#grail war gone wrong

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Lol Ive got an Artoria Pendragon prompt for both saber Artoria and lancer Artoria. Where a previous male master of hers is summoned as a heroic spirit that she has a romantic relationship with that turned into a marriage after she stayed with him as a familiar after the grail war ended. She's constantly spending time with him and having alone time with him leaving the knights of the round confused on who reader are until they finally ask Artoria and she announces that That The newly summoned servant is her spouse and therefore her queen.

I went in a bit of a more... Chaotic direction for this then I intended...

Still, I had a blast writing it!

NOW! YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!!!

Mordred’s 1000 yard stare bored into the cafeteria wall, coming dangerously close to burning a hole through it.

At the most definitely not round table next to her’s, the knights of the round sans their king were drawing straws to ask Mordred what was wrong.

Now let us all pray for Gawain and thank him for his sacrifice.

Oh, now he was sitting next to Mordred with the same traumatized stare…

Then Lancelot.

Then Bedivere.

Then Tristan.

Then Merlin, who began to laugh his ass off as if he was in on an inside joke.

That left only Gareth, who, upon asking what cursed knowledge caused this, followed them promptly.

That cursed knowledge in question being this.

Mordred heard moans from the king's room, and the king telling the newest Caster of Chaldea “Don’t Stop”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The Knights stealthily watched Artoria and you from across the room, a sense of impending doom hanging over them.

And that sense of impending doom was growing with every second as Artoria began to slowly and very conspicuously scoot closer and closer to you on the couch.

Eventually Artoria was sitting as close to you as she possibly could, a content smile on her face as she began to whisper something to you.

The Knights were quite concerned about this, but there was nothing they could do about it.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Artoria eyed her knights conspicuously watching her as she stealthily slid closer and closer to you with each passing second.

She should probably tell them who you were.

Alternatively, she wanted to keep you to herself as long as she could.

Needless to say, she knew what option she was going with.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

This torture of the knights continued for a month.

Mordred saw Artoria share food with you, nearly killing her from the shock of it on the spot.

Gawain saw the king give you a secret kiss on the lips, causing him to faint dead away.

Lancelot has been into the infirmary for head trauma a concerning amount this month from slamming his own head into walls.

Tristan was mostly normal about all of this. Mostly.

Merlin was laughing his ass off.

Gareth had gone into overdrive with making food and sweets to keep her mind off things.

And Bedivere was really just still traumatized by the implications of what happened.

Eventually this all came to a head when Artoria had her fill of fun and called the knights to assemble.

After that things got… chaotic.

Especially when she explained that, through a surprisingly well thought out powerpoint, you were the Queen and then you popped in to say “So that means I’m your mom now Mordred! Technically at least.”

Mordred kinda… checked out after that…

Slowly things began to fall into place, but a certain flower mage wanted to keep his entertainment going for just a while longer.

So, Merlin being Merlin, asked “So then Artoria, how was it to have your bed warmed by your lover again?”

“What do you mean? We haven’t… wait… wait! Oh! HA! HA AHA AH!” you said before beginning to laugh, leaving the knights confused and Artoria blushing as you laughed while falling to the floor, unable to control yourself.

“T-that wasn’t… intercourse…” Artoria said before muttering something under her breath as you howled with laughter on the floor.

“What was that my king~?” Merlin cooed, a mischievous grin on his face.

This when put together with your laughter and her knight’s confused stares led to the inevitable.

Artoria cracked, and, much to her shame, told them exactly what happened.

“IT WAS THE QUEEN GIVING ME A SHOULDER MASSAGE!!!”

Artoria Lancer, unlike many of her other counterparts, can be rather… mischievous at times.

Not to the same effect as Merlin, but she does take some amusement at others' expense on occasion.

And so when you showed up one day and after all of the hugs, kisses, and crying, Artoria knew just what to do.

She was going to introduce her knights to their queen.

Eventually.

Until then however, well, Artoria was going to ensure her knights were kept on their toes.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

First up was Mordred, and Artoria’s plan for her was simple.

A hickey on the neck, or what looked like one at least.

The reaction, to be expected, was Mordred completely breaking.

Second was Bedivere who showcased similar results after seeing her exiting your room. 

Next up was Gawain where all she had to do was make a few implications to have him clutching at his proverbial pearls.

Lancelot was next, and he was a slightly tougher nut to crack, at least until she gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Gareth simply received an off-handed comment from Artoria about you being “Someone rather important from her point of view.” This left Gareth confused for a few moments until the dots connected in the way Artoria had predicted.

Tristan was… already in the know… somehow…

 And so, with all her little pieces of chaos sowed, Artoria sat back with you at her side and had some popcorn and a massive buffet of other foods.

However, she eventually ran out of food after… several months.

You were surprised she had that much self control.

You were also surprised when the knights of the round kidnapped you in a very dramatic fashion.

Bag over the head, handcuffs, the whole nine yards.

“WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH MY FATHER YOU HOMEWRECKING RIDER!!!” a very distressed Mordred shouted as she tore the bag off your head, revealing a room covered wall to wall in bulletin boards filled with pictures, red strings, documents and the other, equally distressed Knights of the round..

It seems Artoria’s little mischief has gone a *Tad* too far…

And now Mordred was shaking clarent in your face…

It is probably time to start talking, fast.

Then the door was blown off its proverbial hinges as Chaldea had sliding doors.

And there stood your one and only, Artoria Lancer, looking very, very irate.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

One quick ass whooping later, the Knights of the round were sitting on the floor, lumps on their heads and looking very ashamed of themselves.

After all, they had just kidnapped the queen…

And that was a whole other can of worms for Mordred…

Nonetheless, the entire charade came to an end, and you were only slightly disappointed the amusing antics Artoria had caused were over.

Simply put, there is no pomp or flashiness when Artoria Alter is involved.

When you are summoned she is going to find you, kiss you, and tell everyone in no uncertain terms, that if they were to even think about touching “Her Berserker” she will use their head as a doorstop and feed their bodies to pigs…

After that, she refuses to elaborate and leaves, you following her closely behind.

This left a very scared Chaldea and a very confused Knights of the round.

This is because of the following.

They had just been threatened by a very, very scary lady.

Artoria Saber Alter had just walked up to someone and claimed ownership of them like a lost puppy.

ARTORIA SABER ALTER JUST KISSED SOMEONE IN A VERY PASSIONATE AND LOVING MANNER!!!

ARTORIA SABER JUST DID SOMETHING IN A LOVING MANNER!!!

So, the Knights immediately set to trying to track you and her down.

This took a lot longer than any of them thought possible seeing as the two of you had simply disappeared into thin air.

Then everyone heard a massive crash from the material storage room…

On that day Guda was to be found in the fetal position upon finding their entire storage of materials having an absolutely massive chunk bitten out of them when Artoria forced you to eat them in order to have you in your “Final Ascension” as Guda dubbed it. She did this because she wanted you in “The right clothes for my queen.”

This left the Knights in shock, however, Artoria simply went off gallivanting with you again instead of clarifying anything.

[knightotoc]

The beginning and end of Crosshair's arc each address a separate frustration I've had with Star Wars backpedaling on its own drama.

The first is the wishy-washiness of the clones' implanted brain chips. The original concept art from Attack of the Clones shows the clones to be victims of brainwashing. The sterile, science-gone-wrong imagery is inspired by Lucas' debut THX-1138, a bleak film with a tenuous and generally confrontational relationship to Star Wars. AotC, with its forbidden romance and evil fetus-growing laboratories, is the SW movie most similar to THX, and also my favorite.

The AotC concept artists went so far as to speculate that the clones did not have souls, an extreme reaction but certainly a dramatic tabula rasa to build characters upon. RotS briefly shows the Jedi's complete trust in the clones and the clones' ruthless betrayal; the explanation for this shocking behavior is implied through a parallel to Anakin, as is everything else in that movie.

But once the darn cartoon had been on cable for a few years, the writers lost faith in the THX reference and Anakin parallel and decided to replace brainwashing/manipulation with a physical Order 66 chip in the clones' brains. The idea that their characters had become too lovable to ever willingly do something so bad is a fundamental misunderstanding of Star Wars, the operatic genre, and human nature.

Season 7, while knocking it out of the park with the Maul stuff, made this brain chip thing even worse by having Ahsoka break Rex's before he had to kill any Jedi. So even though the clones are innocent, the protagonist clone is even more innocent.

And now he's supposed to lead the clones away from the Empire, but why should they follow someone who can't even relate to their fundamental curse? He's like Galahad, the only knight chaste enough to find the Holy Grail, and they're like Bors, who is technically chaste except for that one time he had sex because he got tricked by a magic spell. Thank God for rigid moral hierarchies beyond earthly control!

The only other clones who can't relate to the chip curse are the Bad Batch, since their mutated brains made them immune to it. But while the goodies don't hurt a fly, Crosshair uses his special gift of free will to shoot at a cute little Padawan. And not just any Padawan, but one of the most beloved Jedi to ever do it, the future Kanan Jarrus.

So in a bent around way, Crosshair punches through this annoying loophole the cartoon writers made in one of the movies' darkest scenes. He's not matchy-matchy, but he is still genuinely brainwashed, which makes him the only clone who still follows their original violent vision.

