy to go another round if you are, Merlin?”

Merlin glares at him angrily for another few moments before completely sagging, staring at the floor with sad, tired eyes as his arms drop to dangle at his sides. Arthur and the knights are completely taken aback at Merlin’s sudden change of disposition, though it heartbreakingly strikes them as less of a change and more of a... reveal. A reveal of some kind of sadness that’s been there all along. How did they not notice this??

Arthur’s breath hitches and his tight clutch on Merlin’s tunic loosens slightly as he all but whispers:

“Merlin... who did this to you?”

Merlin finally looks up at him, letting out a humourless chuckle as he rakes a hand through his sweat-dampened hair roughly:

“Does it matter? Most of them are dead, I-”

His eyes narrow and his voice lowers. The knights hear it nonetheless:

“... I made sure of that .”

Arthur lets out a huff of frustration, not bothering to hide the desperation in his eyes as he pleads:

“Please, Merlin, you’re my... subject, you’re meant to be under my protection. And don’t lie, none of these are more than eleven or twelve years old at most and you got here ten years ago, so they happened in Camelot, under my watch. Please, Merlin.”

Merlin sighs, walking towards the tree’s shade once again. For a moment Arthur panics, thinking he’d pushed Merlin too far as he turned away, knowing that if this conversation wasn’t had now, their relationship would never be the same. But before The King can say anything, the servant slumps back into place against the tree trunk, sitting cross-legged again and biting his lip as he looks at Arthur expectantly.

Before anyone else can move, Mordred and Lancelot take the places either side of Merlin, sitting protectively close. Lance gives Mordred a pointed look, to which the younger knight nods before settling a blank expression on the side of Merlin’s head. Merlin doesn’t look back at him, but pats the knight’s knee as the corner of his mouth turns up briefly in a barely-there smile.

Arthur narrows his eyes, but stores that odd exchange in the back of his mind to deal with at a later date before sitting across from Merlin; the other knights look to each other, worried, before settling in the empty spaces to complete the circle. The group is silent for a while, all staring at a statue-still Merlin who in turn is staring at the grass in front of him; he doesn’t move even when Lancelot brings his hand into his lap, stroking his thumb over the servant’s knuckles absent-mindedly.

It’s Percival that finally breaks the silence, asking in a quiet voice:

“What happened, Merlin?”

Merlin looks up suddenly, as if he had forgotten he had company, taking in a deep breath and tightening his grip on Lance’s hand. He gulps before once again running his free hand through his hair, shrugging slightly as he mutters:

“I don’t recall all of them in perfect detail, just ask about... whatever catches your eye I guess, and we’ll see what I can remember.”

The knights all nod, looking to each other expectantly, no one really wanting to go first. Eventually Leon clears his throat, his voice gentle:

“Why don’t we start with the whip marks on your back?”

Merlin nods, grateful that they were at least starting off with the non-magical injuries. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he speaks, his voice croaky and quiet:

“The newer ones are from Cenred, from a few years ago. He wanted information and I spat at his feet and told him to fuck off. He... he didn’t take too kindly to that.”

Gwaine lets out a quiet curse, and Arthur sits up straight, saying in a crackingly authoritative voice:

“Merlin, if anyone ever tries to extract information from you again, you give them anything. Everything. We’ll deal with the fall-out afterwards, it is not your job to withstand torture.”

The other knights nod approvingly but Merlin just looks up at The King with a raised eyebrow:

“Like hell. I can put up with a remarkable amount, I’d never sell Camelot, or you, out. Never, Arthur.”

Arthur huffs and resolutely ignores the tears gathering in his eyes, but Elyan beats him to the mark:

“That’s not... you shouldn’t have to put up with anything Merlin, it’s not necessary. You just... keep yourself safe. We’ll worry about everything else.”

The other knights nod again, but Merlin scowls and tenses even further, even as Lancelot squeezes his hand comfortingly:

“I’ve been through literal hell, multiple times, in order to protect my home and the people that are important to me. I’m not going to stop that just because it makes you lot uncomfortable, and you have no right to tell me to it’s not my place.”

Everyone looks desperate to argue, but they can’t deny that, after what they’ve seen today, in the last half a candle-mark only, Merlin is evidently a lot stronger than they’ve ever given him credit for. Both physically and mentally. Leon just gives Merlin a small smile and nods; he’s the only one here who has known Merlin just as long as Arthur, and he may not be as close to the younger man as The King or Lance or Gwaine or Mordred, but he’s seen his loyalty in action several times over the years:

“You said the newer ones were from Cenred. You’ve been flogged more than once?”

Merlin nods at the knight, grateful for his understanding and change of subject, even if said change of subject was back to his scars. His expression turns slightly guilty as his gaze moves to Arthur, and The King has a feeling he’s going to feel incredibly terrible at whatever it is Merlin is about to say:

“The others are from... uh.... Uther.-”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath as the tears he had just about managed to get under control gather again. The other knights just look angry, bar Leon, who, though miserable, looks as though he sort of expected it:

“-He didn’t like me very much.”

Arthur whispers his response:

“When? Merlin, when and why did my father have you flogged, and how did I not know about it?”

Merlin tenses his jaw, going from guilty to angry in a split second, snapping his response:

“Why do you think?!-”

Arthur recoils and Merlin closes his eyes briefly as he takes a deep breath, looking back to Arthur with a blank mask and speaking in a monotone voice:

“What did you think he would do every time I took the blame for you missing a meeting or a meal or a training session because you were entertaining a woman or pissing about with your knights? I had to walk into the council room and apologise for your absence because I slept in or I forgot to tell you or I sent you on a hunt on the wrong day. Uther was in the habit of burning people and chopping off an alarming number of heads, did you really think I would get away with it punishment free??

Arthur goes pale as a sheet and his hands tremble with the understanding. He shakes his head slightly as he looks to his lap, ignoring the tears on his cheeks as he murmurs:

“Merlin I am so sorry, I didn’t... I didn’t think... if I had known I would have duelled him in the damn town square to protect you.-”

Arthur looks up sharply, wiping his face clean as he settles an assessing gaze on his servant, ignoring Gwaine’s murderous glare as he slowly continues:

“-... which is exactly why you never told me, isn’t it?”

Merlin shrugs, a small smile on his face:

“You may never admit it, Arthur, but you were protective of me, even then.”

Arthur flushes slightly, before frowning again and shaking his head:

“You should have told me, it’s my job to protect you.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly:

“I think we’ve already had this conversation.”

Arthur huffs and narrows his eyes again, good-naturedly this time, and Merlin just rolls his eyes before seeming to sag again, speaking quietly:

“Come on, next one.”

Elyan raises his hand slightly before pointing to the centre of Merlin’s chest:

“How the hell did you get a burn like that?”

Merlin tenses, rubbing a hand over the roughly circular, pink and white scar in the centre of his chest. The flesh looked melted in places, white scar tissue spider-webbing out from his sternum, beginning to fade just before it stretched around his sides, and stopping a few inches above his naval:

“Witch threw a fireball at me. Hurt like hell, but there was quite a lot of adrenaline at the time so I didn’t really notice the pain until later.”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow, evidently trying to control his anger as he asks, in a shaking, though forceful, voice:

“And what were you doing fighting a witch powerful enough to throw fire around?”

Merlin stops rubbing at the scar when Lancelot tugs his hand and Mordred mutters “You’re going to hurt yourself, Merlin.” in his head, curling his hand tightly in his lap instead and speaking slowly, as if he were choosing each word individually:

“Only Leon and Arthur were in Camelot for that. Arthur was dying from the Questing Beast bite, I... went to the Isle of the Blessed to speak to the followers of the Old Religion. There was said to be someone there who had power over life and death and I... Arthur was dying, I had to try.-”

Arthur’s eyes widened at Merlin’s words, mostly the mention of such a power, but stays silent, nodding at him to continue:

“-But the Old Religion requires balance, a life for a life,-”

Leon releases a deep breath, looking to the floor at the implication with his eyes closed, and Arthur lets out a whispered whimper, knowing the depths of Merlin’s loyalty:

“-I offered my own in exchange for Arthur’s. She, Nimueh, that is, accepted,-”

Arthur opens his mouth to say something, he’s not sure what, but before he can yell about Merlin’s self preservation, he notices the darkness on his dearest friend’s face and his voice catches in his throat. Merlin stares at the floor, his face drawn and angry and his voice stormy and clipped:

“-but she tried to trick me. I didn’t appreciate that, we fought, she died. Her life for Arthur’s: the deal was done.”

An audible gasp goes up around the circle, and Percival, who is (other than Merlin and Mordred of course) the most well versed in Magic Info, responds breathlessly:

“Merlin... Nimueh is a High Priestess, The master over Life and Death, she’s very very powerful.”

Merlin looks up at the gentle giant sharply, his gaze unforgiving and his tone harsh:

“Yeah, and she’s also very very dead, because she pissed me off.”

Percival gulps and lowers his gaze, but Arthur seems to have missed everything the two of them just said as he stares blankly at his servant:

“You’d barely known me a year, and I’ll admit that I was an arse back then, and you tried to give your life for mine. Why?”

Merlin looks at him curiously, not responding for a few moments as his anger dies down and his pride grows:

“I had it on good authority that you would become a Great King one day. It only took a little squinting to see it, you were a good man, a man I was, and still am, prepared to sacrifice myself for. You were an arse, yes, you still sort of are, but I have faith in you, always have, always will.”

Lancelot and Mordred smile fondly at him as the other knights stare dumbfounded, but Arthur clenches his jaw, ignoring the shaking in his voice as he says:

“Well, I... I forbid it. You are officially forbidden from sacrificing yourself for me, legally.”

Gwaine perks up slightly:

“Out of curiosity, do we all get the same-”

Arthur interrupts him with a forceful, though slightly amused:

“Shut up, Gwaine. And no, you’re a knight, your entire job description is to jump head first into danger so I don’t have to. I have every faith that you’ll die for me one day.”

Everyone lets out quiet snorts at that, bar Gwaine of course, who looks jokingly affronted before he nods and shrugs, quietly muttering “Yeah, fair enough,-”, the rest of his sentence (”especially considering you’re in love with him but not any of us.”) goes unheard and unchallenged.

Merlin chooses not to respond to Arthur’s demand, but everyone knows that’s his way of not committing to anything, knowing full well that Merlin had never listened to Arthur’s orders before, and sure as shit wasn’t going to start now.

“Next one.”

Merlin’s face had fallen slightly, knowing he wasn’t going to get away with explaining only two sets of scars, and Gwaine asks next, his eyes being drawn to Merlin’s gesturing hand:

“The red bands around your wrists and neck. They look like burns, but not very deep ones. How did they scar if they weren’t deep?”

Merlin looks down at the scars on his wrists, resisting the urge to absent-mindedly claw at the one he knows sits low on his neck. They’re about two inches wide, pale pink and almost impossible to see in the dark but impossible not to see in the light of the noon sun, even sat in the shade. The edges were clean cut and perfectly straight, and Merlin winced slightly at the memory of his magic being contained in such a way.

He looks around the circle, speaking easily. Though it was painful, it was no where near the worst Merlin has ever had, and even if he couldn’t tell the full truth, it felt sort of nice not to have to hide these ones:

“Some sort of enchanted chains, they drained my energy, made me sick and tired, but the magic in the metal sort of... stung, I guess. I don’t really know. I’d been captured by Morgause (is Morgana not mentioned in this entire fic but still Good? Yes.) again and I suppose she didn’t want to take any chances.”

Everyone looks shocked at his casual admission, and Leon is the first to break the tense silence:

“When were you captured by Morgause?”

Before Merlin can respond, Arthur pipes up incredulously:

“Again. You said again. Merlin, how many times have you been kidnapped by Morgause without anyone realising? How many times have you been kidnapped in general?!”

Merlin winces slightly, speaking in a slightly defensive tone as he stares at Arthur as though the answer is obvious:

“Arthur... I’m The King’s personal manservant. I have the power to overrule the Steward and the Housekeeper if I wanted to; as far as servant’s go, I have the most authority, even more than some low level nobles, especially when it comes to running the citadel. I’m sort of... a big deal. I have access to pretty much any information I could want, even more than this lot-”

He gestures to the knights around the circle. Mordred and Lancelot look a little proud once again, Leon is staring at Arthur, shocked that The King didn’t know this, and everyone else stares at Merlin, only just realising that... Merlin was right. None of them have considered it before, but he practically runs the castle.

“-most of the time, and I’m the only one who knows every single state secret, simply from my proximity to you and your council and your paperwork. That is rather... desirable to people like Morgause, people who want to attack Camelot.”

Merlin purses his lips awkwardly as everyone stares at him blankly, but Gwaine is the first to break the silence:

“... and we’ve just been letting you walk around, unprotected.”

Merlin raises as eyebrow:

“I think we’ve already established I don’t need protection.”

Arthur huffs and throws his hands up awkwardly:

“Well you obviously do, if you’re getting kidnapped so often. When even was this?? You haven’t disappeared for a while, and we haven’t had any trouble from Morgause in months.”

Merlin’s face falls, and the knights are taken aback at the reappearance of the... cruel darkness in his expression:

“Believe me, I know. She... won’t be bothering us any longer, I wasn’t fond of her repeated attempts to kill me or you so I... took care of it.”

The knights go pale at Merlin’s casual admittance of killing yet another High Priestess of the Old Religion. He smirks into his lap briefly until Lance once again squeezes his hand, as if reminding him of the mask he should be wearing. Arthur stares at his servant and long time friend, struggling to reconcile the clumsy ideal he has in his head with this... hardened, tortured protector:

“How? Nimueh and Morgause... just... how??”

