#i have ritsuka feels and no mouth to scream

[hopeled]

" It.....really has been years now, hasn't it?" words are mumbled softly as she grasps white gloves between her hands, eyebrows furrowed. " And you're all...."

[stepswowdsen]

【Magi】 Judar Doodles

Initial

Old

New

Old

New

Old

New

Judar doodle update

Minor edit

Me when I make minor edits that literally no one would notice but me 👍

Makes my art look better to me tho 🙏

KINDA UNFORTUNATE THAT I FINALLY GOT TO MAKE MINOR EDITS THAT MAKES THE ART LOOK BETTER TO ME AFTER I ALREADY POSTED THE INITIAL SKETCH ON MAIN...

Oh well. Whenever I get to refine the drawing more, I'll just post that on main again

I enjoy my art style but I also feel insecure about my sketches so the feeling of posting something that will be reblogged only for me to make minor edits/improvements/adjustments later is DAKLSKLSDKLDSKL to me

Though I also get that this is a sketch (and my art will go through many different iterations) as I continue to refine it (and as my art style improves)

Basically, I adjusted the tilt of the head, moved the eyes down and slightly redrew it, adjusted the placement of the nose and mouth by a few pixels, shortened the length of the nose

Cuz with the whole pose in mind, I feel like having the head tilted sm messes with the flow of the pose (especially since the pose is so neutral) so I adjusted the head tilt

The proportions just look better to me now, so I fixed what was bothering me

Judar's expression is really nice in this... I love the expression here

I wanna doodle JuAli again soon so I'll probably doodle something quick sometime this week!

JuAli Rambles

JuAli (Judar to Alibaba) in the Kou Empire arc

My friend Lumen posted this tweet last year and I'm fucking screaming LMAOOO

LITERALLY JUALI ADKLSKLSDKLSDKL

I'M SCREAMING 😭 😂

C: THIS IS SO JUDAR AJGNDN

Got reminded of this cuz of my Insta highlights

With that "Look back on what was posted a year ago" thing in your Story Archive

ARGHHHHHHHHHH JUALI!!! ILY!!!

Magi (EN Fan-TL)

Magi Omake (EN Fan-TL)

Yeah this is them, all right!

VIZ WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TAKE "WAKE UP AND THEN PLUNGE IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEXY DANCE OF DESPAIR" FROM ME IT'S SO MUCH FUNNIER LMFAOOOOOOOOO

The EN fan-TL is closer to the original JP text here too

Though I need to double-check the JP volume raw scans that I got from my friend Bas hehe. Eventually.

STOPPP WHY IS MY BLACK CAT MEOW WOW WOWIE SO FUCKING FUNNY

Judar's expression in the 2nd page 😭 It's so fucking funny like lmaooooo. Crazy ass mf!

L: Have you seen the omake with Judal's letter to Alibaba. Literally lovers

Me: YEAH I DID I'M SCREAMING. HELP ALSDKSDKLSDKLSDKSDKL

L: "And then plunge in the depths of the sexy dance of despair"

L: "Yours kindly, Judal."

Sickening.

Me: RIGHT LIKE WHO SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THIS I'M CRYING ADSKLSDKLKLKLS

(Rhetorical question)

C: JUDAR KNAN4NENFSG

A bastard

Me: Lumen going "Literally lovers" so true!!!

Rhetorical question but the whole

"And then plunge in the depths of the sexy dance of despair

Yours kindly. Judar"

Fucking sends me AASDFGGHJKL LMAOOOO

C: It's so. Judar. Nobody else.

Me: YEAHHH LMFAO

"Plunge in the depths of the sexy dance of despair"

Ok

C: I ALMOST WANT TO KNOW HOW OHTAKA THOUGHT OF THAT

Me: I'm really curious what the JPN version is cuz LMAO

C: YEAH???

C: GOD THE LETTER PART KAYKSNUFGDG

Me: NOTHING HITS LIKE JUDAR SAYING "AND THEN PLUNGE IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEXY DANCE OF DESPAIR"

C: GKDKHMDMGMDMFMFM

HE IS SUCH A FREAK HABYNSH

C: Married

JuAli rambles

Me: All of my ships are just this (Regardless of gender)

LMAO

"Asshole to the world, sweetheart to his girl or S/O"

"Evil violent with sadistic tendencies meow meow mf shows exclusive affection to their S/O (who usually has softer tendencies and is more considerate and sane)"

We operate on the Sun/Moon/Eclipse, Light/Darkness, Yin/Yang principle <333

Me: It's so funny that some people are like "You ship them (JuAli) when Judar literally tells him he would be better off dead on the Dark Continent???"

And that's sexy, next question.

We love antagonist figures who challenge and/or try to kill protags!!!

I ship LimGuda (Douman/Ritsuka) a pair with an evil gay clown demon who tries to kill and curse their favourite human out of love <333 Deeply romantic, guys (and I genuinely mean this)

The other thing I have to say in response to this is that Judar's "threats" towards Alibaba on the Dark Continent are really so empty lmao. As Cinna said, he's the type where he'll try to kill you (due to his bratty, spoiled, childish, violent tendencies) but it's usually not genuine, vehement hate

On the Dark Continent he doesn't even do anything violent to him. Lmaoooo.

Judar who threatens Alibaba like "How does he act so unfazed, I want to kill him!" And Alibaba is just like "I can hear you, you know…" And Alibaba is actually patient and understanding and humble, so he works incredibly well with someone like Judar

C: Judar comes off as an immature tantrum throwing baby but with severely violent tendencies so I can imagine Alibaba learns to be like "Ok I love you too" about it LMAO

Me: <3333

Yeah I agree with this like Judar acts spoiled and bratty and violent and aggressive, so I think Alibaba will come to accept and get used to Judar's shenanigans LMAO

C: And Judar's threats are… fairly empty

He'll try to kill you yeah but it's usually not genuine hate towards anyone

And yea Alibaba being the calm sort of protag makes him more shippable, especially since he actually has a personality despite representing the typically flattest type of shonen protag

Like most shounen protags (and calm personality shounen protags) are bland af but Alibaba is actually really good and well-written

Me: YEA JUDAR'S THREATS ARE SO EMPTY? LIKE HE SAYS THIS TOWARDS ALIBABA BUT DOESN'T DO ANYTHING VIOLENT TO HIM (WHEN HE'S NOT AN ANTAGONIST FIGURE ANYMORE)

IT'S NOT GENUINE, VEHEMENT HATRED EITHER...

C: FNSNDNSNNSG

He's just a funny guy

Me: Dramatic drama queen meow meow…

C: He is

Me: Also I agree with this, usually the calm and kind shounen protags usually have no fucking personality and are flat and boring af

At least from the ones I've seen

But Alibaba is gold. Cuz Alibaba is actually very well fleshed out with a lot of layering and depth.

And that makes him more shippable (See: how I have issues with Tsuna (KHR)'s character flaws affecting his ships in unsexy ways, even if I casually like the ships)

So I just focus on my KHR AU ships with my Canon/OC ships instead

Xanxus/Selena and Squalo/Linh

C: YEAH EXACTLY

Alibaba is a winner 👍🏻

Yeaaaa exactly

F: THANK YOU FOR POINTING OUT THAT JUDAR'S THREATS ARE SO EMPTY OMFGGG

Me: I could ramble about this but JuAli genuinely fixed issues that my previous (other) fandom ships like EnNetsu (Enzan/Netto) (Mega Man Battle Network) and HoroRen (Horohoro/Ren) (Shaman King)

Like with EnNetsu and HoroRen, BOTH charas are stubborn and unyielding and would constantly butt heads with each other

But JuAli as a ship has more warmth and companionship imo so this one's the best to me (and Alibaba's calm and kind, patient, humble personality balances out Judar's personality and makes them work well together as a ship)

Me: WITH JUDAR IT'S SO FUNNY LIKE...

Judar about Alibaba: When I get the chance, I'll definitely kill him!

(-> Doesn't)

This is like.. "Mukuro wanting to possess Tsuna's body" level empty threats

With how Mukuro (KHR) wanted to possess and control and take over Tsuna's body to hyperkill the mafia in response to his traumas (He was used as a labrat experiment by his own mafia family)

Me: JuAli and Judar being aggressively violent with empty threats: A collection

The hissy cat...

C: LMAO SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT

Angry cat

JuAli Scenes (EN Fan-TL)

Me: Well I'm gonna show the EN fan-TL cuz I prefer the prose and get more context (including of individual characters' speech styles/quirks) from the lines imo

Cuz Istg Viz absolutely butchers individual characters' speech styles in their TLs and makes everyone sound the same

And it doesn't help that English sounds so samey compared to other languages. EA/SEA languages have such huge variations in speaking styles

Like in JP, characters' speech patterns automatically give you the vibe of someone who talks more curt~ish/rough/masc (like Judar) or uses more polite speech, or is formal/humble, etc.

God guys just know that I usually HATE the shounen protag trope

Like I always prefer antagonists and deuteragonists (protag's side allies and secondary charas) but my and my friend circle's love for Alibaba is just a testament to how good (well-written) he is

Alibaba you're one of the few only shounen protags I'll defend with my life

Most shounen protags piss me off, so I always prefer deuteragonists and antagonists lmao

Something about their moral hypocrisy, their nepotism, their naive self-righteousness that fails to account for others, the way they're never (or hardly ever) challenged in meaningful ways in the narrative, how they always win fights and get what they want without any struggle, etc. It's all so. Boring.

One of the worst examples I can think of with this is Shaman King

Also, DBZ, Bleach, Naruto, etc.

C: NO LIKE EXACTLY

Me: But, Alibaba, I'll defend you with my life 💛 Literally one of the only shounen protags I'll defend with my life

Lumen said this, but, Alibaba is so goated as a protag BECAUSE he's so challenged.

His character development/growth, his big heart and empathy, and his humbleness (his humbleness is especially evident like in the scenes with Judar, post-Kou Empire arc fights)

Oogh… My son… My sun… ☀️

Shounen protags I adore/enjoy

Alibaba Saluja (Magi)

Aladdin (Magi)

Allen Walker (DGM)

Edward Elric (FMA)

Alphonse Elric (FMA)

Atem (Yami Yugi) (YGO DM)

Yugi Mutou (YGO DM)

I could be forgetting some but off the top of my head, these charas are good, actually have interesting growth…

(Cuz really the list of good shounen protags is so few)

I overall casually like Tsuna (KHR), he has interesting traits but there's a lot of things I dislike/could criticize about him tbh

[gorochuva]

OC-tober Day 9: Spice

@oc-growth-and-development

Also abt Day 7: Power (Glory's Element of Spirit), my day be so fine, then BOOM, writer's block

Baby's first lemon/lime fic plz go easy on me-

“You do know none of this really happened to me, right?”

“I know.” Oriko sighed. “I just… thought it would be fun.”