So, the twist at the beginning of Crosshair's arc course-corrects a decision made in a spin-off about the motivations for background characters -- but the end of his arc addresses a much bigger problem, one that affects the greatest scenes and biggest characters in the whole story: amputation.

Luke's spiritual pain from learning the truth about his father is accompanied by the physical pain of amputation. Obi-Wan demonstrates his unexpected badassery through amputation. Luke demonstrates his burgeoning badassery by Force-pulling his lightsaber toward him...shortly followed by amputation. Anakin's repeated carelessness for his weapon and life leads to him stupidly running right into amputation. Kreia proves her twisted devotion by amputation. Cay Qel-Droma becomes dependent on his brother because of amputation. Obi-Wan will not kill Anakin, but he will amputate him.

And these scenes are scary and intense, in the moment. But they do not have consequences. All of these amputees are either alien villains who we never hear from again, or Force-wielders supported by a wealthy institution which instantly provides a perfect prosthetic. Only Kreia runs around with an actual stump, but her signature move is telekinetically spinning three purple lightsabers.

There are several heart-stirring images, such as Anakin's robotic hand holding Padmé's at their wedding, or Luke's hand revealing gizmos instead of blood when he's shot on Jabba's yacht, but these images have more to do with Lucas' problematic theme of "nature > technology" than the theme of disability.

But Crosshair does not have the Force, and he certainly doesn't have the support of any institution. Most dramatically of all, his amputation is not the tragic finale of his battle, but only the penultimate act.

As a fantastically skilled sniper, Crosshair relies more upon his hands than any other SW character I know. His astounding precision is demonstrated most memorably in this scene from an earlier season, in which the music stops to allow his laser fire to ricochet off a spinning disk, down a hallway, and right into his clanker target's head:

This isn't the Force. This isn't believing in something you can't see. This is deliberate!

Throughout the last season, Crosshair has a tremor in his dominant hand which significantly affects his aim. This comes to a terrible head when he misses the shot meant to attach a tracking device to the ship kidnapping his sister Omega (again). After years of doing wrong, he finally wants to do right, and he fails because of his humiliating and unprepared-for disability.

This disability continues throughout the long journey to track her down by their wits, until he is finally captured himself. Just as escape seems close, the Imperials cut off his dominant hand to punish him. In all the other cases of amputation in Star Wars, it takes a guy completely out of the fight. But Crosshair can't afford to lose, yet. He has to keep going.

In the final battle scene, the villain is hand-cuffed to Omega on the other end of a bridge (with no hand rails of course), and Crosshair has to shoot the hand-cuffs off so the badguy can fall without dragging down Omega. Crosshair has to lean his rifle on his brother Hunter's shoulder, balance with his stump, and pull the trigger with his non-dominant hand.

The first Star Wars movie is actually unique among the franchise for having a purely satisfying victory -- the other ones all pile on some tragedy or irony -- but I think that Crosshair's victory is the most satisfying of all.

[versegm]

the lostbelt arc is the arc of ambiguous morality where there is no right or wrong side and everyone is overall trying their best, but I feel like lb6 is gonna be especially a wake-up call to people. Like. In Russia, the solution to the lostbelt is very obvious: if one got rid of Ivan, it would improve the situation plenty. Likewise in Scandinavia, with Sutr gone, you've solved 90% of the problems. Which is part of the tragedy, mind you- they finally have a chance to grow and that's when you have to kill them- but at least you got the comfort of knowing this was a situation with a very simple, albeit fucking hard to reach, solution. You, as a player, can easily imagine "well if this wasn't a super large scale holy grail war, it would be fine."

You don't get that with lb6. There is no easy solution to lb6. You want to kill Morgan? I mean, sure, but you do realize there are like five factions fighting for powers in the background, right? There is no easy escape here. Even if the protagonists somehow had complete knowledge of the inner working of the lostbelt AND this wasn't a death game scenario, what would they fucking do? There is SO much going on. Who do you favor? Who do you condemn? Everyone is trying their best. Or their worse, depending on who you ask. There is no one true correct path here. Shit's majorly fucked. You are not the hero here. And you should get used to that feeling.

[theknightmarket]

um i really wanna see a fic where damian takes care and looks after da. idk maybe da is sick but came to work anyways. maybe they were overwoking themself and eventually collapse. maybe they get injured somehow. just our dear mayor being concerned for them and looking after them

"You're too stubborn to die."

In which Damien helps the DA in a compromised state.

TW: angst, injury, blood

Pages: 15 - Words: 6,000

[Requests: OPEN]

A regular Sunday for the mayor of Los Angeles was, surprisingly, incredibly similar to that of any other thirty-year-old working man. It was one of Damien’s only days off in the month, and he treasured them like the holy grail; if his job was to hold endless amounts of paperwork, incessant meetings with countless people, and public speeches to bore the masses and himself, then his day off would be filled with as many relaxing activities as possible. 

Damien wandered around the apartment, a watering can in one hand and his cane in the other. The doctor had long since said that he didn’t need it anymore, and that his insistence that he did was only psychosomatic, but it was more than that. To him, it was a grounding tool. If things got rough, and, in his profession, it was more of a when, he could grip tightly onto the stick and find comfort in the stability of it. Metal is not an easy material to break, and he much preferred it to messing with his jacket’s edges or cuffs. That meant, no matter how many of his veins popped through paled skin, it would always be there for him. 

Now, though, he was content. The sun was shining, the windows let a blissful breeze flow through, and there was the distant hum of the radio from the kitchen. It couldn’t be more perfect. Sundays were always this way, like entering another dimension where famine had been decimated, all wars ended with the flick of a pen, greed, pride, envy wiped off the map. Even the air he breathed felt lighter. 

There was a bounce in Damien’s step as he moved around, singing quietly along to the tune and thinking about his next projects. Getting all of the plants watered was number seven on his checklist – and, yes, it was in his back pocket while he went through the motions – but with only nine left to go, he thought he could get some recreation in. Maybe pick up a new book, you were raving on about ‘The Mysterious Rider’ yesterday, or he could swing by Celine’s place. Though, that place always did give him the creeps…

And you were going to be back in an hour. 

The memory still made him smile, how could it not? He had been so excited but so nervous to ask you on a date, he’d double-checked and triple-checked and one more check for good measure. Hell, he’d planned the day out to a T, given that you’d even say yes. But Celine had convinced him you would, so he prepared flowers, reservations, outfits, all so that nothing could go wrong. 

Then everything went wrong. He didn’t like focusing on that aspect of the story, it only made him wonder how he ever got you to go out with him again, but it all ended in a pretty fun evening, if he did say so himself. You’d assured him that it wasn’t all for naught, and that you’d had a good time, going so far as to ask if he was free a couple nights after. That one night turned into three nights, and then nights turned into days, and then, after a good few months, you’d gone right ahead and moved in together. 

This was your apartment, too, it was where you came back to every evening with a tired smile and ready to have dinner together – and this night was to be no different. 

Or Damien thought, until that hour passed, and he remained the only person in the room. But that was fine! He could hold out, and you probably only got caught in traffic or something. It just gave him time to get started on that book. It was absolutely nothing to worry about. 

After taking it gently from the shelf, he settled onto the couch, a pillow behind his head and comfortable in evening clothes. The first sentence crossed his eyes, and he took in all the information he could as he read through the first chapter. It left him with questions, but that was fine, because you still weren’t back. Another half hour passed, and when he looked back up from the pages, he noticed that he had unconsciously shifted to be angled towards the front door. He tried to tell himself that everything was alright, he didn’t have to worry, work was probably just getting the best of you. Lord knows he wasn’t one to talk.

So, Damien kept reading, and when his eyes started to strain and holding up the book was too large of a chore, he went and made a cup of coffee. This was the first time you’d been late home, and what kind of partner would he be if he was asleep when you, surely, came back. 

Minutes later, he was sipping idly at the kitchen island. The window across from him showed shimmers of orange and red, the cityscape of Los Angeles almost teasing him where he stood. You were out there somewhere, and he felt lousy not knowing where that was. 

He took another sip. 

The wall-mounted clock ticked by. Seconds felt like hours, and every one that dropped into the bucket pushed him closer to the edge. His jacket swayed on the hook, his shoes just below them. It would be so easy to get a cab over to your building and check how you’re getting on – you’d be hunched over your desk, taking a call from precinct cops who couldn’t do their jobs right, and then you’d see him, and you’d apologize for not getting back. He’d be fine with it, of course, and he’d end up helping you in the case that had its claws in you. 

Oh, but he knew that he couldn’t do that. His heart thudded in his chest, his hands shook, but he respected your boundaries. It’d only been a month since you moved in, after all, and he didn’t want to overstep anything that quickly. Heaving a not-so-relaxing sigh, he vowed that he would stay right there in the apartment until you got back, no matter how long it took you. 

By the third hour, he was starting to reconsider that. 

The soles of his shoes were burned into the wooden flooring, his pacing surely annoying the neighbors below, but he could care less. Show him that you were alive and well, and he’d stop, but he had yet to see any clue as to your wellbeing, so they’d have to deal with it. He hated this, he hated this so much. Pointless waiting and irreverent, troublesome thoughts. They had no use to him, but he didn’t know how to get rid of them. They burrowed into his mind like an infestation of roaches or disease. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock. He was going to throw that clock out of the window if he didn’t get ahold of himself. But what else was there to do? He’d completed all of his chores, even the ones he promised to leave for the next day, and he found himself waiting like a puppy at the front door. His eyes wavered over it, hoping for it to open just an inch to show he wasn’t stuck in purgatory. 