Merlin’s eyes slowly move up to meet Arthur’s gaze, and The King gulps at the assessing way the servant tilts his head:

“Playing the role of clumsy rural idiot can be a little demeaning sometimes, but it also means that people tend to underestimate me. They think I’m an easy target, and by the time they realise I’ve played them, it’s too late.”

Arthur recoils slightly, and Merlin once again changes dispositions, shrugging casually and smiling easily, his tone light:

“You can get away with a remarkable amount when people think you’re stupid.”

The circle lets out an in-sync breath. All of them knew that Merlin wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but they didn’t realise just how smart he is. None of them would admit it, but Elyan, Leon, Percival, Arthur, and even Gwaine on some level, still subconsciously considered Merlin “just a servant” in the back of their minds. At least... they did.

(Not that that old thought process made them think any less of him, they just didn’t think of him as complicated, as a warrior.)

Merlin takes a deep breath, knowing that his friends would never see him in the same way, but sort of hoping that that was a good thing, gesturing vaguely to the circle once again. Arthur asks the next question, touching his hand to the back of his own neck softly:

“There’s a cut on the back of your neck. It looks deep, like it was reopened over and over, what is it?”

Merlin grimaces slightly, wiping his free hand over his face in exhaustion as Lancelot squeezes his other hand, and Mordred pats his knee comfortingly:

“That one was a few years ago, courtesy of Morgause again. She put something called a Fomorrah in me-”

Percival gasped slightly, harshly whispering “Gods.” under his breath. Arthur spares him a quick glance, making a mental note to question how his knight seems to know so much about sorcery at a later date:

“-so she could try to make me kill Arthur; it sort of... controls you. Makes you only able to focus on whatever instruction you’re given when it’s first put in you. Gaius kept having to cut it out of me, it wouldn’t stop re-growing until we killed the rest of it’s body, and that was with Morgause somewhere out of the city.”

Arthur looked a little outraged, hiding the worry of “I now know that Merlin could kill me without any trouble at all so how the fuck am I alive?”. Apparently he doesn’t hide it well; Merlin gives him a comforting smile and shrugs his shoulders slightly:

“I fought the compulsion pretty well, kept coming up with increasingly complicated assassination plans instead of just... stabbing you in your sleep or something.”

Arthur goes to respond, but he’s interrupted by Leon loudly cursing, his eyes wide as he stares at Merlin with flushed cheeks:

“I just... gave you a crossbow!! You said you were going to kill Arthur and I thought you were joking and I let you walk out the armoury with a crossbow and a handful of bolts!!”

Merlin chuckles, a blush of his own rising as he responds, rubbing the back of his neck again:

“Yeah... I don’t really remember it, but Gaius and Gwen filled me in on what had happened. To be fair, it’s kind of flattering that you never considered that I was the assassin, despite the repeated attempts being made on Arthur’s life and the fact that I admitted it to your face.”

Leon stares at the floor with wide eyes, seemingly trying to process the fact that he had pointed a would be assassin in the right direction, muttering something along the lines of “oh my Gods oh my Gods oh my Gods” over and over until Elyan awkwardly patted him on the back, breaking him from his embarrassed horror.

Arthur clears his throat, staring at Merlin with an almost unreadable expression:

“I did wonder why the attempts just... stopped?”

Merlin understands the question in his tone and nods slightly before replying:

“Hmm. Gaius and Gwen figured out it was me, found a way to paralyse the thing in my neck until I managed to get back to Morgause’s little lair and kill the main body.”

Arthur nods distractedly. How many times had this happened? “This” being something entirely ridiculous and/or incredibly dangerous right under his nose.

Percival clears his throat and Merlin looks to the nervous man, nodding at him to ask whatever it was that was on his mind, despite his growing discomfort:

“There’s... on your back, it looks like a stab wound but... worse. The veins around it are black and it looks painful despite it’s obvious age and... well... it looks like a Serket Sting, but it... it can’t be, right?”

Merlin tenses, back to looking as exhausted and scared and as ready to bolt as he had at the beginning of the conversation. Lancelot squeezes his hand again, tightly this time, and Mordred takes his other to stop him from clenching it too harshly, murmuring:

“You don’t have to, Merlin, not this one.”

Arthur clenches his jaw at the knowledge that two of his knights had known about this. Had known the collage of agony on Merlin’s body, had known what he’d been through and done nothing. Hadn’t prevented it, hadn’t brought it to Arthur, hadn’t protected him. But equally, with how protective and loyal and secretive Merlin is, and how heartbroken the two of them had looked when Merlin first took his tunic off, they likely hadn’t known the full extent of damage.

Merlin just sighs and shakes his head, sensing the curious stares of the others before rising to his knees and turning around, running a shaking hand over the scar briefly before dropping his hand to his side again. The others stare, astounded. They’d only caught brief glimpses of it before, but now they could see it properly it was undoubtedly a Serket Sting.

The deep puncture mark on his lower back had closed up, but the skin was still sunken in slightly, red and angry looking with hints of purple towards the middle. Percival was right: dark veins, as if permanently poisoned, stretched out from the centre of the wound, dipping below the waistband of his trousers and fading about halfway up his back.

After a few moments, Merlin turns around again and sits back down, placing his still shaking hand back in Lance’s lap without prompting. Arthur’s one-word question is whispered and cracked, and no one judges him for the tears in his eyes; most of them have tears of their own gathering and falling at their friend’s pain:

“How?”

Merlin gulps, not looking up as he leans slightly into Mordred’s shoulder. The young knight presses back, knowing how fond the servant is of warm pressure, not minding the sticky sweatiness of their still uncovered torsos in the noon heat:

“Morgause again. She got annoyed with me always ruining her plans, getting in the way. Left me chained up in the middle of a nest of... in the middle of a nest.”

Leon takes a deep breath, rubbing his eyes harshly and sniffing before asking, his voice strong despite the slight waver:

“How did you survive that? I’ve... I’ve seen men get stung by serkets and it’s not... nice.”

Merlin breathes shakily, his mouth open slightly as he stares at the floor, memories flashing through his mind and the scar on his back twinging uncomfortably. Again, Percival was right, despite it’s age, it did still hurt. He takes one last deep breath, clenching his eyes shut tightly before looking up at the curly-haired knight, not quite making eye-contact:

“I uh... a lot of screaming, and the help of an... old friend. I was out of Camelot for a few days whilst I recovered, my friend didn’t fancy being executed for helping me, for just existing.”

Arthur furrows his brows but the others, bar Leon, nod in understanding, looking only slightly guilty and not looking to The King as he asks:

“What do you mean? If someone has found a way to cure a Serket sting then they most definitely wouldn’t be executed for it.”

Elyan snorts and Mordred and Lancelot frown at the floor as Merlin stares at Arthur with poorly concealed contempt:

“Arthur... the cure for a Serket sting has been around for centuries, it just involves very strong, very complicated magic. I didn’t fancy dying in absolute agony, and my friend didn’t fancy being executed for the act of saving my life so we stayed away from the city whilst he treated me.”

Arthur looks at his servant, dumbfounded and confused, and the knights stay silent in their awkwardness. Leon, a lifelong citizen of Camelot, is the only other person to look surprised at Merlin’s explanation, though he nods after a few moments, conceding that it... makes sense. Of course it does.

Mordred frowns when he notices Merlin’s knee begin to bounce up and down slightly, but it’s the way he gulps and tightens his grip on Lance’s hand that has the two knights begin to properly worry. They share a quick look, obviously agreeing on something, before Mordred takes Merlin’s other hand and settles a soft touch on his vibrating knee whilst Lancelot looks to Arthur:

“I think we’re done for the day. This has been... a lot.”

Merlin is getting paler by the second and Mordred can sense the man’s distress, shooting Lance a desperate look before subtly trying to shuffle closer to Merlin, who leans even further into his touch. Arthur doesn’t seem to notice, looking annoyed at Lancelot’s assertion and rolling his eyes before moving his gaze back to Merlin’s quivering form:

“No, Merlin’s suffered and I need to know why. There are mace wounds on both your shoulders, I remember one, but not the-”

Arthur is interrupted by a low whine from the back of Merlin’s throat as he thumps his head back against the tree, eyes still shut tightly. His words out come quietly and broken, as if it were a struggle to breathe, let alone speak:

“Can we please stop now?”

Mordred ignores Arthur, moving to kneel in front of the servant whilst Lancelot glares at The King. Arthur just huffs slightly, though he obviously completely underestimates the distress his friend is in, looking concerned, but not letting up:

“Merlin, we’ve barely gone through a third of them, we can’t stop-”

Lancelot lets out a low growl, letting go of Merlin’s hand and moving towards Arthur, glaring as he says:

“Arthur, we need to stop. Now.”

The young King looks taken aback, though the argument is stopped in his throat when Mordred’s quiet voice interrupts him:

“Merlin, you need to breathe.-”

He peers around the young knight as best he can, but Lance’s still vicious glare stops him from moving too close. Mordred brings one of Merlin’s hands up, pressing it against his chest and continuing his soft instructions:

“-Copy my breathing, alright? Can you tell me where you are right now, Merlin?”

The knights all stare on in horror at Merlin’s pale skin and ragged breathing, staying still in their places when Lancelot gestures at them firmly. It’s Merlin’s next word, cracked and whispered, that trigger another round of tears to gather in their eyes:

“C...cave.”

Mordred shakes his head slowly and Lancelot curses under his breath, kneeling back next to Mordred and retaking Merlin’s other hand, holding it between his own securely. Mordred’s soft voice floats in the wind, and if the knights weren’t so distracted by their friend’s pain, they would think it sounds almost magical:

“No, you’re safe, Merlin. Think, listen, feel. Can you try to tell me where you are again?

Merlin shakes his head roughly, his still-shut eyes not stopping the tears from squeezing out as he flinches, strikes of lightening-like agony shooting out from the scar on his lower back. Lance worries his lip between his teeth, rubbing one of his hands up and down Merlin’s shivering arm; a nod from Mordred has Lance speak, his words soft and low despite the waver in his voice:

“Merlin, you know where you are, and me and Mordred are right here with you. You need to open your eyes buddy, tell us where we are.”

Merlin’s breathing instantly seems to calm a little at Lancelot’s voice, and he cracks his bloodshot eyes open, immediately sighing when his blurry gaze lands on the canopy above him, whispering:

“Tree... sky... Camelot.”

The others can see Mordred let out a relieved sigh, and they force themselves to relax slightly. Merlin’s body sags again and Lance frowns, but the young servant’s stuttering words as he stares blankly up into the tree interrupt any reassurance he could have offered:

“Please, I can’t... I don’t... please don’t make me-”

Lance stills his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, not even paying the slightest bit of attention to anyone else as he replies:

“No one’s going to make you, Merlin, we can carry on another day-”

Arthur’s interrupted “But-” is quickly shut down when Lance turns around to glare at him, a sharp “-I said we’re done for the day.” sent his way.

Merlin flinches again, the pain in his back getting worse and worse and making it harder to keep a grasp on reality, so damning the consequences, Mordred presses a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes and he mouths the words to a sleeping spell as quietly as he can. Thankfully, everyone’s attention is on the glaring contest between Lancelot and The King, so no one immediately notices the way Merlin falls forwards into Mordred’s arms, not until he nudges Lance in the leg and mutters:

“He passed out. We should get him to Gaius, he needs proper rest and pain medication.”

Lancelot nods his head firmly, back to ignoring Arthur and the others as he moves to Merlin’s side, pulling his arm over his shoulder as Mordred does the same on the servant’s other side. Mordred’s eyes scan over the knights, searching for whoever looks the most likely to help without question; his gaze stills on a terribly worried looking Gwaine:

“Gwaine, run ahead to warn Gaius, tell him that Merlin had a really bad episode and then passed out.”

Gwaine gulps but nods, gathering his tunic in quick hands and putting it on haphazardly as he sprints back to the castle. Mordred and Lancelot adjust their grips, standing and bringing Merlin up with them as they turn in the direction Gwaine had ran and begin the careful journey back to the citadel. The knights follow behind them closely, hastily dressing themselves and desperate to ask questions, but knowing that now was not the time. Elyan jogs ahead of them to open doors and clear a path, and Percival had grabbed Merlin, Lancelot, and Mordred’s tunics as Leon put all of the swords away before catching up.

Thankfully they don’t come across many people, though Lance and Mordred still do their best to conceal Merlin between them, knowing that he would be distraught if anyone else saw his scars. They make good time to Gaius’ chambers, and they find the Physician preparing a few strong pain potions and sleeping draughts as Gwaine paced.

Gaius looks incredibly worried, but unsurprised, and Lance and Mordred carry Merlin up to his room without prompting; the sick feeling in Arthur’s stomach tells him that they’re practiced at this. The King goes to follow them, but they kick the door shut behind them so they can have at least a little privacy whilst they settle their friend in his bed. They leave the covers off, knowing that he’d just overheat or kick them off in the nightmares that they know are coming. Lance nods knowingly at Mordred, and the younger of the two moves swiftly back into the main room, shutting the door behind him again softly, avoiding eye contact with anyone bar Gaius, even as Percival hands him his tunic.

The elderly Physician raises an eyebrow, and Mordred answers the wordless question quietly, though not quiet enough for the other knights to not hear him:

“Not yet, but soon, he’ll definitely need a sleeping draught to get him through it. It was his back, so he’ll need the strongest pain one you’ve got.”

Gaius nods, picking up two of the many concoctions he had prepared, not reacting to Arthur’s desperate questions, leaving the conversation to Mordred:

“What are you talking about? Get through what??”

Mordred sighs and frowns slightly, unable to get over all of his anger at the King for pushing Merlin so far:

“The nightmares. He always gets them, especially after an episode that bad.”

Arthur recoils, just a little horrified, but Gwaine beats him to the mark, asking in a shaking voice:

“Episode??”