“I’m- sure it would, but… It’s just- you want us to fight for control?”

Oriko chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, you’ll get your turn~” Though, in truth, she did lament it a little. She wished she could take both of them at once.

And so, there they were. Tonight was the night. She had even asked to borrow Nero’s dress for the occasion- not that Ritsuka’s Saber really knew exactly what she needed it for. Henry cleared his throat. “Mrs. Jekyll, may I have this dance?”

“Dr. Jekyll, you may have every dance.”

They spun in place for a moment, humming in place of the music. Suddenly, Henry stopped, separating himself from her and doubling over in pain. “Henry, what is it?” Oriko asked, although she didn’t need to. It was all part of the act.

“Don’t make a fuss- Terrible pain- Get me out of here- Can’t breathe!”

He began screaming and thrashing around. Even if he and Hyde weren’t really fighting for control anymore, it was an easy habit to fall back into. So much so that Oriko didn’t have to pretend to be scared. “Oh, God, what now? Oh, God, not now! Help me, somehow- Please take the pain away! Feel it fill me- This will KILL me! Please, God, will me somehow to fight, I pray!”

————————————————————————————

Madoka was pleasantly surprised when her old friend, Sayaka Miki, was Summoned as one of Oriko’s Servants. Even though she herself was torn away from the Law of Cycles, her legend and very existence as a Servant gave it a strong connection to the Throne of Heroes. “Are any of the others there, too?” she asked excitedly.

“So far, just me.” the blue-clad Saber replied. “We tried to get Nagisa, but this Gilgamesh guy was like “but you can’t have cheese here” and she started crying. I’ve heard rumors about Homura, though.”

“Really? That’s wonderful! She’s the reason we’re here, after all. I say she deserves it! Well, I should probably introduce you to our Master, huh?”

A scream came from the end of the hall towards Oriko’s room. “GOD HAVE MERCY! Don’t let her see- Not on our wedding day!”

“What was that?!”

“It sounded like Jekyll!” Madoka cried.

“Jekyll? You don’t mean-“

Madoka was already sprinting down the hall, bow at the ready. “I’ll explain later, Sayaka! We have to help him!”

————————————————————————————

With a final cry, the transformation was complete. “Henry?!”

“There is no Henry, only HYDE!”

Oriko faked a gasp.

“We seem to be married, my love.” Hyde grabbed the padlock chain around Oriko’s neck and shoved her into the wall. “Ready for our bridal bed, are we?” he growled hungrily, wiping her bottom lip with his thumb.

Oriko returned the Berserker’s sultry smirk. “Yes, sir~”

SLAM

Madoka gasped at the sight before her, dropping her bow, hand over her mouth, blood quickly coloring her cheeks. Sayaka stood behind her, wide eyed and jaw dropped, her swords dissipating. Both were left too speechless to apologize.

Too frozen in shock to close the door.

Footsteps echoed in the direction the Puella Magi came, stopping behind them. Once he laid eyes on the same sight, Dantes laughed. “Nice.”

Hyde: Man, what a bummer. Way to kill the mood, pigtails!

Oriko: It's fine, Edward. I'll talk to Romani about soundproofing the place tomorrow and we can try again.

[abby-and-maya-archieve]

Maya Throughout the Story - Singularity F

Now to go over the first chapter of the Grand Order story with Maya at the helm. I will try to take some liberties with things to make it more interesting and not make it just a synopsis of the original story. And I'll try being a bit more detailed too.

Maya had looked at this sad girl and knew that she never lived. Something inside of her wanted to fix that. But... was such a thing worth sacrificing her life for? As the fires grew and the room crumbled around them, she wondered this, holding Mash's hand. That wasn't the right question to ask. The real question was: could she live with herself without trying?

Darkness soon washed over them both as the Chaldea system was shouting out protocols. Maya didn't listen. In that moment, she thought they didn't matter.

But, in the next moment, she found herself being woken up by Fou, lying in a street. The city around her looking as broken down as the room she had just been in. Before she could get her bearings, she was attacked, only to be defended by Mash now wielding a massive shield. Safe to say Maya was only confused even more.

With no explanation and no other options, the two follow the sounds of a screaming woman and find the Director, Olga Marie. She and Maya immediately become at odds once again after Mash clears out a horde of skeletons. Maya is rather disagreeable, taunting Olga for being on such a high horse during their earlier interaction, but "clearly not being able to put her money where her mouth is."

The two quickly begin to fight before Mash intervenes as the voice of reason, explaining that they have more pressing matters to deal with, like getting out of this mess. The two give a half assed apology/agreement.

Mash begins to explain the situation, including the status of her being a Demi-Servant as well as the fact that they were in the Singularity and that Maya was her Master, command seals and all.

From this point, it's important to note that Maya's bias is very deep set at this point and she is willfully ignoring her own ability to read someone. Even seeing Olga's concern over the lives of the other 47 candidates is seen as nothing more of wanting to make sure none of this damages her reputation. She is a Mage, that is all that should matter. At least according to Maya.

Nevertheless, she does decide to go along with staying in the Singularity to explore and try and figure out the source of the problem. There is not point in returning after all. They either fix this or Humanity's finished, those are the only options available.

Though of course they have to fight their way through Servants of this singularity. And while not discussed, Maya was very uncomfortable with how hot Medusa was. Though Caster was able to help get them out of there before she could truly get flustered.

With more information and help in hand, the group made a plan to go to eliminate the remaining Servants and the corrupted Greater Grail, seeing that as the source of Humanity's extinction. On the way, it was the first time Olga made Maya flinch, when she so instantly through herself between Caster's bluff and Mash and herself. Though this was brushed aside. Once again, Maya didn't want to understand.

As Caster stays to fight Archer, the three run into the cave containing the Greater Grail to fight Saber. As the fight begins and Mash is purely defensive, Maya is not one to just stand there. She doesn't know many spells, but she does know some offensive ones. However, before she can even attempt anything, Olga manages to fully restrain her and reprimand her for trying to be reckless, leading to yet another argument as Maya tried to get out and Olga protected them from debris that came flying at them.

However as Saber began focusing her Noble Phantasm, Olga lost concentration, freeing Maya and allow her to run to Mash's side. However the force of Saber's attack pushed her back. She attempted to attack, but her lack of skill and knowledge made it certain that anything she attempted was batted away by this Servant's aura.

When that failed, she did the only thing should do. Fulfill a promise. A promise that, just hours earlier, was just a mental note she made to herself. She was going to be by Mash's side. And so she pushed through the torrent of energy that was splashing off the shield, singeing herself something fierce (which should have also happened to Ritsuka btw). Maya grabbed Mash's hand, reassuring her once again.

Using a Command Seal to heal her Servant, even if only just a little, Mash was invigorated and inspired to release her Noble Phantasm, Lord Chaldeas, deflect Saber's attack right back to her.

They were saved by Saber's second attack by Caster using his own Noble Phantasm on her, winning the day.

As this were wrapping up, Lev makes his appearance at the very end and this time it's Maya restraining Olga to stay back. She didn't trust this man from first meeting him, but at the time, it was only a minor thing. It was just the feeling he gave off to her. But appearing here, now... that did not sit right with Maya in the slightest. Though Olga struggled, the look in this person's eyes, the look of genuine fear, gave her pause.

This was quickly given credence by Lev revealing his true nature, admitting slight disappointment that Maya could see through him, he thought he played the part of trustworthy rather well. Though such a minor thing was nothing, as it wasn't something that led to the multitude of other things that went wrong, such as Romani's survival and Olga's Rayshifted spirit.

Though Maya was holding onto her, Lev was easily able to rip Olga from her hand and float her away. Maya tried to attack Lev, but was held back by Mash. They listened to her beg and plead for her life, and Maya was forced to finally understand. This girl she had chosen to revile from the first words they shared... was just as sad and lonely as the one beside her.

Olga was thrown into Chaldea and Lev gloated the end of Humanity and the Singularities that caused it, leaving Maya and Mash alive to return to Chaldea.

Back at base, as things were still in chaos, the entire place working on what to do next, Maya stood in the hall, staring blankly at the raging blizzard.

Romani approached her, tried to comfort her, tell her that none of this was her fault and that there was nothing she could have done.

Maya responds with tears streaming down her face, "You're right. Even if I knew this was going to happen when I woke up this morning, nothing would have changed... I don't have that kind of power, and I didn't know I would need it. Even if I wasn't such a wretched person... I couldn't have become her friend before this... but... I could have tried. That's what I could have done!"

She punched the window as hard as she could, slumping to the floor in tears as this guilt burrowed deep into her heart.

To be continued...

Mentions:

@hasishtardoneanythingwrong @haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @hasquetzdoneanythingwrong @hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong

[ziracona]

Been a hot minute, but I have like three segments ready to go one after the other, so I’m taking it as a win. Here’s the first!

The Kid (pt: 1, … 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, ?) [Fate Grand Order AU]

A flurry of arrows slams into the wall just past me, blowing a hole in it the size of a person, and I pivot and sling myself through.

“Here!” I call, skidding to a stop just long enough to bolster a surge of mana and take a shot at the ceiling. I roll out of the way of falling debris, and Emiya slides into the room and past me, springing off the debris as it hits and leaping up onto the next floor.

Robin and King David come dashing in the room after, and as soon as I see they’ve cleared the doorway, I leap up too. Emiya and I are both in the air when the other two clear the floor, and that bone thing crashes through the wall below and bursts up through the ceiling, snapping at us.

It's close—it’s too close. I hear screams around me but don’t have time to look yet, send a burst of bullets into that thing’s mouth as swords appear out of nowhere around Emiya and launch themselves at the yokai. The force is enough to slow it, and Robin and King David land safely on the floor as Emiya and I do too.

More screaming. There’s humans on this floor. Lots of humans. I see big groups of guards—maybe fifty people, on my left. Another squad about the same size on the right and running this way, but at a distance. People in business suits and more in lab coats litter the floor, those close to the explosion we just made dragging themselves back to their feet and fleeing, those further away not even looking back to help fellow workers before doing the same, all desperate to avoid the thing dragging its massive body out onto the floor. I see a guy close by in the rubble, trying to pull himself away from the bone monster and failing—he must’ve been right above us when I shot the floor, because it looks like a chunk of shrapnel from the explosion got him in the leg, and he can’t make it up.

However human Robin smells from Ritsuka’s hair tie, the man has to smell 18x as real, and the gashadokuro turns its hungry, empty eyes on him.

I’m really tempted. To just watch it eat him. I haven’t ever seen this guy before as far as I know, but a lot of the time I didn’t have the strength to lift my head high enough to see anything but dress shoes. Whoever he is, he’s got a name card and a lab coat. He works here. He’s doing this to us. That’s more than enough reason. I still got my own memories real fresh, and what I saw of Robin and King David and the Lancer guy.

