#if you asked me about the broken sword I could go on about the symbolism regarding a dark urge character essentially being a broken weapon

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

"That's probably the most unsettling part of things; not the tadpole, not the memory loss, not the outbursts of nigh-insatiable bloodlust... I'm still favored by something, someone, and I have no idea who. The blessings feel strange in my hands; familiar to hold but the balance is all wrong, like swinging a real sword after using training weapons all your life. Or maybe the other way around, like being handed a blunted knife after doing something stupid with the real thing. No fucking idea who I swore my oath to. But I know that oath like my own heartbeat; blood for blood, justice for the weak, and vengeance where justice turned a blind eye. When I feel the divine burning through my hands, it never feels the same twice. A different hand on my shoulder every time, but it's always Death. Death as rebirth, death as rest, death as justice, death as dispassionate inevitability... And death as hunger.

Doing @catbatart's RPG Inktober challenge and knocking out a twofer with Days 1&2 - Dwarf and Paladin. I'm gonna be on and off on this one, this is the first thing I've drawn since mid august last year, so I figure that'll be safer for my wrist and/or sanity. But I'm planning to try and knock out 10-15 out of all 31, which is still pretty ambitious for me.

Folks who've been following me since the olden days of Fallout 4 might recognize Maya Acerbi under the beard and edgelord coat of paint she's gotten as my Dark Urge playthrough character for Baldur's Gate 3. Everyone else has their cool, mysterious, catlike Durge characters, and then there's me with a crusty old dwarf woman who by the end of every day looks like she got dragged backwards through a bush and then rolled in mud and/or blood that might even be hers.

[aesolerin]

hey. heyehyhey. remember that talk we had about Leper's broken sword and the symbolism of how he broke and all that

well, it gets BETTER/WORSE. and all the more interesting to think about! Wanna know what he says in DD2 when given a whetstone, to sharpen his broken blade?

like, on its surface, it seems simple: he's just projecting and using it as a way to mourn the loss of his looks due to the onset of his disease, right?

Except! (as we talked about): his sword breaking had nothing to do with his looks!(1)

after all, here he is, with his full blade in hand right before the deed that ended with both of them broken: already in his leper gear at this point, with all the symbolic weight that has. (plus just what it could mean in the mundane narrative sense, if we put all our reality warping headcanons aside for just a second, lol) he likely still considered blade still 'handsome', then, as it hasn't shattered yet, no? (and his word choice when talking about it is interesting, too - his blade didn't just break, it shattered. for all that they're synonyms, one word carries a lot more violent and explosive imagery than the other, doesn't it? that this is the word he comes up with when thinking about this moment... it has a lot of interesting implications for how he looks back on it. plus, using it as a way to describe the outcome of his actions here, even if only partially, brings some level of... unintentionality to the consequences, I suppose? i dunno the best way to phrase it, but, like: when it comes to how we use the word in the English language, people knowingly break things all time, whether metaphorically or literally; people break locks to get access to things/places otherwise unavailable to them; "you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet"; ending a romantic relationship with someone is called a breakup, etc. for all that the term implies some level of damage, it's often a controlled use of damage, or something that can be fixed back up later with few repercussions. it's not too dire or drastic for something to end up broken, I guess is what I'm getting at.

For something to have shattered, though? that's almost always implies that the damage wasn't a knowing/intended consequence. At the very least that they did more damage than intended; one would very rarely go out of their way to shatter someone's heart during a break up; if someone shatters a mirror due to punching it, they likely weren't thinking rationally when trying to rid of their reflection; a kid shattering a house's window is gonna get in big trouble if found out, whether that was their goal or not. And that's also part of it - if a person did expect they'd shatter something with their actions, it ascribes to them a level of cruelty and callousness that the word 'break' just doesn't come with as subtextual baggage.

all of which is to say; while the Leper may or may not have expected to come out of his own purge broken, it would have been FAR more self-destructive if he went in expecting it to be shattered by the end. As such, it's very hard for me to think the level of self-damage done was intentional on his part. BUT ANYWAYS. back to the actual topic of this ask xD) What exactly was it that he thought was 'handsome' about his symbolic self before this, as compared to after? Was it the full weight, even as necessary as he thought it was, of killing his own subjects in cold bloo,d and thus no longer being able to truthfully say he'd never knowingly brought harm to those from his kingdom? Was it some level of happiness or enjoyment he got out of the action, thinking such a thing made him monstrous or sadistic?

Was it the calculated cruelty he was able to act with, meaning he at least partially abandoned any beliefs he may have had in kindness and empathy in interacting with others?

However you interpret such a thought process, his interactions with Jester would likely be a huge fucking wake-up call. because, let's be real, the fool would feel less than zero compunctions about calling any and all murder that happens 'sexy', and he'd be joking about it only like. half of the time. if that. xD Though, to be fair, Sarmenti would probably throw around the term 'handsome' less often. Comes a bit too close to sounding sincere, after all, could ruin his reputation as an Unrepentant Silly Asshole if the others picked up on it.

-----

(1)....Though, admittedly, Leper's phrasing in saying he/his blade was "Handsome, once, before it shattered" could just as validly be read as him having lost his handsomeness even before something in him symbolically broke..... But that take is a lot more straightforward in its interpretation, and thus much less fun for me to ruminate on for hours on end. so. ;p

What's your thoughts on all of this, if anything? You agree with any particular interpretation of it, or have an entirely different take? Do you think I'm overanalyzing this too much for DD2, where the reality warping nature of the setting might make the heroes' takes on themselves less reliable than in DD1? (if so, fair!) Just interested to hear any and all of what's going on in your noggin' after reading this!

Leper has so many layers.... so many parts of both of these games live rent free in my head, but this guy and the fucked-up clown are at the very top.

i personally lean towards the more simple 'musing on his “lost” attractiveness' interpretation. it's clear from DD1 and DD2 that Leper has a deep connection to his blade, probably considering it something of a friend or a kindred spirit. it's been with him through so much!

the term 'shattered', though, i do agree is very evocative and there's an intent to it. Leper (and the writers!) didn't simply say 'broken' for a reason. perhaps he feels he shattered himselfa fine and powerful blade in a moment of rage/weakness/self-defense/fear. it's still usable though, even in this shattered state, so Leper will keep on truckin' until his body inevitably gives out.

when the time comes and he's comfortable showing the others his Shrines, though, Jester will call his retaliation a work of art, with only the thinnest veneer of sarcasm. now there's a man who was in control of his fate! there's a man who did not roll over and die when demanded! there's a man who had the guts to do what needed to be done as soon as possible instead of taking the abuse for years and years and years! i'm sure the other heroes would also take Leper's side and assure him that what he did was right on some level, but Jester's agreement hits a bit different.

here's a funny lil interaction between the two of them i formulated with another friend:

Jester, covered in blood: you still love me right?? 🥺

Leper, for the fifth time that day: yes, i do 😊

--

Leper, changing his bandages: truly i am a wretched thing, a walking corpse... 😔

Jester, kissing his forehead: absolutely not, you're hot as fuck and built like a brick shithouse 😤

[countrymusiclover]

12 - Thief History

Princess Red Thief

Part 13

Tag list - just ask to be added @mystrey101 @melvia-ito @kmc1989 @tallrock35

Walking across the wooden shop floor it had been a few weeks before Mary Margret had been arrested for the seemingly murder of David's wife. Henry knew she was innocent as did I but we didn't know how to prove such a feat. Finding the sword and cane holding stand near the shop entrance door I wrapped my fingers across one of the handles drawing it out.

Staring at the blade I saw the familiar marking of a crown engraved into the edge of the handle. The symbol that represented our royal house. "I was wondering when you'd go looking for it."

"Why's that, Rumple?" I asked him lowering the blade down to my hip after hearing him entering the room by his cane hitting the floor.

He paused in his steps in front of me. "The more you show who you truly are to Emma Swan can only lead the curse closer to being broken."

"I'm not sure about that. She seems to still be avoiding the truth that is right in front of her." I slumped my shoulders, rummaging around some of the shelves finding a sword holder and sliding the sword inside of it.

Rumple clicked his tongue before my phone started ringing so he nudged his head down to my Jean pocket. "Maybe that boy we'll come up with a better plan."

"Hey Henry, what's up?"

He explained back. "Eve, I need you to come with me to my moms office and get something."

"Henry, what would you need from her office?"

"Keys that can open any door. But I need your help getting inside her office. You broke into Rumple's castle all those years ago so I know you can help me."

Brushing hair out of my eyes I clicked my tongue. "I'm out of practice, kid. I don't even have my old thief pack-"

"Surprisingly Henry and I seemed to be on the same track. I found your old gear in one of my boxes yesterday morning." Rumple cleared his throat entering our conversation.

I cleared my throat, focusing back on the kid. "Okay I'll grab my things and meet you behind her office building - looks like I get to say I stole from the Evil Queen's castle now." Rumple sent me a cheeky smirk going to grab my old gear. I pondered on the man who taught me how to break into the Dark One's castle all those years ago.

Tromping through the thick woods of trees my hands were shaking underneath my red cloak. Earlier this week I went to open a window but somehow set the bed spread on fire when my hands turned red. I knew it could only be done through magic and I needed to fix it. "What am I going to do? What am I going to do?"

Halting in my tracks I saw a camp up ahead that I ran straight towards until I got to the edge peaking around one of the empty tents. Men were surrounded by a fire and I saw a little boy playing around with them. "Put your hands up in the air and turn around very slowly." I heard an arrow be drawn in a bow and a male voice speaking behind me.

"I don't mean any harm, sir. I just need help." Raising my hands up I did as I was told coming into contact with a guy that had dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He had a bow and arrow in his hands aimed directly at me.

"Why are you snooping around my camp?" He asked me.

I gulped nervously. "I have heard rumors of a very powerful wizard not too far from here. I need to break into his home and get my hands on a certain object."

"What kind of object?" The man asked me not lowering his weapon.

I met his gaze hoping he would understand where I was coming from. "An object that is said to control him. I need his help before I hurt someone in my family."

"It sounds like you already know all the information you need. So what are you needing from my camp?"

"I need someone to teach me how to be a thief and break into a very secure castle." I responded to the stranger who finally lowered his bow.

The man extended his hand with a bow. "Robin Hood of Loxley at your service."

"Princess Everly. It's nice to meet you, Robin." I curtsy to the thief before me with a slight smile.

He cleared his throat and bent down on one knee. "Apologies princess."

"That's not necessary. You can simply call me Everly." I held my hands helping him up to stand in front of me, finding the formality ridiculous at this moment in time. "I am simply asking for some guidance."

Robin nodded in agreement picking his bow up from the dirt ground gesturing for me to follow him inside the entrance of his camp. "That can be arranged, Everly. And if you're going to learn you might as well learn from the best." We entered his camp and from that day on my life was changed forever.

Coming around the corner after leaving the pawnshop I found Henry where I told him to meet me behind her office building. He ran over to me seeing me slide a duffel bag from my shoulder onto the ground. "So what all do you have in there, Everly?"

"Lock picks, rope, arrows, a bow." Rummaging around I tied one end of the rope onto the arrow tip then drew it back with the small bow. Firing it off the arrow tip stuck into the seal. "Okay I'll go up first then you climb up."

"Okay. Be careful." He nodded watching me climb up the rope and unlocking the window lock with one of my pins from my bag. I crawled through the window and Henry shortly came through it. I slowly began looking around, seeing some apples on the center of her desk, a long coach and some mirrors. "So where would she keep the keys?"

Henry moved past me looking through the different cabinets until he found them underneath the main desk with a secret drawer. "I got them."

"Okay kid we should get out of here before we get caught."

Henry gave me a confused look. "I think we'll be okay."

"Shit! Henry run, run!" I tossed down to him climbing up in the open window seal hearing an alarm sound going off. I eyed the ground, closing my eyes and jumping where I hit my feet hard and rolling down into the grass below. Henry helped me up, holding my back and we bolted away as fast as possible until we called Emma to meet us outside Mary Maragarets apartment.