Mordred moves his gaze to the worried knight, a little more sympathetic to the man he knew was more loyal to Merlin than he was to The King:

“Flashbacks, panic attacks. Merlin has been through... a lot. Chronic pain or difficult conversations sometimes trigger a sort of... breakdown, he struggles to differentiate between memories and reality. Normally he can just wait it out with a little help. When it’s really bad we put him to sleep, it’s the only way to stop him from hurting himself accidentally.”

Everyone looks horrified at that, their focus on Mordred rather than Gaius, who was stealthily ascending the steps to Merlin’s room, potions in hand. Arthur is the first to break the tense silence:

“How long? How long as he been getting these episodes, and why the hell did no one think to tell me?!”

Mordred moves his harsh gaze back to The angry King, glaring at him when his voice rose:

“With all due respect, My Lord, lower your voice. Merlin needs rest, he needs to not be disturbed.”

Arthur looks annoyed, though still heartbroken, but nods slightly, almost whispering as he responds:

“You didn’t answer my questions. How long, and why wasn’t I told?”

Mordred sighs, looking to the floor briefly as he crosses his arms over his chest . After a few moments of considering his answer, he finally looks up again, suddenly appearing exhausted and resigned as he replies softly:

“I don’t really know. He didn’t tell us, we just... found out. It took us a while to convince him to explain it properly and let us help. He didn’t want anyone worrying or treating him like glass; it doesn’t happen very often at all, and this is... this is the worst one I’ve ever seen.”

Arthur frowns and shakes his head slightly, but it’s Leon that speaks next:

“Why not tell us, at least? What if something had happened and you weren’t with us? We wouldn’t have known what was wrong.”

Mordred takes a deep breath and shrugs, nodding slightly, obviously aware that he couldn’t tell them about his and Merlin’s mental link:

“We tried telling him that, but he wouldn’t have it. We were maybe one more conversation away from convincing him to tell Gwaine or Guinevere, but I guess that’s not necessary anymore.”

Arthur pushes down the twinge of jealousy that Merlin had never even considered telling him, but it obviously shows on his face; Mordred scowls slightly, clenching his hands to try and cover his annoyance. Before either men can say anything, Lancelot comes back down from Merlin’s room, leaving Gaius with the young servant:

“It’s starting, Mordred we need to go, everyone else, out.”

Percival throws Lance’s tunic to him as the knights move to the door, albeit reluctantly, but Arthur doesn’t move, glaring down at Mordred angrily when the younger man stops him from going into Merlin’s room:

“He’s my manservant, I want to be there when he wakes up.”

Mordred narrows his eyes, and Arthur kicks himself for never realising how much Merlin meant to him before now, but before the knight can say anything, Lancelot steps up next to him, answering in his stead:

“No, me and Mordred will be there, that’s all he needs. You need to go, My Lord.”

Arthur gears up to argue, to pull rank, squaring his shoulders and snarling slightly, but an angry Lancelot is something he’s never seen and never had to deal with before, so he’s far too surprised to say anything when the knight interrupts his posturing:

“I said no, Arthur. He has to pretend in front of you. You’ve already done this to him,-”

He gestures angrily to the door to Merlin’s room:

“-he needs to not tense up and stress out immediately upon waking up.”

Arthur steps back slightly, but clears his throat, pushing through the slight heartbreak and guilt to argue:

“Oh, and he doesn’t have to pretend in front of you two?”

Mordred rolls his eyes, giving Lancelot a pointed look before stalking up to Merlin’s room, leaving the older knight to deal with the angry King. Lance clenches his jaw and lets out a harsh breath, looking away briefly, as if trying to stop himself from saying anything cruel, before giving up and glaring back at Arthur:

“No. He doesn’t. Because we, and Gaius, are the only people who actually know the first thing about Merlin, and he trusts us. He needs space, and time to heal, and comfort, not the demanding presence of a King whose already pushed him too far, who treats him like shit and forces him to think he has to hide who he is. For God’s sake, Arthur, can you please, for once, think of anyone but yourself.”

Arthur widens his eyes, and though Lancelot looks a little like he regrets what he said, he doesn’t back down, nodding to the door behind Arthur and not moving away until The King steps back again. Arthur takes a deep breath, turning to exit the Physician’s chambers before the knight could see the guilt on his face and the tears in his eyes. He leaves without looking back, ignoring the gaggle of knights waiting worriedly in the hall and stalking straight to his chambers, only just managing to shut the door behind him before the tears finally started falling.

Back in Merlin’s room, the servant thrashes in his sleep, whimpering despite Mordred’s comforting whispers in his head, Gaius’ hand in his hair, and Lancelot’s soft lap as a pillow.

This... was going to be a tough one.

The End of part 1!!!

This was legit supposed to only be one part buuuuuuut we can all see how that went. Part two will follow on really quickly, but it was getting far too long to leave all as one 😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it, link to part 2(the final part) at the top!! :)

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vinxwatches · 6 months ago

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2.1 "puss in boots will eat a raw eggplant" they had to know, right? oh, everything appears rendered with the animation, no more pre rendered backdrops? or at least less so? again with the good character design: that is a baby dragon, not the mother you're going to have trouble with. ...why do these kids want lard?

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random ass song. "like a baby with a moustache, or a princess also with a moustache" i have honestly no idea what the fuck this means. called it, that's good character design when from it you can predict future events.

2.2 direct reference to the last episode? that's new, and a good sign for things to come. i love a continuing story line. i swear that cabage looks earily similar to the skyrim cabbage. i get it: both 3d renderings of cabbage, but this is eerily similar. i get not wanting to set up a different cave, but i notice that this is the exact same cave they just fell out of. cloud hiccups, obscure joke to bring back but absolutely hilarious. and also the donkey eared bandit? and Dulcineas hatred of Jack stays fun.

2.3 big fan of the songs, even if i truly don't get them. new area unlocked with the new season? oh, mermaid. really interested in that design as there are so many direction to take it. and they took it in an interesting way... but the initial thing they do with it is... less so. entirely dark scaly, with a fish mouth with those thin little teeth, bulled in nose, and very large eyes. not conventually beautiful (nothing a monster fucker would say no to), but a unique take while still within the standard design. however puss tries to run away in a way of "she ugly" which is... very dull. what definitely makes this... worrisome is that she appears black coded (her fun take of hair tends to look kind of like dreadlocks, she has dark scales) and then making that character act ugly is... well lets just say i hope they have a good idea with this. oh, and she's evil. oh, and she has a mood disorder (she said it not me). fucking hell she is so toxic. and it's not discussed enough. yea, this is the first truly bad episode. like show would be better without this one in it.

2.4 episode of facing your fears. right in line with the last with. or maybe less so as this one seems to focus on facing that you have fears (i can tell you from experience that that's something good to talk about, even if it is to no one). puss is afraid of bees (why? they don't want to sting you. hell even wasps are fine) but has to get it out of the orphanage. but it's set up like a horror scene, just to add to the vibe puss is in, nice. oh, Pajuna has not come here to settle down, she's still in dark business. ok, i love this character design. kind of witch like, the hair that's basically an extension of the almost witch hat. the dress but way shorter with pants under them (undoubtedly also because cloth physics are something they try to avoid), marking on the face, it's all kind of... what if a witch was born in the year 2000(i have no concept of age, you know what i mean)? quickly looking it up and it appears she's the youngest of a group of witches. which is absolutely no surprise with her design. have i mentioned the designs in the show are great yet? brilliant way to further the message. to avoid being stung he had to be calm, so he has to beat his fear to be safe. though i think the episode would have been better without the last little conflict, though i guess the purpose of it was puss running into the same house now with a tone of been with no fear.

2.5 ah, the episode of "don't teach them to be like you, teach them to be them better". or maybe not. more an episode of "don't forget the substance among the prettiness". though the first message is literally said.

2.6 building directly of the last episode again? nice. enemies only come from outside, not within? i really hope that's a message that's shown to be false, because that shit prevents you from seeing the rise of things like nazies within the in group. nice version of the "we have a problem in the cockpit" "what is it?" "it's a small room in the front of the plane but that's not important right now". wait... omg this is a literal owl house. "there's something you think is weird?" yea with Artephius that's a scary concept. you made me feel for a building. that's impressive. well done. and ending with a prophecy of doom? nice.

2.7 somehow i never noticed that building was painted like a van gogh. oh. Dulcinea gets to wield the other, evil, sword... will this end with an epic Puss vs Dulcinea fight? or is she truly incorruptible, but perhaps pretend to be corrupted to satisfy the sword? will it fall in the hands of the big bandit, being an upgrade for him?.

lets also take a moment to appriciate the practicality of the evil sword. it's largely a scimitar, but has spikes like fire going up on the bladed side. aesthetically cool, but incredibly impractical. except that for most of the blade those are filled in with metal, making it a not serrated edge. only at the very bottom are those spikes actually spikes. while this does mean slightly less cutting potential the isn't a part that usually sees any actions. it's also structurally weaker, but it's a magic sword to that's unlikely to be a problem either. and instead it provides 2 spots an opponents sword could be caught in. so long as the blending of material and thinness in the lower blade don't produce problems it's a perfectly practical sword despite looking extremely fancy, magical, and evil.

omg, 6:40 in. Dulcinea holds the sword aloft, then lowers it, obscuring her face for a split second. in that split second her eyes go from regular blue to glowing red. AAAH it's so cool (yes i'm and edgy bitch). "you know this forest isn't the only think that's dense" sick burn from the sword. ... you ATE a person that was turned into a mouse before. no the fuck this mosquito is not the first thing you killed. but oh no, she's not incorruptible (also neat little faun design... why is he german?). while it may not make sense i love (cat) eyes becoming more slit like when they are evil/hunting (big round eyes are actually taking in more light so see more so are the eyes they have before attacking). also love that she cut the feather of his hat. it's in part it's probably a cost saving measure (less cloth physics, which is probably why he doesn't have a cloak either), but it's also him receiving a cut. damage. sure he gets banged up, but this is physical, see able damage. the drip of blood from the last wish that death deals him.

2.8 the prophesy of doom comes with an eclipse? somehow OSP is always perfectly relevant (ignoring all the times it isn't)

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wait... how many people left? every adult goes out to adventure so they can have their boring lives back?... this may backfire. also not subtle foreshadowing is not subtle.... well hello heracless/zeus looking fucker. Tyrannus, god of thunder... so apparently gods are a thing? el mocho gets an eclectic guitar riff? epic. also love that the characters in the story by the kids talk with their own voice actors, but speaking like the kids. so when one kid talks they constantly say "did you know". damn, pickleboy has some good burns. he's scared of the all father? so i guess less zeus and more thor. also the not subtle foreshadowing is used interestingly. now i thought he point of this episode was "don't worry, these kids got the homefront while the adults are away", but they return at the end of the episode. so will future episodes go back to those adventures? or is that over and done with?

2.9 nope just over and done with... damn. colour me surprised. shows like this love their treasure hunts. the mole king was dumped... first question that should be asked, but wasn't for the sake of the plot: why? first through: oh neat new area. second thoughts overwhelmed by furry lesbian thoughts. Puss correcting pronouns... not what i expected, but surprisingly not cringe. also there's some assuming that all cultures are the same, but for a kids show that's... generally fine. it's odd that pretty and handsome are gendered. don't get me wrong, i want to be called pretty and not handsome in line with the arbitrary gender assignment they have, but it is odd.

2.10 speed reading... such a fake thing. on the one side it's nuts that the piece of treasure puss stole disappeared. on the other it's so thematic for it to be the final missing piece. damn, Dulcinea is moving beyond her book? character growth. so in a dnd game i'm playing a dragonborn armourer artificer who punches people a lot. i'm saying that because this villain is stealing my stick and it's weird. damn, desperation in Puss, punching the ground, being stopped by his friends. effective powerful moment. OMG the wizard Sino has returned. no that's not the omg thing, the omg thing is that OMG Artephius is Sino. at least i think. also this Sino that returned is probably fake. this Sino is not correct. is it his fault? partially (who makes a spell that's this easy to break?), but did he do it knowingly? no. he didn't chose to do anything wrong, and when he learned he did something wrong he vowed to correct for it. what moral judgement can be made against him? DAMN that cliff hanger.

2.11 do not question... well that's how you know he's evil. ah, the german satyr tells a proper german folktale: one that ends incredibly dark for no good reason. I KNEW IT ARTEPHIUS IS SINO! (all he said was "i used to have a robe just like it" but i'm 100% convinced now) "i would leave me if i could" damn that's a mood. OMG IT'S THE MOUSE! also nice to see the sphynx in action finally. you have only beaten one of us... ominous. also honest to god twist villain. What is a Blood Wolf?! omg how big is that thing!?! just OMG look at this. the city that's the central location for this show is ON IT'S BACK!!! AND THAT'S THE END OF THE SEASON!!!

the adventure's of puss in boots

1.1 9 years old, tv show, but not bad in animation quality (at least from the . definitely themes that the last wish touch on as well (of course that'll be the strongest point of comparison). love that the fight in episode 1 ends with a massive bluff "i can't defeat all of you, but i can defeat one. so which one of you will die?"

1.2 travel through different horrific lands. "yes, my friend, this is going to suck". the kingdom of darkness: just a dark screen a noises of people stumbling, and then doing it multiple times. the humour is spot on. that's a damn cool sphinx design, and telling us something about the character while not being overly obvious while in 3d show based on a movie? now that's surprising. sad that she's not in the next one, probably never to return, which makes the quality of design even more surprising.

1.3 you know, it takes some skill to make a funny "i hate my wife" joke, but they pulled it of. "i can never say no to a woman" "please pay your bar tab" "no" have i pointed out that this show nails the humour yet? puss vs ninja's? funny. but apparently not enough. puss vs teenage overly buff ninja pigs? now we're talking. also this show loves being dark in it's humour. how how the mean lady is apparently often crying. i wonder if that'll ever get depth, or is ever mentioned again instead of just being one dark joke.