The gashadokuro opens its mouth and snaps, force there to rip his head off his body so it can drink his blood. I get there first, hand on the back of his collar, and fling him down the hall on my right with so much force he goes about three yards, hits the ground, and rolls.

Angry at missing its snack, the monster turns on me and makes a sound like a roar without a voice behind it, and takes a swipe with its giant hand. I leap out of the way, ricochet off a wall, and land crouched on its other side firing from the hip into the back of its skull.

The second one erupts through the floor down the hall, not by us. Shit—must have smelled the humans. It’s on top of the group of fifty or so guards and I hear bursts of gunfire and screams.

“Shit!” calls Robin out loud. King David’s already past him, positively rocketing down the hall. He darts right into the center of the group, and I hear his harp for a second, then lose sight of him. The gashadokuro snags a human with its huge hand, but as it tries to lift him, somehow the man, to both their surprise, slips through his fingers. Gotta be King David, I think, impressed, and I take a shot at its hand, knocking it away from a second target.

“I’ll go with him,” calls Robin, “You two take this one!” and he’s gone then too, running up onto a wall and springing off it, taking shots from his crossbow as he gets close. I almost miss a swipe the monster by us makes, but I hear the sound of the wind through its fingers and roll out of the way. I riddle its hand with a cylinder worth of bullets, but the damn bone regrows a second after splintering—these things are infuriating to fight.

Above it, Emiya summons a longbow and takes a big shot at its skull, and the whole thing explodes, fragments of bone going everywhere, but its already rebuilding by the time he lands, and he’s breathing hard now.

“We running out of mana?” I ask him mentally, a little worried myself.

“We’re pushing it,” he replies, and I can hear the tension.

The gashadokuro drags itself completely out onto the floor and goes crawling after the fleeing people on the right, towards Emiya. He curses and summons his bow and fires at its oncoming form, but it barely slows down.

Ah shit.

“Hey!” I call.

There’s a sudden burst of bullets and I stop, halfway to calling out my noble phantasm, staring at the myriad of holes in Emiya’s chest. He flinches, and looks down at them in a very real mixture of surprise and disgust, and turns to look at the fleet of guards still heading this way.

They shot him. Unbelievable. We’re slowing these things down and keeping them from getting eaten, and they fuckin’ shot at him.

He vanishes, and reappears beside me, the lancer still slung over one shoulder, a grimace on his face and blood running down his chest. I look at him in surprise, then turn and watch with him as the yokai with no real interest in us tears off in an awful crawl in a space too small for something this massive, after the squadron of guards realizing their mistake, and the staff trying to flee past them.

Uh. So. Are you just…letting it eat them now…or?

He glances over at me and lets out a breath, then turns to watch the monster again. It starts to get close. I can see the guy I threw earlier, just barely made it to the front of the guard line, but not past. This thing is going to destroy all of them, and a pretty big part of me really wants to let it. But, I promised, and I raise my pistol.

“Hold on,” says Emiya.

I glance over, and his expression is hard. “I want to put the fear of God in them. If we don’t scare them, they’ll never unsummon that thing. Wait until the last possible second, and aim for the head.

He flicks his wrist and his longbow appears in one hand, a sword in the air, which he takes and pulls back like an arrow as I watch. “I’ll get whatever hand it picks someone up with.”

I nod, aim, and wait.

There’s endless bursts of suppressing fire from the guards, screams and shouts. Fear and desperation—from behind us where King David and Robin are, and in front. Shit, hope they didn’t shoot Robin or King David too.

“You gonna be okay?” I ask, glancing at the blood still running down his chest.

“Yes, it isn’t dangerous, but I can’t afford to patch it up yet.”

He’s right. We’re all running deadly thin on mana.

Which sucks, because leaving the wound’s gotta hurt like hell. We do what we gotta though.

Okay. Ready. Steady… I keep my eyes fixed on the yokai as it gets closer and closer to the line of armed guards. It reaches them, hungry jaw open and grinning, empty black nothing of eyes perusing food with hate and hunger. It whips out a hand and snags two at once, and I hear people calling to each other and panicked shouts, more gunfire.

“Now,” says Emiya.

“Time for a duel—One bullet, and I’m gonna lay you flat! Draw!” I call out my phantasm, feeling the mana from Ritsuka flood from her into my body and then burst out as an unparalleled shot from my colt.

My noble phantasm goes off like a bolt of lighting, tearing through the hall and into the thing’s head, rupturing its skull and the top of its spine and sending it collapsing against the ground. At the same moment, Emiya lets his sword fly and the hand holding two captives explodes in a shower of bone, and the men hit the floor gasping for breath with probably some bruised ribs and definitely, like Emiya had hoped, the fear of God in them. As a mass, everyone in the hall there—guards, staff, they all turn and run, firing as they go.

I lower my gun. Then immediately raise it again as the thing’s skull begins to reform, and while it still only has half a skull, it turns its head to roar at us.

Ah shit.

Beside me, I hear an unexpected voice groan, and remember that Emiya is still hauling the lancer around on his shoulder. I look over and see the guy open his eyes slowly, still hanging limp over Emiya’s chest, and then lift his head a little and squint at the room ahead. His expression changes. “Oh what the fuck is that,” he says, looking for Emiya and taking a second to realize he’s slung over his shoulder, but finding him pretty quick. “Did you all actually manage to make the situation worse while I was out?”

“Well, we’re actually doing okay,” I answer for him, “We got both gashadokuro onto a floor far away from Ritsuka, and we’re hoping they got a way to unsummon them.”

The lancer turns his head to look back at the bone monster. It has decided hating us is less important than wanting to eat any human it can find, and is crawling after the fleeing Ur-shanabi staff again.

“Do we follow I guess?” I check with Emiya, snagging a quick look over my shoulder for King David and Robin. I can see both. They’ve managed to embed their yokai in the wall, and the civilians and security staff on that side of the hall are fleeing as well while it’s slowed down. It’s already dragging itself back out though, and it’s definitely going after, so we’re all in about the same position.

“Hm,” he replies with a nod, deep in thought himself.

“Why are you pouring blood?” asks the lancer, staring blearily at Emiya’s chest.

“The guards shot him,” I reply, starting to run after the monster.

Emiya takes off too, and I hear the lancer call out, “Hey—you can put me down! I’m awake—I can walk!”

“Can you?” asks Emiya in a very interesting tone of voice, and he dumps the lancer on the ground without looking. The lancer curses and tries to drag himself up, and I pause to make sure he can, when something happens. It’s hard to describe—it’s like getting the breath knocked out of me, except on some deeper level. Almost like getting faint but really, really fast. I stumble and almost trip, barely catching myself with a hand against the hall wall. Just ahead of me, Emiya stumbles too, and skids to a stop and turns, eyes on the lancer. The guy isn’t moving.

“Shit,” whispers Emiya, reaching his side again in an instant and stooping beside his body, “You okay?” he asks me.

“Yeah. Little…dizzy, I think,” I say, “But okay.” What…? I feel it hit me. The only thing it can be. Ritsuka!

I reach out with my senses and try to find my master. This should be easy—we’re supposed to always be able to find them, so we can go to their side and protect them.

I can’t sense her.

Shit.

Okay okay—she’s alive! I can still feel the contract in effect, so she isn’t dead! But she’s somewhere I can’t see, and she must have just used—wait. Right, two possibilities. A little relieved, I look back to King David and Robin, and my heart sinks, because even from here, I can see no traces of Robin’s phantasm, and they’re both stopped too, like Emiya and me—talking and looking confused. Crap. Crap nobody else used mana then. Which means Ritsuka did. But why? Defending herself?

“I can’t find her,” I tell Emiya tensely.

He looks up at me with a kind of frozen alarm, and I can tell he’s trying himself, to find her. “Shit,” he whispers again, looking at me, but hand still on the lancer’s chest.

“He’s alive?” I ask.

“Just almost out of mana,” confirms Emiya, lifting him up and slinging him over his shoulder again. The guy groans and mutters something unintelligible. Emiya seems relieved by that. “He’ll probably be up again in a minute.

“Hey—We can’t sense Ritsuka,” comes Robin’s voice in our heads, tense.

“We can’t either,” I reply.

“The mana drop just now was from her,” adds Emiya mentally to all of us, “Something’s wrong—We need to move, now. –Those things are Ur-shanabi’s problem. We’re finding the kid.”

[originlist]

@bonmotx asked:

It's a dream and a memory.

The world is a pulsing miasma, something dense and smelling like blood and pomegranate seeds. Something lays in the dead and rotting, the ever mourned. Sherwood green and pale purple, cloth and head of hair, soaked in blood and unrecognizable. Somewhere someone that cannot admit death is crushed under two small bodies buried into matted fur. A captain of the ship lays broken in his many bodies.

A shield is shattered.

('A Beast is an Evil of Humanity,' a distant voice echoes. 'But they all love humanity, just in a twisted way'.)

Something without a form pulses. This is your domain. You wanted this. Hatred manifest, is it not? It must be hatred. It must. You look over the last human of this bleached word dyed with red, red, red, and look for-

-a smile.

This tiny body smiles.

"It's alright." The face is nearly unrecognizable, starved and near death and bone. They glow with humanity, but you must be hatred, you must be, to be a Beast. Beast, to hate, to loathe, to bite and claw-

(Something thick lands in your hair. When did you have hair? Where do you still, in this all-encompassing form?)

The miasma leaves this tiny body untouched, but the sludge is inescapable, tar and blood, and you watch with rapt attention as their chest struggles to beat, a rabbit's heart ready to burst with a leg torn apart in a trap.

"It's alright," that tiny body and that over-extending smile say, "we can make this better. It's okay."

A cough wracks the body and you start, a shudder running down spines and limbs and formless parts that are everything but 'human'. Why do you feel that? Why? You are a Beast. You hate, you hate, you hate-

Another cough. They fall over and the miasma rises to catch them but they fall through it, humanity, ever moving forward, but you are stuck in this single moment.

"I don’t hold it against you. We can still fix it. Please, Ashiya, just trust me. Come back." No. You aren't Ashiya. You cannot be Ashiya Douman, you are a Beast, you are here! You are strewn about the digested and mutilated saint graphs and bodies of everyone ever brought here. You are soaked so thoroughly in their blood it has become part of you.

You devour and devour but still feel empty, and there is only one thing left.

Your maws try to speak, something hateful, but you make a sound you could never recognize. Your teeth cut into your tongues, and you move forward, but your claws are too large for this tiny thing.

A thing with a name, a name you never called them by.

Ritsuka Fujimaru looks up at you, blood bubbling up to their lips. They smile still. You look at those command seals, not one ever solely yours. "Trust me."