"I have proof." He holds up the ring of skeleton keys. "This is how my mom got into your apartment. This is how she framed Miss Blanchard."

Emma met us at the top of the stairs eyeing the keys. "Did you steal these from her office?"

"The book said they could open any door." Henry replied to her with a sad expression from her disapproving eyes.

I finally spoke up to the blonde woman. "Emma, don't judge him too much. It was my idea to steal them."

"You should've seen her. It was so cool."

I warned the boy. "Henry, not now."

"There's no way they'll even fit in the lock." Emma nodded, going back to focus on the keys.

"We have to try." Henry tries to open the door with multiple keys, but is unsuccessful.

Emma drops her arms at her sides. "See? What did I tell you? Come on, Henry. I know you want to think the answer to everything is in Operation Cobra-

"It is!" Henry and I blurted out in unison.

Emma sighed heavily. "But, sometimes the real world needs to come first."

"Just try one more. Please." He begged her.

She paused for a moment. "Okay, one more. But then we're done."

"You do it. This one." Henry rummaged the keys around before picking the last one holding it up for his mother to take and she did.

Emma takes the keys from Henry and tries the key he picked out with the door finally opening. "Do you believe now?" Henry asked her, seeing pure shock cross his mother's face. We were getting closer to breaking this curse once and for all.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[ggomos-maribat]

Fight for the Throne: Babysitting Bat

Part 5.5 of Heirs Apparent | AO3

Masterlist

By the time he reached the base, Bruce could feel fatigue seeping into his bones. He came upon a large sealed entrance located underground and dusted with sand and rocks. Tracking down the missing people had taken longer than he wanted, but he'd be damned if anything happened to any of his sons.

What remains unclear is that aside from Damian, Tim, Jason and Dick, there were others who had been taken by the League as well. Bruce had done a background check and . . . he was still not prepared to face the truth. The girl, Marinette, was like a reflection of Talia though bearing Martha Wayne's eyes. The boy, Danny, clearly resembled Damian but seemed different in many ways. From his quick research, he had found nothing too out of the ordinary about the two children though he had asked Barbara to find out more for him.

He attached a device to the door to analyze it. Considering that it was a League base, it would have countless entrances and exits, some more dangerous than others. It was a risky decision to go in alone but Cassandra and Duke had promised to fly over in case he needed backup, with Alfred helping out over comms.

He studied the screen. It was locked by a certain mechanism, not really needing a key but—

"Hey old man, are you gonna open up this thing or not?"

If Bruce were any less experienced, he would've jumped at the sudden presence beside him. He did a double take, not because it was a little girl who wore some hoodie and jeans, not because she was casually chewing gum outside a base of killers and not because his tech never picked up on her movements. No, Bruce had to look twice because this girl had a terrible resemblance to him.

How many children do I . . . he wondered tiredly.

I'm not even going to ask how. Really, he only had enough energy to save his sons (and possibly other biological children), not swirl into another existential crisis. Picking up his composure, he cleared his throat. "I . . . I am still analyzing how to open it up."

The girl stared up at him, unimpressed. "Huh."

More people. The moment Bruce's hairs stood on end, he flicked a Batarang behind him, expecting a handful of assassins. What he didn't expect is the Batarang to land on the dry ground, cleanly split into two.

He looked at the two newcomers: a short girl dressed in a crimson suit and a matching mask, with strange symbols around the getup, and a boy next to her seemingly wearing a suit made of teal scales. The girl had her sword held out in front of her, undoubtedly the culprit of the broken Batarang.

Heroes I've never seen before, Bruce thought.

"Whoa, that's so cool!" The little girl gawked. "She cut your weapon to bits, old man!"

Bruce could only grunt in response.

"Who are you?" The girl in red narrowed her eyes at them, her short-cut bob swaying the wind.

"That's Batman," the boy whispered beside him, "Gotham's hero. And that girl . . ."

"I'm Danielle!" The child supplied for them. "You can call me Ellie! I'm here to save my brother and sister."

A spark of recognition lit up in Bruce's head. He whirled around to face Ellie. "By any chance, are your brother and sister Daniel and Jasmine Fenton?"

Ellie blinked up at him, taking cautious steps backwards. "How did you know that?"

Better explain the situation quickly. "I've done some investigation. There were some persons of interest who disappeared after an accident in a bus heading to Gotham. I am here to rescue some . . . residents of the city who were kidnapped." He then turned to the pair of heroes. "I assume you are here for Ms. Dupain-Cheng, Mr. Agreste, Ms. Bourgeois and Ms. Kubdel?"

The girl stiffened but lowered her sword. "We are."

"Will you tell us who you might be? I don't believe you're in the Justice League's hero database."

The two looked at each other in a silent conversation. It was the blue-haired boy who replied to him, "Sorry, that information's classified. But you can call me Viperion and this is Ryuko."

"Their names are so cool," Ellie marveled, "Unlike 'Batman'."

Bruce decided to ignore that statement.

"Is this the entrance to the place then?" Ryuko eyed the old sealed door.

"Yes, it seems to open only by special means." Bruce tapped on his device again.

Ellie knocked on the crusty door before putting an ear up to it. "You're taking such a looong time," she told them. "I'll open it."

Before Bruce could register anything, the child phased through the door and a click reverberated as the entrance cracked open. Behind it was a beaming Ellie, who seemed to take enjoyment from their stunned expressions.

Bruce walked into the dim passageway slowly. He wanted to believe that the fact these children were here proved that they were more than capable to protect themselves, he really did. But something inside him was screaming that he was responsible for them now.

He remained at the back of the group, with Ellie skipping along in the lead and Viperion and Ryuko following close behind her. "Do you all know what this place is?"

"Nope," said Ellie, popping the 'p'. "I just got word from Sam and Tucker that Danny and Jazz were in trouble and they just tracked them down. Oh . . . well they did say I should wait for them before I go but I thought I'd get a headstart! They could be dissecting my brother in there!"

Bruce was going to wait to unpack all of that. He suspected that if he asked too many questions, Ellie would become wary of him.

"Why would they be dissecting your brother?" Ryuko asked. 

"Oh sorry, 'vivisect'." Ellie hummed. "That's what they called it."

"What?"

Ellie waved the thought off as if it needed no further explanation. Bruce was ready to tear is hair off.

Viperion shifted his lyre to his other hand (a strange choice for a weapon, it seemed). "Um, as for Ryuko and I . . . we only managed to track down their locations. We know that this place seems to have ties with—"

Ryuko elbowed the other hero before he could say anything more.

"Right." Viperion continued, "But aside from one fact, we don't know much. We just need to save the captives and return them to safety."

"This is the base of an organization called the League of Assassins," Bruce explained. "I do advise on proceeding with caution; all the enemies we encounter will have an intent to kill."

"Pfft you can't kill what's already dead!"

"Sorry?"

"Oops!" Ellie faced them with a sheepish smile. "Forget I said anything."

Again, Bruce was going to ignore that . . . for a while.

Ryuko tilted her head. "What do you mean by that?"

Ellie only smiled, imitating their words earlier with an exaggerated low tone. "That information's classified."

Bruce grazed the walls of the tunnel. Although the structure was rugged, it wasn't as old as the one in Nanda Parbat. He could only guess that it was a new base built after the death of Ra's al Ghul. Nonetheless, he kept his senses peeled for traps and danger.

"Do any of you have an idea why the League of Assassins might abduct Daniel and Marinette?" Bruce threw out the question, something that had been burning at the back of his mind.

"He prefers ‘Danny’." Ellie skipped over a rock. "I. . . I dunno. He has a lot of enemies and I don't keep track so . . ."

"We don't know either," Viperion replied quietly. The sudden tense air that surrounded him and Ryuko told Bruce that there was something more, as if they were desperate for answers themselves.

Bruce sighed inwardly. As for Damian, he could only come up with tentative answers, never certainties. He anticipated that there would one day that Talia would come and try to bring his son back to the League, but the existence of Danny and Marinette were two things that added more confusion into the mix. If the League wanted something from the three of them, he could at least assume they wouldn't try to harm them.

Ellie stopped on her tracks all of a sudden and put her fingers on her ear. Bruce noticed the earpiece hidden by her unruly hair—she was speaking to someone. "Oh hey! Tuck. Sam. So I'm here now . . . What? Nooo, of course not! No, I haven't, not yet. But you'll never guess who I met over here!"

As Ellie smiled smugly at her proclaimed discovery, Bruce listened silently, wishing he could find out what the whole conversation was.

"What?! You got Wulf to portal you here? And then he left?" A frown crossed her features. "Ancients, how are we gonna go back? I mean I can fly but not you both and not Jazz. Yeah, you’re right—even if Danny can portal us out we’re not sure what condition he’s in."

Her eyes met Bruce's and they instantly sparkled with an idea. "Wait, hold on. Yeah, I know this is in the middle of nowhere! Just wait a sec!"

After hearing her press a button on the earpiece, Bruce finally spoke. "Do your companions need assistance?"

"Yup! There aren't any natural portals nearby so it's pretty hard to come here." Ellie shrugged. Bruce withheld from asking what she meant by 'portals'. He could assume that this 'Sam' and 'Tucker' don't have the same abilities as Ellie does, hence the transportation problem. He also had a sneaking feeling that they weren't much older than the girl herself.

"The Batplane is nearby; I can direct it to them." He started tapping on a screen attached to his forearm. "They can help with our getaway. The autopilot function will do most of the work anyway. But they'll have to stay there —it'll be too dangerous to go in here if it's just the two of them."

"Whoa, you became like seven times cooler, old man." Ellie laughed. "Tucker will freak out!"

She reopened her comm and began relaying the information to Sam and Tucker. Meanwhile, Bruce caught Viperion's gaze, who seemed to be studying him whilst whispering inaudibly to Ryuko. The older hero rolled his shoulders, feeling strangely pinned under his penetrative stare.

"Yeah 'course I'm with him!" Ellie rolled her eyes. "I'll get Danny and Jazz, don't worry. Oh, and he says not to touch anything or he'll feed you to man-eating bats!"

Bruce is suddenly reminded of his children. A little of the chaotic behavior like Tim, brashness from Jason, Damian's ferocity and Dick's recklessness. Even Stephanie's loudness. It was terribly ironic how he himself shared the same eyes with her.

When Ellie finished her talk and led the group to continue walking, Bruce inched closer to the two suited heroes and asked them about their travel mode. He didn't recall seeing or detecting any vehicle nearby. Perhaps they can fly?

"We have our own means," Ryuko answered.

"We might take you up on that plane offer but it depends on . . ." Viperion cut himself off again. "It depends."

He gave them a single nod. Maybe if he met the Parisian captives, he'd get more information out of them.

After a few minutes of walking, they reached another blockade: a door it looked like. Ellie wasted no time turning intangible and going through it, but she returned almost immediately. "There's no way to open it from inside," she reported.

This door did look different from the first one, Bruce noted. Instead of rotting wood, it was a chunk of steel bolted into the rock. No handle, no lock, no knob, but there was a protrusion on the wall beside it that looked like a small keypad.

"Let me try." He shuffled towards the front and looked at the device. He connected it to his screen and saw that the lock was more complex than he thought, made up of foreign symbols and alphanumerics.

"Hn. There's too many combinations to consider. This will take too much time." His eyebrows furrowed. There must be a straightforward password of some sorts.

"Don't you have, like, a blaster?" Ellie tapped her knuckles on the metal.

". . .No."

"So how long would it take to brute force it?" Viperion asked.

"A hundred forty-six hours approximately." Bruce glanced back at them.

Ryuko seemed to have kept up with whatever was on her companion's mind. She shot him a scowl. "No. You're not doing that," she said firmly. "You're going to transform back."

Transform back? There is a limit to their forms? Bruce wondered.

"I can hide to recharge," said Viperion.

Still, the heroine was unconvinced. She shook her head. "I have an idea. Let me try."

"But you'll detransform too."

"I won't if I don't use all three."

Viperion surrendered, stepping back to let her carry out her plan. Ryuko moved forward, brought her sword, and mumbled some words under her breath. In a blink, she disappeared and a bolt of lightning pierced through the tunnel, attacking the steel door and searing a crack on the rock. She reappeared soon afterwards.