Whatever higher power there was seemed to take pity on Damien, because not two seconds later, the creak of old wood broke the ticking of the clock. He almost sprung to his feet and launched himself at you when you entered, but he held himself back, if not for decorum, then for the sight of you. You were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes upon, but he was not one to lie to himself; right now, you looked terrible. Your skin tone had lightened so much that you appeared ill, and your chest was rising quicker than before. Were you sick or had working three hours after your shift finally got to you? Damien didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Taking care of these symptoms was his top priority. 

“Darling?” he called out, still restraining himself from rushing to your side. 

You didn’t answer. Instead, you lugged yourself towards the bedroom, completely dismissing hunger. You were far too tired to think about that, the bed, comfy cushions, and a warm blanket calling to you. 

Damien caught your arm before you could get too far, though, with a concerned grimace playing on his lips. “Are you alright?” 

He sounded worried, and that was the last thing you wanted – never mind the fact that it was well-warranted – so you heaved a tiny smile and muttered, “I’m fine, love, just tired.” 

He still wasn’t satisfied, that was obvious, but you weren’t paying attention to that. A kiss on his forehead from you, a noise of discontentment from him, and you were on your way to the bedroom, trying to focus on your feet as to not trip over warping wood. Everything was slowly fading away at the edges of your vision, consumed by blackness and turning the rest fuzzy. 

You knew exactly why this was happening, you knew it was bad, but no way in hell would you let Damien know. You loved him more than anything on the earth, but he was bound to worry about you more than necessary. You’d be fine, you silently promised him. You had to be. 

Nearly six hours later, the moon was high in the sky, casting a shimmer of gray dust across the landscape. Light reflected off of windows, night walkers stumbled over rocks, and dogs howled in the alleyways. Patters of rain caressed against the city, warning of a dreary but calm morning. 

Even with that promise, Damien couldn’t sleep. He had work in the morning, his day off having ended at the stroke of midnight, and yet the thought of leaving you in the apartment was horrifying. You had knocked out the second your head hit the pillow, leaving him to his thoughts, and they centered around just one thing: were you alright? He couldn’t believe you were just tired, since you’d woken up bright and early the morning before. He was almost insulted you thought he’d fall for that, but he was too worried to mind. 

He dragged a hand through his hair. It tickled at the nape of his neck, though he hardly cared. What if something was wrong? Really wrong? His heart thrummed against his ribcage, like if it hit hard enough, you’d wake up and tell him what was wrong. But his ribs didn’t crack, and you didn’t wake up, and Damien was left sitting in the armchair by the window with tired eyes. This wasn’t doing any good, and the sun was due to rise in a few hours; he figured he might as well make you both some breakfast. 

Damien shuffled out of the bedroom, a dark robe swaying across the floor and his cane stepping beside him. He held it tight while he made his way to the kitchen, where he noticed blurry chatter. He started confused, which quickly morphed into fear, and then his cheeks brightened in silent embarrassment. What he had thought was a robber was just the radio he had forgotten to shut off. He was glad you weren’t awake to see him creep around the corner, stick raised to thwack however was in there. 

He turned the volume down and went to work. After so many times missing breakfast, Damien wasn’t sure what to make, so he decided on the only thing he knew how to decently cook – waffles, and even then, there was a chance they would come out burnt. 

The crack of eggs and dust of flour was comforting in a way to him that only a childhood meal could be. In the earliest hours of the day, there would be no consequence to adding a gram more sugar than needed or cooking them for a second too long. The waffle iron steamed and sizzed in front of him once the batter was poured on, almost making him laugh. He let himself smile for the first time that day, the sense of warmth and lightness filling him. 

“It has come to our attention that – last night, at the Dimmock Public Health Centre – the district attorney of Los Angeles was shot in an attempted assassination—”

Damien’s smile collapsed. 

“—The D.A was rushed back to a car that was seen heading away from the scene, while police were contacted to find the assassin. We have not heard back from our sources about their wellbeing, but we have been assured that they are no longer in danger. Despite this, there has been speculation as to their current location and the reaction of federal agents—” 

His own heartbeat cut off the radio, pounding against his head like an overzealous drummer. The smell of burnt food wafted into his nose, his vision toppled over the edge, his hands sweat, his feet moved before his mind could catch up. You weren’t ill, you weren’t overworked, you were shot. And he didn’t realize, and you didn’t tell him, and you weren’t waking up. 

You weren’t waking up. 

His cane slammed against the footboard, but you didn’t stir, not even a huff. He would have begged for you to groan or berate him or say anything, but you didn’t. You stayed quiet, and Damien’s breathing grew louder. 

He tossed himself to your side, strew the bedsheets across the floor and saw, red as a rose, blood. It seeped into the fabric, like bacteria overcoming a wound. God, your wound. Normally, he would ask your permission to lift your shirt, but this was urgent, so he disregarded the crimson staining his hands and pulled the hem up. 

Tears flooded his eyes as fear flooded his heart. A lazy medical patch had been slapped onto the entry hole, half of it having peeled off already and the other bled through. Damien had never trusted the medical professionals present during speeches, and this only deepened his distaste for them – but he’d deal with them later. For now, he had to wake you up. 

First, he whispered shakily, “Come on, wake up, dear.” 

No response. He tried again. 

“Dear, please.”

No response. 

“C’mon, you have to wake up, please.” 

No response—

A cough. 

You were alive, you were panicked, but you were alive. Eyes shot open and limbs rushing to get you out of bed, but you were stopped short by your own hiss. It felt like you had been shot again, more tissue and muscle ripped through with no regard for the nerves there – it made you think the bullet had been laced with something, hellfire, poison, but no. Dismally, you remembered the paramedics removing the metal as quick as they could, but speed was favored over kindness. The hole pricked again in response. 

Coming down from the small adrenaline high, your eyes focused back in on Damien, who kneeled in front of you. He looked worse for wear, and you wondered if he had been injured, too. This wasn’t true, of course, and the drop of his shoulders gave you some relief, though the slight wet patches dripping onto his cheeks had you furrowing your brows. 

“A-are you okay?” you mumbled, tentatively grasping his hand. 

A weak chuckle tumbled out of him, fading like the whizz of a stone dropped down a cavern. He squeezed your hand tighter, remaining wary of your state, and asked, “Are you?”

Your attempt to nod was interrupted by a rack of coughs shaking your very body. They didn’t stop, not even when pain splintered away from your wound and all breath vacated your lungs. You weren’t fine, that much was obvious, but, when you’d calmed down from the fit, you settled on staying quiet. 

Damien had been your friend for the majority of your life, but, after a year at the very most, it was obvious how much he worried. If you told him there was a crack in the pavement, he’d cross the street to avoid tripping – and if you told him that you were at risk of passing out from pain, you’d be suffocated from his fear. He was such a mother hen; the thought nearly made you laugh but you stopped yourself before you could be overwhelmed by coughs again. 

The man sighed at your silence. Unbeknownst to you, not giving him an answer was making him more scared as the seconds ticked by. He pushed away stray hairs that had fallen into your face, trying to see the truth in your eyes. Comforting, obviously masking injury, you stared right back. 

“We have to get you to the hospital.”

If it were Damien in your place, you’d agree in a heartbeat, but you were the one lying in bed, blood sticking clothes to your side. Your partner, however, was the mayor of Los Angeles, they could barely go a day without him. You didn’t want to risk taking up his precious time, when some disaster could strike that he’d have to report on. In your mind, it made the most sense for you to go about your daily lives and for you to just deal with it throughout the day. The shot wasn’t that bad, and you’d seen bills for a paper cut before.

Considering this, you found it in yourself to clear your throat and reply, “No, we don’t, I’ll be fine.” 

“We have to get your wound checked out, I mean,” he gestured vaguely to the stained area, “those medics were clearly frauds- they didn’t even dress it right, and it’s coming off already, and you’re bleeding—” 

You pulled his hands closer to you, fingers curling around his own in a silent reminder to calm down. His volume was steadily rising, which meant his heart rate was, too, and you knew how he got when he was overwhelmed. These past hours had already put more strain on him than you had wanted. 

“I’ll be fine,” you repeated, offering a smile. He responded in kind, but his was more placating than agreeable, “if it was anything to worry about, I’d be in the hospital, now, wouldn’t I?”

Damien mulled this over in his mind. On one hand, your logic was sound, as always, and arguing with you had long since proved a fruitless venture. On the other, he didn’t like the thought of leaving you to your devices, as if you’d never been injured in the first place. What if something happened to you and you didn’t notice? With nothing else to do, he decided on a compromise.

“Okay,” he conceded, and, for a second, you thought yourself safe – you might have even gotten down to the offices for some paperwork – but Damien’s hands darted to the discarded sheets and re-tucked them around you. 

Damien was going to look after you himself.

He was scarily efficient in how he moved around the room, gathering spare pillows, blankets, anything that would make you feel more comfortable in the bed. By the end of his little escapade, you looked more like a bird in a nest than a human. You couldn’t deny how proud he looked, though, and it would be easy to let your eyelids slip down for a few more minutes…

But you snapped to your senses and summonsed your will to talk. “Don’t you have to go into work today?”