1.4 "what's it like inside your head?" "wet and bloody".... i mean you're not wrong. at this point i'm just trying to convince people to watch the show because the humour is great. "it's not scary, it's just a bag stuffed with old dolls' heads" so many blink and you'll miss it jokes. why does dismemberment follow me everywhere? seriously what the fuck is up with that? why is it suddenly everywhere? at least it's clean and well cared for. this old guy be horny, in a kidshow. how is this a 2015 show? "you are crazy. but this is not new information" "nope". also recurring villain maybe?

1.5 standard episode: life here is too boring and an interesting old friend comes to steal the hero, but turns out to be a villain. will they play it straight (probably, he's designed as a villain), or will they do something more interesting. way too deep a thought for a short scene: so the orphanage is putting on a fake adventure, the costunes are brought out, and the buys very shortly argue over who gets to be a princess, until it's revealed that everyone who wants to can be a princess. here's what makes it so interesting: there is no joke outside of "the intrinsic funniness of buys wanting to be princesses". now while this could of course be setup for transphobic jokes later this honestly feels like it's just scene setting, just quaint town life, and the opposite of transphobic. i'm sure we won't see a trans character in this show (probably the closest being a queer coded villain) but this is nice. a simple message that everyone gets to be a princess if they want. again very cool monster design. like i want to steal this for my dnd game good. kind of a giant geko with a huge mouth and a lure like some fish have but with a fake pretty lady looking thing instead. my point of comparison is the kong-fu panda tv show which has the issue that it was extremely limited to always using the same assets. this show keeps bringing out amazing new designs every episode so far. also the message is damn strong. also neat that the standard plot was only really plot setup, it's never actually part of the plot, it never really comes into play. and for a boring plot now following up can be the best thing. the joke is that everyone wanted to be a princes. nothing about gender, just everyone wanted to be the same thing, nice. seriously, how come i never heard anything of this show? 2015. i'm pretty sure i watched some cartoons in 2015. did it never make it's way on dutch tv? i mean i've also never seen anyone talk about it online, something i think i'll have to correct at some point.

1.6 softpaws? nope, just a black cat. also the return of the sphinx which makes me happy. interesting that we get the more visually interesting sphinx sister first. so i've been watching a lot of TBSkyen and now want to kind of do a visual interpretation video like he often does on these two sisters. how the firsts inks and piercings make her read kind of Egyptian, alongside the naked cat stylings, while also indicating individuality and complexity, and how the lack of those in her sister suggests that she's simpler, which is true. one tells riddles, the other just tries to kill you. fuck why is this show so full of great dnd ideas. many magical fountains, each with different effects, like reverse gravity, talking backwards, and needing to say a word to undo it, which is hard with talking backwards, or induces fall damage after falling upwards for a while. fuck it, list time: fountain of invisible spiders, fountain of nausea, fountain of fire, fountain of itchy feet, just a regular fountain.

1.7 this serious continues to confuse me in a positive way in not making transphobic jokes. girly scream from the cowardly mayor? ok, that's prime setup right? sure, but they don't make the joke, it's just a scream that doesn't match the character design, but that's part of the general joke of the character: he's a coward who often hides in a barrel, but he's a huge buff dude who wouldn't even fit in the barrel. you get what i mean? puss doesn't burst in saying "i'll save you my lady" and then haha is a dude. he just bursts in to save someone. another standard plot: convince someone they are brave by pretending they defeat something, they they get overconfident and find real trouble and learn to reign it in or fully return to the status quo, wonder how they'll do it. damn, they did the getting too confident straight, but put enough good jokes in the scene to not make it awkward (hard to avoid), not to see if they can do the rest well. making Dulcinea (the female polite cat) do it because puss is too tired helps. "it's ok buddy, i'll read it to you" "you're a cute friend" subversion of expectation and cute as fuck, these are the joke i love. oh no, the man travels with a shadow over his face in spite of physics, he's definitely evil. surprisingly polite to those he thinks unwell though. and the standard plot continues. going with the "hopes and dreams dashed, but then shows bravery for reals". yep that's basically exactly what they did, with one funny in concept but sadly meh in execution fightscene. this isn't an episode you watch for the end, you watch for the jokes which are amazing.

1.8 human shrek is on the cover of the romance novel. blink and you'll miss it and i love it. oh no, puss ate xanathar's fish, and is now hunted by a Sinnamon smelling golem. this is so stupid in the best way. classic way for things to gain a soul too, it's neat. and damn does it make for a neat episode.

1.9 "let me gaze upon your golden booty" "i am uncomfortable" yes i'm still trying to get you to watch the show. oh a dust devil, neat. and that it's a demon is accurate to how people used to think about them (to my knowledge the origin of djinn). i think that was the first reuse of an asset i noticed (if you ignore the bandits): a sceptre that was broken in a previous episode. this is not a negative, just impressive that it took this long to use the same asset for a similar thing. also love that Dulcinea's arc so far is getting angry, but not like in a bad way.

1.10 excalibur? ok, this is an interesting take. generally not the angle of a reluctant hero (fun dnd PC backstory?). and the classic puss being pretty lost when he can't be the hero... starts to feel a bit overdone, but how many things can you do with him? also the animation touches are very nice. is this a story about cheating? because it sounds like a story about cheating, and with someone not getting over their ex. also this episode has some crazy good action. also this sword has a problem with asparagus.

1.11 uhm, that's not what sphynx looks like. where are her inks and piercings? did they accidentally use the wrong model? "well, technically medicine is the best medicine, but laughter is cheaper". wait what!? the cow barlady used to be an assassin?! also is this an episode about racism? like this could turn sour quickly. also what i think is clever but also semi noticeable is a cost cutting measure (honestly i've been noticing it for a while): if things don't move they aren't actually rendered in 3d, instead a single render is made of them and then it's a flat image that animation is rendered on top of. now this makes total sense to do: it's a lot less rendering so everything will be faster, which is a necessity if it's a tv show with tv show budget with 15 episodes. it allows for backgrounds that are relatively detailed unlike other 3d shows which are very often very plain. but if things look slightly off to you this may be why. damn, mature talk about wanting to do things but not doing it. this show is crazy. also damn that's one evil mouse. at least the sphynx petrified is the correct model.

1.12 that's just a god damn goblin. like literally called a goblin. and visually think dnd goblin... wild. also this is just about racism. mostly a pretty standard episode, but pusses unwavering belief is nice. and if a new person joins the cast that would make it even better.

1.13 earlier today episode? can always be fun. oh, Dulcinea gets to have puss' standard problem: feeling like he's no longer needed, and thus no longer him, thus problem. "i'll even write all of the stories myself. i will use all of the words. so many words!" and suddenly puss is talking like fucking trump. when puss thinks Dulcinea may be in legal troubles he'll immediately start helping her out, because pull aint no snitch lol. well now this episode conflicts with the last wish. Puss being against wishing stars here but going after it then? well, there is of course desperation

1.14 mother Mary the cat? so it'll be a puss' pride episode. the episode didn't have any big fightscenes, so instead the focus was put on the final dance. odd, but really fun.

1.15 a curse of bad luck turning puss into a black cat, that's just neat. wild that i had nothing more to say about it despite it being the last episode of season 1. oh well, on to season 2 i guess.

#puss in boots #the adventures of puss in boots #the adventures of puss in boots season 2

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pencildragons · 3 years ago

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some assorted merlin headcanons:

word has it around camelot that merlin's favourite food is blueberries. this is incorrect. his favourite food is blackberries. he is deathly allergic to blueberries.

arthur found this out the hard way

that bracelet he wears in season 1?? gwen gave it to him. i don’t CARE that they’d known each for like 2 days gwen immediately saw this man and though he Will Be My Friend and then made him a friendship bracelet and nobody stopped her (i love u dork)

in ealdor the Thing He Is Known For is falling into ponds. that’s it. ‘oh who’s that?’ ‘that? that’s merlin. he falls into ponds.’

he almost set Will on fire as a child and will teased him mercilessly to his death about it. off-scene moments before death bitch literally made a joke abt at least he wasn’t set on fire and merlin strangled him then and there.

he can freaking shape shift. like man, how cool is that?? his shape of choice is an EAGLE rather than a merlin, but. the thing is. the way he figured out he could shapeshift was he sneezed one day and suddenly he was a goldfish

GODDAMN my man loves lancelot. he’s the og lancelot fan. he started the lancelot appreciation club and literally the entire round table, gwen, and a couple of randoms off the street are part of it. it’s a great hit. ironically, lancelot doesn’t know it exists.

he made gwaine a Bag of Holding but it’s just for apples. all that’s in the bag is apples, all the way down. gwaine proposed to him on the spot when he got it

he’s left handed BUT arthur taught him to use a sword with his right hand which is why he’s not,,,, fantastic (also because my man just Isn’t Good With Swords) BUT elyan sees him cutting some stuff up one day, yknow. with his left hand. and Realises and as a fellow leftie decides to train him and confuse the HELL out of everyone the next time merlin’s part of training

it works

oh! he was born on samhain, which does play into the fact that he’s immortal, because usually babies born on samhain die,,,, but he didn’t

this did lead to a lot of people being suspicious of he and his mother as he grew up

he didn’t do a lot to help this, admittedly

so y’know how babies can’t really control their limbs when their young?? yeah well merlin couldn’t control his magic

kid would just start spinning and shit right out of his cradle while hunith was having people over for dinner which was. interesting

his entire eyeball was completely golden until he was about 8. it used to freak ppl out so he just. stopped making eye contact

when he’s REALLY angry his eyes just start changing colour,,,,,

there is a Reason why he doesn’t get angry very much

lancelot saw it once and he was Shook forever

gwaine saw it and Immediately decided that it was the coolest thing

he is waiting for the day that merlin cracks because that will be the day that Shit Goes Down

in the 15th century merlin will discover coffee. a caffeinated merlin is a merlin that the world is not ready for

you know how he can speak to dragons? well that extends to all reptiles now. one day a snake starts talking to him and he just shrugs and rolls with it. whatever. this is normal

this is Not Normal

poor arthur walks in on him one day to find him fucking hissing at a twenty-foot python

he and gwen are at the very top of camelot’s rumour mill. they see everything. they hear everything. they know everything. they can also control it >:)

one day merlin’s had enough of arthur and goes to complain in the kitchens

arthur the next day: merlin WHY did i just get called in front of my father on allegations of being in love with a statue??

merlin, pouring a potion of itching into his bath: .....i really couldn’t say, sire

this continues for a while until arthur catches on

in retaliation he writes a letter to hunith detailing all the dumb things her son has gotten up to over the years

the effect is devestating

(as in: merlin doesn’t speak to him for a week)

my man can SEW. his mother was a seamstress and taught him how to make clothes to sell at market the next village over

he loves embroidery, and he also helps gwen out sometimes and they gossip

his magic acts up a lot when he’s sick or tired

this includes turning the sky green and wine into soup

at the same time

while at a banquet

arthur just wants to know why there’s soup in his goblet

he’s,,,,,, really uncomfortable with the druids’ worship of him, bc they see him as akin to a god and their savour and post-camlann they’re going ‘oh mighty emrys the rule of the pendragons has passed onto the once and future queen finally magic can be freed’ and he just loses it

too bad gwaine didn’t get to see it

or anything else, ever

he and morgana pretended to court for a while just so they could absolute SCANADALISE uther, and also to make arthur jealous. they fake-eloped at one point and uther charged merlin with high treason

he got charged with high treason a lot actually, and not just in camelot. he is now a wanted criminal in four different kingdoms

losing morgana (the first time after the poisoning) absolutely DESTROYED him and he became rlly recluse until she came back, which started the descent into who he becomes in s4/5

he is Small and Angry and he will throw hands with Literally Everyone

merlin is no longer allowed swords in public

he’s also tone-deaf but thinks he’s not, and it drives arthur, who’s very musical, absolutely INSANE

he gets his hands on the medieval equivalent of a kazoo and has stopped two bandit attacks and three assassination attempts to date with the ~Power Of Annoyance~

one of those assassination attempts took place during a council meeting and merlin just whips out his kazoo and starts playing

he gets charged with high treason again for that

he is TERRIBLE with plants and kills every single of one of them

he once woke arthur up by climbing through the window on the 9th floor of the castle or whatever and rattling the window pane until arthur woke up and nearly tried to kill him because he thought he was an intruder

he has tried to consume rocks but elyan stopped him

idk i just love him, i’ll probably do some more of others later ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#bbc merlin #bbcm #merlin #mine #merlin headcanons #the taming of the queue

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yetanotherhoeforpedro · 4 years ago

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Sinfully Armored

Summary: After Din Djarin had lost everything: his ship, his child, his way, and found himself as rightful leader of the Mandalore, he’s glad when an opportunity arises to escape all of his responsibilities. Grogu doesn’t seem to adapt well to his destined life in the New Jedi Order and handling the little rascal is simply too much for Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, who has to rebuild the entire Jedi Order and help in the founding of the New Republic. As a last resort, he contacts the mysterious Mandalorian, who seemed to have formed a strong bond with the Jedi foundling, to help Grogu accept his Jedi heritage and finally let go of the past. What Mando didn’t know is that on top of being given the chance to escape his duties, he’d meet you.

Notes: see ‘Sinfully armored’ on AO3

Chapter 1 - Strange Revelations

It has been the Maker knows how many days since you arrived at this desolate planet in the Outer Rim. The planets where you had to scout for Imperial Scum all started to blend into one after weeks and weeks on this expedition. The same dreary landscapes, shady people and shabby buildings on every single one. The Empire has left its dirty imprints throughout the entire galaxy and its people, including you.