Yet the door didn't budge.

Bruce was pretty sure Ryuko hissed out a French curse.

She turned to Viperion again. "Maybe water . . ."

"Really?" He gave her an amused smile.

"Fine. Go ahead." Ryuko crossed her arms. "But do not overdo it. I'll watch your back when you detransform."

It was Viperion's turn this time; his movements were followed by a silent but eager-eyed Ellie. He turned the band on his wrist and tapped on the lock. With a beep and a hiss, the steel door slid to the side to grant them entry.

Bruce stared at him. "It was that fast for you?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really. Took me like five thousand one hundred forty tries. And that's already pretty lucky."

"Whaaat?" Ellie gawked, peering up at the keypad. "Do you have superspeed or something?"

He only responded with a cryptic smile.

Beeps began to sound from the same band he wore. "Um, I'll go back a bit so you don't see me," he told them. "But you three can go ahead and I'll catch up."

He jogged down the passage behind them, merging with the dark. Though Bruce was brimming with curiosity, the expression on Ryuko's face was enough to warn them that they shouldn't try to pry into it.

---

Bruce soon received an alert informing him that two passengers had boarded the Batplane. He connected to its comms and heard a voice testing the line: "Uhh, hello? Is this thing on?"

And another voice. "Tuck, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

His hunch was correct. They were kids. He was surrounded by children. Children who were supposed to save people from a literal assassin breeding ground.

"The line is open," he replied, "You are Sam and Tucker, correct?"

"Whazat?" Ellie turned her head upon hearing her friends' names.

Instead of speaking, Bruce switched the communicator to loudspeaker so the others could also hear.

"Oh. My. Ancients. That was Batman! Sam, did you hear him?" Tucker gasped.

The girl, Sam, sounded exasperated. "I know, I know."

Ellie leapt to Bruce's side, exclaiming. "I'm here too!"

Sam's tone softened. "Ellie? Is that you? Aren't you transformed? Your voice isn't . . . garbled."

Ellie blinked, seemingly remembering something. She must've read confusion on Bruce's face despite it being covered since she grinned sheepishly. "Normal tech can't pick up sounds from my . . . uuh, other form." She motioned on the earpiece she wore. "That reminds me, hey Tucker can you connect that thing to my Fenton phone?"

"I'd have to plug it in and make adjustments," said Tucker. "Do you—erm, mind Mr. Batman, sir?"

If it would make communication easier for them, then it shouldn't be a problem, Bruce decided. "I don't mind."

"Sweet." Ellie hopped to the front of the group again.

Ryuko cleared her throat. "Ellie, who are these people?"

"Sam and Tucker. Danny's friends but I guess they're my friends too." She didn't elaborate further. Bruce made a mental note to scour for more information about them.

Soon they reached another obstacle. The stony door had a wheel in its middle, sort of like one used to steer a ship. Ellie phased through again, and returned with a sullen look on her face. "It looks like a dead end," she relayed. "Only way is straight down. I would've fallen if I couldn't fly."

"But the way you came from seems like the most used entrance," Tucker's voice sounded from the screen. "You guys sure there aren't hidden passageways there?"

Bruce headed towards the door. If it was actually the only path, then the wheel must have some kind of use. He tentatively turned the wheel, just around ninety degrees to test it, then it spun back into place.

"Hey look, there's some kind of symbols on the handle," Ellie pointed out.

"Is it a puzzle?" Ryuko tilted her head.

"But if there's a dead end behind it, what's the point of unlocking the door?" Viperion said.

Bruce thought for a moment. Solving this 'puzzle' doesn't have to unlock the door. He checked his device that tracked their path so far. They needed to move straight north, where the center would be, but the winding path was taking them northeast. The wheel must be something that could 'steer' them to the right direction.

He tried turning it: clockwise until it hit a break at about a hundred eighty degrees. This time, the wheel didn't revert back. The ground started to shake, and the entire tunnel seemed to be moving to the side with them in it. He braced himself against the door until the motions stopped. It automatically opened to reveal a connecting path.

"Whoa." Ellie said, "How'd you know you were supposed to do that?"

"I'm a detective."

Tucker spoke again. "Of course he knows! He's Batman, Ellie!"

The girl put her arms behind her head as they walked. "I would've phased through everything if I were alone."

"Don't use your powers carelessly," Sam warned her. "It's dangerous."

"I know that!"

Batman wondered how many locked doors were left. They couldn't spend their time in the tunnels forever—who knows what the League was doing to the captives. Unfortunately, they couldn't enter too recklessly and catch attention. Bruce felt that they were going to be in the base for much longer than he predicted.

What met them next is not a door, nor a dead end but a three-way split of the path.

"Huh." Ellie paused. "That means we'll have to split up, right?"

Bruce peered at each passage, only to be faced by gnawing and ominous darkness. It was possible that there would only be one correct path and the rest were traps or dead ends. But it was also possible that all three were 'correct' and led to different places.

"We can split up," he began slowly, "But we should keep communications open just in case."

Ellie tapped on her 'Fenton phone'. "No problem for me."

The other two heroes had pulled out earpieces of their own from their weapons. "We can connect to your line," said Ryuko. "We'll just have to find it."

"Can you connect to me too?" Ellie watched with curious eyes as the two wore their own (likely magic-driven) comms.

"Of course."

After some final words (Bruce had to keep himself from giving too much advice), they parted ways and faded into the unknown.

---

Five minutes passed and Bruce realized that he was alone again. Perhaps having the others brought a sense of comfort to him, a reminder that they were on a rescue operation together. Now Bruce was somewhat more vulnerable, more untrusting of the shadows that could lurk around. He kept his breaths steady, telling himself that he was going to find his sons soon.

His eye caught a movement up ahead.

Bruce's hand flew to his waist, ready to draw a weapon anytime. He stilled, and waited until the shadow shifted, morphing into a woman with steely eyes and a cold smile directed towards him.

"Hello, Bruce."

"Nyssa." He whispered under his breath. 

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Taglist: @laurcad123

[agentrouka-blog]

Sorry if this is the wrong place to ask or if I'm being a silly goose but why do so many fans think Aria's story is about justice? From my pov it's always been about revenge/vengeance. Most "justice" she seeks to achieve is often hypocritical or just plain flawed (e.g. condemning a child-murderer while concealing her own crime of child-murder, thinking Dareon deserved to die when we all know she wouldn't think the same for Jon, having a kill list of horrible murderers but 5 of the 7 people she's killed were presumably innocent people). Even when she is taught how to kill a person in a quick and merciful way (which is what the law should do when doling out capital punishment) she immediately disregards it and resolves to terrorize her targets and/or have them suffer (the tickler, hound, and Raff). Obviously she's a kid that’s been through hell and her misdeeds arent exactly held to the same standard as an adult's misdeeds, but it just baffles me when I see people make edits or claims that she'd be a great justiciar or lawman or something. Are people just confusing justice with revenge or am I just a dummy that doesn't see it? Thank you.

The important thing to keep in mind here is that Arya's arc is not complete.

She is, like the other Starklings, currently at the extreme outward point of being alienated from her roots and from where she wants to be. Vengeance and vigilantism is just a distorted version of what justice is supposed to be, after all. She did not start out there, and she will not end there. Arya is going to move on from her current situation. Her extreme disillusionment is eventually going to turn back to a sense of creative investment in the world.

Vengeance, mercy and justice all feature for Arya. She gave fresh fountain water to the guilty men at Stoney Sept, the same way we see her tend the black poison pool at the House of Black and White. She had her faith in justice brutally shaken from the "trial" at Darry to Ned's execution to the trial by combat in the weirdwood cave to witnessing constant cruelty and abuse from all sides of the war. It's not surprising that vigilantism and vengeance seem like logical conclusions to her.

She now has to learn why it is not justice, why it constitutes its own form of abuse of power. That's why questions of privilege and classism feature just as prominently in her story. Justice is broken if it is not equal. Justice is broken if power is not shared for the greater good. Justice is not arbitrary, not the providence of the lone wolf - it is communal.

Ultimately, Arya has to find a way to create true justice in the world, by using her own privilege and investing it in the world around her. It is a balance of interests, a trade between injury and compensation that aims not for perpetuating wrath but enabling harmony within society. She has to make her peace with an imperfect world.

The imagery of balancing (on her toes, on tree branches, between identities) and blindness (literal, in darkness, in ignorance or bias) is very prominent for her, alongside the image of the sword. It is the symbolism of Justitia: blindfolded, carrying scales in one hand and a sword in the other.

And then there is the imagery of water and rain.

The quality of mercy is not strain'd. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. (The Merchant of Venice)

The bars were too narrow to pass a cup through, but Harwin and Gendry offered her a leg up. She planted a foot in Harwin's cupped hands, vaulted onto Gendry's shoulders, and grabbed the bars on top of the cage. The fat man turned his face up and pressed his cheek to the iron, and Arya poured the water over him. He sucked at it eagerly and let it run down over his head and cheeks and hands, and then he licked the dampness off the bars. (ASOS, Arya V)

She isn't performing this act of mercy by herself, she could not have. She needs to stand on the hands and shoulders of a smith and a former servant. Because they believe in her choice and her cause.

That is the kind of imagery we will return to before her arc is completed.

[reilora-borealis]

.... and you're NOT gonna tell us about the Shadowgast Playlist? Please 🫴, hand it over.

I said in my original post this was my toxic trait... nonetheless I am SO glad someone took the bait 😈

I'm not going to post the link because I value my spotify privacy and also I have an embarrassing username that no one needs to know about. However, since you asked nicely (and let's be honest, I wasn't expecting anyone to care! so thank you!), I will share ✨ my personal top 5 shadowgast songs ✨ with a bit of context for each.

If you're just here to roast my music taste, bear in mind... I said toxic trait. Proceed at your own risk.

1. Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce

"If I could make days last forever / If words could make wishes come true / I'd save every day like a treasure and then / Again, I would spend them with you..."

This one has two meaning imo: first, early-campaign Caleb wishing he could change the past to save his parents' lives; later, Essek wishing he had more time to spend with Caleb. The original version is beautiful, but there is also a cover by Yungblud (yes, it's on the Hobbs & Shaw soundtrack) that's badass but a very different vibe.

2. Lilith by Halsey

"I'm perfection when it comes to first impressions / I romanticize and then I get to stressing / Big brain like I'm teaching at a lesson / Baby, it's a blessing..."

Every time this song comes on I legit yell ESSEK ANTHEM! because it is. This is the Hot Villain theme song. The beat is so sexy. The lyrics are on point ("I am disgusting / I've been corrupted / And by now I don't need not help to be destructive"). The vibes are just immaculate.

3. No Halo by Brockhampton

"Went to church for the hell of it, stumbled in drunk as shit / Been going through it again / Been talking to myself, wondering who I am / Been thinking I am better than Him..."

Look. I could write an entire essay about this one song. Wizard hubris, depression, and the crisis of faith Essek goes through when the Nein find out about his betrayal. Also, for those who theorize Essek is the unwilling chosen of the Luxon - he could, in fact, be "God's special mess".

4. X&Y by Coldplay

"I dive in at the deep end / You become my best friend / I want to love you but I don't know if I can / I know something is broken / And I'm trying to fix it / Trying to repair it / Any way I can..."

Two characters who both think they are terrible people that don't deserve love, trying to be better and trying to better each other? And they fall in love? And they're narrative foils? No one is doing it like them! (Plus the chorus "You and me are drifting into outer space" just screams ~wizards in the star room~.)

5. All The Stars by Kendrick Lamar feat. SZA (album version)

"Tell me what you gon' do to me / Confrontation ain't nothing new to me / You can bring a bullet, bring a sword, bring a morgue / But you can't bring the truth to me..."

I don't know how this song manages to be both broody and uplifting at the same time, but it is and it's perfection. It's the grimness of reality and the hope for the future, the refrain of "All the stars are closer" symbolizing all the possibilities that are now within reach.