He paused, back turned to you, at his position drawing the blinds. “…Not necessarily.”

“Damien,” you drawled.

The hairs on the nape of his neck pricked up and his face felt the power of a furnace. “Well,” spinning around, he did poorly at hiding his blush, “technically, yes, I do – but the office can handle work without me, just for today.” He slid into place beside you, resting a hand onto your shoulder. “You are more important.”

Normally, you’d jump at the opportunity to spend more time with your partner. Your schedules weren’t exactly kind in allowing you to be together, and moments with him were treasured more than those without. However, at this second, your eyebrows furrowed, and your lips pouted. Most of the time, you’d be forced to get rest, confined to bed while Damien ran errands to ease your weary soul. That was the last thing you wanted, and the only way to convince him to hold back would be to get him out of the apartment entirely. Besides, this wasn’t as big a deal as he was making it out to be, you were sure.

As if he could sense your resistance, Damien whispered, “I still have three hours until I go. I’ll take care of you, and then we’ll assess the situation.”  

Sneaky. Damien might have been reserved and shy in public, but you have seen you’ve seen your fair share of his mischievous, sly side. Despite hardly ever getting practice, he was worryingly good at getting what he wanted via cunning means. You both respected and feared that aspect of him. 

He left a kiss on your forehead, now, and rose from the bed to restart his preparations. If he had the time, he would’ve crafted some kind of checklist, but getting you a glass of water and medical equipment was top priority. That, and salvaging what he could from those burning waffles. 

When he was back at your side again, your eyes having slipped closed once or twice, skin being tugged away from muscle caught your attention. The patch had been badly applied, but adhesive remained against the wound that meddled with blood slowly spurting out of the cracks. Divots sprang red and raised flesh curled around the hole like a mountain range. It made Damien’s stomach squirm and flip, but he focused his expression to clean the area.

As you looked down at the man, ruffled dark hair a mess from stressing and still in his robe, your heart swelled with love. He was your partner, and it was crazy to think you were his. Even after four months, everything felt like a haze, a dream you were scared to wake up from, because you knew nothing would come close to this. Carefully, you shifted your arm to caress Damien’s cheek.

He glanced back up at you quizzically, a look you only returned with a smile. Shaking his head, he returned to his work slightly more comforted than he was before. 

Nearly half an hour passed in this fashion; Damien patted off the dried blood, replaced that medical path with a bandage around your waist, and managed to get your mind off of the wound with excerpts from ‘The Mysterious Rider’. You appreciated everything he was doing, down to the way he’d pause when he noticed your eyes drooping. Most of the time, you would shake yourself awake again with a yawn, but there were the odd times when you felt yourself drift off for seconds at a time. These bouts of fatigue never lasted long, and, while you were thankful for the brief rest, the expression on Damien’s face had you staying awake longer. 

Every time the curtains closed even slightly, a mix of emotions spurred in him, melting over his eyes, and giving you a first-row seat to his thoughts. Half of him was glad to see you comfortable enough in this nest, it liked seeing you warm and sappy – but the other half was always scared that it might have been the last time you’d close your eyes, as if he hadn’t done a good enough job to keep you alive, and it would be all his fault that you… slipped. But that all wiped away when they opened again, revealing your familiar and welcoming irises. Full of life. 

Even though you both knew how he felt, he prefaced the start of the next chapter with, “You can fall asleep, you know.” 

You couldn’t deny the fact that you were tired – getting shot would do that to you – but worrying Damien any more than he already was, was at the bottom of your bucket list. So, you lightly shook your head and replied, “Nope, I’m so awake, I could—” 

You were, helpfully, cut off by a yawn. Damien looked at you from his armchair, unimpressed, but you continued, nevertheless, “—I could finish a case. Maybe go back to work, in fact.” 

At this, he became alert, the sharp spike of fear prodding him in the side. “No, not yet.” 

“Damien,” you pleaded.

“I said ‘no’.” As he stood, his cane felt like an earthquake against the wooden flooring. Inwardly, you sighed; you’ve never liked getting into arguments with him, mostly because he was normally the one in the right, but it was unavoidable. Damien had work in two hours, and getting there was a quarter of that, and, before that, there was changing into his uniform. He was neglecting doing any of these to take care of you, and you found it hard not voicing your opinion about that. 

“Look,” you started, sitting up straighter in the bed, “how about we do a test run?”

Damien stopped himself from getting through the doorway to listen to what you had to say. Still, he was thinking through getting a cold rag in case of a fever, but most of his attention was directed towards your proposition.

You continued, tentatively, “You go on a walk, alright?” Disagreement stirred inside him the second ‘go’ came out of your mouth, which you could see and began battling immediately, “And we’ll see how I get on alone.” 

He thought over the scenario, practically moving his head to the direction of his thoughts, until he rushed to your side and kneeled down. Your hand was soon encapsulated in his fingers, warm and worried. “What if something goes wrong?”

“It won’t,” you promised, leaning forward to peck at his lips. Really, you couldn’t be sure it would be alright, but it was worth trying just to see the blissful and hope-ridden look on Damien’s face. “It’s not like I’m going to die if you’re away for two seconds, love.”

With one more sigh and a slightly longer kiss for good luck, he began to get ready for a walk outside.

Five minutes in, Damien was spiraling. 

His tolerance for being away from you had plummeted since the day before, and the glum of the streets was getting to him. It was indeed raining, turning his polished boots gritty from dust swept through the pathways, and it was difficult to discern what were droplets from the sky or from his skin. Despite the cold brushing against him, the worry he was experiencing was sending him into overdrive. He couldn’t tell if he was warm or cool if he was still walking or if he had made it past the first few steps to your apartment. It felt like he was having withdrawals, but there was no way he’d go back. Not only would he still be scared for you, but the disappointment you’d feel seeing him was something he’d do anything to avoid. 

So, he took in a deep breath and tried to steady his beating heart. It was horrible, but he put himself through it. For you. He hoped you’d be proud, but he also hoped you’d be asleep when he returned. 

The day was… nice, he supposed. Not many people were out this early, a few older gentlemen he passed with a wave, but the most popular of the species were stray dogs. One in particular he saw often when he was heading to or from work. The street had a nickname for the poor thing, and they’d elected to keep it there with spare scraps from the table or chew toys out of old pig’s ears. Benjie, if he remembered correctly, a golden lab that had been around for the last three years. 

Fondly, Damien thought back on when you and the dog first interacted. He knew you loved pets, especially the over-active, wholesome ones. You’d requested him stay with you as soon as you saw him, even wagered you’d get him groomed and trained into a proper house dog. He rolled his eyes, you patted on his arm and vowed that, one day, he’d be the most pampered pup in all of Los Angeles. 

But that had yet to come to fruition. Benjie was still out on the street, taking leftovers of roast dinners and maintaining a rough coat. Maybe, when this whole ideal was over, Damien would bring him home. 

It was with that thought that a whole new cavalcade of bad ideas flooded his mind. They stopped him dead in his tracks, and – following that them – paled him beyond recognition. He flopped against a brick house, steadied his cane in the ridges of cobblestone and thought back on the very reason why you were in this position to begin with. 

There was an attempted assassination. Someone had attempted to assassinate you. It hadn’t settled with him, until now, that someone powerful had hired a killer to end your life. And they had nearly succeeded, and you had nearly died, and—

And if they weren’t able to do it the first time, who was to say they wouldn’t try again? 

Damien’s vision blurred together, buildings crumbling together and horses in the distance clicking like the trigger of a gun. He had to get back home, to you. God knows what could’ve happened to you in the time he was gone. You’d said you’d be fine, sure, but you were suffering from massive amounts of blood loss, and he loved you, but you were never the most logical person in the first place. 

His feet were moving regardless of thought or will to. His eyes were clouded with possibilities and his mind overtaken by sorrow. If you weren’t okay when he got back, it would be all his fault. Why did he have to be such an idiot? He should have stayed with you, and he didn’t, and now you were suffering the consequences of his stupid choices. 

He stumbled across the stones, plucked his cane from holes and brushing off the coattails of early risers. They were confused, but he didn’t care; all that mattered was getting back to you as quick as possible. Tears pricked up in the corners of his eyes, those wide windows scanning the street for your front door, and when he came to it, he all but ripped it off its hinges in order to get in. 

Going two steps at a time was too slow for him but falling back down the stairs would be of no use to anyone. Still, he pushed himself to get to your apartment at a record pace. One mantra echoed through his mind while he struggled to your front door. Please, be alright. It was wish, to you, to any higher power, to anything that could better the chances. 

His heart plummeted in his chest when he saw you lying on the ground.

Damien’s eyes whirled around, inspecting, for a second, for any hint as to what happened. Your arms were flattened out in front of, appearing to have cushioned your fall, and the only blood visible was what had leaked through your bandage. 

Nevertheless, he fell to his knees next you, tilted your head up and looked for any other sign of injury. Hope overcoming horror, you seemed okay. Passed out, but okay, so he took his time in carefully drawing a hand up and down your body. Your heartbeat was steady and fine, your skin was barren of unexpected blemishes, and your eyelids were just beginning to flutter open again. 

“Damien…?”