Once, in bed, you said you would paint your mark on them, and they laughed, pulled you over with mirth on their lips, and they dared you to, like you were not a thing of fangs and talons. Then you took them, and spread them apart, and scarcely left a mark, even as they cried and you lapped up their tears, and when they slept in your arms and when they woke in the morning you still were gentle-

But somebody else, somebody came first. He made demands, was made up of sharp angles and wrath. But his sparrow bones were beautiful. He, too, was made of hate. Passion in red eyes, red, and hair that you were ever gentle with, and you kissed him a thousand times, and you modeled yourself after him. He taught you how to craft definition in hate (and he taught you contrast, too, because he was the first one you-)

Yet this one is love, love, and no matter the hate you attempt to find, no matter what love you snuff, they still extend their hand-

You swore to make his dream come true-

This one's dream is the exact opposite-

How can one commit to two contradictory, parallel dreams-

(The miasma swells. The crown flourishes to a beautiful crescendo. You take form, the chrysalis melting away in velvet and gore and wet flaps of discarded skin.)

"It's okay, you can still come home." Claws too sharp finally abet to something that can be gentle, yet at that moment-

Life fades.

The last human dies.

Humanity dies.

You stare at the body as your gaze multiplies, as your body becomes a solid form that never had been granted to you before, a solid definition.

There is fantasy, too, there are humans in there but you will kill them because they are not your human-

Ah.

Your mind fractures. (Maybe the person in here can see where the cause of your fracture is.) There was no other human but this one. This is the most important human. (Memory fades.) This is the person you love the most. You have never loved anyone else as a person besides this one, dead body.

(This is why Alter Ego and Caster are disgusted by you, despite your lack of realization. You forgot. You forgot two important people. Alter Ego's most important person, Caster's most important person, their versions of your most important (only) person, forgotten for power. In seeing you they find their line they never would cross. You prove that only you could become you, because they see you and vow never, never.)

You are not hatred. How could you fool yourself? You love humanity. This human was humanity itself and you love, you love, you love.

There is a sound. It is a voice, yet not. Your body burns, because you have never hated anything but the inhuman, right? You destroyed humanity, the only thing you ever loved, the only commitment you ever had. Onmyouji love humanity, protect humanity, you failed at that, so you must have just loved them wrong. What a silly thing, to have thought you hated! How funny! You laugh through your wailing.

Ah. Right.

You are the one wailing. The world cracks beneath the sound. The miasma sinks, burrows, clawing and tearing its way down and down, into the world, beyond texture and bleach, beyond the reversal, it burrows into the very core and you mourn.

The one important thing to you, and you destroyed it.

But no matter the time, the body does not decay. You curl about it and isolate yourself as the other bodies fade to dust and you stay here, here, as things beyond the world pry about and are ignored. You stay here, as infinite time passes and none at all, because the Beast who mourns only ever mourns, always mourns-

(They finally realize they have forgotten, and their hands reach out for this version of themselves in their dream, where their errant master has ended up, but they freeze seeing that dead body. Their eyes go needle thin. Ritsu, Ritsu, Ritsu- and another wail, something empty and desperate-)

You sacrificed your love for this-

You stay there, lost in your mourning, as another you pulls at a body- isn't that your body, Ritsuka Fujimaru?

-

"Isn't that your body?" Alter Ego tuts, but their face is blanched white. They smell off. They tug the body that no longer is Beast but is the dreaming Ritsuka Fujimaru to the side, hide their eyes firmly under charms, and the sound of wet footsteps echoes even through the wailing and screaming and the desperation, the words of love, grief, love, love, grief, grief-

"Wake up." Alter Ego's voice is sharp. "You brought our lord here."

"Ahh... ahhh..." But the Beast's voice is wet, sharp and soft and empty empty empty, desperate-

"Wake up!" Alter Ego's own takes a hint of desperation. "I do not want to see this any longer!"

The sound of screaming and wailing is too much. This place is falling apart. Miasma and grudges clash and merge, ideals and faith and hate and love combating and tearing itself and the other-self apart. A faint sound comes from the corner.

"...oh." Another familiar voice. This one shouldn't be here. This one lurked in another's dreams, protected another dreamer despite knowing he did not need it. An uneasy air, but a familiar essence, and despite the lack of any bond... Hands that have been bitten raw rest over Ritsu's face.

"Go back to sleep."

The world fades to black, as in the living world, two bodies curl in devotion and desperation around another.

Ritsuka Fujimaru watches from eyes that aren’t theirs. It’s not the first time they’ve been someone else, seen someone else’s memories. It’s not even the first time they’ve been here.

They remember this place fractured. They remember this place from the eyes of the Ritsu they now loom above in a body formed and formless that burns and twists. In the dream they had, something kept them from knowing who this was. It was blurred, it was something unknown, they could feel their mouth forming a name but without knowledge of who or what they spoke to.

This was protection.

Ritsu lacks that same protection now, and they watch from a body that is everywhere the full extent of carnage they could not see before. They cannot help but notice Robin’s mantle and the embers of Yako’s foxfire, still fading. There is utmost certainty that everyone else, too, is dead. (And in the way of dreams, when it is thought of it surfaces, the vision in an instant of Chaldea dying. There is no humanity and there are no Servants. There is no staff, no humans, no heroes, no Mash, no da Vinci, because all of them have died in and that instant Ritsu could see each murder.)

Everything was taken from them and in this form, everything was taken by them. No-- not everything. Because Ritsu recognizes, even when they’re not themselves, what the Ritsu before them is thinking.

(The one before them is terrified. They live their worst nightmare. The only thing they could not handle is everyone disappearing, everyone dying. Not just ‘all humanity’, but everyone. In this world, only one person aside from Ritsu remains, and it is someone they did-do-will-have loved. There was never any other possibility than Ritsuka Fujimaru still desperately trying to offer something that could fix this and end anywhere other than isolation.)

Ritsu watches this from the point of empathy and the point of the entity they occupy. They parse things all at once and in an overload.

Within their empathy, they feel the hatred that the body (body?) they occupy tries to exude. Tries? Does? Ritsu can’t tell, but they know it’s overwhelming — Ritsu was never meant for formless, indiscriminate hatred. It’s almost alien to them and it hurts, it hurts, they can’t understand it and they can’t process this desire. Something, the thing that they are, wanted this. “They” wanted this? Ritsu is pulled along in this “want”, manhandled and pushed into this foreign hatred with the death of the world oozing blood down into their throat. You did this. Ritsu sees themselves standing in their own hands.

They feel— “they” feel — you/‘you’/you (pl.) feel —

The Ritsu that belongs to ‘them’ dies and the present Ritsu knows this one won’t come back. This form of humanity is lost. (Sorry. Sorry, I… “I”?) “Aaaah…” The part of this mind that is Ritsu watching, who is aware of themselves as apart and a part of this entity at the same time, cries something helplessly.

Humanity dies and Ritsu remembers things that aren’t theirs in this memory they already don’t belong to. There are people that are valued and occupy opposite spectra, but this place cannot hold both, so, so—

But this place you’re in, past the furthest reach of one, is lonely and there is nothing left to love. Is there value in only nothingness? (And Ritsu cries no, not like this, not in stretches of blood and formless aimless hate, no, it can’t.)

Ritsu feels something break and it reflects in the world and in their gaze. They’re not the same as the person whose memories they invade, they stand just separate enough to watch but not remember their name. They watch a decision and they mourn that loss, too. (Is this the price? Is this— ‘I’m sorry,’ Ritsu thinks, ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t enough to stop this, and you lost something that was valuable.’)

Is it selfish, cold, terrible of them that they focus on ‘you lost something’ you, the person they are-aren’t, the person they (not that they realize now) ‘made’, and not the ones whose blood colored the ground. They lost, too. And certainty: I was not enough to prevent this.

Whose thought is that? Who are you?

Ritsu wants to cover their face. They’re screaming. They don’t know how long they’ve been screaming. Maybe since the beginning, since they were forced to experience consuming hatred, maybe since now when the world falls apart and the hatred morphs into something more familiar but still so aching.

(What have you done? What have you allowed to happen? What have ‘you’/you/you(pl.) done?)

It’s too long. It’s too long. Ritsu has been here, sobbing broken meaningless apologies and laments that no one will answer and they cannot be freed from. Why— why can’t they be free? Why here, forever, with this dead, with a body that stays and reminds and won’t let you go (can’t be released)?

To mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn, to mourn (it aches), to mourn, to mourn, to mourn (help me), to mourn, to mourn (the taste of blood), to mourn, to mourn (why?), to mourn, to mourn (it hurts), to mourn, to mourn (help me), to mourn, to mourn, to mourn (help me), to mourn, to mourn, to mourn (help me), to mourn, to mourn (help me), to mourn (help me), to mourn (help me), to mourn (help me), to mourn (help me), to mourn (help me), to mourn (help me), to mourn (help me), to mourn (help me), to mourn (help me), to mourn (help me).

It hurts, please. They’re all alone and they’re so scared. It’s the end of everything, and their body is too small and too broken, familiar and unfamiliar. It’s scary. Please, help me. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t breathe. Help me. Help me. I didn’t want this. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I did to cause this but I’m sorry.

Ritsu doesn’t know how this happened. They didn’t mean for it. There is more grief than could ever fit in their body. Even their body which has seen the death of all history twiceover, the death of timelines, of their friends -- the mourning is more than was meant for a human to carry.

They don’t feel being dragged, they don’t feel the charm over their eyes. They weren’t able to see anyways. They only feel as if they’re being crushed, death and guilt and isolation bearing down on them. Their throat hurts and they feel it too close to them. They’re crying, they have been, too much, because they can’t scream.

Please. I’m sorry. Help me.

Then, hands on their cheek. Cold, somehow, against Ritsu’s skin. They reach up almost on instinct to grab whoever touches them, hands latching desperately and too-tight around an unfamiliar wrist. “I don’t know where to go,” they say, voice torn. Their fingernails are probably digging blood from Bei’s skin. “Help me. Please, please, it’s too...” Ritsu trails off as Bei pulls their awareness somewhere as if beleaguered by weight and guilt (everywhere, in the air, it’s too much guilt).

In the world that is real, or as real as anything gets after the end of history, Ritsu curls small and crying against Beast around them, Ritsu’s desperate hands digging into Beast instead.

They will forgive, because Ritsu has never done anything else. But they cry first, split and flayed here and when they awake, even then, lost and with shaking hands. They did this, didn’t they.

[havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong]

Biting the Bullet — For a Distant Comfort

The fearful master bites his tongue and moves forward — allied with the laidback Master Ritsuka, their servant Mash Kyrielight, and the Director of Chaldea, Olga Marie.

Even with allies, the road ahead is aflame with risk and fear alike—

But what other choice is there to be had?

At least a new friend is on the horizon — even in this fiery haze.

—

‘...’

I could never forget what fear truly was.

Heroes in storybooks had reserves of courage to draw upon when times got tough — they raised their blade and fought with a smile where the average person would cower.

I always wanted to believe I’d be the same.