And oh boy, I don't have time to write about the whole playlist but if you've made it this far, here are some bonus mini listicles because this is my Roman Empire 😌

Entire playlist of just shadowgast-coded Hozier songs:

Arsonist's Lullabye

In The Woods Somewhere

De Selby (pt. 2)

Someone New

Like Real People Do

Moment's Silence

From Eden

All My Homies Hate Trent Ikithon songs:

Heathens by Twenty One Pilots

Eat Your Young by Hozier

Buzzkill by Mothica

Another Brick In The Wall, pt. II by Pink Floyd

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark by Fall Out Boy

Other ships? In my shadowgast playlist? It's more likely than you think:

The Cave by Mumford & Sons (widobrave)

Cringe by Matt Maeson (widojest)

Tessellate by alt-J (blumendrei)

EDM wizard songs if you're into that sort of thing (I am):

Time Stops by Virtual Riot

I'd Love To Change The World (Matstubs Remix) by Jetta

I Could Be Anything by the Glitch Mob feat. Elohim

New Eyes by Echos

Keep in mind this is just a handful of songs out of like a hundred, so I welcome you to give me the benefit of the doubt and fill in the rest of the playlist in your mind with whatever makes me seem cool to you.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, I am sorry it took me four days to write this... 😅

[infinitethree]

Daz paces.

He’s been stalking the length of the Council’s headquarters for longer than he cares to think too hard about. He’d been doing this in the hidden bunker under his and Raine’s house, but it was making his long-smothered claustrophobia rear its head again.

Everything has gone to absolute shit. Daz’s spark, Lee’s spark, Innit’s freedom, Observers interacting and coddling Innit– none of that is good!

And, the icing on the cake is that Theo and Day are now apparently getting a special visitor.

That has to be the Scribe. There’s no way that there’s some other mysterious entity tied to all of this running around.

He’s fighting a panic attack, the urge to puke his guts up, and flashbacks of how it felt to bury Tubbo.

What a mess you’ve made for yourself! Hah– you’re pathetic. Just as lost and stupid as you were every other time. Hey, why don’t you try running to Lucid and beg him to teach you, instead of Lee? 

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Daz snatches the magic 8-ball that’s he’s been seen playing with a few times. He studies it like it could provide an answer, a way forward–

Wow, this is pretty sad. 

The sudden voice makes him startle, and then set the toy back down. “...What do you want?”

Mmmh…that’s not the tone you should be taking with me.

He snarls, “You can’t just–”

I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually. You want to play stupid games? You won’t like the stupid prize you earn for that.

Sugar and rot coat his mouth and mind. The broken enchantment tries to turn him into nothing more than atoms. The sword he spent countless hours laboring over pierces his best friend’s heart. The sword. The grave. The deal. The sword, the grave, the deal. The deal, deal, dealdealdealDEAL–

Daz stumbles, suddenly caught off-balance. He catches himself on the edge of the central table and sinks down into a chair. His head is throbbing and his lunch is threatening to come up even more than it had before.

Just past the pain, there’s a sense of loss that he can’t understand. Why does it feel like he’s forgetting something…?

What the fuck did you do, jackass? Innit’s groan of pain gives him a spiteful spark of happiness. At least he’s not suffering alone.

Petty little– look, if you’re going to bore me, I can just go find someone else to talk to. 

The unspoken threat of what that conversation would look like is enough to make him swallow and ask, “I don’t know what you consider entertaining.”

Tittering, the voice replies, I mean, plenty of things! But pacing like this isn't gonna cut it. Make a move, or I'll flip the chessboard over.

Daz stares at the nether star set into the meeting table. The magic inside it makes it shimmer and gleam.

He bought that star in part to fuck with Aster. Having a symbol so blatantly tied to him in this place, and displayed so openly, makes it impossible to deny that the Council is linked to him.

Ditto for the pattern in the floor beneath the table. Smooth quartz and glowstone in the shape of a four-pointed star.

But, ultimately, the Council is Daz's creation. Even though they're meant to be equals, in times of crisis the group looks to him for guidance.

The result of his blood, sweat, tears, and trauma is a beautifully efficient system that protects the server.

And, in doing so, protects Lee.

They can't afford to shrink away from this responsibility. No matter how little they want to do it…

Daz shuts his eyes and steels his nerves.

There's no way around it, then. He’s going to have to step back onto the path that he abandoned so long ago…and he’s going to move his timetable up.

[helmarok]

me & my friendgroup were hoping ganon would get more backstory and humanization in totk for the entire time since the sequel was announced :( the idea that he might get revived was so exciting. i didnt think it would happen but i hoped for a sequel where youd switch between link and zelda at different points- zelda being more lore and archaeology/exploration focused so youd learn more about ganon and the events causing the calamity and how to stop future ones as you also tried to understand why he was so enraged and what exactly happened to him and link engaging in direct dialogue and confrontation with ganon so the player can see his pain and character depth. the game wouldve been more about defeating the calamity possessing him vs ganon himself being bad and acknowledging that hyrule never really tried that route which lead to the constant devastation...sorry for rambling but tldr i feel you 🫡 ur ganons strongest soldier

literally this entire ask. i don't know why i had my hopes up cuz now i'm disappointed over something that was gonna happen anyways... i just wish that after throwing in the excuse of "oh well we use the same formula over and over because DEMISE'S CURSE causes hatred to reincarnate!" they actually built upon that, but they only focus on how the curse affects the chosen hero and zelda. like they never actually go into how the curse affects the man who is born asab (assigned satan at birth 😢)

heres what i think under the cut if youre interested, it's kind of a long story so whatever

my personal hesdcanon completely and totally disregarding anything totk says is that hylia chose ganondorf to be her hero. she chose him and the 'calamity' wasn't actually ganondorf himself based on the more lizard-like appearance of it in the tapestry: it was demise, hence the reason why it not only took a hero and princess but the divine beasts as well.

based on his outfit in the original trailer, i think he was invited to the castle. but while he went dressed his best, it was a trap. throughout his time as hero the kingdom questioned it because of their awful history. after defeating the calamity, ganon was invited for dinner and was betrayed. being poisoned by people he loves and cared about who he thought cared about him but their generational hatred just... led to this.

it broke his heart when they broke his trust because the male gerudo 'king of evil' could never be our chosen hero, the symbol of courage in the kingdom. he's the bad guy, and always will be even if it's a different man from the one in OOT and TP entirely. his broken heart turned into anger and rage while he was coughing and dying at the table as people he cared for watched it happen. his eyes turned red, his mane and tusks grew and his triforce shined. when he tried to grab the sword it burned his hand. hatred took over and changed him- keep in mind that demise's entire being relies on the existence of hatred. with so much hate in his heart the demon was able to grab ahold of it and use that as a second chance to win.

nobody could stop him but the princess, who did with hylia's help. his body and spirit was sealed under the castle before it got too bad. but over time, the betrayal ganon felt had 10k years to brew and demise used it to his advantage. ganon's hurt combined with demise's raw energy- malice- created what we see in botw as that ugly beast calamity ganon.

now here's my favorite part! everyone had to have wondered why the fuck hylia wasn't willing to help zelda this time around when zelda was unable to use the powers in her blood that her mom could use, and hylia never bothered to help her awaken them. well the reason for this is because hylia felt betrayed by her people. her people were so full of hatred that they tried to murder the hero SHE chose! not only that, but after ganon's murder, the sheikah strongly opposed, which led to what you can see in the tapestry- sheikah being pushed by guards, and then the game tells us their technology was destroyed and sealed away.

as punishment for the problems her children were causing, she decided to abandon them. they would get no help from her. no prayers would be answered, no assistance with light magic- they were on their own now. there wouldn't even be a chosen hero- link was actually chosen by fi when fi knew a hero had to come but hylia wasn't going to bother.

hylia only decided to step up after she felt sorry for zelda. when zelda prayed and begged her she ignored her until the hero died and she felt her child's pain. she finally decided to be a mom and make zelda's powers fucking explode. zelda walked into that castle and sealed the demon the best she could without the assistance of a hero. from then on after a hundred years, hyrule basically accepted the flying boar demon cloud over the castle as part of their life along with corrupted guardians and such.

basically i think ganon's story was about hatred and betrayal and that the reason calamity ganon is so insanely powerful, and the reason he takes on a more demonic form not made of flesh but physical hatred, is because of how much it hurt him. he is hurt and hatred took advantage of that.

demise's easy control of ganondorf is kind of a nod at how you'll see that hurt people can often get easily taken over by hatred. a wife who is cheated on might kill her husband. a trans man who has suffered his whole life might bully trans men who are happy. a victim of misogynistic culture might be manipulated by others into becoming a terf. it's sad how easily hate can take over hurt people.

for the hylians, it's how for generations their kingdom was destroyed by a ganon, so they can't think of him as anything other than a threat even if he is a good man.

so yeah, there's my ganondorf take. he's just some guy who is stuck in a cycle and i wish nintendo would stop acting like hyrule is a perfect kingdom and the royal family has no flaws because theyre the Goddess Children when time and time again there's been hints in the games at their treatment of others, especially the sheikah. basically what i want is for them to give their special little good guys and special little race of blue eyed bitches some more depth instead of just being like "theyre good and nothing more because they're the Good Guys so they can't do anything wrong and opposers like ganon are the Bad Guys". cuz it's 2023 and we deserve more advanced stories than "hero and princess defeat the big bad evil and save the day!"

[sischan]

Echoes of the Past, Legend of Zelda BotW-TotK fan-fiction.

Contains some spoilers. Part One

Part Two: Master Sword little doodle to include for this chapter,

Josha sat at a desk, examining the ocarina closely. A small crack ran down the triforce plate that ran around the mouthpiece. Purah lifted up a piece of the Ocarina shard that chipped off in her hand, upon touch. “It seems that it didn’t spend all its time underwater, but the damage doesn’t exactly match that of being trapped underwater either. Josha, have you any luck with any further examinations?”

“Only conclusions I can make upon a close look, besides the bits that broke in your hand, and with the mouthpiece like it is. It’s hard for me to think this Ocarina was close to being playable.”

“Hmm…” Purah placed the shard down, wrapped in a clean cloth. “Then the question remains, where was that melody coming from?”

“Maybe with the flow of the water going through the ocarina?” Purah sighed.

“It’s unlikely that is the case, as we wouldn’t be able to hear it otherwise.” Walking towards her young student, Purah looked closer at the instrument. Lifting it up in her hands for closer examination. Zelda swung open the door, her face was covered in the look of curiosity. “Ah, right on time. Tell me, Princess, how was the dive?”

“It was stupendous, but please let me see it!” She walked over, lifting the instrument in her hand.

“Do you recognize it, Princess?” Purah watched as she held the instrument in her hand. Glancing it over, turning it as she noticed the triforce symbol.

“I can’t say for certain that I do…” Upon his arrival, Link noticed Zelda holding the ocarina. “However it is quite strange that this Ocarina has the logo of the triforce…” Glancing down at her hand, recalling the same symbol appearing once before.

Walking over towards her, Zelda handed the Ocarina towards Link. He glanced over the instrument, noticing the few cracks that ran along the edges. “Go on Linky, might as well hold it.” Purah smiled as she lifted up the cracked piece. “From the looks of it, it won’t be able to play any melodies though.”

“It can’t play?” Zelda looked at her, before rushing over to glance at the broken fragment. Link lifted up the instrument, turning it around before feeling the urge to play. Lifting the broken mouthpiece up to his lips, he slowly started to move his fingers to play a note. With a light note gently whispering from the ocarina, Link felt a buzz of energy fill him. Purah and Zelda, hearing the melody, turned in surprise, “D-Did it just play?” Zelda asked Link.

Before he could respond, a gentle light shined bright from the Ocarina. With the cracks slowly fading, Purah's shard remained untouched. Surprise covered Link’s face as the Ocarina returned itself back to its original state.

“That glow…it’s like when the master sword spoke.” Zelda walked over, running a hand over the instrument once more. Feeling the place that used to be riddled with cracks. Meeting his eyes, understanding her concern for the connection between the instrument and the master sword. “We must pay the Great Deku tree a visit about this, Link.”