The second that he heard your voice, Damien captured you in a tight hug. Of course, at a hiss of pain from you, he pulled back, but you were going nowhere. The strict shift in temperature from the outside had him in whiplash and waking up with your back against the floor was doing you no better. He buried his head in your neck, both to keep you as close as possible and hide the tears beginning to flow. Not entirely sure of what was happening, you pat his back with one hand and cradled his head with another.

You shushed him and pecked at where you could, in the midst of whispering, “Hey, it’s all okay. I told you I wouldn’t die.” 

Damien sobbed. 

You held him tighter, an embrace solid enough to assure him you were really and truly there. 

Exhale shivering in the air, he mumbled against you, “N-no, you’re… oh, you’re too stubborn to die.”

You smiled, ignoring the situation and thanking you lucky stars that you’d landed such a loving man. 

“I’m here, love, everything’s okay.” Another kiss, and he lifted his head up to stare at you. Despite you being the one to have been shot, have passed out cold on the ground, you were comforting him. How had he ever gotten such a kind soul? He didn’t know, but he knew he was grateful, and that he’d do anything to keep you. 

Shakily, he muttered, “Come on.” He secured his arm underneath your shoulder and lifted you to stand, against the twitching of his cane. The weight of two people was forgiven when you were up fully, and he gently sat you down at the island while he gathered your shoes and coat. “We are getting you to the hospital,” he announced, and that was that.

Being the mayor of Los Angeles had some drawbacks; long working days, the eyes of the press, social obligations – but there were definitely some advantages, not least of all being able to order anything with impunity, whether that was a public car, table at a restaurant, or being to stay in the room while nurses flittered around your partner. At this point, leaving your side felt more hellish than he expected hell to be, and, though he hated abusing his power, he was not about to wait in the hallway for the next hour. 

So, by your side Damien stayed. The nurses poked and prodded at you, uncaringly prescribing you unlabeled medication, and redoing the bandages. He wasn’t ashamed to say he relaxed when they left you along, finally. At least he understood when enough was enough – or, he thought so, because if he told you that, you’d probably regard him unimpressed.

He caught your hand – noticeably less pale than it was before – in his own, and cradled it against his chest, as if fearing you’d disappear when let go. But, with you safely inside a hospital and treated by professionals, he could finally calm down. His nerves had been going haywire ever since you’d been late to dinner, but they found no reason to not settle down under his skin. 

“You know, I love you.”

Damien perked up before sending a confused glance your way. Why were you telling him now? Was there something that he didn’t know? Had you been shot, had someone tried to kill you again—

“I nearly died yesterday, and,” you laughed awkwardly, as if you were telling a crude joke, “I kept thinking, what if I never get to tell you again?” 

Now, he was fully turned to you, and it was then that he saw you were started to cry. He’d never seen you look like this before, wet cheeks and red eyes. His eyebrows involuntarily bent, and he squeezed your hand tighter. 

You continued on, “I don’t want you to forget how I feel, and I think that if I had to live without you, I—” You cut yourself off with a sob. 

Without a second thought, Damien moved to sit next to you on the bed, bringing you into his chest and cradling you as you cried. He peppered some kisses along your ear, neck, anywhere that could comfort you. He thanked his reputation for getting you a private room, lest you have to deal with people looking in to see the mayor and the district attorney communicating affection. 

“I love you, too,” he responded, tone having never been more sincere. 

You stayed like that until the nurses came back in, singing praises of Damien’s handiwork and pointing out your conditions. You would have to stay for a while longer, and you didn’t miss the proud smirk on your partner’s face when they told you that you should’ve come in sooner. Still, you laughed, rolled your eyes, and kissed him on the cheek. That normally shut him up, and this time was no exception. 

Sighing, he sat back in his own chair, hand still caressing yours. “Do you still want me to go back to work?” he teased.

You brought Damien’s hand to you face, planted a well-intentioned kiss on the upper part of his hand, and winked. “Never.”

He felt himself lucky for being in a hospital; he was sure he could have died from a heart attack right there and then. 

[Thank you so much for requesting - I'm sorry this took so long, but I'm glad that I got it out in the end! Gotta say, when I saw that I was allowed to injure the DA, I was already scheming. It did suck that I couldn't put a heart-rate monitor joke in though, since they hadn't been invented yet, but eh, the trade off is that we get nervous Damien waiting for you to come home. Again, thanks for requesting]

[zarinthel]

a small look at inevitability

a friend of mine @tshirt3000​ did a “small” zine about whatever ‘yaoi’ means, and it turns out that at over 80 pages total, it means a lot of things to a lot of people. but this isn’t about them, this is about me. this is my entry.

I’ve always been fond of people with miserable endings. They tried their best, and it wasn’t enough. They didn’t try their best, and regretted it too late. They only realize the flaws in their plan when it’s staring at them through a mirror, they die still hopelessly confused by what could possibly have gone wrong.

To me, this is ‘romance’.

Romance being about commitment, and these people, above all else, have married themselves to a bad idea, have fallen in love with a concept above a person. Then, that concept eats them alive.

This is the plot of Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles. It is also the plot of XXXholic, which while less yaoi centric to me also gave me an everlasting disorder. You win some and you lose some.

The main point of TRC is that many wishes cannot be fulfilled because if you pay the price to get them, then you’d become someone who didn’t want them anymore. And then there are some wishes that can never be granted, no matter what. This is Hitzusen.

T/N: ‘Hitsuzen’ means inevitable.

What TCR and XXXholic have in common is a perpetual loop of the Gift of the Magi-- people who sacrifice something for someone else, only for that person to sacrifice in turn, rendering both gifts pointless in giving, and only meaningful in what they had meant when they were sacrificed.

So you have to be thankful for what you’ve been given, or everyone will have paid their prices for nothing.

This is why Fai drinks Kurogane’s blood. Even though it would be easier for him to die, he can’t give up on his own fear: the blood is the proof that he still has more to lose. As long as he lives, people will make sacrifices to save him.

How scary is that?

It’s like Kurogane said. He’s a coward who can neither live nor let go. And now he is dead and still holding on.

An important tenet of the Grail Wars is that you can’t win them, and any wish the Grail would grant is poisoned with blood and hatred. Nothing good can come. There is no ‘greater good’ to hope for.

Nevertheless, people cannot give up hope.

Gilgamesh proclaims immunity from the call of the Grail because he is the greatest of all heroes. There is nothing he does not already have. There is nothing he cannot grasp. He looks down on Artoria for having regrets.

Fate as a series is completely dependent on the regrets of its heroes. They can be forced to fight only rarely: mostly they must act as they will. They must long for the grail. They must desire to serve. They must be haunted by the mistakes that made them legends. They must die to the same flaws that followed them into the War.

Diarmuid is also immune to a desire for the Grail. What he wants cannot come from the chalice. What he wants is redemption, to serve a master and not be forced away by his inhuman charm that taints his own honor.

A simple wish, but it is beyond his grasp as surely as Enkidu’s soul lies beyond Gilgamesh’s sight. He can no more receive honor in a Grail war than a madened Lancelot can convey his sorrow to his only king. Each and every one of them can only be further tarnished.

Because Diarmuid’s master’s lover desires him, a command seal changes hands. A duel between warriors becomes a cold farce as Diarmuid is forced to turn his lance on himself. He curses the world as he dies. He curses Artoria. He curses her master. He curses his own master. He weeps tears of blood.

Have you no shame?

And Artoria only commits harder. You have to accept stains for the Grail. Otherwise, what will you have given up your principles for?

You will have cut your hair and sold it for a guitar pic for nothing.

In Yugioh GX, one of the protagonist’s rival’s kills himself.

Zane Trusedale, e.g, Ryo Marufuji, goes through a lot of things that aren't very important. All you need to know is that he went from a gifted kid to someone who’s notorious post graduation characteristic is that his heart has been weakened from the fact that he duels with shock collars in order to get a darker more ‘real’ edge to his duels, and he thinks being stuck in a life or death duel dimension isn’t, on its own, hardcore enough.

Aware that he’s pushing it, Zane challenges our main character to duel at possibly the lowest, more depressed point of his entire life. He wants to die in battle and he wants to communicate to Jaden that people can die in battle and have it not really be your fault-- that, to a certain extent, people make their own choices. That responsibility lands on them, and not all on our main character’s shaking shoulders.

His little brother watches this duel, by the way. And Begs him not to do it. But Zane and Jaden understand each other, so they go for it.

Jaden also wins against the boss of this season by committing to a mutual loss meaning death. He lives, of course, and so does Zane after the season ends. but he never really recovers from this. Zane is wheelchair bound. Jaden is possessed. And both of them are softer. Quiet. And tired.

The power of friendship wasn’t enough. Jaden beat season three through the power of incredible violence.

Childhood innocence sacrificed to keep his friends alive. And now he is more distant from them, in an unbridgeable gap.

I think it’s kind of gay to kill yourself. Or, in Han Suyeong’s case, I think it’s kind of gay to write a story about a man who kills himself for the sake of another man who kills himself. You see?

I know I’ve literally written Kim Dokja and Yoo Jonghyuk having sex. But I think they're in an ace relationship, personally. Them and Han Suyeong. A throuple of indeterminate intimacy.

What’s important is that Kim Dokja has theorized his way into creating a happy ending-- a utopia even greater than what Kiritsugu Emiya dared to dream of. He’s even got the price worked out-- the only sacrifice required is himself. The world cannot exist if he is not outside of it.