‘...Your wallet.’

Two words that I couldn’t forget. Even after that unknown voice whispered those words into my mind, they kept echoing in my head — louder, louder, into screams as sharp and painful as the blade threatening to slice right through my side.

No, true fear was — to be locked in place. Like a deer in the headlights. When your instincts decide that freezing up, and crying, would be your only path to survival. When that’s all you could do — your gut in your throat, your heart beating in your throat, eyesight flickering from the tunnel vision.

A ‘thunk’ punctuated by the clatter of coin on the ground. All the possessions I had, lost in a moment on the ground.

Left behind, the thief granted me one last parting gift before I’d left —

—Consciousness flickering, surely—

—The commotion of people watching in awe, the ringing of a phone after a heartwrenching few moments —

—The feeling of pooling, underneath the chest I now lay on.

—

“Cadence. Rested well?”

A hand shook me awake — loud gasping was all I could hear.

My own voice — my own breaths. Uncontrollably erratic, my heart pounding with fear.

Sitting up in a moment, I leaned forward and placed a hand to my neck — gently rubbing a finger up and down its right side, trying to calm down.

“...Something like that. As good as you can get in this hellscape.”

My eyesight cleared through the sleepy haze, resting on the black-haired Master before me. Ritsuka — of course.

They raised an eyebrow, perhaps noting my current state — but seemingly opted to ignore it for now.

“Olga’s talking fun stuff over the leyline. Mostly about what to do with you and your Avenger.”

Ritsuka stretched out from their current position — raiding his arms behind their head, yawning loudly. I’d waited until they concluded that show to chip in.

“...I don’t assume it’s anything good.”

“You can’t really blame her for not liking you much. I found her with a skeleton head gnawing on her ankle — of course she’s gonna be weirded the hell out when she sees someone she knew back there.”

‘Knew?’ I had to bite my tongue not to laugh. That lady was hardly the type to talk to people like me — the benchwarmers of Chaldea. Even so, a part of me sympathized with the woman’s plight — fear caused rampant irrationality in anyone, and it’s not as if I had room to judge.

“...Should I go over there?”

“Yeah, before Olga blows her top and becomes convinced you’re a disguised Assassin. Someone over there has ought to remember you.”

...Listening to the environment, sure enough, I could pick up some faint, frantic yelling. Distinctly Olga Marie-sounding, in fact — the sharp voice, drawing to mind an inflatable tube man wildly flailing about, while somehow simultaneously demanding a sort of respect that was hard to ignore.

Following it set me due east, from what I could tell, through a little bit more burning ground — up until I caught sight of Olga Marie and Mash, alongside a sort of communication device projecting a familiar face.

“—How are we supposed to trust this kid when he won’t even reveal his Servant’s name?!”

“—Slow down a sec, Olga! It’s just as likely that he just didn’t want eavesdroppers listening in—“

“And?! Surely he could take a risk and spill!”

...A familiar face, and the frantic, albeit mildly digitized voice of Dr. Romani. A little bit of sanity in this place, thankfully.

I approached the communication device as calmly as I could, as Olga Marie turned around to see me move towards it. Before she could speak, I forced in my own two cents.

“Hey, Dr. Romani. It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“HOW DID YOU HEAR US TALK?!”

“...Hard to miss.”

I’d hold my tongue before I said anything further, stepping forward to wave Romani’s way — Romani himself returning the wave with an awkward grin and wave of his own.

“Hey, Cadence. Nice job surviving in this hellscape.”

The doctor at least seemed to recognize me. He continued, before Olga could cut in again.

“...Yeah, he’s fine, Olga. From what I can tell, he’s completely fine. The same Cadence from Chaldea.”

...Olga furrowed her brow, but I could hear a sigh of relief fall from her mouth.

“...Good. Cadence — tell us the name of your Servant. You’re an ally, so you should do so.”

...She was back to barking orders in a moment — but it felt more like distinctively Olga orders. Rude, but well-meaning, from what I could tell.

“...My Servant’s an Avenger. I’d rather let them tell you.”

...As if responding to what I said, Kagekiyo manifested from her spiritual form behind me — my heartrate suddenly spiking informed me that apparently give me one hell of a fright, and Olga’s sudden breath in told me I wasn’t the only one.

Even so — a hand on my shoulder was all it took to settle my heart, oddly enough.

“...Do you trust her? She is not Genji, correct?”

...The being stared through their blindfold, right into Olga’s eyes — as if, for a moment, peering into her soul.

“...No, she’s no Genji. She’s an ally. You can tell her your title if you choose.”

Olga furrowed her brow as I placed the decision in Kagekiyo’s hands — but despite her dislike of the situation, it seemed she knew it was hardly wise to demand things of an Avenger, least of all now.

“...Kagekiyo. I am... Kagekiyo. The killer of the Genji. That is all.”

...After a second, Olga Marie hastily nodded, and turned to Romani. The latter raised an eyebrow in thought, before breathing out slowly.

“How strange, your Spirit Origin is... Well, I suppose it hardly matters right now. Cadence — I want you to support Ritsuka and Olga Marie until we can get you out of here. The situation is...”

...The doctor trailed off. ‘Chaldea was just briefing about humanity’s distruction,’ I reckoned. ‘If Romani’s hesitant to tell me the situation, then...’

...I had to push the fear down my throat. I could cry — I could panic, scream, break down from the fear — but that could not come now.

...All that would do is ensure my death.

“...Yeah. I don’t suppose I’ll be let off after this.”

“Probably not, Cadence. But you and Ritsuka aren’t alone. We’ll be having them perform a Summon right now, actually.”

...Ah, so that was the case. I nodded — but just as I thought of turning about to find Ritsuka, they had just as soon came over, adjusting the belts on their combat uniform to account for the change in their proportions. I opened my mouth, but Ritsuka piped up first.

“Summoning, right? I can probably do my part. What do we need, Romani?”

The doctor smiled a little, seeing our colleague, and glanced to Mash.

“Simple, Ritsuka. You’ll need to use Mash’s shield as a catalyst to reach the Throne. Chaldea will take it from there.”

...The mage nodded, and clapped their hands together.

“You heard the man, kouhai! Can I count on your help?”

The Shielder, stepping forward carefully to avoid unnecessary burns, smiled back towards their ‘senpai.’

“Yes, of course! I’ll just place this here, and...”

...The woman placed her shield down upon the ground, ever-so-carefully, then stepped back as Ritsuka placed their hand on the shield. Their Command Seals glowed in the soft light the shield presented — as, suddenly, three glowing circles surrounded the circumference of the shield, almost enveloping Ritsuka in their light.

All I could do is watch — as shining lights and glowing sparks of magical energy formed a distinct ‘something’ before my eyes—

...A being, —

—...A young boy, in peasant’s clothes.

Perhaps those from an older Japan, staring up at Ritsuka, who raised their eyebrows in shock.

“...I’ve been summoned... I’m, uhm... Caster! I’m a Caster, and my name is...”

...The child seemed to struggle for a moment. A black haired, black-eyed child, no older than sixteen. His hair seemed damp, water dripping from its tips, and his shirt and pants still a little bit dampened.

“...Uhm, I think it’s easier just to call me Caster, for now, mister. You’re my Master, right?”

...Ritsuka stopped for a fair few moments. As if their face turned horribly solemn, for a moment, looking away almost in remorse — before returning their gaze to the child.

“...Yeah. I’m your Master. Stay with me, and I’ll keep you safe. Got it?”

[spidersmiceandeverythingnice]

Since we're emo over Fionn and Diarmuid tonight: Pluribus Unum but Diarmuid takes a hit meant for Fionn and Fionn just fucking loses it because /he refuses to stand by and watch his best friend die a second time/ (whether the hit is actually that bad or not is up to discretion but either way Fionn goes N U T S) (also your mastersona idea was :eye emojis: very nice)

HHHHH honestly you’re tempting me to post the scenes i have written because i crave attention but also:

Ritsuka was conscious of the army they had seen before their flight from Denver - the army that painted their faces and carried the banners of the Fianna, where mages and dark-cloaked druids lurked behind cavalry and cannons, the army of Fionn MacCumhail, Servant of the Queen of America. Of course, Fionn could destroy them even without the army’s aid. He was the great hero of Ireland, a man who cut such a dazzling figure that he could blot out the sun itself.

Ritsuka knew that as long as they had Diarmuid, they stood a chance.

Even though Diarmuid adored and idolized his former king above all others, he didn’t so much as blink when Fionn made his first threats towards Ritsuka. Despite their past bond - or perhaps, because of their past grudges - both men were loyal to those who had called and asked them to serve. It just so happened that now they were on opposite sides of a war for humanity’s future. When Fionn threatened to drag Ritsuka before Medb, who would almost certainly torture her, and conscript Mash into his army, Diarmuid had stepped in front of them and casually hefted Gae Dearg across his shoulder, protecting them both physically and symbolically. Even though it must have pained him to face Fionn this way, Diarmuid would allow no harm to come to his Master. He confirmed as much, later, while Nightingale patched their wounds.

“The only way that Fionn will be able to take you away,” he said, “is if he drags you over my dead body.”

It made Ritsuka flinch to here the cold resolve in his tone; it was uncharacteristic of Diarmuid to speak in such an unkind, emotionless way. But perhaps resolve like a knife’s edge was what one needed, when they prepared to do battle against their oldest and dearest friend.

That was why it shocked her - in the midst of the chaos, Fionn and his scouts charging them, with her and Nightingale crouched over a half-conscious Rama to guard him, and Mash and Diarmuid defending against a dozen men on horseback - when a stray bullet struck Diarmuid directly in the chest.

And as he collapsed - Ritsuka felt a scream rise in her throat - Fionn howled with what was unmistakably pain.

“HALT -” His voice suddenly boomed, like thunder. “CEASE FIRE - I ORDER YOU, CEASE - “

It must have been some kind of magecraft, or perhaps it was simply the raw power that a true hero possessed, because in that moment, everything went still, even the wind. Mash froze, half way to reaching Diarmuid’s prone, bleeding body. She was wide-eyed in awe, her shield out in front of her, but Fionn’s men had obeyed the moment his voice rang out in the air. Ritsuka thought that even if she had wanted to move, she wouldn’t have been able to right now.

Diarmuid was flat on his back, his arms trembling with some hidden effort. Blood pooled out under him, so it must have been serious even though the wound itself was so clean and small. Ritsuka’s fingers twitched, thinking of her meager healing charms, thinking maybe that would at least help. But even Nightingale didn’t move from Rama’s side.

Instead, Fionn dismounted. He took a skein of water that had been attached to his belt and went to kneel at Diarmuid’s side.

His expression was still fierce, but there was a gentleness in his eyes now. He raised a hand and beckoned on of his soldiers forward. The man - expressionless - came forward and obediently poured the water into Fionn’s cupped hands.