The rundown bar you found yourself in right now must have seen better days as well. You swirled your drink lazily and scowled at the remaining dregs. This next part of your job was always the worst, impossibly done sober. You absolutely despised any kind of peaceful interaction with sympathizers of the Empire, even though you knew hate was not an emotion you should feel as a Jedi.

You drowned your glass in one big swallow and smoothly slid the it across the counter with a few credits. Before the bartender even reacted to your movement, you were already gone. The mud made an unsatisfying, squelching sound under your boots as you maneuvered through the narrow streets of Wakuda. Your nose scrunched at the mere smell of the place. Why the secret underground organization you were supposed to track down chose this of all places to build their base is beyond you, but you guessed it fit their morals.

As you neared the location you tracked the Imperial scum down to, you noticed a few snipers on the roof of the half-ruined building in your peripheral. Deep down you hoped they’d be skilled just so that you’d have a bit of a challenge as a distraction. They weren’t, since they didn’t even notice you until you were too close. Maybe their stupid helmets blocked their vision, you couldn’t even blame them. A quick swipe of the force knocked them out and you proceeded with your task.

Through a crack in the roof, you could spy on the meeting taking place underneath you. You leaned down a bit to get a better view and watched the scene unfold.

There were 6 people assembled in the room, but the woman at the head of the table stuck out especially to you with her glowing red hair. When she raised her voice, everyone went quiet. This woman clearly had an air of authority surrounding her. She began in a conspiring tone: “Fellow members of the First Galactic Empire, I have called you here today because troublesome news reached me. The New Jedi Order of Luke Skywalker keeps gaining more and more power. If the New Republic is backed by such a strong force of Jedi knights, our chances of rebuilding the Empire are slim to none.” The woman surveyed the room full of expectant eyes. No one dared to interrupt her. “So, we must take action. I have already contacted Grand Admiral Thrawn…”

The rest of her sentence didn’t reach your ears as you heard that name. As far as you knew, the notorious man died during the Battle of Endor with most of the other Imperial generals. If there was any truth to her claim that he was still alive, the New Republic and everything you stood for was in great peril. The old hatred started to boil up inside of you once again and it was all you could do to not jump down there and finish all of them in your fit of rage. To calm yourself, you reached deep into the Force as Luke had taught you. You reminded yourself that it was him and the Jedi’s goal of a peaceful galaxy you were doing all of this for and the discussion that broke out beneath you abruptly caught your attention again.

“That’s absolutely impossible! How would we even train those children? It’s not like we have a Sith Lord to train them!” a small man with shockingly pale skin exclaimed. “Leave that to me and the more experienced generals, we have everything under control. All you need to do is collect the force sensitive children from the systems I’ll send you out to,” the woman answered. The small man nodded once and the woman seemed satisfied. She pulled out a little device, flipped a switch and a holographic map appeared at the center of the table. As you glanced at the map, something pocked at the back of your mind. Why did it look so familiar?

But before you could observe it more closely and identify the feeling, the comm at your wrist vibrated. Luke always had such an unfortunate timing for someone so in tune with the Force. You cursed under your breath and accepted the transmission. After all, he wouldn’t contact you if it wasn’t important.

“Report back to the Jedi Temple immediately,” he stated. “What? But I’m in the middle of a mission! I just made a discovery of great importance,” you protested. “Alright, but get back as soon as possible. May the Force be with you.” The connection snapped and you focused on the meeting again.

“Do not disappoint me,” the woman commanded. That was an obvious dismissal. After cursing Luke’s awful timing once again, you decided to track the leader of the meeting, which couldn’t be too hard, considering her hair was shining like a beacon. However, as you scaled down the building and looked down the street, she and her co-conspirators had vanished into thin air. How odd. But it was a blessing of sorts because you were eager to get off this planet and return to the Jedi Temple. Thrawn was alive? It was all you could think about as you cut through the winding streets of Wakuda once again. The man who had taken so much from you had not been avenged? A sick part of you was thrilled about the opportunity to get revenge yourself, but it was outweighed by your general anxiety.

The sudden gleaming of a hull caught your eye and your pace quickened. As you turned around the corner, the magnificent ship arising before you obscured the view of your tiny, wreckage of an X-Wing. The rusty ship had accompanied you on many missions and despite its state, you had grown quite fond of it, but couldn’t be bothered to clean it. It wouldn’t matter anyway; it would just get dirty again in the next place you landed. You climbed into the cockpit and took off.

As you activated hyperspace, you tried to shake Thrawn off your mind and it quickly filled with other enigmas. You reconsidered the strange Déjà-vu you felt when you saw the map. You were sure you had seen it before sometime, but when and where exactly? Why would you have seen an imperial map? And how could they have left without a single trace? Who was the strange woman?

After pondering about these questions turned out to be futile, you began to wonder what could have been urgent enough for Luke to call you back from your mission. While you would have been jumping at the chance to finally leave these shitty systems under normal circumstances, the situation just got interesting and all you wanted to do was track the Imperial scum down and kill them one by one before they could do any more harm. But Luke had to lecture you on discipline far too many times and this mission was your chance to show him that he could trust you.

Still…How would you ever find out where they had gone now? You should have damned Luke’s orders and followed them somehow when you still could, what if they got to the children first? Shit, why didn’t you think straight? It seems like all of your focus and composure had left you once Thrawn’s name had perturbated your thoughts. All of the old grief and hate resurfaced again and threatened to drown you.

You took a deep breath and pushed those emotions as far back as you could. The logical action right now would be to contact Luke immediately, he needed to send out someone else to stop the bandits. While you were short on Jedi, the New Republic would sure have someone to take care of the problem. If only you knew where they went, they’d be long gone if the Republic needed to investigate their whereabouts first. You sighed and called Luke.

“What’s wrong?” His hologram appeared in front you instantly. “A lot,” you responded dryly. “You’ll not be pleased about what I just discovered – before I was so rudely interrupted by you, that is.” He frowned at your sarcasm, this was obviously not the time for it, but you couldn't help it. It had become a sort of coping mechanism for you, a way to shield yourself from issues lest they touch you personally. “Grand Admiral Thrawn – or some doppelgänger of him – is still alive and in direct contact with the leftovers of the Empire.”

Luke was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. “That is bad news indeed, I’ll need to inform Leia and Han so that they can alert our troops. Your assistance has been most valuable to us,” he replied finally, oddly formal. Still, you nodded curtly at the approval.

“Wait,” you intercepted as he was about to disconnect. “Unfortunately, there’s more. I overheard that they plan to rebuild the Sith Order, but on a far grander scale. I only caught a glimpse, but they had some map that directs them towards force-sensitive children all across the universe. While I have no clue as to how they would train them – unless they had a secret Sith Lord up their sleeves as well – we cannot let them take the children. The Jedi Order needs them.” This time, Luke’s silence lasted even longer, to the point where it was almost painful. You forced the words forming on your tongue to fill the silence back – yet another nervous habit of yours – and mirrored his quiet. Until you gave in and broke it: “I did not disappoint when I warned you that I had some bad news, huh?”

Luke gave you a no-nonsense-look. “No, you did not. Do you think you can recall the map and lead us to the children?” he inquired. “Um…I’ve tried, but to no avail. However, the map looked oddly familiar. No idea where I could have seen it before, but I trust my instincts.” You shrug, though it doesn’t reflect your sentiments in the slightest.

“You said this map leads them to force-sensitive children?” he repeated slowly, more to himself. “Yeah.” – “In that case, I might know just where to look.” Before you could ask him what he meant by that he was gone. You let out an exasperated sigh. He took the whole mysterious Jedi image way too seriously, in your opinion.

You spent the rest of the flight dissociating in space, as one does. In a way, you were doing the meditation exercises Luke taught you. Time bent around you, it could have been minutes or hours until you arrived back at Coruscant. The blinding lights of the capitol made you snap back to reality as you swiftly descended.

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

You spotted Luke, facing the wall, quickly as you entered the council chamber, which was empty except for him. The few other “Jedi” seemed to be on missions as well. The “Council” consisted of a bunch of half-trained Jedi knights and one other survivor of Order 66, Master Vamora who appeared too fragile to still be an active fighter, but he was a stubborn old bastard. Not that it wasn’t an immense blessing to have at least one Jedi of the Old Order in your midst who was fully trained. He was extremely cranky and righteous though.

Luke turned back around to you. You did a double take as you took him in, seeing what the hologram had concealed. At first you noticed his eyes and the black rings underneath them, then the hollow of his cheekbones, his general paleness and crouched stance. He looked really exhausted, to say the least. Not being able to hold yourself back, you commented: “What happened to you? You look like you went through some shit.” At that, you earned a small grin from him that made some of the color reappear on his face.

Your heart jumped a little at the sight, you had to admit he was quite handsome, especially when he smiled. It wasn’t just ideological reasons keeping you in his Jedi Order after all, although you felt a twinge of guilt every time your stupid, horny brain produced these immoral thoughts. It was absolutely illegal for a Jedi to harbor such feelings, much less act on them, at least according to your set of morals. Luke himself had been conceived out of such an improper relation and since he did not grow up learning about the old set of Jedi rules, he had seen no use in implementing any such rule in his Jedi Order (much to the displeasure of Master Vamora, who had quite a lot to complain about today’s youth). You, on the other hand, had been indoctrinated the old set of rules from a small age on and you tried to stick to them in honor of those who saved you from your horrible fate and the sacrifices of those who had not been as lucky as you. But Luke did have a point. He claimed that love was not a crime or a weakness to be punished but rather a virtue that differentiates you from those who strayed to the Dark Side. Frankly, he was just a little too horny for his own good. He was well known for his bohemian lifestyle, sharing his bed with both men and women.

“That’s why I had to call you back here. I am being tormented endlessly by a little green monster,” he replied with a smirk on his face, pulling you out of your thoughts. You raised an eyebrow, but before you could inquire further, the door slid open behind you and you snapped around.

This day just kept getting weirder, or maybe you were extremely sleep-deprived as well. There was a Mandalorian with a little green creature that eerily resembled Master Yoda (if he were young and cute instead of old and wrinkly as he had appeared the last time you saw him) cradled in his arms standing in front of you. His armor was unlike any you had ever seen before, pure beskar and shimmering as it reflected the bright city lights. He looked exactly like the legendary warrior race of Mandalore you had only ever heard rumors about, straight out of a myth. Considering those rumors, didn’t they absolutely despise the Jedi? Suddenly alarmed, you pulled your lightsaber from your belt. The Mandalorian didn’t move, only cocked his head to the side. Even though you couldn’t see his face underneath the helmet, you felt like his eyes were piercing you. You stared right back at him, not moving an inch, thumb resting on the switch of your weapon, ready to activate it should he attack. Not that your lightsaber could do much damage to him, as he was dressed in beskar from head to toe. But what about the child in his arms? Maybe he wasn’t up for a fight after all. With a sick disappointment – how challenging would it be to fight such a legendary warrior? – you put your weapon back on your belt again. The Mandalorian kept staring at you, standing still as a machine.

This time it was Luke who broke the silence, as you were too entranced to say anything at all. “There is the source of my eternal torment.” He strolled up to you in a relaxed manner. It was his calm posture and the underlying humor and fondness in his voice that kept you from attacking the strangers. The green creature turned its head and stared at you innocently with its huge, black eyes. You sensed it suddenly through the Force and did a double take in surprise. It reached its small arms out to you, but the Mandalorian took a step back from you rather than let the child closer to you. “This…this is why you called me back?” You shot Luke an incredulous, slightly offended look, to which he returned another wicked grin. “Yes.”

“Elaborate, please?” You didn’t even try to hide the annoyance in your voice. “This is my good friend…” He gestured to the Mandalorian. “Um, I actually don’t know his name, I just call him Mando. Everyone does.” He smirked at the warrior. “And this little fellah is Grogu, a Jedi foundling I took upon me to train.” The look Luke gave the child was so full of love that it seemed almost too intimate to witness. “Mando saved him from the Empire and took great care of him. Frankly, he cared for him too well. Grogu has formed such a strong attachment to him that it’s nearly impossible to train him. The little rascal is incredibly stubborn if his daddy isn’t around.”

A bit more enlightened, but still unaware of your place in this family drama, you waited for Luke to continue. “Since I have a ton of obligations, I don’t have time to train the little one and detach him from his savior.” Oh no. You hoped this wouldn’t be heading in the direction you thought it was. “You, on the other hand, have less responsibilities.” Fuck. "So, I decided that you should train him. And let his dad tag along until he can let him go.”

No fucking way. “I am not a damn babysitter! Neither do I care to get involved in this clearly complicated family structure! I have a mission, Luke. I need to get to those…,” you paused, suddenly all too aware that you had an audience, “…thieves and stop them.” Luke grinned at you, as if he expected that answer from you. “Isn’t it super convenient that our friend Mando here is a professional bounty hunter, eager to earn a few credits from the Republic?”

You shifted your gaze back to the silent warrior and the kid. “I am supposed to train this rip-off Yoda while on a mission? That’s just pointless, I won’t have time to teach him anything at all!” you pointed out. You were not interested in training another Jedi, especially not one that resembled Master Yoda and everything you lost so much. “You’ll have plenty of free time while traveling through space and he can learn a lot more in real situations than I could ever teach him,” Luke argued. “You want us to take him along on a hunt?” a modulated voice interjected. “No way, that’s far too dangerous for him as long as he’s untrained!” Luke wasn’t kidding about the bond, the man in armor clearly cared deeply for the child. Interesting.

“You need to stop being such a helicopter parent if you want him to live an independent life,” your Jedi companion retorted. You couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped your throat and a visor turned back to you. “I don’t trust her with my child”, the Mandalorian stated curtly. You scowled at him. “You shouldn’t have brought him to the Jedi if you had a problem with him being in the custody of a Jedi,” you snarled at the intruder, suddenly not caring that you didn’t even want this child in the first place and simply wanting to disagree with him. “It’s not the Jedi I don’t trust, it’s you and your attitude.” – “Is it because I called him a ‘rip-off Yoda’?” You flashed him a sweet smile.