The opposite crime of sacrifice is longing. Inability to accept an imperfect world.

Another way of looking at it is that Han Suyeong, despite her nature, is the type of person who would have walked away from Omelas. She wouldn’t have accepted the pain of a single child as a necessary grease on the wheels of her ferrari.

Or she’s the type of person who was willing to make everyone in the world suffer endless torments because it’s the type of world that would save one person. Isn’t she so kind?

Even though Yoo Jongyuk doesn’t know it, he chose to do this. He wanted to meet someone he could only meet if he suffered and splintered and lost everything.

How brave of him.

He’s standing over the corpses of every one else who cringed away from the price of their desires. Even if he loses everything, there’s one person who will never look away from him, and one person who will always know him, her ink bleeding down his cheek.

That’s ‘romance’. To me.

[tgrailwar]

Tumblr Holy Grail War, Another End: Night 2 (MASTERS FROM BEYOND/Team Avenger)

Everything felt cold.

The maddening colors and sounds from Foreigner's assault stopped... but so did the sensation of your Servants mana.

They were gone.

The silence permeated for a while longer, before a voice cut through.

???: "Hey. Heeeey. Maaaasters. You alive?"

Two silhouettes, both familiar, stare down at you.

'Masculine Shadow': "Welp. They're dead. I guess Foreigner will grab the Grail instead."

'Feminine Shadow': "No, they're looking at us. Give them another moment..."

Avenger(?): "There you are. Don't freak. This is a… safe zone, from Foreigner. She really did a number on the system."

Ruler(?): "Um… hello. It's been a while."

Avenger(?): "Yo, Masters. Despite the new look, it's still me-- and this is 'Ruler', but also kind of not."

Ruler(?): "I'm just a backup that I made in case the gambling mini-game went wrong, but it seemed like a lot more went wrong instead… maybe one hundred three trillion, seventy-three billion, nine hundred fifty-nine million, nine hundred eighty-nine thousand, four hundred and ninety-five Grail Wars was my limit… I'm sorry Masters, I really biffed this. And now my main body has pushed this war to the limit."

Avenger(?): "Technically, one hundred three trillion, seventy-three billion, nine hundred fifty-nine million, nine hundred eighty-nine thousand, four hundred and ninety-four- considering the Archer debacle. But the Grail is full. Again. Since we're so close to the end. Maybe you should introduce yourself. For real this time."

'Ruler': "…Right. I'm not a Servant… not properly, at least. I'm one of the Overseer's two THGW Terminals, modeled off the Einzbern homunculi, the vessel for the 'Lesser Grail'. I guess you guys can keep calling me 'Ruler'… I've gotten used to it. I'm happy to see you all again... and I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused-- the trouble I am causing. RULER is still out there, after all."

'Avenger': "Same here. I'm the other terminal, modeled off 'All The World's Evils'- or the 'Corrupted Grail'- as a countermeasure to our 'Ruler' here. I'm as close to a recreation of the thing as a digital Grail War can get, so I'm fine if you keep calling me 'Avenger'. Nice to meet you. Again."

'Ruler': "Right now, 'I'... the current version of 'myself' that's still acting as the Adjudicator of the Holy Grail War, is currently on a bit of a rampage, and Foreigner is too. Best case, some of you will need to keep her busy, and the rest of you have to destroy the Simulacrum Greater Grail… the Overseer's main terminal, and the source of Avenger and I's data."

'Avenger': "Y'know, you really screwed things up, 'Ruler'. That's what you get for trying to suddenly take on a whole Servant's duties. Then again, I cheated my way into being a Servant too, so I can't really talk. Still... I would have wanted to avoid killing Foreigner, but it seems inevitable. But she'll make the data unsalvageable..."

'Ruler': "I know, I know... but we have work to do. Masters. Just know that destroying the Grail... that'll end all of this. Completely. The absolute end of this Simulated Holy Grail War."

'Ruler': "I've been a bad Ruler, I'm really not cut out for this job… But even as some pathetic backup data, I still have some authority. You have 5 Command Spells left, right? I think that can get you..."

'Avenger': "Hang on. I've still got all three of mine thanks to my Masters. Can you toss that in, too? Verg Avesta and Unlimited Raise Dead are kind of useless at this point."

'Ruler': "Eight Command Spells... I can really do something with that. I'm in charge of developing Spirit Origins for this Grail War after all."

'Avenger': "Hehehe. Told you there was a plan."

'Ruler': "Rider... I can't salvage his data. I'm so sorry... Still, I can salvage the others. Maybe with their memories intact... we'll have to see."

Avenger: "I'm followin' you. So whichever option is in 1st place generates those two Servants at full power with 3 Command Spells, 2nd place does the same, and then 3rd place summons a pair with reduced power. That way we can split ourselves up. Two groups of Servants go to help me fight Foreigner, and the last group goes to destroy the Grail."

Ruler: "Exactly! So, please choose wisely. This will be your final fight as Masters of this Grail War. So survive. Please. I'll be happy to answer any questions you need. My job is to help, after all!"

'Ruler' is using her authority to bring back Servants at the cost of Command Spells!

The results in 1st and 2nd place (costing 3 Command Spells each) will go to confront Foreigner alongside Avenger!

While 3rd place (costing 2 Command Spells) will accompany Ruler to destroy the Greater Grail!

Avenger's skills have changed!

Servant Skills:

'ANGRA MAINYU' (AVENGER / TGHW GRAIL TERMINAL α)

Zarich: Right Fang Grinder (C) - Reduce enemy Servant boosts by -5%.

Tawrich: Left Fang Grinder (C) - Gain a +5% attack boost.

Annihilation Wish (A) - When fully healed, gain a -20% demerit to his final score. With one wound, the demerit is reduced to -10%. With two wounds, the demerit is changed to a +20% boost.

Grail Simulacrum, All The World's Evils (EX) - When part of a battle that results in a Servant dying, absorb a part of their essence. Take a random one of their combat skills for Avenger's own use and recover one Command Spell. When victorious, inflict wounds equal to the amount of Servants consumed.

[Grail Simulacrum, SABER] Heavenly Demonic Thundering Eye (EX) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain +10% to your final score, and reduce their scores by -5%. If fighting a Servant one-on-one, if the gap between scores is above 20%, inflict 2 wounds.

[Grail Simulacrum, RIDER] Armor of the Nine Worthies (A) - When attacked, reduces the amount of the Servant's final combat poll result by 10%.

[Grail Simulacrum, ASSASSIN] Man-Slayer (A) - When fighting a Servant that possesses a wound, gain a +3% boost. When fighting a Servant that possesses 2 wounds, gain +5% instead.

[Grail Simulacrum, LANCER] Rune Magecraft (B) - When fighting in a free-for-all, gain a +5% to combat score results. Additionally, any skills that reduce scores against Avenger will have their effectiveness reduced by 1%.

[Grail Simulacrum, ARCHER] Hero of the Endowed (A) - If fighting an enemy Servant, and the difference between scores is within 3%, take the win.

Avenger has 2 wounds! He has a +20% boost!

[nasuversekinkmeme]

Weekly Roundup: Prompts

TSUKIHIME

Akiha and Kohaku having a silent and cute moment together. Enough suffering, let them be happy together

FGO

Galatea chisels Baobhan a ring as a friendiversary gift, just for Morgan to interpret it as romantic and set up a series of trails for Galatea to prove her worth as her daughter’s girlfriend. All the while Galatea seems strangely unfazed? Each trial includes a different fairy knight including Mash who got roped into this somehow and Ritsuka because of course she wants to scope out her (soon-to-be) daughter’s (not really) girlfriend!

Fujimaru Ritsuka, on their first day of working at Chaldea, falls asleep- and dreams. Dreams of the Fujimaru Ritsuka they become. The experiences they go through, both joyful, and traumatic. The shadows of the people they will lose along the way. And in the future, they dream of their past. (The thoughts that prompted this prompt below, I invite the writer to sample them at their own discretion) ["What happened to you?"] ["I survived."] ["Will I want to survive?"] ["You will survive, either way."] ["Will I remember any of this?"] ["Only after it happens."]

Fujimaru, who is totally Straight and Cis Male btw, finds themself hanging out with the trans and genderqueer servants a whole lot. Not sure why though. I'm sure this means nothing about her.

The Jewish servants in Chaldea (David, Sheba, Avicebron, etc) helping celebrate Hanukkah with Mash after Romani is gone

heroine x finds the death note. She writes some random saber name on the Death Note and they die. Then she decides to write Artoria Pendragon’s name on the Death Note. X dies.

smut, During a routine system update, BB accidentally presses the wrong button and downloads 69 yotabytes of gay porn into her mainframe (it happens) and now she's extremely desperate and pent-up, needs to be fucked senseless by ANYONE who is willing to do it

Maou Nobu being the weird crazy aunt to the kids of Chaldea

ANY

A grail war happens in Hawaii, but because it's the setting for Serva-Fes, every participant shows up in their summer spirit origins and costumes massively disappointed it's just a regular grail war.