Quietly, Diarmuid choked out the words, “My lord...?”

“Hush now, or you’ll choke,” said Fionn, and brought his hands to Diarmuid’s mouth, tilting the water past his lips.

The effect was almost instantaneous. The blood stopped pooling, and Diarmuid sat up, with Fionn giving him space to do so. Diarmuid’s expression was still pale and shocked; he raised a hand to his chest, where the hole should have been, but there was only a small tear in the fabric of his shirt. Fionn patted him on the back, and got to his feet, and then whistled for his horse.

Fionn and the scouts made to leave the campsite.

“Wait a second -” Ritsuka tried to call after him, to scramble to her feet as if she could have chased him down. “What was -?”

Fionn spared her a glance over his shoulder, and flashed a wide, triumphant smile at them.

“My debt is now paid,” said Fionn. “Next time, Diarmuid, we shall have a proper match! Agreed?”

Diarmuid’s expression was unreadable. But still, he bowed, deeply. Fionn tossed his head back and laughed before departing, just as swiftly as he’d come.

When the sound of the horses faded over the hillsides - only then did Ritsuka feel like she had proper permission to move again. Mash sat down on the ground, looking dumbstruck, as Ritsuka and Nightingale finally went to check on Diarmuid.

“What was that?” Ritsuka demanded, coming to stand in front of him. He almost refused to look her in the eyes. Nightingale fluttered around him, examining the tear in his clothing and poking at his chest and back, but he barely seemed to notice. “What just happened?”

For a moment, Diarmuid stayed silent. Then he said, “It is as my former lord says. The debts are paid.”

Ritsuka frowned at him.

“Next time,” Diarmuid promised her, “I swear that I will hold nothing back.”

[thessaliah]

I really like the theory of the cause being all the lives and "histories" that humanity has discarded or thrown away. It fits with Galahad's total lack of interest in helping Ritsuka and Mashu, as he seems like the type of "way too righteous hero" that probably didn't like the "system" to begin with.

It was an old theory of mine based on the PV (and how Nasu subtly compared Goetia’s actions with the Pruning System actions in the Moonlight Lostroom booklet). Before I thought about Chaldeas/Laplace connection tie-in and explored that angle too, I assumed was Marisbury who saw these when he activated Chaldeas and felt shame, but it could be its own content made from the Void (Animusphere chant has the formula). They don’t contradict themselves, because LAPLACE allows recording those things lost, TRISMEGISTUS runs simulations, CHALDEAS provide a pseudo model of Earth they can project into. While this made Animusphere family really dangerous, this and their shortcomings and hubris (Marisbury's and Olgamarie) are dragged into probably the colorless wishes of those who are gone (just like Olga herself), if there is no mastermind (there could be a mastermind, though). If there is a mastermind, I wonder if it’s our Marisbury or Animusphere, or from another timeline (or an Alter Ego).  Cut for length.

They must create something new based on things that could have been that were already on the Planet. It's not the orthodox past the Beast manifests from, but elements of a fictional history. You must eliminate Panhistory to install that to prepare the Advent of the new “God.”U Olga can be ignorant of history now because she is born of a lostbelt tree of fantasy. Even so, she can still be Olga, because as the God/Beast, she has a fictional background she’s born from that changed her memories, she still is Olga. Those are probably feelings and needs she repressed too.

(And the priestess could have been Olga, if she still remains at all or has transformed into “Ultra Olga”, but her attitude from murderous and bitter to more empathetic with some people is completely understandable: she discarded too. Her inability to choose when Kirschtaria asked her in Atlantis is because she resigned and didn’t know what to choose).

(And addendum: I’m also sure her Sin and feelings, and her family mission to preserve the future got mixed in Chaldeas or the colorless Void made of this crushed grudge and stirred things too. I’m not saying is only her fault, but it’s going to be a part of this mess, which explains why Lev is trying to make her decide what she wants to do in Lostroom and why Kirschtaria asked her why she’s still silent about this: her choice will matter. Her choice even if it wasn’t fully formed, mattered in Melty Blood Backalley Nightmare too.

It’s many things that are happening but I have issues to string together this, that’s why I started by the “nature” of the “God of a Different Planet” to iron the contradictions that I don’t believe exist - they can be explained with clever loopholes).

Kirschtaria’s attempt to build a world where people are on more equal terms, to find an “answer”, wasn’t that his attempt to change the system of men without needing a god, and maybe (this is a little headcanon) hoping for humanity as collective to modify that system too. The counter force and system change with men (Lostbelt 3 is proof), so is not insane to assume that this godlike humanity would be able to collectively desire something else. In a world where losers and winners aren’t so marked, maybe their unconscious world logic will soften. Forgive me, I’m rambling about this.

Unfortunately, I don’t think Nasu’s going to break the status quo. He doesn’t dare. Just like death and painful things exist, this will go to “accept it happens” (Sugita’s taunts about reading your sacrificial offerings in the PV). We also must accept unfairness and inequality are a part of our world, and that won’t change. There are winners and losers.  The best Guda and Mash can do is to treat the losers humanly despite their intention to deny them, and carry their wills and feelings. Like they would pass on someone else their feelings and wills should Panhistory decide it’s their turn to lose. I dislike the sentiment behind this. It’s why the battle against Kirschtaria left a bad taste in my mouth. The current world circumstances that desperately scream is time to stand up and change, and we get a lukewarm “it sucks, but it’s what we got” narrative is so frustrating!

[salvatcrem]

“ just stop it. ”

Phrases that Hurt | Accepting | @arondightlight

     Ritsuka just wanted to be useful, to be something more than a master simply waiting on the sidelines. His back had been turned, and recklessly she tried to use a spell to stop the assault. But it failed, and the results had been near fatal as she realized the monster was much faster. With its attention away from Lancelot it spearheaded for her with its blade raised before suddenly stabbing into her shoulder.

    A loud scream of pain escaped her as she was forced to the ground with the were was on top of her the spear pushing in deeply searing her skin. Without thinking she uses her free hand to grab at the blade trying to pull it out as it bled. Only to watch as the enemy above is suddenly cut in two, Arondight now caked in blood as the Jaguar was shoved off her person. 

     Her vision blurred with tears as the pain seemed to grow even as the enemy was slain its blade was still in her shoulder. Her mouth was opened wanting to speak, but nothing came out as her heart was racing. Feeling herself being picked up with the blade still in her arm she mumbled pathetically unable to see or think. Only able to focus on the pain each movement eliciting pitiful cries as she was carried away. 

     The battle was soon over, but she was to be tended too by the medical servants though she passed out in between the treatment. Only waking up to the knight was sitting at her side with a grave expression the memories of how he had said that he will always protect her ring in her ears. How he had made it clear that she wouldn’t need to worry with his blade and yet instead of trusting him had instead run into the battlefield. 

     “Lancelot,“ Ritsuka spoke up hoping he didn’t think she didn’t trust him her amber eyes staring at him as she tries to get up wincing when accidentally put pressure on the arm she was stabbed in. The bandages wrapped around her chest and shoulder and for a second was aware she was technically topless if wasn’t for the bandages also covering her chest. “I-I’m sorry I know I messed up, but I was just trying to help. You had your back turned, and you didn’t notice so I just wanted to help-”

     “Just stop it.” Those words stopped her words, and suddenly it felt like her heart dropped in her chest staring at the knight. His gaze was hardened staring intently at her with something mixed with disappointment and concern. It hurt, she clenches at her chest as she realized what she had done might have been worst then allowing him to get injured. He had sworn to protect her, to be her trusted blade, but she hadn’t believed instead had run into the battlefield cause didn’t trust him and nearly died instead.

          “I…” Her words had become nothing they could not repair the damage that had been done and suddenly her heartfelt excuses hollow. Instead of helping instead had become a hindrance and a liability. As the last master, her own life was a priority over the lives of the servants, and many of them were aware of this. Even she knew this so always tried to stay away from the field but she just… She wanted to help, but it was clear she did anything BUT help.

     “I’m sorry.” What else could she say? She couldn’t even be the lady that watches trusting her knight to fight in her name. Instead had tarnished it with her own recklessness, her hands move down to her lap clenching at the sheets.

[if-i-want-to-dance]

His Queen to Protect

Chapter 18

Hana stared out the window. Day after day, the same things happened. Nurses came in and out. Visitors, every once in a while. Girls from school. Toma and Rinko, when their jobs permitted. The same questions. Lindo and Ritsuka stopped in every afternoon after school, but the conversations were awkward. Routine became dreary. A girl from school brought her yarn and taught her how to knit. Hana began work on a scarf. She slept a lot too, but whenever she did, Jek's face was there, saying he'd bite her again. She awoke from one such dream to find that it was three in the morning. She sat up in bed, breathing heavily, heart beating against her ribcage. "Good morning, Miss Hana." Hana's heart skipped a beat and she whirled around to see the speaker. Roen sat in a chair next to her. Hana opened her mouth to scream. Roen moved across, covering her mouth with his hand. "There's no need for that." Hana clawed at him, trying to push him away, screaming into his hand. "Miss Hana, you're not in any danger, but you can't wake up the rest of the hospital. I'm here to talk to you, that's all." Hana's heart raced in her chest, but she nodded and lowered her hands. Roen removed his hand from her mouth and sat back down. "I apologize for my sudden visit." Hana sat up against the wall, crossing her arms. "What do you want?" "I was curious as to how you were recovering." "I'm fine, as you can see. Are the others here too?" "Just me. Thanks to you, I owe them nothing any more." "You're welcome." She glared at him. Roen chuckled. "I apologize if I was rough with you at the time." "You were going to slit my throat." "Miss Hana, do you honestly believe Rem wouldn't have stopped me long before that? As I told you, I don't like pointless violence." "Would you have killed me if he hadn't agreed to what you wanted?" Roen's smile grew thin. "That's irrevelant to why I'm here. I came here to see if you were recovering, and because I had a message for you." Hana shuddered. It wouldn't be from Rem, or any of his cronies - who else would send her a message? "A message from myself. Because of you, I'm now free of the Arlond family. Therefore, I am in your debt." In his debt? This had to be a trick. "That means that I owe you a favor." Definitely a trick. "If you ever need help, call my name, and I will be there to aid you in whatever you ask me to." "What's the catch?" "No catch." "Sure there isn't." Hana narrowed her eyes. "I repay my debts, Miss Hana. In the case of the Arlond family, I owed them nothing, and repaid them for nothing. In your case, even though your help wasn't voluntary, you still helped me." He stood. "I trust I will see you again one day." He put a hand on his heart and bowed. "Goodbye, Miss Hana." He vanished in a puff of smoke. Hana covered her mouth to stifle her squeal of surprise. Whatever was this supposed to mean?