“I see you two’ll get along just fine,” Luke said, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly. “You could leave for the first child tomorrow.” At that, your attention snapped back to him. “What do you mean? Did you find the map?” – “Of course, as it was our map they stole in the first place.” Now your Déjà-vu made complete sense and you cursed yourself for not having come to this conclusion earlier. Obviously the Jedi had a map with the locations of force-sensitive children – possible new Jedi. The situation was even graver than you expected. “Get some rest now, you seem to need it almost as much as I do.” Luke winked at you. Accepting defeat for now and realizing how exhausted you truly were, you gave Luke a short nod before departing from the room and retiring to your chambers to finally get some well-deserved sleep.

Chapter 2

Masterlist

#din djarin/reader #the mandalorian/reader #mask kink #canon-typical violence #Din kind of talking like an elderly Victorian gentleman #smut #enemies to lovers #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #pedro pascal

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rhetoricalrogue · 3 years ago

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Jogging the Memory

Fiction Type: Fanfiction Fandom: Dragon Age Prompt: "I need you."

Diving into @fictober-event by putting a spin on some old reliable characters and putting them into the AU @alittlestarling and I have been throwing ideas back and forth to the other for forever.

“I need you to –”

Ravena met Blackwall’s earnest plea with an arched eyebrow. “To keep quiet that I know you from a few years ago?” She tilted her head. “Under a different name than the one you’re using now?”

“You don’t understand, it’s…” he sighed. “That old name is dead now, as is the past that went with it.”

She shrugged and went back to packing her bag. Before he had knocked on the door of the cottage she was sharing with her cousins, Ravena had been preparing to go out into the field and accompany the Herald into the Hinterlands to hopefully acquire horses for the Inquisition. Personal curiosity in the astrariums littering the landscape Roz had mentioned had been the main reason she had requested the to join the outgoing party, but she sincerely hoped that unlocking their secrets would lead to something that would benefit the Inquisition, fledgling organization as it was.

Oh Henri, she thought wistfully, a pang of grief sharp at her chest. If only you were here to see this with me.

“Some pasts we can’t run from, Rainier,” she told him, not looking up as she carefully put a well-worn notebook in with her belongings. She may not have her mentor here with her any longer, but she could still find comfort in the knowledge that his personal effects had been safely stowed away in the inn that he had been staying at before heading to the Conclave. She may never find a body to mourn amid the ashes of the temple she and her dear cousin had once helped restore, but at least she had his familiar book of notes to keep his memory alive. “Especially pasts like yours.”

“My name is Blackwall,” he hissed, tone suddenly sharp, dangerous. Ravena started when his hand shot out and gripped her wrist, her mind flashing to the dagger she kept inside her right boot. It was a gift from her other cousin Rolfe, one that had come with countless lessons on self-defense and how to properly use it. The crushing pressure of the fingers that ground around the slim bones of her wrist was a dangerously silent reminder that those very same fingers could easily wrap around her throat and made her sincerely think that she might have use for all those lessons Rolfe had taken pains to teach her. “And it would benefit us both if you would remember to use it.”

Not breaking eye contact, Ravena wrenched her wrist out of his grasp, eyes narrowing and mouth twisting into a frown. “Is that a threat?”

“That is entirely up to you, my lady.”

Weighing pros and cons had always been one of her stronger suits. It had been years since she had last seen Thom Rainier and the man she had encountered in the woods defending people from bandits was different than the man she had spent a night of passion with while in Orlais supporting her findings from a dig she and Henri had just gotten back from. At the time, she had thought Thom Rainier a handsome, if not arrogant man and the fact that he had thought she was similarly attractive and was willing to partake in a bit of mindless fun that didn’t have any strings attached. They’d spent a mutually pleasant evening together and he was gone before she woke up the next morning. To his credit, he hadn’t robbed her any of her belongings while she had been asleep.

It may be her ego talking, but she would have liked to have made enough of an impression on him that he would have actually remembered her name the next time he saw her. The only thing that soothed that initial sting was the fact that he had recognized her, even if he didn’t remember exactly where he knew her face from.

She licked her suddenly dry lips. The man defending the defenseless and teaching them to fight back was also worlds different than the rumors of murder and betrayal that had circulated after his seemingly mysterious disappearance from Orlais. “Mutually beneficial relationships seem to be a thing for us,” she said, tone careful. Almost instantly, the line of his shoulders relaxed and the flinty edge to his eyes seemed to warm. There was still a cautious way he carried himself, but then again, she had that same manner, her body ready to bolt should he make any sudden moves.

“That would appear so.”

“Even if some of us don’t remember that being the case.”

The laugh that she was met with sounded rusty from disuse, but genuine, nonetheless. “If it makes you feel any better, Ravena, I was a bastard back then. I rarely took the time to process names and commit the faces they belonged with to memory.”

“And that’s different now?” Are you a different person was the silent question that burned at the tip of her tongue, but it wasn’t a question she had any right to ask of him. Not yet anyway.

“It is.” She was not a short woman, but he still had to tilt his head and slightly hunch his shoulders to ensure they were at an equal line of sight. “I…I am trying, at least.”

Ah. So her silent question wasn’t quite as silent as she had thought. “That’s all any of us can do,” Ravena replied. “If it makes you feel any better, I guess I can forgive your lapse in memory. Our past encounter was brief.” She gave him a wicked smile. “Almost disappointingly so. Premature, even.”

He made a face, posture relaxing even further at her teasing. “You wound me.”

“A fitting injury to match the blow to my own ego.”

“You know, I could be persuaded to soothe that injury, should you be so inclined.”

Oh. Well this was an entirely different direction for their conversation to take from where it began. “Is that so?” She went back to packing her bag. “And if I was uninterested?”

“Then this would be the last time I brought it up.” He took a step towards her, his voice pitched lower in a way that sent a pleasant shiver down her back. “I may be an asshole when it comes to remembering names, but I can distinctly remember that night.”

Ravena closed her eyes and swayed towards him, so close that the warmth of his body all but sank into her skin. “Once I jogged your memory, you mean.”

“This is going to be a thing with you, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t decided.” She grinned. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps on always bringing up my past fuck them and forget them tendencies or perhaps on picking up a…mutually beneficial relationship from where we left it?”

Bag packed, she slung it over her shoulder before pressing close to Blackwall’s side. Not giving him any warning, she reached out and grabbed the collar of his gambeson, rising on the tips of her toes to close the short distance between them. It had been some time since she had kissed anyone, let alone this man, but oh. The initial surprise had been sweet, but the answering kiss was even better. Blackwall didn’t wait for any prompting before wrapping his arms around her and hauling her up return her kiss, the press of his mouth against hers almost intoxicating and bringing back several incredibly detailed moments of that night they’d shared so long ago.

She broke the kiss before they got too carried away. While it was tempting to entertain the thought of Blackwall having his way with her there on the nearby table, she was sharing the cabin with Ada and Rolfe, either of the two well within their rights to innocently walk in without thinking to announce their presence.

Ada would have been mortified and run out of the cabin. Rolfe, on the other hand…Ravena was absolutely positive her dearest cousin would have given them a round of applause and some sort of smartassed remark. Ravena loved him dearly and considered Rolfe to be more of a younger brother than a cousin, but she would have had no other choice but to chase him down and kill him for interrupting, so really, stopping before things got too out of hand was for his own safety.

“I’ll let you figure that one out,” she told Blackwall, winking cheekily as she moved past him and towards the door. She gasped when he reached for her wrist again, pulling her back for another quick yet searing kiss.

“I’m a quick study,” he murmured, breath warm against her lips. He moved back only far enough to bring her wrist that was still in his loose grasp to his lips, his mouth moving over the skin there, a silent apology for his earlier mishandling. “Ravena.”

“So I see.” She exited the cabin and held the door open for him. “Shall we? I wouldn’t want to keep Roz waiting.”

“No, we wouldn’t want that.” He held out his arm for her to take as they walked towards the makeshift stables, but she squared her shoulders and walked past him.

“You’re staring at my ass,” she said, not looking behind to confirm.

“It would be rude not to appreciate the view,” he shot back.

She shook her head and kept walking. “Ass.”

The smile on her face remained as they came up to the stables, Roz checking her saddlebags for gear and Rolfe making small talk beside her. Ravena made note of Roz’s worried expression, and she knew that the Herald had good reason to be worried; reports from the Hinterlands were still coming in of pockets of mage and templar skirmishes. While the Inquisition’s agents had made some headway in stabilizing the area, there were still violent flare ups that hopefully would become less and less as fade rifts were sealed and areas secured.

“Everything all right?” Ravena asked, hoping to break the tense silence that Rolfe’s lighthearted yet one-sided conversation hadn’t been able to.

“I guess we’ll find out once we get there,” Roz answered, chewing on her lip. “Are we ready?”

“Ready whenever you are.” Again, Blackwall offered his arm to her as she stood beside her own horse, and this time, Ravena took it. Her branch of the Trevelyan family tree were excellent equestrians, she herself learned how to ride at a very early age, but when an attractive man offered to help her onto a horse, she would have been a fool to let the opportunity pass without taking advantage of it.

Ravena was many things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. It was something that definitely didn’t escape her cousin’s notice either. He didn’t say anything, but the raised eyebrow and smirk he gave her was enough to know that they would be having a conversation once they had a chance for privacy. She sighed and rolled her eyes at Rolfe. It would be easier to tell him the truth; he was a spy by profession and even before his twenty-year tenure with the Chantry, had an uncanny knack for pulling information out of anyone before they even realized they were telling him everything.

Well, almost everything. Ravena glanced at Blackwall, who had elected to ride ahead of them and match his horse’s pace with Roz’s.

Some secrets weren’t hers to tell.

#fictober21 #my writing #otp: the griffon and the raven #ravena trevelyan #thom rainier #blackwall #I haven't written in a while and I am RUSTY but hot DAMN does it feel good to get words out of my head after so long!#I make zero promises on keeping up with a fic a day but I'm going to TRY to finish these prompts #digging into the Sweetheart meets Cousins Trevelyan meets Gaggle of Hawkes AU triptych #I really hope my formatting's okay this is the first time I'm c&p'ing from Word to here in years #also this was written in like an hour with very little editing #no betas: we find our mistakes once we hit Post

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scope-dogg · 3 years ago

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Heavy Metal L-gaim: Final Thoughts

Famous director Yoshiyuki Tomino and famous artist Mamoru Nagano have been partners on crime on several occasions, most recently in Brain Powerd and most famously in Zeta Gundam, considered by many to be an all-time great, not just in terms of Gundam but in science-fiction anime in general. However, that was immediately preceded by this series, Heavy Metal L-gaim, which was Tomino’s next project following the success of Aura Battler Dunbine. You’d think that the project sandwiched in between Dunbine and Zeta, both excellent and hugely influential series, would be similarly memorable. However, despite some bright spots I found that this wasn’t the case. The show did its best to win me over with a last-gasp rally in quality that felt like I was finally watching the anime I would have expected to be, but ultimately it wasn’t enough to undo the damage of the previous 40-something episodes of confusion and mediocrity.

The plot setup is that Pentagona, a star system with 5 habitable worlds, has after a long period of tumultuous warfare come under the sway of the dictator Oldna Poseidal. On the planet Koam, a young man with a mysterious past named Daba Myroad wanders with his friend Mirao Kyao and a family heirloom, a powerful Heavy Metal called L-gaim. After run-ins with bandits, Daba takes up a dying man’s last wish to deliver a cash card to a shady businessman named Amandra Kamandra. This seemingly simple quest ends up taking Daba on a quest across the system that eventually ends up entangling him in a revolutionary movement to overthrow Poseidal’s tyranny and free Pentagona.

The plot setup sounds very simple, but right from the get-go it starts running into issues. You’d expect what I just described to take two or three episodes, maybe five or six tops - even in the days when anime series tended to be longer (as L-gaim is at a hefty 54 episodes) most shows try to set the ball rolling fairly quickly. L-gaim takes over a dozen episodes before the real plot even starts to begin. Sometimes taking some time to establish characters and the setting doesn’t go amiss, but L-gaim’s characters, at least those that feature in the opening arc, aren’t particularly complicated, and the setting never really feels like it’s properly established in a way that’s meaningful - the key features of the setting don’t get properly introduced, much less properly explained, until the final quarter of the show’s runtime. The show also has a problem with tone. The early episodes are extremely lighthearted, as Tomino shows tend to be following one of his more serious ones like Dunbine. It’s more akin to Combat Mecha Xabungle than anything. However, as the real plot finally kicks in, the shift to serious war drama is especially jarring and makes any further effort at comedy stick out in a bad way, even if things never get quite as grim or serious as they do in shows like Ideon or Victory Gundam.

However, the pacing is what’s truly egregious. A lot of Tomino’s shows, even his good ones, tend to have pacing issues, but this one was probably the worst. Somewhere around the 30-episode mark, it occurred to me that I could count the number of episodes that featured events that advanced the plot in any meaningful way on one hand, with the rest just being wheel-spinning. The final ten or so episodes manage to completely reverse this trend, and actually do a commendable job to answer all unanswered questions, tie up loose threads and give characters meaningful moments, all while delivering levels of drama and excitement as good as any of Tomino’s work, but it comes too little too late and doesn’t justify the absolute slog it took to get there.