[literallyjustanerd]

Could you do Cody or Fox for the music thing? Thank you 💖

Thanks for the ask!! And for the two excellent choices. I ended up doing both :) I'll list the songs first then share some details below the cut:

Cody:

Holy Grail - Hunters and Collectors

Shelter - Porter Robsinson

Way Out There - Lord Huron

Fox:

Typhoons - Royal Blood

Uprising - Muse

Normalisation Blues - AJJ

Anyone else who wants a 3 song playlist on a character of their choice, please feel free to drop a name in my inbox!

My favourite lyrics from each song and some character rambling below:

Cody:

I love Cody so goddamn much okay he's such a good character for the little we see of him. He's strong but gentle and so scarily competent but he doesn't ask for glory. He's absolutely lethal in a fight but he still tries to end conflict with peace and negotiation wherever he can. He falls so easily into the "big brother" role and gives so much of himself to his brothers without hesitation.

He knows the clones' lot in life and instead of fighting against the inevitable, he puts his strength into fighting for his brothers. The songs I chose (it wasn't an easy choice lol) ended up having a common thread of fighting on despite knowing you'll never have a place in history or be remembered like you should. Because I love to make myself sad about Cody.

Holy Grail - Hunters and Collectors

Started out seeking fortune and glory It's a short song, but it's a hell of a story When you spend your lifetime Trying to get your hands on the holy grail ... I followed orders, God knows where I’ve been But I woke up alone, all my wounds were clean I’m still here I’m still a fool for the holy grail

Shelter - Porter Robinson

When I'm older, I'll be silent beside you I know words won't be enough And they won't need to know our names or our faces But they will carry on for us ... And it's a long way forward, so trust in me I'll give them shelter, like you've done for me

Way Out There - Lord Huron

I'm a long way from the land that I left I've been running through life and cruising toward death If you think that I'm scared, you've got me wrong If you don't know my name, you know it now I belong bodily to the earth I’m just wearing old bones from those who came first There are many more flames when mine is gone They will build me no shrines and sing me no songs

Fox:

Okay I've never really been a Fox girlie but the more I think about him the more I do love exploring his whole deal with being closest to the Chancellor during the war.

Typhoons - Royal Blood

These songs ended up being incredibly angsty and mostly about having your own mind turned against you, inspired by the idea that Fox always had his inhibitor chip slightly active to keep him compliant with Palpatine's orders. Especially when Fox's own free will ran explicitly counter to what he was ordered to do - i.e. shooting down his own brother. I still haven't forgiven him for Fives

The last song is actually about the US, it was released in 2020 about Trump's presidency, but oddly enough I think it fits pretty well in this scenario too lol...

Flashbacks, I’m not letting go Tear me up, cast a shadow I got game face, but it’s all for show Can’t give it up, blow my cover ... My thoughts becoming parasites They live to keep me terrified I tell myself I’ll be alright Typhoons keep on raging, and I don’t know why

Uprising - Muse

Paranoia is in bloom The PR transmissions will resume They’ll try to push drugs that keep us all dumbed down And hope that we will never see the truth around Another promise, another scene Another packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed And all the green belts wrapped around our minds And endless red tape to keep the truth confined

Normalisation Blues - AJJ

I can feel my brain a-changin’, acclimating to the madness I can feel my ourrage shifting into a dull, despondent sadness I can feel a crust growing over my eyes like a falcon hood I’ve got the normalisation blues This isn’t normal, this isn’t good I’m detached and I’m distracted, all keyed up but unproductive Vacillating between being all excited and disgusted And then dozing lackadaisically in this bubble where I’ve made my mental home Connection’s more important now than it ever was, but I’d rather be alone

[spindrifters]

this has definitely been said, but I just know james was a group costume whore. and mwpp + lily were perfect for so many group costumes.

wizard of oz?? obvious casting there. the spice girls??? EASY. scooby doo?? sorry, pads, you got to be sexy last year (posh spice), we need you to be a dog again!

listen listen I just have to point out that the spice girls weren't around until the 90s so although they definitely went as them later on (because nothing has ever gone wrong on halloween ever) ((sirius is posh, james is sporty, they make remus be scary, lily ofc is ginger, peter's baby)) ALLOW ME TO SUBMIT a running list of group costumes they did throw together in the 70s:

the rocky horror picture show

the star wars gang

alex's droogs

a collection of pet rocks

aerobics teachers

monty python and the holy grail

ABBA

M*A*S*H

gloria steinem & other leaders of the women's lib

various 'salads' in jello

fleetwood mac

[lanliingwang]

spoilers for some plot details and f/sr archer's identity under the cut (not by true name specifically but like. if you know Any details about his identity you'll probably recognize him, so I just want to be safe!)

I will forever bemoan that zheng chenggong and f/sr archer never got to like. interact with most of the rogue servants in any significant way. but anyway I think there should be a digression where arjuna is playing a local instrument (probably something like a bamboo flute JKSDHG) in the kanagawa night and zheng chenggong and archer are Just passing through and f/sr archer immediately. identifies the mysterious flute player as someone who may not be familiar with the instrument, but is nevertheless skilled in music.

(Related fun fact: f/sr archer historically was known to be very learned in music and could still distinguish mistakes or wrong notes in a musical piece being played even if he's drunk (or to be more specific, has gone through three rounds of drinking)! So I think he could recognize a genuinely skilled musician when he hears them play.)

anyway. that's how I imagine they end up meeting arjuna in this non-canon digression idea -- by following the flute playing until they come across arjuna sitting on a rooftop.

and ofc. f/sr archer and arjuna could grow to be on friendly terms from that meeting onward! (though not outright friends bc this is still. a grail war unfortunately OTL. but they could be if it wasn't the case)

[moebiusx9]

Fate/Dread

 I love a lot of Fate fan AUs so I had the courage to mention my own for a bit. Don’t really have the confidence for a full fic, so I’ll just mention the main ideas.

>Story is a prequel to the main Extraverse games (Extra, CCC, Extella, Extella Link)

>It is the Extraverse’s version of the Fifth Fuyuki Grail War, called the Terminus Grail War here as it is the last possible war to exist on earth with the quickly drying up mana

>Due to this, the greater grail was meddled with further, allowing for more Master/Servant spots to open up, akin to Apocrypha. So instead of just 7 servants (8 counting Angra Mainyuu, there are now 16. A second of all the main 7 class, plus an extra class)

> The original Hakuno is the protagonist. She is the most recent of a long line of continuous Morgan le Fay reincarnations throughout the decades akin to a fairy replacing another fairy in terms of “role” in LB6.

>Her family, the Kishinamis, broke off from those in the Blackmore Cemetary decades ago, and lived peacefully away from civilization with the role of preserving artifacts from Arthurian legend. Hakuno’s parents are deceased and she is left the last of her family.

>She is one of the first unfortunate victims of the recent Amnesia Syndrome outbreak some years before the story, and gets by as a mercenary for hire, going by the name “Morgause”. Forced to kill in a worn torn world, even if she knows it’s wrong, but has no choice. 

>Hakuno in general is very bitter and cynical, her laid back, optimism gone after all she went through, now focused solely on survival and preserving artifacts that disappeared from her family’s care (She’s been tracking down Avalon after it was stolen before the fourth grail war, and eventually tracks it down to Fuyuki) she’s basically made to be like a dark mirror to AI Hakuno, the person she doesn’t want to be, but still sees herself as.

>She plans to join the Fifth War to wish for her Amnesia Syndrome to be cured, since the only one who knew how to cure it, Twice, died not too long ago.

>She moves to Fuyuki and goes under the alias of “Shirano Tsunokuma” to lay low and scope out Fuyuki three years before the war starts. Here, she’d meet and become friends with some of the Stay Night cast, especially Rin

>In classic Hakuno, fashion, she starts catching feelings for Rin the closer the two get but is aware Rin the head of the Tohsakas, meaning they’ll be forced to become enemies once the war starts. This becomes one of her main conflicts as she’d accepted she’d have to kill to survive long ago, but not to kill someone she’s close with. 

>This leads her to use the “Morgause” persona once the war starts in a Lelouch/Zero sort of fashion. Later in the story, she’d be forcibly unmasked by Rin, in a similar, dramatic way.

>Story would also have Shirou as a secondary protag, expanding on his relationship with Artoria, and his journey to eventually becoming Nameless once Extra rolls around.

>Hakuno would immediately realize Shirou has Avalon and his servant is basically her childhood hero in King Arthur, causing more inner turmoil.

>As for Hakuno’s own servant, I’m not sure yet. I’ve thought of multiple ideas such as Nobunaga, Billy the Kid, Enkidu, Edmond Dantes, Daji/Tamamo, Berserker Lancelot, etc. but haven’t decided yet.

>Story would end with Hakuno casting aside her own wish at the very end so Rin can win the war and hopefully, make the world a better place, as Hakuno decides a killer like her has no place. (I also like to imagine it was Rin’s doing that Hakuno was safely put in cryosleep)

>Some shenanigans with Foreigners may or may not have been involved in some concepts.

Here are some servant/master ideas as well, let me know what yall think

[thebladeblaster]

I just finished Will+Dress and have officially started Divine Z

I liked Will+Dress a lot. I love how Yu-yu essentially declared war on all net deckers🤣. But yeah the commentary about players becoming samey is very relevant to card games. I never expected the antagonist would be an AI. He’s just a silly little guy.