“What are you thinking of, if you don’t mind me asking, Princess?” Josha looked at Zelda, trying to glance at the Ocarina. “Do you think there might be a connection between the sword and this Ocarina?”

“I can’t quite say for certain, but it’s best we investigate to be on the safe side.” She smiled, trying to ease the worries of the young scholar. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to visit the Great Deku tree for awhile now.” Turning her attention back to Link, returning the ocarina back into his hands. “Until then, I would like to have Link hold onto it for the time being.”

Nodding his head in agreement, Purah handed Link a special design pouch. “Well, Linky, to make sure you don’t lose it. I’ll give you this holster that I used when I was smaller to carry my flute around..” Link grasped the holster from her hand, snapping it into place on his hip. Placing the ocarina perfectly on his hip. “It looks good on you, Linky.”

Purah waved both Link and Zelda off as they started their journey to the lost woods, with her riding on a golden coat horse. One saved by Link during his travels after the upheaval. Naming the horse ‘Zelli’, with the combination of both his and Zelda’s names. Zelda cherished Zelli more so since her return after the final battle. With her placing a silent princess in the braiding of her mane. Link watched on his stead Petal, a horse with specks of pink covering her body. A horse he saved from a band of Moblins after the upheaval, with the horse following after him since. With the clomping of their horses echoed across the stone roads towards the forest, Hudson construction workers could be seen clearing the ruins of Castle town. With the events of the battle with Ancient Ganondorf passed, Zelda started to feel peace slowly settling into the kingdom.

Woodland stable slowly came into view, outside the stable playing their song was the Stable Trotters. A small gathering of travelers sat watching the performers, as the conductor continued his dance in front of his musicians. Slowing their speed, Zelda looked over towards them. Taking in the melody as she turned to Link. “It would be nice if you could use the Ocarina to join them, Link.”

Link glanced at her and then the Ocarina. He wasn’t skilled in playing such an instrument, but when he held it. A familiar feeling comes over him as he plays, with the gentle music flowing from the Ocarina. Horses from the stable started to neigh in joy as the melody continued, catching the attention of the Stable owner. Many of the cuccos rushed towards Link, crowing along with his melody. Zelda watched as Link pulled the ocarina away, with the cuccos circling around Petal. He glanced at her as she giggled, mostly in awe for the look across Link’s face. Petal stomped her hoof down, scaring away the cuccos.

Zelda’s curiosity for the power of the Ocarina continued to grow as they reached the lost woods. Fog still stretched around the old ruins that rested at the entrance of the woods. Helping those that can see him, Hetsu stood shaking his maracas while dancing upon their approach. Joy could be seen on his face as he turned to them. “Princess!”

“It’s good to see you, Hetsu. I do hope you are well.” She smiled as both her and Link dismounted their horses. Entrusting the reins to a nearby Korok that dashed from behind Hetsu. “How is the Great Deku tree? We’ve come to retrieve the Master sword from him once more.”

“Oh no! I hope that doesn’t mean…” Zelda cut him off before he said anymore.

“Oh no, we are investigating this Instrument and it has some similarities to that of the master sword. We were wanting to just see if there's any relation between the two.” Hetsu’s face started to calm as he shook his maracas slowly.

“Oh I see now, that is indeed good to hear!” He twirled into the fog, shaking his maracas clearing the smoke. Making a path through the fog towards the Koroks forest. “Please follow me!”

Leading the way, Link and Zelda headed into the forest. With most of the fog pushing itself to clear a way, some bleed along the trim of the path. Twirling fans could be heard as they walked deeper into the forest. Many Koroks popped their heads from behind tree branches. Upon passing through the fallen log that served as a bridge. Both of them were met with the Deku tree, soundly asleep with the master sword resting in front of him. Zelda walked up to the blade alongside Link. Grasping the blade in his hands once more, he pulled the blade from its slumber. Fulfilling its duty, the duo placed the blade to rest by the Deku tree after the battle with the ancient Ganondorf. However as the blade rested in his hands, Zelda’s attention turned to the ocarina. Watching for any reaction from Link holding the blade.

“Hmm, it would seem that there isn’t any reaction at all with the two.” Zelda, puzzled, placed her chin in her hand. Stroking her chin with her forefinger as she tried to ponder the ocarina’s reaction to Link. With a loud yawn, she looked over to see the Deku tree. Slowly awakening from his short nap.

Glancing down at the two, he lightly chuckled. “It is always most welcoming to see you two. What brings you to visit me and the sword of evil’s bane, Princess?” Glancing over at Link as he held the blade firmly in his hand. “I do not sense any looming Malice that requires for the blade to awaken just yet, but yet you still call for it?”

“My apologies for disturbing your slumber, Great Deku tree.” Zelda looked over at Link, placing the master blade on his back. Within the blade’s sheath, handed to Link from one of the Koroks. With the ocarina on his hip as he turned, catching the Deku tree’s attention. Zelda continued, “We’ve only come to investigate the blade with the Ocarina that was discovered.”

“Ocarina you say? Hmm…” He paused for a moment, glancing at Link. “Before you take the blade, might I request to examine this Ocarina myself?”

“Why of course, Great Deku tree.” Zelda looked over at Link, as he pulled the Ocarina from the holster on his hip. With the instrument to his lips, he began to play a similar melody from the stable. Despite enjoying the melody, the Great Deku tree felt a sense of uneasiness as he listened. With an old memory hitting him, causing sap to drift from his eyes. Zelda, upon noticing, motioned Link to stop playing. “Are you alright, Great Deku tree?”

“Do not fret, Princess…” Taking a moment to calm himself, the ancient tree glanced down on Link. “I must thank you princess, as the melody allowed me to recall a most pleasant memory. Maybe this memory would be of use to you, but alas only if you would like to hear.”

“It would be an honor to hear one of your life tales, Great Deku tree.” Link nodded his head in agreement. Glancing at the two, the Deku tree felt a familiar sensation as he recalled his memory brought by the melody of the Ocarina.

“Ah yes, I remember it was around the time when I was merely a sprout.” He chuckled softly, remembering his roots scarcely smaller than what they were in his current state. Despite this he remembered the forest he was born in was much different that the Korok Forest they currently reside in. “Although I do not know of my predecessor, whom I was born after his demise, I do recall hearing a lovely song. One that was created by a Kokiri before I granted them the ability to change into their form of today.” Zelda and Link sat on the log on top of the Great Deku tree’s root as he continued to speak.”However I remember one of these young Kokiri, but only one came and took me away. As a war was brewing to capture a tyrant of the kingdom that sought after the triforce. An ancient artifact older than the stone you carry around your neck, Princess.”

Zelda pressed her hand against her secret stone, once held by the first king of Hyrule.

“I’ve only recalled this Kokiri carrying an Ocarina of similar design to the one currently in your possession, Link.” Link glanced over the Ocarina, while Zelda continued to listen. “Although I do not know the origins of this instrument, something tells me that it holds a deeper story than those told in legends, Princess. I do hope that my memory serves you well in your investigation.” He smiled at her. “I do hope that you come and play for me some more, Link.”

He nodded his head at him.

“Thank you for sharing the memory with us, Great Deku tree.” Zelda smiled as she glanced at the Ocarina. “Interesting, that something from a time long passed had found its way here. I do wonder what the history this instrument holds…”

“I’m sure in time, the answer to your question will be answered, Princess.” Zelda smiled at the Deku tree as he spoke, before the duo left the forest.

Part Two End.

Part Three

[vsnotresponding]

find the word tag

thank you @mjjune for the tag <3 im also super behind on tag games, and today i bring you all even more púlsar excerpts

my words were egg, eat, earth, earnest, ever

tagging people from @moondust-bard's tag game list and her too: @antique-symbolism @gracehosborn @jezwrites @toribookworm22

your words are: sin, lie, break, sword and stone

egg: not found

eat:

I come out of my thoughts and right my back where I’m seated over the golden pillow I still keep, head resting on my hand, elbow on my right knee. I should focus on the present. “I hope you don’t expect me to eat the kids.” They shrink when I say it, even if they try to hide it by squaring their shoulders when Emhi looks at them. Garvan laughs and opens the metal door. “You’re pretty cheerful for the hour. And too awake” he jokes as he frees my shackles from the floor to tie them up again in front of me. He helps me stand up, my legs swaying after so much time sitting. “The consequences of not giving me more… how was I supposed to call it?” I fake thinking about the drug’s name while Emhi and him roll their eyes. The trainees seem to relax at seeing us joke. “Oh yes, alziwaq.” My tone is serious as I say the last word, and I try to lower my voice to imitate his. He rolls his eyes again, but I see him ignoring what I’m really saying: that I’ve noticed the lack of substance, the lack of explanations and, most of all, the consequences that has brought.

Púlsar - Chapter 7 - Ira - Ira's POV

earth:

After our conversation, these are the thoughts that have been haunting me. She has no control over her life right now, but she’s managing surprisingly well, better than what could be expected after all. Most of the time. I look at the door, waiting for her arrival, waiting to see if the scraps I offered her were for better or for worse. I pray to whatever is left of the gods on earth that Garvan knows what he’s doing – for him not to fuck up and make it all worse. We all jump when the door opens, the silence suddenly broken, the tension on our shoulders rising. I summarized my conversation with Ira to Garvan and Emhi before he went to fetch her, what I told her and what she discovered, because of me – of our little charade. Fortunately, Emhi was too tired to reprimand me and Garvan just stayed pensive. So the imitator doesn’t bother with bowing to me as they enter the room. His expression the same, cautious and pensive. At least they are not screaming at one another.

Púlsar - Chapter 8 - Progress - Karma's POV

It’s raining again. The rain drops hit the earth above my head, far away, the interlude between storm and storm brief. My body, tired after the last few days of work, is ready again for an afternoon of exploding imitations – and of localizing them, a new game the aldamu came up with. His name is Garvan, I correct myself. Garvan, who watches me work with an attention that unnerves me in spite of having grown used to it. His eyebrows going up when I look at him after I’m done, as if he were surprised of what he sees. I don’t ask him about it. And his sister, Emhi, who also watches me, but with hostility, without rising her hand from the pommel of her sword just in case, even if she’s the one that makes the others calm down when they get too excited or when their question overcome me. And then Áine and the mirzaan, both curious, both exhausted behind it all. Taking notes, talking about concepts no one else understands. It’s entertaining, even amusing, seeing them discussing the problems we encounter – the mirzaan’s hesitation to impose his voice, the ease Áine has to allow him to do so.

Púlsar - Chapter 9 - The Calm Before the Storm - Ira's POV

earnest: not found

ever:

“I don’t want a useless fact.” “I can leave, if you want.” “No” she raises her tone. I flinch, a reflex, even if she didn’t even move. “Just tell me what I want to know. It’s not like I could tell anyone that’s not you.” “I can’t, it’s…” “Look” she interrupts me, cutting voice. This time she moves, leaning forwards to look at me in the face. Her eyes go through me. “You, somehow, made me reveal something I didn’t want to. Something important. It’s possible I just put my family in danger in doing so. Try to return the favor, little ara, and we’ll be settled up.” The insult doesn’t escape my notice, mocking. Little king. I shrink even more. “Or you can let me leave now, and I promise that tomorrow I’ll come back more uncooperative than you’ve ever seen, so carefully think about your next words, princeling.”

Púlsar - Chapter 7 - Ira - Karma's POV

While I wait for the negotiation’s documents to be brought up, I don’t think about how being an imitator has been my life’s goal since I learned what they were. I don’t think how it’s my only way to fulfill the promise I made to my mom, how being separated from them will isolate me even more from the only friends I’ve ever had. I know the project is in good hands, that Áine and the rest know what they are doing, that they’ll manage to accomplish our goal. But what I don’t understand is why the shahin has made this decision, now that we are so close to a solution, why he won’t let me show him that I’m capable of making him proud in my own way. Why a tiny mistake has consequences this big. It doesn’t matter, the decision has been made. I swallow my tears and devote myself to the work.