The characters that you’ll meet along this tedious journey are a mixed bag. Daba isn’t all that interesting as a protagonist, with his main character trait being that he’s very honest and sincere, to the point of naivety in many cases. The rest of the entourage he picks up is a mixed bag. He picks up two female characters called Amu and Lecce who would be fairly likable characters if the pair of them weren’t constantly at each others’ throats over their mutual thirst for Daba - the constant cat fights get extremely grating. On the other hand, Daba’s friend Kyao is an affable presence, and the fairy Lilith is surprisingly more than just the group mascot and actually manages to prove one of the more competent and consistently likable members of the team. Daba’s chief rival over the course of the show is a pompous man named Gavlet Gablae, who’s honestly not really competent enough to be convincing as he rises through the ranks of the Poseidal military, but at the same time I couldn’t help but like him - even once the show stops being a zany comedy, Gablae keeps getting used as comic relief - he’s a guy that takes himself extremely seriously, and him trying and failing to live up to his own self-importance never really stops being funny, even if it does contribute to the show’s tonal inconsistencies. What’s most frustrating is the characters the show underutilises. The agenda of the shady Amandra Kamandra and the true nature of Poseidal are the show’s most enticing mysteries, and while these get teased early on they’re left AWOL almost until the end, when things get resolved. The dramatic events at the end are excellent, but they almost feel divorced and disconnected from everything you’ve seen up until that point.

The writing foibles could perhaps be alleiviated if the show made up for it with good presentation, but L-gaim is an old show that hasn’t aged with much grace. Many of Mamoru Nagano’s mechanical designs are excellent - the L-gaim in particular is an 8/10 design with its mid-season upgrade, the L-gaim Mk. II feeling like a 10/10, but they’re let down by very choppy animation and poor usage of colours - some like the Bat-shu, Calvary Temple and A-taul use dark colours that cause them to blend into the backgrounds of the space battles the show loves to use. It also uses a lot of obnoxious and distracting visual effects like wiry electrical sparking and flashing strobe light to cover up the rough animation when the Heavy Metals fight - in addition to being an epileptic’s worst nightmare they just make things look worse. The soundtrack is just okay - while the OPs and EDs are really catchy, the normal soundtrack isn’t anything particularly memorable.

Overall the show is disappointing because the setting and characters do have a lot of potential, and it’s potential that isn’t really exploited until the show’s climax. It’s telling that nowadays this show’s not remembered as well as most of the other great mecha shows of this era, yet Mamoru Nagano would take many of his character designs, concepts and themes from this show and recycled them into the Five Star Stories, a manga that would go on to be a massive success. As such, L-gaim’s more of a case of what might have been than anything. While it does have its high points, it’s hard to recommend when so much of it feels ultimately pointless.

All that said, I’m still looking forward to its implementation into SRW 30. The dull and convoluted plot, the mediocre presentation and occasionally annoying character writing - these are all things that can be fixed or sidestepped in order to deliver on the show’s more interesting concepts.

#l-gaim #mecha #respect the robot

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miceenscene · 4 years ago

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Star-Crossed

din djarin/female oc | soulmate AU | pre-canon

wc: 2.2k / 4.9k (so far)

summary: The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one. People, house, clan. And when all else failed, your Match. “Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense. But what's a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin?

warnings: canon-typical violence

Previous Chapter | Masterpost | ao3

Chapter Two: The Question

Din Djarin did not have a Match.

He couldn’t.

How, why didn’t matter…

He just couldn’t.

Right?

This Woman with a small dark spot high on her cheekbone and finely calloused hands and wearing his shirt couldn’t be his Match.

She just… couldn’t.

It was just coincidence that he was pulled into her orbit, like a comet desperately seeking gravitational equilibrium.

And it was coincidence that she apparently felt the same. Even foggy as she was.

She still had not said a word, did not reply or even react when addressed, but she always floated in Din’s direction when he stepped away.

Which wasn’t very often.

The urge, or ‘bond’ as the Armorer called it, was only satisfied if she was near.

The pair of them were something of a side-show in the covert for the evening.

Even through beskar and dark visors, gazes felt heavy on Din’s shoulders.

Outside the covert, curiosity – whether hostile or benign – was expected.

But here? Never before.

He thought about leaving. But as confused as she was, dragging her, barefoot, back through the streets of Nevarro, even just to the ship seemed unwise.

So Din found a spare room in the covert–The Woman following in his wake, fingers still threaded with his.

It was barely more than a door and two stone benches that could pass for beds if needed. But solitude was necessary for his kind.

He found himself hoping she’d speak once they were alone.

She didn’t.

But she did grow tired before too long. Not surprising given her recent clinic visit.

“You can sleep here,” he said, gesturing to one of the benches embedded in the wall.

She did not reply. Or move.

He was not used to being the verbose one.

“Here.” He offered her his cape, threadbare at the bottom but warm enough. She took it, thumbs brushing across the fabric.

Nodding once, he moved for the door.

She followed.

“You need to sleep. I’ll be outside.”

He stepped back and she stepped forward.

“No–” he huffed in minor annoyance. Turning her around by the shoulders, he guided her to one of the benches and sat her down. Gently by firmly. “Sleep. ...Please.”

He stepped back once. Twice. She didn’t move.

On the third step, she made to rise, but his hand outstretched stopped her.

He at least made it to the door before she stood back up.

He surrendered with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll stay here.” Sitting down on the opposite bench from her. “Satisfied?”

She apparently wasn’t as she drifted to sit on the bench, hand fitting into his as she curled up next to him.

A beskar pauldron couldn’t have been a comfortable pillow, but it might as well have been down-filled silk for as quickly as she dropped off.

He waited an hour, then two, just to be absolutely certain she was completely asleep, listening to her gentle breathing turn deeper and slower. Then he eased her off his shoulder to lie down, leaving his cape for her blanket.

She didn’t stir as he headed to leave the room, the door hissing open in front of him.

Stay.

A fist pressed to the front of his helmet for a minute in frustration.

Stay.

There’d be no peace if he resisted.

So he sat down in the furthest corner of the room from her, tipping his helmet back to rest in the crook of the walls.

Her sleeping form was the last thing he saw as his eyes drifted shut.

But when they opened a few hours later, the bench was empty.

His head jerked up only to realize that The Woman had simply moved.

Her head now rested on his collarbone, his arm wrapped around her, her hand clasped in his, pressed tight to his cuirass.

Something high in his chest cracked, fissures reaching magma flow far below, and his next breath quaked.

Beskar cautiously pressed to the top of her hair was not perfect, not even ideal.

But the alternative was terrifying.

The next morning dawned and The Woman still had not spoken, still drifted in a haze where Din was her only heading.

“I don’t know what to do with her,” he said, in the early afternoon, back in the Armorer’s forge.

This time with The Woman at his side, hand in his as always.

“I have work to do.”

“Take her with you,” the Armorer replied.

“I can’t do that.” His work was dangerous enough without spacey tag-alongs who did not listen to reason.

“She won’t be happy to stay here. And neither will you.”

Silence seemed the better reply than admitting how correct she was.

“Can you keep her here while I get supplies?”

“Yes.”

Din was never a meandering purchaser, but it was perhaps the shortest supply run he’d ever made. And that was with the addition of finding clothes and shoes he hoped would fit her.

Karga even made mention that he ‘seemed awfully anxious to get going’. But he coughed up four new pucks after a solid minute of silence.

The Woman was waiting at the western entrance of the covert when he returned and followed along happily back to The Razor Crest, now dressed in nondescript pants and tunic that suited the weather.

He set her down in the co-pilot’s seat and started the engines. Cleared for take off. Coordinates plotted. But first––

Turning back to face her, she looked his way, eyes still distant. “If you want to be taken somewhere, just tell me.”

As if that diffused the uneasy energy of leaving a planet with her.

Again.

She seemed entranced by the pulsing blur of hyperspace, eyes wide and unmoving from the windows.

Seeing as there was just one bed aboard, it made sense to sleep in shifts.

Though every time, he woke to her sitting at the cabinet opening, holding his hand.

He really couldn’t bring himself to mind.

He’d never had many passengers aboard his ship before, at least ones not stored in carbonite. But when he had, they felt like an intrusion. Something to be stepped around and removed at the soonest possibility.

It made very little sense why The Woman didn’t fall into the same category.

The first quarry was on Felucia. Seemed a group of bandits had been making life difficult for the local villages, difficult enough to pay Guild rates to have the base cleared out and the leader brought back in carbonite, ideally to be left in there.

The Woman was sleeping when they arrived. He hoped she’d remain that way in the time it took him to finish the job, which he didn’t think would be long. There were two dozen bandits at most, ill equipped and even less trained.

He slung his rifle over his shoulder and paused to rest a hand on her shoulder.

Stay.

“I’ll be back,” he said in a low tone, before forcibly ignoring the bond and heading out.

Return.

Unfortunately, in his admittedly distracted scouting of the base, he missed the patrols they were doing of the surrounding forest.

Which is how his nest was stumbled on by some truly lucky trandoshans, who just happened to have back up already on the way, and Din was disarmed, cuffed, and taken into the yard behind the walls of the base.

Not ideal, but he’d been in worse setups.

Though the odds tilted out of his favor when the head of this bandit ring was revealed to be an ex-storm trooper sergeant. That had not been in the briefing.

No wonder there were forest patrols… and imperial grade handcuffs.

At least they let him keep his helmet for the time being.

However, they were unfortunately interested in how he’d gotten to them. A search party was immediately dispatched to find his ship.

They hadn’t been gone more than five minutes when suddenly,

Danger.

Oh no.

The Sergeant’s comm link activated. “Ship not yet located, but we did find something else, boss.”

“What?”

“Kursan is bringing her to the base.”

No. No. No.

“Well, well, well. This yours, Mando?” the Sergeant laughed as The Woman was brought into the yard at blaster point. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The Woman did not answer. She tried to step away from Kursan, but his grip on her arm stopped her, blaster pressing to her back.

“Let her go,” Din said. “She’s not part of this.”

“Oh, so, she’s up for grabs then?”

The Sergeant chuckled when Din did not reply. “‘Cause, ah… I know she’s not a local. And it’s not everyday beautiful women come wandering through the forests of Felucia.”

Danger!

He grinned. “This just got interesting. I know you Mandalorian types. Torture doesn’t bother you. Rip your lungs out and you still wouldn’t talk.” The Sergeant swaggered over to one of the weapons racks, picking up a bo staff. “You’re big on honor, loyalty. But more importantly, Protection.”

The Sergeant turned back to face The Woman, regarding her closely. “I wonder how pretty her face will be after I’m through,” he said quietly, steadily.

Rage breaking through control, Din pulled at his cuffs but they held strong.

“Leave her alone!” Din snapped.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

“Tell me where your ship is.”

Din gaze swept through the area, hopping from his restraints to his captors, seeking alternate routes. Desperate ploys. Anything.

The Sergeant did not wait, bo staff meeting The Woman’s ribs with a crack. She cried out and dropped to her knees, arms wrapped around her middle.

“Tell me where the ship is.”

With a swift inhale, the Sergeant lifted the bo staff for another swing–

“It’s on the ridge. A klick and a half due south.”

The Sergeant grinned again. “There. Now was that so difficult?”

He swung the bo staff down towards her–

“NO,” Din yelled–

The Woman’s hand caught the staff, mid-swing.

Her head snapped up. Snarl on her mouth.

She snagged the staff sideways, through the Sergeant’s grip, and gouged it into Kursan’s stomach.

His blaster fell to the ground. She grabbed it.

One shot, Kursan was down.

Second shot, hit the middle of the Sergeant’s cuirass, making him stumble back, and she got hold of the bo staff.

One quick swing knocked him to the ground.

Din used the cover of surprise to knock his blaster out of the hands of his guard.

Grabbing it, one shot to kill that guard and a second to kill the other.

The rest of the battlements finally caught on and opened fire into the yard.

The Woman ran for cover behind a parked imperial shuttle as Din tried to draw as much attention as possible away from her. Still cuffed, but at least he had the beskar.

A post under the battlements was as best cover as he could find. But it gave him a clear view of the opposite wall. Another shot, another guard fell.

A body dropped right in front of him, shot down by The Woman on the other side of the yard.

Who was she–no. Curiosity could be dealt with later, right now he was just kriffing grateful.

In tandem, they methodically took out the guards on the wall.

But Din lost sight of the Sergeant in the chaos.

He found him again when the Sergeant and The Woman came around the shuttle, bo staff and axe swinging furiously.

Din rolled out of cover, getting the last few guards she left behind above him.

The Sergeant blocked her high swing, but wasn’t ready as she brought the bottom up between his legs.

Then around to sweep his feet out from under him again.

Din turned and fired, hitting the gap between his cuirass and pauldron. The Sergeant collapsed.

The Woman turned on Din, gun back out and pointed his way.

One last guard, buried in cover, popped out and got off a single shot that pinged off Din’s armor.

Without looking away from Din, The Woman fired and the guard fell.

Oh.

Silence filled the yard as she turned her gun back on Din.

Her eyes were clear now, scorching in their fury. He was far more likely to die by her hand than any of the bandits.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and Din had never seen anyone more miraculous.

He dared a step closer, still cuffed, blaster in one hand but lowered.

Her grip tightened on her gun.

Probably best to stop moving so the conversation didn’t begin in gunfire.

Her grip flexed again, and her brows flickered together.

Help.

“It’s alright,” he said in a calm, low tone.

She didn’t care much for that, fury flaring brighter.

Frustration became palpable as her mouth opened but no words came out.

She was straining for something, tension pulling her muscles taught. The hand on her bo staff shook once, till finally–

“VAII,” she demanded, the single word wrenched from her mouth with a great deal of effort.

It’d been so long since he’d heard mando’a outside of the covert, it took a moment for the word to register.

“Vaii me’bana?” he asked when she didn’t clarify. Where-what?

“Vaii!?” she repeated, after a shorter struggle.

“Felucia.” He hoped that was what she was asking.

Frustration and fury simmered down into confusion. Mouth opening again but no words coming out for a moment.

“Tion?” How?

Somewhere inside the compound, an alarm sounded.