I’m still wondering if Yu-yu was related to his creator. We still haven’t figured out why Yu-yu’s dad’s face was hidden. Also I was wrong about everyone who I thought had Psyqualia😅. It really seemed like the story was building up to revealing that Yu-yu or Urara had Psyqualia. Like what was those melodies she heard?! Or the glow from her friend?! Or the flames Michiru was talking about?! Was Michiru talking about flames a Gaillard reference?!

I have so many questions 😅. However it seems like Divine Z is continuing on from Will+Dress so hopefully we’ll get some answers 🥲. Overall, Overdress + Will+Dress are my second favorite Vanguard series after the original. I like them WAY more than G.

As for Divine Z I already like Akina more than Yu-yu because he’s his own character rather than feeling like Walmart Aichi. They also did a really good job at getting you invested in his wish. I’m also a simple girl who just loves knights🤣. We’ve finally gone full circle back to the Sanctuary. Though, I definitely see Akina’s deck as being more Angel Feather coded than Royal Paladin. So, this new story is essentially the Holy Grail War in Vanguard😅? It’s very interesting and not what I was expecting from the chosen ones trope. Also Overdress characters are part of them👀! They’re characters I wanted to see more of too. An interesting line from the beginning is that it mentioned that people have loved Vanguard since ancient times which I think firmly proves that the D-format canon is its own universe 🤔. I’m pretty sure the og continuity never implied that Vanguard always existed unless I’m forgetting something from G. Most importantly are Akina and Yu-Yu related?! Why do they look so similar?!

Akina punting the plushie was peak fiction change my mind.

I’m kinda worried though the stakes are so high that Akina might be subjected to some plot armor. I really don’t want that so I hope Divine Z avoids that. I want to keep having suspenseful fights. Anyway I hope Divine Z stays good. I really like its concept. Interestingly this is the first Vanguard series to start off being overtly supernatural which is in massive contrast to Overdress which seemed to hint at something supernatural at the most.

So now that I’m completely caught up I’ll resume the weekly reactions😊!

[casdeanwin]

Every time I read this passage my heart takes an emotional journey on the bumpiest rollercoaster. 😭

I can only imagine the turmoil Harry is experiencing. Not only is he grieving the loss of his Headmaster/Mentor and handling the trauma which came from witnessing his death, but Harry is having to deal with how little he actually knew about Dumbledore. And the guilt which stems from that, as well as the anger.

Harry regrets never taking the time to ask his Professor personal questions, that all they ever really discussed was Harry himself. More specifically the part he had to play in this war.

Here is a young man, who has never really known the love of a parental figure since the day his Mother and Father were murdered.

And when he does allow himself to attach to such figures, they are cruelly snatched away.

He is never really given the time or the proper circumstances to deepen those relationships. And with Harry being a child for 99% of the series, those relationships are sort of one sided.

As it should be really.

As a child we are much too young to worry about our parental figures, in terms of finding out who they are, beyond what they are. It's only as we grow older, that we begin to appreciate them as people and their back stories.

I feel this is what Harry is muddling through in his grief.

Throughout DH, he is bombarded with information about Albus Dumbledore, which quite frankly knocks him for six. He finds out information which he really wishes Albus had told him. Like the fact that they had both lived in Godric's Hollow, both lost loved ones there. This is mind blowing for Harry. They could have bonded over this shared history. Perhaps even have visited one day together.

But Dumbledore chose not to reveal that part of himself. And Harry is hurt, because he doesn't understand why. He had always believed that Dumbledore cared for him. Even during OotP, Harry at his core, still believed Albus cared, and that is why he was so hurt and angry throughout his fifth year. He thought that they shared a special sort of bond. And each time Harry thinks they are getting somewhere, he feels as though Dumbledore takes a step back.

I always feel that had Albus not died that night, he would have been 'forced' to reveal some information to Harry. They had after all gone through a traumatic experience together, and bonded further due to it. And I genuinely think that Albus would have wanted to reveal what he had seen thanks to that potion. He would have felt he owed Harry some answers given what he asked of him that night. But more than that, again, I think he would have wanted to tell Harry. Because he does care. But Albus being who he is, constantly has to walk a fine line. He can only connect with Harry to a certain point. Because Harry is after all, first and foremost, his student. And it would be inappropriate to share too much. But I do think, the night he died, was that first stepping stone on what could have been should he have survived.

But this is what I mean, Harry only knows what he experienced. Harry couldn't see inside Dumbledore's head. All he knew was that Dumbledore kept him at arms length, even though he claimed to care.

So when Harry finds out that Dumbledore had a shaded past, in which he revealed his secrets to Gellert, as a young man himself, Harry is incensed, and even outright jealous. Here was a dark wizard who Dumbledore is known for having defeated, who Albus had revealed his inmost self to after knowing for a few months maximum. I imagine Harry must feel cheated in some regard.

After all, Harry had known and looked up to his Headmaster for six years. He had trusted him implicitly, no questions asked. And yet he didn't hardly know anything about him personally. But Gellert bloody Grindelwald had somehow managed to gain the Holy Grail in a matter of months! If Dumbledore could share with Grindelwald, who turned out to be a dark wizard, then what was wrong with Harry? Why didn't Dumbledore want to share with him? Harry must have felt he meant nothing to his mentor. Which we know isn't true. But it must have been traumatising for a grieving 17 year old boy.

It's only after Harry has spoken to Albus in person, and Albus has at last revealed parts of himself to Harry which he is ashamed of, is Harry able to let go of his anger.

Once he sees that Albus wasn't withholding information about himself because he didn't trust Harry, but rather because he didn't want Harry to think less of him, Harry understands that Albus did and does love him.

And Harry is also now able to say that he loves Albus. Not for being the Headmaster of Hogwarts, or the Greatest Sorcerer of the age, but for being Albus. Because he now knows everything there is to know about the man. Albus Dumbledore is no longer on that pedestal Harry had seated him on. He was finally accessible and attainable. And loved.

[holygrail-cycle]

Ok so this is a simulated War. A simulated War that’s managed to run a trillion+ fuckin times, somehow, with a variety of Servants and a MASS of Masters. That would take a HUGE amount of computing power. But this isn’t the Moon Cell, because we’re on the Holy Grail system with the Lesser Grail and Greater Grail. So what in the FUCK could possibly have THAT kind of computing power outside of the Moon Cell, a literal supercomputer??? I feel like the next possible answer would be ‘some incredibly fucked up Atlas experiment gone wrong’ but I’m not deep enough in the Nasuverse to speak with knowledge on the matter of Atlas.

We still don’t even know what the POINT of this simulation is in the first place!! Why is Ruler stuck with running this until she gets ‘a proper Grail War’?? What is the point of all that computing power for something so asinine!!! WHERE did they get a mass of Masters from and for what??? It could never be a proper Grail War in the first place without 1 Master to 1 Servant!! WHAT IS GOING ONNNNN

[holygrailcycle]

SO THAT WAS A DROP. HOLY SHIT.

So apparently our Terminal buddies didn't START OUT as Terminals. If I'm parsing things correctly, they were one Servant (The Black Grail/Justeaze???) before something ripped them apart into 'Avenger' and 'Ruler' and shoved them into the core. And I'm betting our friends aren't the originals either. That they're data replications lifted from the two stuffed into the core, still down there.

Anyway so huge question is how the FUCK did we summon that Servant?? Not to mention the fact that things had gone wrong before we summoned them is uh. Not Great.

And why was it necessary to split Avenger apart to move things forward into this new trajectory? Why did our mystery antagonist need to separate the Grail and the Evils? I guess you could see it as a... forcible purification of the Grail, but that doesn't make sense if they were just shoved right back into the core together. Wouldn't that put them right back at square one?

Or maybe the core of this War isn't the Grail.

Then there's those last words.

'FOR WHAT REASON. FOR WHAT PURPOSE. SHOW ME.'

BRO THAT'S WHAT WE'VE BEEN FUCKING WONDERING HELLO!!!! WHAT'S YOUR REASON AND PURPOSE HUH!!!!!!!! THIS IS THE WORST PETRI DISH YOU COULD'VE CREATED IF ALL YOU WANTED WAS TO STUDY SOME CREATURES I TELL YOU WHAT

[tgrailwar]

teacher, if these simulated grail wars act in a cycle, and our current ruler wasnt always the ruler but was placed in that role... do you think theres a way, if we play it right, that we could "help" her like the other servants?

'Schoolteacher': "Wonderful. Class is in session. 'Possibly', 'Possibly', 'Yes', and 'Possibly' in that order.

First question, it depends on what you mean by 'help'. For some, that may mean a mercy kill. For some that may mean relieving her of her duties. For some, that may mean both. Regardless, her function is to 'facilitate the ideal Grail War', and if you're talking to me, that already means things are wrong. So if you mess up, it'll just... reset. No harm done... theorhetically.

Second question, 'Ruler' is overseeing the management of data. That's her purpose, as far as I'm aware. I may be wrong, though. I studied the Grail War last time, but my memory of my findings are foggy at best, and gone at worst.

Third question, the Overseer manages the 'settings' of the Grail War, I believe... I don't believe it's as flippant as your wording suggests, however.

Fourth question, the Holy Grail- even simulated- is an incredibly powerful mass of mana. Real or not, it's capable of grand acts, to the point where trying to distinguish 'real or not' in regards to it is useless."