Púlsar - Chapter 9 - The Calm Before the Storm - Karma's POV

[hornyflapcat]

20 Sides of a Himbo: an Ask Meme

Ok, so like there are a handful of things I really really like in life. One of them is the occult, one is being a gamer geek, another is being a himbo, and another is food.

For the holidays, I got two different really cool d20s, and I've been using them for divination!

The first is my "Roll for Food Choice" dinner20 from doldols! It's hilarious, it has 20 different food choices, and I got to pick the 1 and 20 options!

Naturally, I picked pie for the 20, because of course. And I picked a cucumber for the 1, because a) it looks like a dick, and that's hilarious, but also b) cats and cucumbers do not mix!

The second one though, I got to custom make myself, through URWizards!

Basically, I was trying to figure out which really cool symbols I wanted, and I looked at all the d20s on their site, and decided I wanted all of them! So I had them make me a die of literally every cool 20 and 1 symbol I liked on their site!

So after weeks of waiting, I finally had two really cool dice that I could use for fortunetelling, and that's when I ran into a problem.

What do the symbols mean??

Well, I think I came up with some pretty cool answers for the various symbols on each die, and I've decided to turn them into an ask meme. Cuz, y'know, why not?

I'm gonna share the food one somewhere more risque, because it very quickly turned dirty. LOL Anyway, here y'all go!

20 Sides of a Himbo: an Ask Meme

Eye: What is something you wish people would think about

Rod/Mace: What is something you believe in strongly?

Magic Hands: What is your special gift?

Tha Earth: What do you think the world needs most?

Moon: Share something romantic to you.

Kitty Butt: In what way are you "dumb of ass?"

Kitty Face: What is a feature about yourself that you like?

Dragon: What is something about you that might be dangerous?

Unicorn: What does "pure of heart" mean to you?

Triforce: Tell something about your moral code.

Axe: If you accidentally hurt someone, what do you do?

Sword: Being a himbo can be a "two-edged sword." Can you talk a bit about your thoughts and experiences in that regard?

Elder Sign: Tell us something that you think is too big for your brain.

Halloween: What is your favorite thing to do during the holidays?

Rune Circle: What are your opinions or beliefs about fate?

Lute: If you wanted to charm or flirt with someone, what would you do?

T_T: Tell us about a time your heart was broken.

UwU: Share something that instantly makes you swoon for someone.

OOF: What is something that hits you hard even if you just hear about it?

YEET: If you could get rid of anything in the world, what would it be?

[catboyaesthetic]

Mythmaker - The Calamity.

The following is the result from playing a Solo TTRPG game called Mythmaker. Please read more about it here.

Doom. I am no portent, no sign, no warning. I am it. In my wake, destruction. My shadow stretches the entire horizon. I have asked for no company, yet those who are drawn to power find me easily. Unnecessary. I alone am enough to tear this world apart. My road is littered with the bodies of such weaklings. I need the services of none.

My world was taken from me, and so I will take the world from everyone. No joy remains to me. No hope. No peace. I want no aid, no compassion, no understanding. I only want to burn it down. Scarred. I still bleed. I still heal. I still feel pain. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be on this path. And even with an eternity of battle behind me, there are still those who surprise me with their skill. My body has merely become a reflection of what I have become. What I embody. Ruin. Furious. I am the raging tide. I am the lightning strike. I am the consuming fire. I care not where my blade falls, so long as it does. I will tear this world apart over and over again to fuel the pyre of fury within me. There is no stopping the storm. Implacable. I cannot be reasoned with. I do not seek to be reasonable. I am the end. I seek no restitution, compensation, appeasement, adoration, glory. Only ruin can placate me. For a time.

Act One

The First

The first was Helmut of Derrigon. A man without name from a family without prestige. What scraps are left to inherit all go to the firstborn. A weak man – as they all are – who hoards meager wealth and position to himself. None is left for poor Helmut or his many brothers and sisters. For his father was a busy man, too busy to think of the future. I know what Helmut wants from me. I know what he thinks. He seeks glory, fame, and thinks he might achieve it through besting me, thinking it an easy road to riches.

He asks: Nothing is eternally seething. Once you found a kind of lasting release from your purpose, only for a Challenger to shatter it. What solace did you find? How was it broken?

I once had a friend of sorts. They were small and frail and I thought I could not care again for anything beyond my own need for vengeance, but they had no one and they were ill. So I fed them. I nursed them back to health, I kept them warm and thought myself a fool the entire time. There was a brief respite in those days. They might have been weeks, I don’t know. They were small and frail and they did not see me as the world does now. I was no arbiter of ruin, no broken husk. They saw me only as one their own. Then one day, somebody killed them. They had hunted them down for food and I ensured that that hunter suffered the whole time they were dying. I have not cared for anything since.

Despite this tale, I deem Helmut unworthy.

My very being urges to wipe away this blot of a man. He is spineless. He is graceless. He is weak in every way a person shouldn’t be. There is no vigor to his step, no originality to his words, even his bravado is borrowed from people stronger and wiser than him. He speaks but I do not care enough to hear him. I step towards him and I see the fear take hold of him. To end him would be like lazily waving a hand to scare away a fly. He is undeserving. Not out of compassion, nor out of judgement, but simple fact.

I step forwards once again and he makes way. I leave him behind me like a passing thought. He has seen me. Perhaps he will tell the world of my coming. It is irrelevant. I will arrive all the same.

A decade passes. I think on Renewal and Ruin.

A symbol of your purpose—a weapon, an item, a token, or some other object of note— has become tarnished by time.

My sword has cracked. Something that has carried me in and out of oblivion has finally begun to wear down as much as I have. As I swing to test it, the crack deepens before a piece of the blade flies off with the momentum alone. I think on its meaning. Does it signify my own deepening cracks? Once I was the First of Swords, now it seems I am the Only of Wrecks. The bladework on it remains impeccable, its edge as sharp as when it was first forged without me ever needing to maintain it. So what has lead to this damage? No, I distract myself. My purpose remains the same. Broken blade or none, it’s all the same. Still, the desire for answers nags at the corner of my mind.

The Second

The second was Korin of House Levindell, squire to a knight who does not deserve to be recorded. Korin came across me by happenstance at a tournament I attended in order to ultimately turn into a masscare. Korin recognized me by the tales he had heard of myself and Helmut. They had been turned into quite the story. Supposedly he had beaten me, which is why I had not returned. For all his faults, Korin was earnest and forthcoming. Korin sought to – and indeed did - embody the virtues of a knight. Even as he stood in fear before me, staring up at me in blind terror, he stood his ground and challenged me to a formal duel. Thinking, perhaps, that I was bound by some sort of code of honor. I am not sure why I stayed my hand. It would have been easy to hew off his head and move on to the many, many others attending. Still, he moved me. There was a tenderness that he evoked. A goodness. He showed me that knighthood and valor has nothing to do with title and everything to do with heart. He was a hero despite the abuse he clearly underwent. There were bruises across his body, there was fatigue evident in his eyes. Yet despite all this, he stood opposed to me. Small. Scared. Determined.

I deem Korin worthy.

I give him his duel. I let him lead me to the tournament grounds but I do not let him announce me. I announce myself, for none can do true justice and I will not have my memory written solely by others. I am the Ruin of Empire, the Butcher of Kings, Ender of Worlds of Bringer of Despair. I am the End and the Death and I say that I have been challenged by Korin of House Levindell to be stopped. I know the codes of honor everywhere, for they are all the same and abide by none of them, save now. We dance to the cadence of bladework, my footsteps sure and deadly. A thousand times I could have ended Korrin. A thousand times I stay my hand for reasons that even I do not fully grasp. I watch his eyes as we duel, eager to strike the moment I sense overconfidence. But his focus never falters. He watches me as I watch him and I feel we understand one another, and so I make this man a hero by letting him kill me. The indisputable victory I give him cements him in the history of his people – now long forgotten. It is memorized in song, in poetry, in tapestry. It tells of how my blood flowed into the sand, his people hailed him hero, savior, king and he was granted all he deserved. My suffering was overlooked. The dimming of the light, the burning in my flesh and the gasping for air as his blade found my throat. I hear his reign was just, but short. Murdered, of course. The ambition of weak men has always been deadly. The world has always been unjust.

They name you in the stories, even if you never had a true name. What do they call you? Describe how you feel about this name.

Knight of Calamity. Rider of Ruin. Kingbreaker. I carry many titles but no name. It is all the same to me. I have been alive too long to remember I was ever called anything else.

A year passes

Act Two

The Third

A holy man crosses my path. A savior he proclaims, leading his flock to a greater being, a holy being deserving of worship. Me. He says his name is Juran, and he prophesies the End. He speaks with vigor, his words move the hundreds that follow in his wake, some to tears. He speaks of miracles, of end times and of coming death. He says he recognizes me as the Arbiter of the End. “One needs but a glance,” he says, “to know that you are the Knight of Calamity, whom Helmut of Dorrigan slew on the Fields of Gold. Whom Korin slew at The Destined Tournament, yet here you are. Alive, insofar as you can be. You are a sign of greater powers, if not one of your own, and we have come to worship.”

I am filled with disgust. His feigned humility is a thin veil to his ambition. I don’t know how I know, but I know that he seeks to own me like he does the hearts and minds of his followers. In him I see the many religions that plagued this world, the harm they do and the people they hurt and I boil with fury. What he believes is true. It’s all true. Whatever higher power put me here or imbued me with this eternal punishment has long since abandoned me. But I am not a god. If I were, I would reshape the world into one where I am free from these chains. Where I am happy.

I deem Juran unworthy.

The fear settles in his eyes as I refuse to respond. I know what he’s feeling – what he sees. I always know. I watch him and drink in the parade of emotion. First there is doubt. The uncertainty follows shortly after. Then I see anger, for I do not give him the respect he feels he deserves. I see his mind working to spin my silence into something greater for his followers, and I wait as I have been. I see his anger turn to bile, and it overflows from his mind to his mouth into a tirade about false idols. “Forgive me, brothers and sisters,” he begins, “for I have lead you astray! It seems even the most faithful among us can make mistakes and some gods, it seems, do not want worshipping.” He pointedly stares at me as if to elicit some reaction. I give him none. He continues, “And this impostor – who has so clearly sought to garner the fame of our true God – cannot even deign to acknowledge us. They are merely flesh and bone! Behold, as I demonstrate!”

I break his arm before he has the opportunity to bring down the knife he produced out of thin air. As I hear him scream I remember my disdain for priests. An old, deep hatred that feels as if it is coming from the very depths of my memory. He begs for me to stop but I insist on working his broken arm further. I tower over him in every respect and I delight in the fear in his eyes. Despite the fact I retain my voice, I say nothing. I do not want to waste words on this insect. His followers scramble and panic. Some look on in awe, almost rapturous. I find myself disgusted by them also. And as I continue to torment Juran by breaking as many bones as I can, as meticulously as I can, I endure the screaming, the pleading, the singing, and the worshipping. I hear songs in languages that sound vaguely familiar, and it presses onto a deep sorrow within me. I don’t think I want to remember. The priest starts singing it as well, and I draw the broken sword that I keep over my shoulder. He sings louder at the advent of the end, and I hate him all the more for it. I drive the jagged, broken point deep into his throat to silence his singing to a gurgle, only for the crowd to sing themselves into an eerie sense of calm. More voices join the choir and the well of my sorrow deepens, but I don’t want to feel it. I push it down and pull at my anger, anything to cover up what they seem to want me to feel. With a deft stroke, I behead one of their followers in hopes of sending them into a frenzy once more, but it only seems to strengthen their resolve to sing. Shards of images play in my mind, too fast to focus on, and gone too quick to remember. I don’t want to hear it anymore. So I begin the slaughter. My broken blade slices, maims and ends where its edge finds flesh. The song only ends when the last voice is silenced. Covered in gore and crimson, I look back at my work. I feel no pride, nor disgust, nor anything. I clean my blade with one of their cloaks and set back into the scabbard across my shoulder. I do not bother cleaning anything else.

A decade passes. I think on Decadence & Downfall.