Next: Chapter Three: The Promise

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shera-dnd · 3 years ago

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I told you I was gonna write a fic based on it and here it is! Inspired by this fantastic piece from @kurokaneart

A pretty short story in which Weiss did not fall at the end of Volume 8, and after years of wandering Vacuo alone, she finally gets a shot at avenging her team

That design deserved a fight scene to match it and I hope I delivered on it

It had been two years.

Two years since Atlas fell from the sky.

Two years since the relics had been lost.

Two years since so many people were lost to the void.

Weiss had been alone for two gods damned years.

It was still fresh on her mind, the day her friends fell to their doom. How one by one they were swallowed by the abyss, and she had been powerless to save them. How she herself almost met the same fate, had she not been saved by her sister at the last possible moment. A sister who now carried the mantle of the Winter Maiden, passed down from yet another dead friend.

So it was no surprise to anyone that Weiss had been in a state of shock for the following few days. In fact she wasn’t even sure how long that lasted as she hadn’t been fully aware of the passage of time as her heart struggled with all it had lost.

What surprised them was when she left.

The reasonable thing to do after all that happened would have been to stick with her surviving friends, work together and do everything they could to make sure they wouldn’t lose anyone else. But Weiss wasn’t in a reasonable mood. She was grieving the loss of her family - her real family - and she couldn’t bear the notion of just replacing them, of being a part of anything besides Team RWBY.

So she wandered the deserts that surrounded Vacuo, fighting bandits, slaying grimm, all while doing all she could to keep the memory of her team alive. All while carving herself into a walking memorial to those she lost.

In time she was forced to adapt to the desert. Crying was a waste of precious water, as was cleaning her unreasonably long hair, so in time her tears dried up and her hair was cut short. Soon heels gave way to sensible combat boots, and her dress was replaced by proper armor. Months of constant physical exercise and her new fighting style had also led to changes even to her body shape, leaving her more muscular than she ever thought she could be.

Part of her couldn’t help but worry that this meant that Weiss had died with her teammates, that whoever walked Vacuo now was some other woman wearing her face. So still she latched onto scraps of her older self. The lovely blue of her favorite dress now lived on in her cape, bound to her by a metal clasp bearing her family’s symbol. Her earrings too remained, even if they brought her the wrong kind of attention from time to time.

And so the months passed and Weiss continued her travels, hunting down Salem’s followers wherever she found them. Even getting to take her anger out on a certain scorpion bastard, though she knew he was just one more piece in some impossibly large scheme to end the world.

Now two years had passed since the Fall of Atlas and once more Weiss found herself at the entrance to a relic vault as yet another huntsmen academy came under attack. This time though, she stood alone, waiting for the one person she had spent two years looking forward to seeing again.

“Well well well, here I thought I’d never have to see your face again,” Cinder’s disgustingly smug tone echoed through the underground chamber as her silhouette appeared by its entrance, “what was it that those friends of yours called you again, Ice Queen?”

Cinder had changed a lot in these past couple of years. Once again she donned a new outfit for her new environment, this one echoing some of her choices from her old student disguise back at Beacon. Though the change that actually caught Weiss’s eye was her grimm arm. She no longer bothered hiding it as the cancerous growth had now spread to cover not only her entire arm but parts of her chest and neck. Weiss wouldn’t be surprised if she found that her heart too had become grimm.

Her attitude, unfortunately, stayed the same.

“Love the new look, by the way,” she mocked, “I could almost believe you’re not just a Schnee brat.”

Weiss’s fists clenched, but she did not bother with a response. She knew how Cinder worked, she played dirty and messed with people’s heads, so the less fuel Weiss gave her the better. Instead she just cracked her neck, stretched her sword arm and called on her semblance.

A summoning glyph appeared behind her, but this time none of her defeated foes stepped out to defend her, instead frost covered her arms, slowly shaping itself into spectral white armor. She extended a hand forward and in it began to form a massive sword, pointing towards her enemy in challenge.

She was about to take down a maiden.

“Cute trick,” Cinder commented, her steps echoing as she casually walked down the chamber, “I wonder where you got it from.”

To make her point she extended her hands and a pair of swords formed in them with a flash of heat. The implication that Weiss had anything to thank Cinder for, was unfortunately enough to prompt her to speak.

“Are you always so full of--”

With a burst of flames Cinder had launched for Weiss’s throat, the glass blade nearly connecting with the huntress’s neck in that moment of distraction, before Weiss could stumble backwards and out of the way. Cinder continued to push though, strike after strike backing Weiss against the vault’s doors, never allowing her to recover her balance.

Weiss grunted as a kick to the stomach sent her reeling back against those doors. Cinder dashed for her again, but this time she was prepared. Pushing off the door with one arm she slammed an armored hand on Cinder’s chest - a small propulsion glyph appearing in her palm - and launched the maiden backwards with incredible force.

Another glyph then took shape under Weiss, sending her flying up in an arc, plunging at Cinder, ready to cut her down. The maiden simply rolled aside and jumped up before the attack could connect. Once more their blades clashed, but this time it was Weiss’s turn to take the offensive.

Back in her Beacon days, Weiss would dance across the battlefield with the precision and grace of a ballerina. Though much of said grace had been lost over the years, she still saw her fighting style as a dance of sorts, no longer a balle, but a waltz between her and her greatsword, and now Cinder found herself caught in the path of these deadly dance partners.

Weiss pushed her back with each step, advancing with every slice and spin of her sword until they found themselves once more at the center of the room. She dipped her dance partner, striking its pommel to Cinder’s human wrist and making her sword drop. She spun on her heels aiming to slice off that grimm arm, but once again their blades clashed. Cinder’s human hand flew for the grip of her remaining sword, pushing Weiss’s summoned blade with all her might.

Usually that wouldn’t work. Between her stronger physique and the Arma Gigas’s armor she could easily power through most attempts at simply blocking her attacks like this, but of course it wouldn’t be that easy. The grimm maiden was inhumanly strong after all and kept Weiss’s sword at bay with ease.

“I must say, I’m impressed,” Cinder commented, a chuckle escaping her throat as she watched Weiss struggle to match her strength, “but don’t fool yourself. We both know you’re nothing on your own.”

With that, Weiss snapped.

A propulsion glyph formed behind her, shoving her forward and adding its force to the clash. It wasn’t enough to push Cinder back, but it was enough to do something even better.

A loud crack echoed throughout the chamber as Cinder’s glass swords shattered under the intense pressure. She forged new ones from thin air, but Weiss was quick to crush those too. There were no more attempts at grace, no more dancing, no more technique or skill, just deadly force as the room was filled with the sounds of crushing glass and Weiss’s shouts, her sword slamming down again and again like a blunt instrument.

This, of course, was exactly what Cinder wanted. Her grimm arm caught Weiss’s sword with ease and a jet of flame from her mouth made the huntress stumble and fall. Casually she crushed the sword in her hand and sauntered her way to her disarmed opponent.

Weiss rose to her knees and another summoning glyph appeared before her, producing a much needed replacement sword. But before she could reach for it a fireball incinerated the glyph and the sword with it.

“This was cute,” Cinder mocked, not even bothering with any swords anymore, simply raising her hand and preparing to fireball Weiss out of existence, “but I think it’s time we put an end to it.”

It was that look. That tone in her voice like she had already won, like her defeat was never even a possibility. It was that smug attitude that gave Weiss every motivation she needed to keep fighting to the bitter end, just to show her that the last remnant of team RWBY wasn’t about to lie down and accept death.

Thankfully, team RWBY still had her back.

She launched forward and slammed an armored fist against that stupid smirk of hers. The look of absolute shock on that bitch’s face was more than enough of a reward on its own, but Weiss still had more for her.

Taking a boxing stance Weiss planted punch after punch on Cinder’s body, every jab and every dodge aided by her propulsion glyphs. Her fast movement kept Cinder on her toes as she was slammed over and over again.

With a cry of rage Cinder unleashed her maiden powers, sending Weiss flying backwards with a powerful gust of wind, but the huntress was not so easily intimidated. Another glyph caught her and launched back at her foe. Cinder smirked and raised her grimm arm. She was more than happy to capitalize on Weiss’s foolhardiness by shooting her out of the air with another ball of flames.

Unfortunately for the mad maiden, Weiss was no fool.

Another glyph appeared under her and sent her flying upwards, completely avoiding Cinder’s attack and sending spinning over her foe with the grace of a gymnast. Weiss had barely landed behind her before bashing Cinder once more, putting all her force into a single punch that sent her flying.

She knew she couldn’t waste time, she couldn’t let the maiden recover. So she called upon a massive summoning glyph and while that one prepared to unleash its fury, a smaller one appeared on Weiss’s palm. From the small glyph shot the hooked stinger of a Queen Lancer, it pierced Cinder’s grimm arm causing her to scream in pain. Then with all her strength Weiss pulled her down to the ground.

No, not the ground. She pulled her down into the waiting maw of a Giant Nevermore. The summon swallowed her whole and flew up, readying itself to dive down, slamming them both to the ground with deadly force.

Still it was not enough.

The Nevermore burst into flames as fire spewed from Cinder’s hands, feet, and mouth. The look of smug superiority on the maiden’s face now replaced with one of pure primal fury, blade after blade after blade were forged around her with a flash of her terrifying power. That...wasn’t good.

Weiss felt her hands shake and her eyes closed.

All of that, and all she managed to do was make her angry.

Two years training and preparing for this confrontation, and she still couldn’t do anything.

She couldn’t stop Cinder. She couldn’t avenge her friends, and now the last member of her team would die to her hand like all the rest.

No.

No! No!

Her team was gone, but they were still protecting her, still doing everything they could to let her keep fighting. She wasn’t gonna let her efforts and their sacrifice be in vain. She would keep fighting, and she would take Cinder down once and for all.

When she opened her eyes a glyph had taken form under her, but this one was different from the rest, for instead of her family’s snowflake, this one had the shape of a ticking clock. A haste glyph. And as it began to take effect on her body, two more summoning glyphs appeared before her. And from them Weiss drew a pair of shorter swords.

Cinder’s barrage of explosive weaponry came raining down on the huntress, but now she was prepared. With her speed vastly increased she struck forward with her twin blades, slicing down weapon after weapon with her aura, trying to find an opening through the chaos. Taking the first chance she got she crossed her blades and brought them down with all her might, shaping her aura into an X and sending it flying through Cinder’s attack.

First came a disgusting wet sound as the grimm arm was sliced cleanly off, then came the screams. Cinder cried and contorted in agony in mid air, more and more smoke rose from her wound with each passing moment, while her arm began to regrow.

That was it. That was the moment. Weiss just had to close the gap and--!

Pain wracked every muscle of her body, bringing her down to her knees. Her haste glyph had worn off, now her body burned from the overexertion, and a wave of lethargy drained all the strength from her body.

That moment of weakness was all Cinder needed to recover. She growled and with another grand display of might, she reached with her power for every last broken fragment of glass that littered the floor and set them ablaze.

Weiss had no means to escape that one.

It was as if the entire chamber had been carpet bombed, the myriad explosions tossing Weiss around like a ragdoll until she was unceremoniously dropped to the ground, dizzy, sore, exhausted. Still she pushed herself off up with all she had left.

Her summoned armor had been completely destroyed, her cape was in ruins, she was covered in soot, and her aura was barely holding it together. Proper tactics would require her to retreat, stay on the defensive, and wait to recover before taking the offense again. Weiss knew she had no such luxury.

Her only chance of survival was to finish Cinder before she had the chance to finish her. So she drew on every last scrap of energy she had left in her body and threw it all into one single desperate plan to end that monster for good.

She forced herself to stand and threw her hand forward, a black gravity glyph forming under the maiden. It pulled her down to the ground with force, but that was far from enough to keep her down. Storm winds filled the chamber, almost knocking Weiss off her feet again, weakening her glyph just enough to let Cinder stand up again.

Weiss threw her other hand and a pair of summoned Centinels emerged from the ground, wrapping themselves around their target, and dragging her back down. Cinder snarled and growled like an animal, slicing at them with her grimm claw and breathing out jets of flame.

Weiss knew they wouldn’t be able to lock her in place for long, so she quickly put the next part of her plan into motion. Another propulsion glyph formed under her and a summon glyph above. The first sent her flying through the second and she emerged on the other side, not with armor, but with a pair of spectral white wings.

Flying up as high as she could, her wings spread at the apex of her flight, holding her in place for one last moment so she could line up one final dive against her prey. One last time the Arma Gigas’s sword took shape in her hand and her wings closed around her.

She spun around her axis as her body plummeted with terrifying speed, the ground approaching her almost too fast for her to react, but right as she was about to collide, her wings spread out and for one glorious moment she was a whirlwind of death, slicing through Cinder with a spinning slash.

And for the first time in years, Cinder’s aura cracked. Blood poured out from a single long gash across her back and she collapsed to the ground. Weiss followed soon after.

She did it.

No, they did it.

Her friends had been avenged. Cinder had fallen. Weiss could finally rest.

That was all she needed right now, to just lie down, close her eyes, and get her well earned rest. The floor beneath her was hard and cold, but she didn’t mind it at all. She was so tired and this was just what she needed.

…

“Weiss!”

“Please wake up!”

“Weiss, please stay with us!”

Huh, she must have fallen asleep there on the floor. She was having that dream again. That dream where all her friends were still alive.

“Jaune, you have to help her!”

What other explanation would she have for this? For these familiar voices, for those warm touches, for the sight of silver eyes hovering just above her.

“Come on! Come on! Come on! Heal damn it!”

It was a nice dream. The kind of dream she didn’t want to wake up from.

So she closed her eyes again and drifted back to sleep...

#RWBY #weiss schnee #cinder fall #weiss schnee vs cinder fall #fight scene #weiss did not fall #ruby rose #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #jaune arc #feels #major character death

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