Hana tangled her fingers in the soft cream colored yarn. So far, the scarf wasn't going so well. The frustration she experienced was staving off the boredom, though. "Butterfly!" Hana's heart sunk into her toes. The student council vice president strolled into the room. "Urie, if I've told you once - " "How are you feeling, Butterfly?" "Better, no thanks to you. Get out." "This concerns you, I promise. I'm not just here because I want you to see Rem. Oh, what are you making?" Hana held up the two needles. "A scarf." Urie's smile froze. "What does it look like, Urie? And don't say a scarf, it looks like a fishnet." "Oh, Butterfly, must you put yourself down?" "Oh, Urie, must you continue to treat me like I'm stupid?" She copied his frozen smile. He reddened slightly. "I was going to say a butterfly net, but fishnet works too." "Thank you." Hana set the needles down next to him. "Rem's in a lot of trouble. His father is planning to have him executed for not getting the Grimoire." Hana blinked. "Oh?" "That's all? No other reaction?" "Urie, I'm not Rem's friend." She felt a little bad, but considering he kidnapped her and manipulated her, she didn't have a good deal of pity for him. "Oh, right." Urie offered his rose. "Before I forget. I apologize for not bringing a full bouquet." It was the only flowers anyone had given her. And it had come from that creature. "Thank you." She set the rose down on the table next to the bed. She picked up her knitting. "So, Rem's being executed. However, there's an ancient and mostly forgotten law we can exploit that might change that situation." "We?" "Yes. But the problem is, we need you for it to work." "Why me?" Her eye twitched. This creature was unbelievable. "You care. Your face when I told you... obviously you care." "This is my 'get to the point before I stab you in that weird yellow eye of yours with a knitting needle' face." "Because you are a human Rem has a connection with. All I need from you, loveliest of Butterflies, is for you to come with me and talk to Rem's father." Did he really think flattery was going to get her to do what he wanted? "Ask Ritsuka, she had a crush on him. If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, I want nothing to do with Rem or any of you." Urie took her chin in his hands. "I don't think you understand what I'm asking. I need you to come with me and talk to Rem's father. If you don't, I will kill everyone you've ever loved, and anyone who's ever loved you. Am I clear?" Hana gasped in surprise. "You - who am I kidding, why did I expect anything else from you?” "My best friend's life hangs in the life, Butterfly. What's stepping on a few ants when that's at stake?" "Kill people who've loved me? Who would you even find?" Urie let go of her chin and stood up. "Butterfly..." He looked genuinely disturbed. "Butterfly? Your brother and sister do." "Two out of six. And they tolerate me. There's a subtle difference." "Your friends back in Canada." "I had friends?" There had been people she spent time with certainly, but friends? Urie sighed and sat down next to her. "You'll find there's a surprisingly long list, Butterfly, if you weren't so convinced that the world hates you. But that doesn't change my offer." He offered her hand. "Urie... please don't do this." Hana's hands shook. "Be quick, Butterfly." She grabbed his hand. That familiar chill ran down her spine. She found herself in a small room. No door, no windows. Stone walls and floor, and a wooden wardrobe against the wall. "Urie, where is this?" "Nowhere important. Just a place for me to get you ready." "Ready?" Not again. “I can hardly introduce you to the demon king in a hospital gown." This was for Toma. And Rinko. Toma and Rinko. "Please tell me it's not another kimono." "No, Butterfly. I've always thought you'd look stunning in a more western style formal dress. Now I can test that out." The dress he produced from the closet was an enormous white dress. Layers of ruffles and tulle were all that was really visible. Hana stared at it dubiously. Urie set it down on the ground and turned around. "I'll help you with the back." "What, you're not going to wash my hair?" "I don't have time for that." Hana quickly took off her hospital gown and slid into the white dress. At least he'd picked a dress with a fairly high neck and sleeves of a decent length, instead of something strapless. She reached around to do up the back - having the incubus see her bare back seemed like a bad idea. It was a corset laced back. She groaned aloud. "Do you need help?" "I'm fine. This dress is bigger than me, Urie." She reached for the lace, twisting and trying to see. "And you will look like a princess in it. Do you need help with the back?" "I'm fine, Urie." "Is the dress on you?" "...Yes." He turned around. "I don't have enough time for this." He grabbed the laces and began to tie them up, cinching in her waist.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a jerk?”

He gave the laces such a hard yank she squealed in pain.

He tied it in a tight knot at the top. "There. Now for your face." "Urie, where is this?" "A little place between dimensions. Usually, I use this for... well, it doesn't matter." He indicated a chair. "Sit down. I need to do your makeup." He pulled out makeup. "Do you like doing makeup or something?" "Yes, I actually do. I can bring out the best in any of my butterflies, and they seem to enjoy it. Now, close your eyes." Hana allowed him to apply her makeup without protest. "That's good. Now, it's time to go." He offered her his hand. Hana stood without his help, glaring at him. Urie sighed. "Butterfly, you need to hold onto me if you want to teleport with me." Hana glared at him and took his hand. "Don't think you're forgiven. Don't think I've forgotten what you threatened to do to my family." "I wouldn't dream of it, Butterfly." Urie stood for a moment, holding her hand and looking at her. "Is something wrong?" Urie shook his head. The familiar chill ran down her spine. The floor seemed to collapse. Darkness surrounded her. "Walk with me," ordered Urie. "And don't let go." Hana tightened her grip on his hand and walked forward through the darkness. "Are you really so insistent that you can't be with Rem? That he’s so terrible? Are you sure you’re not just ignoring feelings you have for him?" "Urie, Rem is a devil from Hell. I don't really have a type, but I do have a few preferences. He’s done nothing but cause me misery and grief." Urie had no grasp on reality if he thought Rem’s treatment of her would make him attractive to her. "And don't think I've forgotten what you did to me when I first met you." He chuckled. "I would never consider it possible." "Is that where we're going? Hell, I mean?" "... That might be best left undiscussed." "Perhaps." The void disappeared. The stone throne room was as cold as a tomb, the floor chilling Hana's bare feet. "So this is the human girl who's charmed my son."

[originlist]

the successive deaths of ritsuka fujimaru.

you have dreamed before of death. you are no stranger to narrow escapes, and there are times when you didn’t escape, saved only by twists of fate, your being only in a dream all along, or a timeline collapsing into yours. sometimes, still, they haunt your dreams again.

1. beltane.

it’s real and unreal at once, a dream and present. aren’t they always? you don’t know. “you have to kill me,” says the green man, because he’s the sacrifice and he loves you too much to let you have a part in this incoherent revelry. your own blood sings in your ears.

“just come back home afterwards,” you tell him as you push a knife into where you think his throat is. just come back home. you aimed wrong. or maybe it’s just impossible to kill the green man like this. a part of you doesn’t mind, because you don’t want to be the death of anything you love, no matter how much the part you love is buried under moss and living stone.

you really didn’t want to hurt him, and that’s where it gets you. the sound of music gets louder around you, frantic, dizzying. it smells like plants. something bites into your chest and you can feel your blood feeding the grass beneath. shouldn’t this kill you? you are not the sacrifice but you are a sacrifice. he loves you. teeth tear your heart. you forgive him. it’s because you couldn’t manage the knife mostly... it’s not robin’s fault.

of everyone you could possibly die to, you mind him the least. the seasons turn. do you help? all you hear is the music, even after your vision blacks. all there is, is the music. spring is here. it wants to be fed. alright, alright.

you’ll feed it, because it’s robin.

but, ah, it hurts....

2. the depths.

it tastes sweet, strangely. you fall in slow motion, with the taste of strange honey in your mouth for reasons you don’t really understand. water follows, but you can’t move enough to swim. it feels like watching yourself from an outsider’s view, a person sinking slowly and passively in a black sea.

what fell before you first was a star. a bird, wings cracked and broken off by a monster. a pity, you wanted to see the solo. you wanted her to dance. but what were you alone supposed to do against a beast, one who makes your mind buzz, vision go blank, makes you feel like you’ve had your face shoved into a lotus flower, too close to its lakewater.

maybe you did and that’s why there’s water in your nose. maybe you drowned. you assumed that would hurt more, but this is more like falling asleep. ah, you can’t feel your body any more.

“sorry,” you silently tell the egret (swan, she says, though you think her more like an egret). “i really thought i’d be reliable enough.”

a flash of light, a glimpse of something bright white. the last thing you see as you think oh, maybe it’s not too late...? you’ll cheer her on. of course you will. you, for her, for everyone you represent, will cheer her climactic solo. redux. you don’t see as your command seals flare and impart on the bird’s flight all that you can give. why hold back? it’s the last thing this ‘you’ can do. will do. this is your denouement.

3. the furthest reach.

it’s not a real place. you know this. at the real end of the world, you were surrounded by both servants and demon pillars. more of the former. because you aren’t supposed to be truly alone, but in this place you are.

in this place, it’s worse, because you’re in your own head and you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. maybe it’s a final curse from goetia. maybe you’re just fucking traumatized. you end up at the end of the world, alone.

forever, there is only this place, beyond time and space and reality and anyone’s ability to reach or save you. you walk.

what else are you going to do?

you never get anywhere, no matter how far you walk. it’s the same. the leftovers of demon pillars, dead and hollowed out. broken stone. things that once were great and now are pieces of marble long forgotten. you might be long forgotten, too. what else are you going to do? but walk, and think about walking, because it’s either that or thinking about how alone you are and how silent it is. even when you slip or if you talk to yourself, the sound dies before it’s made.

a human can only live so long. it’s been an eternity. it’s been a second. in this place, you will die eventually. of exposure. of deprivation. of isolation. of your feet giving out from under you and leaving you with no other option but to lie there and let your awareness rot, having forgotten who you are and why you are here, in this pit of eternity and nothingness. a parting gift. from [???]. maybe.

4. the [???] of [???].

the air is hot and choking, a bitter taste on every inhale. laden with curses. your hands are bloody. your own. everyone else’s. chaldea is crushed underfoot, and you speak to something immense and incomprehensible.

you are pleading. there is no life to save. “please, come home.” the command seals on your arm are dull scars beneath the blood and burns. there is poison in your veins. “i don’t hold it against you. we can still fix it. please, [???], just trust me. come back.”

hands reach for you, the same which have managed to kill every one of your allies. you have defeated embryonic beasts, emerging monstrosities, lostbelt kings, but this is not that. pupating, maybe. you do not flinch, because you aren’t scared. you simply don’t have any other options. the air gets heavier as it approaches, until you’re lightheaded and dizzy on foul prana and your own blood in your lungs.

you’re picked up. the presence of the current [???], even as ‘chrysalis’, is toxic to humanity. inherently. in these hands, dizzy, with blood that’s more poison than you dribbling from your lips, you try to hold yourself up, still rambling. they’re forgiven. they’re forgiven. please don’t be lost. i will always welcome you home.

you die here, because the presence is suffocating and there was no other option for a human in the presence of its antithesis. you die with words on your lips, said in a bubble of blood, slipping with your hand still offered. you die, the last human, and there is a pause.

and then, there is a scream, desperate and despairing and mourning.