There is a war outside my resting place. Banners I do not recognize facing other banners I do not recognize. Their lines are prim and proper in numbers beyond counting, soon to be consumed by the fires of combat. I stand at a distance, curious yet detached. I feel an old yearning at the notion of combat, some eagerness for the thrill of the fight. But what would be the point? Let them destroy themselves and claw for petty plots of land or purpose or people. This only serves me in my purpose. If anything, it saves me time.

[fjolt]

Nah I lied here it is

“RAINER!” Maximus called out, looking for his comrade, everything had gone wrong today, everyone of the holy knights that went out to this abandoned building had died, except for two. Maximus, runs into the room he saw his ally go into, his footsteps clanking along as he enters, sword drawn and finds… Rainer… he’s alive but something feels… off to Maximus, it feels wrong. “Rainer? Are you wounded?” Maximus asks his comrade. “No, No… I’m fine…” Rainer responds to the man in gigantic armor. “Good, we need to retreat, everyone else has fallen… there’s likely a special grade demon in here, we won’t be able to defeat them al-“ Maximus was saying before being interrupted by Rainer, who spoke out to Maximus “I think it’s interesting how different we are Max.” he says, a slight hint of malice in his voice. “you joined the Holy Knights, worked as hard as you could to save people and got a suit of paladin armor, just to kill demons but you wanted to help people…” Maximus Is confused by what his comrade is talking about before Rainer turns around and speaks once more. “I joined simply because I wanted to kill.” Blood starts leaking out of Rainer’s helmet, Maximus quickly put everything together in his head, the symptoms, the strange behavior as of recent. Rainer was infected, there was no special grade demon… Just one former Holy Knight, one that wasn’t ever a good person in the first place. Maximus furiously shouted at Rainer, “WHAT DID YOU DO? RAINER SURELY YOU DIDN’T-“ but once more maximus was interrupted, this time not by words, no by a extremely fast man, who had grabbed him by the throat. “Y’know Max, I’ve dreamed of this moment for, fffaarrrr too long, I always hated how you acted like you were a better person, I’m here to end that now.” Rainer would say before the entire right arm of his armor would fly off, revealing an arm of twisted flesh and muscle. Maximus knew that there would be no saving Rainer, he’s fully infected but… Maximus wasn’t sure if he himself could survive, Not only did Rainer have way more strength now that he was fully infected, but he was also a skilled fighter, one worthy of the title of paladin. He noticed a few things now that he found out about Rainer being fully infected and becoming a demon. Rainer's arm seemed to burn slightly from touching the holy symbols on Rainer's armor, and the fabric that had Rainer’s. Gone. Holy Knights covered their armor in holy symbols. Regardless of their beliefs, simply because demons respond poorly to them, it may not kill them or even do that much damage, but holy knights must take any advantage they can to survive., he grabbed onto Rainer’s arm, his paladin armor locking in place and building up strength for a few seconds before expelling steam and attempts to get Rainer’s grip off him. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. Rainer chuckles before asking “You think that will work on me? Maybe before but now I have true POWER” Rainer then throws Maximus across the room, as if his armor isn’t over 100 pounds. Maximus is shocked by this; he tries to strike Rainer with his sword, but his attack is deflected by Rainer’s. Maximus’s armor once again locks and charges up a punch in his empty hand. Steam starts flowing from the elbow of the armor as Maximus releases an uppercut which successfully connects with Rainer’s head, with enough strength to break through armor. Rainer stumbles back, the upper right quarter of his helmet being broken off, his hand reaching for the lack of steel for a few seconds before he turns back to Maximus, more furious than he was a moment ago. A mass of flesh and muscle bursts from the new hole created in Rainer’s helmet, forming jagged bits of flesh and bone that formed a pattern.

[thedupshadove]

"Babe, there's something tragic about you/something so magic about you/don't you agree?" Galahad is both a tragic figure and a magic one, chosen by God for a holy life and an early death, but both the pain and the magic have an extra dimension where Lancelot is concerned, where on the one hand Galahad exists as a living reminder of his violation at Carboneck, but at the same time...that's his son. (also, throughout this reading of the song we'll see the romantic use of "babe" be replaced by "babe" as in "baby", as in "My baby.")

"Babe, there's something lonesome about you/something so wholesome about you/get closer to me". And Galahad would be lonesome, wouldn't he? The pure and perfect always are. So it's no wonder that his father, even a father that feels ambivalent toward him, would try to reach out and invite him in closer, just so that he'll have someone. (And perhaps a little bit enchanted with that "wholesomeness" that Lancelot knows himself to lack.)

"No tired sigh/No rolling eyes/No irony/No who cares/No vacant stares/No time for me" These lines maybe don't work quite as well, but there is still something there, about how Galahad is seemingly immune to the cynicism and corruption that has taken root and spread throughout Camelot. He believes in every single ideal he espouses. He lives them. And that in turn might lead him to reject his father's conflicted overtures, especially if he's been led to believe that Lancelot's role in his conception was the same kind of oathbreaking hypocrisy that so many of Arthur's knights are proving themselves prone to.

"Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago" And here's the big one, the line that first put the idea of this comparison in my head. Literally, like my mirror years ago, the father-son resemblance being haunting and unmistakable. (And another fun shift in meaning here--"familiar" not just in the actual meaning but also gaining some etymological resonance: "You look like family.")

"Idealism sits in prison/Chivalry fell on his sword" The Arthurian timeline is always fuzzy, but it can easily be spun that by time Galahad comes to court and makes himself known, the grand ideals and chivalric principles that the Round Table was founded on have already begun to rot. And Lancelot, with his secret affair with the Queen, understands that better than many--perhaps better than idealistic young Galahad does. Which brings us to...

"Innocence died screaming/Honey, ask me, I should know" Lancelot may feel that innocence is dead coming and going, having both done great wrongs and had great wrongs done against him (Did he scream, at Carboneck? Was he able to?)

"I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door." It's not a piece of symbolism that is usually applied to him, but I could believe that Lancelot the guilty Christian sees himself as the Serpent in the Eden that was Camelot--destroying an impossible paradise by offering forbidden pleasures to its most important woman. And, having brought the whole world down around his ears, what is there left to do except slither off to find his son, the only purely good thing he has wrought upon the world?

"Babe, there's something wretched about this/Something so precious about this/Where to begin?" Again we're back to complicated feelings surrounding Galahad's conception. What was done to Lancelot at Carboneck made him wretched in a way that nothing else has, and yet the result--fair and strong and full of shining grace--is precious to him in a way that he could never have counted on. Where to begin to make sense of that?

"Babe, there's something broken about this/But I might be hoping about this/Oh, what a sin" The foundations of their relationship are broken, but he hopes, oh he hopes, to make it right. Is that another sin, to hope that someone with all his mistakes under his belt could play father to the Grail Knight himself? But he has to. He can't help it.

"To the strand, a picnic planned for you and me/A rope in hand for you other man to hang from a tree" And this, alas, is the couplet that really does not fit under this reading, except in so far as Lancelot and Galahad might have gone on a picnic together at some point.

"From Eden" is such a Lancelot-Galahad song if you are forgiving with about 40% of the lyrics.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Camlann, except no one is being held back by stupid destinies;

Merlin manages to keep Morgana and Mordred on the side of the light, which has a few rather influential knock-on effects.

Morgause leads her army onto the barren fields of Camlann, her hair and eyes wild, but her sword and focus sharp. Opposite stands her traitor sister’s half brother, the Boy-King of Camelot, surrounded by his precious knights. Today, they would all die, she would make certain of that.

Arthur struggles to keep his hands from trembling, he’s well aware that this battle will likely be his, and subsequently Camelot’s, downfall, but his nerves are settled slightly by Merlin’s comforting presence at his side. Which he feels immensely guilty at. 

He’d done his best to urge Merlin to run, to take Gwen and Gaius and maybe even Morgana, to go to Ealdor to pick up his mother and run even further, just in case. Merlin had refused of course; Gwen and Morgana had squawked at Arthur’s stupid chivalry and planted their feet firmly in the throne room, a symbolic last line of defence, and Gaius rolled his eyes and reaffirmed that he would be in the infirmary tent, as planned. 

He’d given his men his speech and they all seemed content to die for the cause, for one last desperate attempt to keep their home safe, but that didn’t stop the freezing claw of guilt from shredding Arthur’s lungs every time he took a breath. They were just waiting now. For someone to make the first move, for Morgause to get a little closer, for someone to send a messenger. 

Arthur’s broken from his stare when a warm, soft, steady hand takes his gently. His head whips to the side to see Merlin, stood without armour (oh, how The King despaired) staring at him with a slight frown. A frown, Arthur thinks, that should be much deeper, and much more afraid. He’s grateful it isn’t. He’s not sure he could cope with seeing Merlin scared:

“Arthur, if... if I knew a way to win this, once and for all, with not a drop of Camelot blood spilt... would you let me?”

It takes Arthur a few moments to process what Merlin had said, on account of his brain focusing on how grateful he is to hear his voice and feel the warmth of his hand instead of actually listening to him speak, but when he does, he copies his servant’s frown, though his is slightly more confused. He doesn’t let go of Merlin’s hand as he responds, instead tightening his grip:

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

Merlin gulps and looks away briefly, a look of guilt if Arthur ever saw one, but he finds he doesn’t really care. They’re all about to die, he’d forgive Merlin anything:

“If I could win this battle, and the war, right here, right now. Would you let me?-”

At Arthur’s continued perplexed look, Merlin rolls his eyes and huffs, smirking slightly as he adds on:

“-Just humour me.”

Arthur gulps, glancing towards the slowly advancing army before once again squeezing Merlin’s hand and looking back at him:

“It would... depend on the consequences, I suppose. Would you get hurt?”

Merlin shakes his head, then stops, and tilts it sideways as though he’s considering something he’d really rather not think about. He can’t meet Arthur’s gaze as he responds:

“I... might need a few hours to rest, afterwards, but any... long term consequences would depend on your reaction.”

Arthur recoils slightly at that, frown deepening as he shakes his head, completely oblivious to the keen listening ears of his six most loyal knights, and another, hidden towards the back of the group. If he’d turned to see them, Arthur would’ve noticed the blank looks of steely determination on Lancelot and Mordred’s faces:

“Well we would never have to worry about that. I... I could never see you hurt, Merlin.”

The King’s voice cracks as he mentions Merlin getting hurt, and the servant’s gaze softens, knowing that Arthur was thinking of their inevitable demise, creeping closer and closer. He squeezes his hand, giving him a soft smile as his other hand lifts up to rest on his shoulder; his question comes out soft and pleading:

“Do you trust me?”

Arthur has to use all of his self control not to yell his answer across Camlann:

“More than anyone.”

Merlin smiles sadly and steps back, dropping both of his still-steady hands to his sides; Arthur feels the gap between them more heavily than he feels the armour on his back. Merlin goes to turn away without another word, but before he can take even one step, a figure is pushing through to the front, gripping his wrist and pulling him back:

“I’m coming too.”

Arthur’s eyes go comically large as he hears Morgana’s voice come from under the hood. He steps forward to rip it down, and she only spares him an annoyed glance before she’s back to staring purposefully at Merlin. A gasp goes up around the group from all bar two, and Mordred dismounts his horse, walking forward to be in line with Morgana. The three of them entirely ignore Arthur’s outraged words:

“Morgana, what the hell are you doing here? You need to be safe at the castle, you’re meant to take the crown what the hell are you doing here?!”

Merlin meets Morgana’s determined glare with a resigned one of his own:

“No, this is my-”

Mordred interrupts him, his voice strong in a way that Arthur had never heard from the youngest knight before:

“No. No, it’s not. You’re not just fighting for Camelot, Merlin, you’re fighting or us, for our people.”

Merlin looks like he wants to argue, but Morgana crosses her arms and holds her head high as she speaks:

“You’re making a stand and you have no right to stop us from doing the same. This is bigger than you, bigger than all three of us, this is our fight just as much as it is yours.”

Merlin can only hold their stare for so long before he sighs and looks to the floor, entirely oblivious to the knights panicking (bar Lancelot, of course). He looks up with a small, relaxed smile on his face, and if Arthur weren’t so preoccupied with the fact that Morgana was definitely not supposed to be here, he would’ve found Merlin’s almost-nonchalance calming. The servant holds both his hands out:

“Together?”