5. someone else’s dream.

something echoes in the wood of the rafters. paper pins you down at the same time as a voice and face you know whispers love against your intercostals. you’re called a name that is and isn’t yours. once again your heart is palmed, still not for the first time. for the sake of [???], you don’t let them know that.

your bones crack. you can’t feel your own blood, but you do feel the blood of someone else dripping onto you, into your flayed-open ribcage. “this is love,” someone says, and you know them both wrong and right. maybe it is. maybe it’s not the type you want. it’s still forgiven. you don’t know why, you just can’t hold a grudge here.

even as bones crack between teeth and your heart is pressed too tight in hand, you still can’t hold a grudge. you can just wish this wasn’t happening. is it so hard, to simply not be disemboweled by someone whispering saccharine. funny, fitting, it reminds you of shimousa... “this is love.” well. you don’t relate, but you can believe them. it makes you sad, strangely. it must be so sad... is [      ] lonely?

even as they tear you open, searching for something you don’t have, you wish you could provide whatever it is. sorry. the words aren’t aloud, but some part of you mouths: don’t be lonely, don’t be so lost, you can still come home... because you’re still [???], aren’t you?

you die, bleeding out, in a flurry of sound and frantic hands grabbing at you, and this time your final words are once again “it’s okay, don’t worry”.

6. [???] [???]

the [???] [          ] your [???].         chest           [         ]   hurts. [???] [???]             cold air. [            ]

this is not a memory you know.

[spidersmiceandeverythingnice]

What if Fionn was the Grand Saber

the justice we deserve... I literally have no idea what that would look like in canon but boy oh boy do I have IDEAS and COOL IMAGERY that I want to see regarding this

(read more because it turned out longer than expected WHOOPS lol)

Picture the final stage of the Camelot Lostbelt - the reverse side of Avalon, if you will. A crumbling tower surrounded by black flowers, each one draining mana from the air. Sherlock Holmes is long gone. Da Vinci and the rest of their crew, from the Shadow Border to the Wandering Sea, is far, far, far away. Beryl’s Assassin Servant has killed King Arthur, preventing them from destroying Beryl with a blast from Rhongominyad. Beryl has possession of Excalibur, the Holy Sword of the Planet, and intends to destroy it - the last remnants of the guardians who once protected this cursed land - and unleash his Lostbelt until it covers the world. The Phantasmal Tree is in full bloom, raining stardust. There will be no more gods, or faeries, and Galahad’s protection is as far away as it ever was.

Ritsuka’s power is fading, too. When they first came to Chaldea, they were considered a biological phenomenon - a human with no magic circuits that somehow produced enough mana to power a small city - and they’ve only gotten stronger with time. But it’s not enough. Not against this endless sea of curses, not against the embodiment of wickedness itself.

One by one, the Servants who assisted the remnants of Chaldea begin to fade away. Cu Chulainn, Queen Medb, Fergus and even Scathatch, the True Scathatch of Pan-Human History, who has finally met her end against an opponent she did not train, who she did not even anticipate. It has been a long and bitter war. The knights of the Round Table - first Lancelot, then Tristan, and brave Gareth, and Gawain, and Mordred, though the Traitorous Prince manages to send one last blast of signature red lightning through the skies. It does not reach it’s target, and Mordred slumps before disappearing. Finally, there was Sir Bedivere, winking out like a comet passing over the horizon.

Even if this place hadn’t been so evil, even if Assassin wasn’t so challenging as an opponent, it wouldn’t have mattered. Ritsuka can no longer support the Servants, can no longer cause them to manifest. It is hard to tell if they are dying, or if the flowers have swallowed their very Spiritual Origins, feeding the Phantasmal Tree.

Paracelsus and Jekyll are barely hanging on, trying to keep Assassin busy behind Mash’s cracked and broken barrier. The mold of Camelot is going to fall, and when it does, they will die.

There is one Servant, though, who does not stop fighting even for an instant.

The arc of Moralltach burns through the air. When it comes into contact with the black flowers, the hiss and fade away, filling the air with a burning stench. Diarmuid is nearly as fast as Assassin, and it’s clear that the enemy Servant is getting frustrated.They cannot keep Paracelsus’s spells at bay while simultaneously blocking each of Diarmuid’s attacks forever. Indeed, the dual-classing Servant has proved their greatest weapon in this Lostbelt. Closely attuned to the ancient gods and fey of this world, able to destroy any magic and even cut the threads of fate with his weapons. He even resisted the nega-genesis. Provided that he didn’t get too close to the Phantasmal Tree, Diarmuid seemed able to keep fighting indefinitely. At least, that seemed to be his intent.

Assassin must have realized it, too - and must have realized that Beryl was too busy playing around with the seals of Excalibur to be of any help - and that was why they changed tactics.

Ritsuka saw it unfold in an instant, and opened their mouth to shout a warning.

Assassin changed course. They were not heading for Jekyll, whose work with Diarmuid had given him an extra combative advantage - or for Paracelsus, who was drawing his sword and taking aim.

Instead, they went for the cracks in the Mold Camelot.

They were going to kill Mash.

She could block the blade - and destroy her barrier, leaving them vulnerable to the nega-gensis.

Or she could take the hit, and pray that she was strong enough to stand after Assassin was finished with her.

Time moves very slowly - Ritsuka feels like they are moving through molasses - and then, something happens that they didn’t expect.

Gae Dearg reappears; his Spiritual Origin flickers and shifts, contracts in response to the sudden change - Diarmuid has aimed for a killing blow while Assassin’s back was turned to him.

The red spear sinks into Assassin’s stomach, and then, it disappears -

An illusion! Ritsuka forces their legs to work, and breaks into a run.

Assassin’s blade sinks into his back, sliding cleanly between powerful shoulder blades. 

At once, Gae Buidhe stabs outward, slicing a clean line down Assassin’s torso as they leap to get away from the weapon. There’s a spray of blood, and then a scream of delirious laughter, and then the enemy Servant is gone, back to their Master to get healing before they come back to finish the job.

But even though Diarmuid ua Duibhne sinks to his knees, blood streaming into the bed of black flowers beneath him, he does not immediately fade away.

Ritsuka feels a bubble of panic rise like a scream in their throat as they come up to Mash, who is in tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry -”

“No,” says Diarmuid, levelly, putting a hand to the exit wound in his chest. “I managed to get a fair number of strikes in. No matter what power source they are drawing from, it cannot last forever. Nothing can. I think we have some time now, anyway. You must hold the barrier, Mash. It’s important for what comes next.”

Mash nods, even as tears streak down her cheeks. “I will! I won’t let go no matter what!”

“Good. Master?”

He looks up, clear-eyed and expectant. Tears prickle in Ritsuka’s eyes.

“You should have given me more of a warning,” they say, choked. “I needed more time.”

Diarmuid smiles, almost sheepishly. “Well, if I’m right about this -” a wet cough; blood bubbles up from his lips and Ritsuka feels cracks spreading in their resolve. “- which I am, then it doesn’t matter what happens to me now. Everything will be fine.”

And even though everything is awful, he says this with such radiant confidence, that Ritsuka believes him.

Diarmuid holds out his hand, and Ritsuka hands him the hunting horn that they had collected from the Wild Hunt. Ritsuka comes close and helps Diarmuid stay upright, pressing their hand tight against the gaping wound, feeling the crackling energy within - Assassin’s poisonous mana - and with gritted teeth, begins running through a healing spell. Please, oh, please, let this work.

Diarmuid speaks in a language that Ritsuka does not know or recognize.

Then he lifts the horn to his lips, and -

All other sound disappears.

A single, clear note, pure as a hawk’s cry.

A breeze washes over them, and only then does Ritsuka realize how unbearably hot this flowerbed was - a greenhouse from hell - and even as the thought crosses their mind, the flowers wither and die. Mana is immediately restored to the area behind Mash’s shield, and immediately, the Earth begins to repair itself. Ritsuka feels it like a pulsing heartbeat, and thinks, Is this Avalon restoring itself? Or is it - the Counterforce?

No, that didn’t make sense. But - at the same time - they are summoning a guardian. The circumstances are extraordinary, and before it was cursed, this was indeed Avalon. So perhaps...

A hand comes down on Ritsuka’s shoulder, and they look up.

A familiar-looking man is standing there, even though there had been nothing here a second before, and there was no way for anyone to enter this place since Beryl had sealed the gateways. He is wearing a blue cape over simple, fur-lined armor. His hair is spun gold; he seems to be glowing faintly. He is at once divine, a giant, and perfectly normal, though he smells faintly of river-flowers and dark woods. His eyes are filled with fire, infinitely gentle and warm, and he carries a sword across his back that is not Excalibur - but -

“Please,” says Fionn MacCumhail. His voice is just as Ritsuka remembers, but at the same time, it seems to come from everywhere. It fills him with a sense of strength and peace, and Ritsuka thinks they might cry all over again, just from sheer relief. “May I?”

Stunned, Ritsuka steps back.

Diarmuid grumbles when Fionn takes a waterskin from his side and pours a measure into his hand.

“Took you long enough,” he says, as Fionn tips the water into his captain’s mouth.

At once, the wound on Diarmuid’s back closes, and Assassin’s poison disappears as if it had never existed. Ritsuka registers a surge of mana - that counts as a mana transfer? 

Diarmuid stands, and Fionn claps him on the shoulder.

“You’ve done well to protect these two,” says Fionn. “Now, please - I know it is difficult for you to avoid showing off - but please don’t get in my way.”

Diarmuid smiles thinly, amused. “No promises, my lord.”

“Dear shieldmaiden,” says Fionn, smiling down at Mash. “You have become an exemplary warrior! I see I was right to single you out back then! I have always had a keen eye for talent. Kindly lead the way for us?”

Mash stutters. “But the barrier -”

“It is no longer necessary. I am here now.”

He spoke simply, with no room for arguments. Ritsuka looks at Mash, whose mouth is stretched thing, whose lip is raw from biting into it.

“Mash, do as he says. We’ll take our cues from you -” Ritsuka pauses, blinking at Fionn, trying to get a better read on him and his new status. (A part of Ritsuka honestly hadn’t even believed Diarmuid when he proposed this plan - could summoning a Grand Servant truly be so simple as sounding a hunting horn?) “Saber.”

Fionn smiles. “Ah yes,” he says, with a chuckle, as if just remembering an obvious fact. “I still am a Servant, even like this.” He turns to Diarmuid, who is at attention. “Call for the others, will you? It is time for the Fianna to fulfill our responsibilities. Lady Mash, when I draw my sword - drop the barrier - we shall finish the battle now, without further delays.”

Diarmuid nods, and lifts the horn to his lips.

Fionn takes the sword from his back, and the battle begins again.