Mordred grins widely, taking one of Merlin’s wrists as he responds confidently:

“For Camelot.”

Morgana does the same, a sudden wind whipping her hair behind her wildly:

“For our people.”

Without another moment’s of hesitation, Merlin turns and marches towards Morgause and her army. His steps are purposeful and strong, and Arthur can’t bring himself to stop him, no matter how desperately his brain is screaming at him. Morgana turns to him with a not-quite-cruel smirk:

“This has been a long time coming, brother. Enjoy the show.”

Arthur can only blink in surprise as she turns and walks towards Merlin. Mordred looks to him next, though the young knight’s smile is a lot softer, a lot more pitying:

“You should consider yourself lucky, Arthur,-”

Arthur barely registers the use of his first name:

“-my Lord gave up his throne in favour of serving you, buried his crown in favour of polishing yours.”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, his voice quiet and confused and strained as he asks:

“Your Lord?”

Mordred looks to Merlin, still marching across the seemingly never-ending field, with an awed smile; his voice is quiet and holds notes of what almost sound like worship:

“He’s more than you know.”

Before Arthur can respond, Merlin and Morgana stop, turning to look at Mordred expectantly. Merlin stares blankly, his brows slightly furrowed, but Morgana sports a wild grin as she yells back:

“I though you wanted to join in on the fun, Mordred?”

The young knight grins in response, turning to Arthur and giving him one last short bow as he cheerfully says, not a trace of worry in his voice:

“Lady Morgana is right My Lord, enjoy the show.”

He turns away quickly, jogging to catch up with the other two before anyone can say anything. Gwaine is the first to react, jumping off his horse and starting forward, to catch up with them, to pull them back, to ask them what the fuck was going on, but Lance quickly lands behind him, grabbing his shoulder:

“Wait, don’t. You trust them right?-”

He casts his gaze around the others, all looking slightly confused but mostly panicked as they dismount their horses. Mordred, Merlin, and Morgana make their journey to the centre of the field, but Lancelot’s eyes focuses on Arthur:

“-You said you trusted him, so just... this is what he does, Arthur. Please, just trust him, everything’s going to be ok.”

Arthur is desperate to question his knight, to demand that he explain what’s going on and give up anything, everything he knows, but before he can say anything, Elyan gasps and points somewhere beyond their friends. The whole army seems to resume their earlier jitters as Morgause differentiates herself from her soldiers.

~

The three magic users spread out slightly as they come to a stop, Mordred on the left, Morgana on the right, and Merlin, of course, in the middle.

A storm seems to be fast approaching and the loud wind makes hearing each other difficult, but they don’t need words to speak, and Mordred’s question echoes in Merlin’s head as all of their gazes focus on Morgause stepping forward:

“Are the other two coming?”

The Warlock nods, tapping his finger to his temple briefly as he replies:

“I called for them hours ago, they’re almost-”

~

Arthur is distracted from all that’s in front of him when a desperate and terrified voice screeches out from the back of his army:

“DRAGONS!!”

He, and all the other knights, whip their heads around in panic, only to see exactly what had been yelled about. The Dragon that Arthur had supposedly killed years ago is flying towards them like a hurricane, golden scales shining bright even in the shadows of the approaching storm. Next to him flies a much smaller dragon, pure white and clearly young, unstable in the air but still graceful, still terrifying.

Arthur’s heart sinks even impossibly further as they both fly straight over them, aiming for the other side of the field. If Morgause had two Dragons at her beck and call somehow, there was no hope, no matter what ridiculous plan Merlin had. Arthur felt the tears fill his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. If this was to end in fire, then he’d sprint to Merlin, just so he could see him, hold his hands, beg him for a smile, one last time.

Lancelot holds him back with a hand on his shoulder and a soft smile:

“I know this doesn’t make sense, but just... trust him.”

He turns back to Merlin just to see the great beasts land in front of them, almost acting as a barrier between the three of them and the opposing army.

~

“-Took you long enough.”

Kilgharrah does his best imitation of rolled eyes before dipping his head in a bow:

“Where would you like us, young Warlock?”

Merlin grins, allowing Aithusa to push her head into his hands as he answers:

“I want you somewhere off to the side looking vaguely threatening. Only intervene if you have to, I don’t want the Camelot knights getting twitchy and skewering you, you’re an old man after all, I’m not sure you could take it.-”

Morgana laughs aloud and Mordred snorts behind his hand, but Kilgharrah just rolls his eyes again, giving another bow that this time somehow seems sarcastic before clomping off to the side, prowling up and down the edge of the field and huffing the occasional puffs of smoke in the opposition’s direction. Merlin looks down to Aithusa next, scratching her chin and using a much softer voice:

“Go watch over Arthur, keep him safe but don’t let him or any of the others hurt you, I’m sure Lance will explain. Try to stay out of the fighting and don’t let Morgause get anywhere near Arthur or the knights, you understand?”

The creature purrs and nods, stepping around her master and beginning an impossibly fast sprint towards Arthur.

~

Arthur stares with wide eyes at the gathering in the middle of the field, letting out a deep breath when the Great Dragon bows down to Merlin’s confident stance. The smaller creature bounds to him as he... exchanges words with the beasts, and all Arthur can do is stare as his brain argues over which emotion should be at the forefront. Fear? Confusion? Betrayal? Some kind of guilt? Pride, maybe?

Lancelot definitely looks proud, worried, but proud, and Arthur spares him a questioning glance; before he can say anything, Leon lets out a quiet yelp, pointing across the field and drawing his sword on instinct. Arthur whips his head around to see the white Dragon speeding towards them, eyes bright, teeth bared, and sharp claws ripping up the ground with every step.

He draws his own sword, panic clawing at his gut, but before he can step forward in some pointless attempt to protect his men, Lancelot pulls him back again, stepping in between Arthur and the approaching Dragon with a placating hand held out to each of them; his voice comes out quickly and desperate:

“No, no, she’s on our side, don’t hurt her. Merlin sent her here to protect us, don’t hurt her.”

Arthur stares between them with a mix of blood-curdling fear and endless confusion. But he trusts Merlin, and he trusts Lancelot, so much to Leon’s displeasure he lowers his sword, though he doesn’t sheath it, not yet.

The Dragon finally reaches them, coming to a skidding stop a few feet away. Arthur’s fear is overpowered by confusion, and an odd fondness in the back of his mind, when the creature almost topples over in it’s haste. She purrs loudly, and even Leon appears to relax slightly, even more so when she dips her head in what appears to be a bow to Arthur, before turning her attention to Lancelot and pushing her face into his hands.

The other knights all start forward on instinct, but when Lance lets out a low chuckle and begins... scratching the creature’s chin?? They step back again, watching as the Dragon begins purring even louder, almost bowling Lancelot over as it rubs it’s scaled body across his legs. It’s... acting like a cat...

Gwaine coughs very deliberately and Lancelot looks up with a blush, biting his lip before saying, his words awkward and stilted:

“Uh... guys, this is Aithusa, she’s... a Dragon. She can’t speak yet, but-”

Percival makes a confused noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head with wide eyes as he asks incredulously:

“Dragons are meant to be able to speak??”

Lancelot grimaces, but nods, but before he can say anything, Morgause’s crazed voice echoes over the field, and their attention is drawn back to the face off between Merlin, Morgana, Mordred, and the enemy.

~

“You can not beat me, not even with your precious pets!!”

The gang can hear Kilgharrah’s low growl at the insult and the sound vibrates across the ground and up into their very bones, even with the distance between them. Aithusa tenses in response, eyes narrowed and teeth bared as she detects the anger and insult swarming in her Kin, but Merlin holds a hand out to the Great Dragon, and both creatures relax as he monotonously responds:

“I’m giving you one chance, Morgause, do not send your followers to a pointless death.”

His tone is even and confident, his back straight, his head held high, and Arthur wonders how he’d never noticed Merlin’s obvious power before. Despite speaking normally, his voice is heard by everyone, even over the howling wind.

The knights can see Morgause’s hands shaking in her rage, her eyes wide and bright golden as she screeches her response, her anger showing through clearly:

“I am no coward!! You are nothing but a servant, a child soldier, and a pampered princess! What hope do you have against me?! I am a High Priestess, you are nothing!!!”

Merlin lowers his head, nodding slightly in resigned sadness. His muttered words, once again, somehow seem to echo across the field, and Arthur recoils at the grief in his tone:

“So be it.”

He slowly lifts his arm, holding it at a forty-five degree angle from the ground, his fingers splayed wide, and Elyan gasps, pointing wordlessly to the lightening dancing between his fingertips. Gwaine lets out a boisterous laugh, grinning as he realises with sudden clarity that Merlin is about to kick ass in a major way.

Arthur just gapes, struggling to process what was happening even as Gwaine whoops and Lancelot smiles proudly. The other knights are also staring, varying levels of confusion, awe, and happiness on their faces. 

From where they’re standing, they can see Mordred and Morgana get into a fighting stance, though neither of them draw the swords they have hanging from their hips. Morgause lets out an ear piercing screech, this one wordless, giving the distinct impression that her mind had snapped under the weight of her fury. Her army begins their march forwards as she hurls a fireball the size of a horse straight for Merlin, but he simply twists his wrist sharply forwards. A bolt of lightening rips down from the sky, intercepting the fireball and forcing it to the ground where it explodes in a miniature storm of silver sparks and golden flames.

Morgause screams again, her and her army speeding up in their approach as Merlin gives some sort of unseen command. All of a sudden, Mordred gives a small leap forward, planting his feet firmly as he thrusts his hands towards the ground before ripping them up again; with the movement, the ground at his feet explodes, vines and rocks and roots bursting from the field in a sharp line heading straight for the army. Morgana, at the same time, swirls her arms gracefully around her head, a few sparks of fire lighting up in the darkness as if from the friction between her hands and the air. She brings her arms down again, completing the elegant flow, stepping forward as she blows harshly into her cupped hands. A great, hot fire bursts forth, huge and angry and writhing as it shoots towards the enemy.

A few feeble counter attacks are thrown from Morgause and the sorcerers she has in her ranks, but ultimately, the army can only look on in horror at their approaching deaths. After a few moments of Merlin staring proudly at Mordred and Morgana’s handy work as it rips apart the first few hundred soldiers, he takes his own step forward, raising his arm to the sky. Lightening dances between just his fingertips at first, then down his arm, then all over his body; he connects to the flashes in the sky, and he glows brighter and brighter until he thrusts both arms forward. A tornado of flashing, crackling light shoots out from his hands, striking down thousands of soldiers. Shards of lightening jump from enemy to enemy, leaving none untouched by magic, each being struck down by Mordred’s earth, Morgana’s fire, or Merlin’s sky.

The Camelot army can only stare on in shock and horror as the enemy is wiped out in minutes, screams of those being buried alive, burned as if on pyres, or fried from the inside out reverberating across the field. Arthur’s mouth hangs open, his eyes wide and frozen on Merlin as he conducts lightening as if it were what he was born to do. Something deep in Arthur’s soul tells him that this is what he was born to do.

Aithusa’s protection isn’t required; none of the enemy soldiers get within ten metres of Merlin and his pupils, let alone Arthur and the other knights, but she patrols the front edge of Camelot’s army regardless, nudging back those that step too far forward (everyone was too focused on The King’s manservant, knight, and half sister being... well... Godlike, to care about the fact that a Dragon was using her snout to gently push people around), always with one eye on Arthur, just like her master had asked.

Within minutes, the field goes almost silent; the only sounds to be heard are the gentle crackling of still-smouldering bodies, and the deep breaths of Morgause, Mordred, Morgana, and Arthur. Merlin seems entirely unbothered, his stance still strong and powerful where Mordred and Morgana sag slightly from the exertion.

Morgause falls to her knees, tears on her cheeks as she finally realises the power that she’s up against; Merlin tilts his head slightly before clicking his fingers. The four of them disappear in clouds of deep black smoke and Arthur struggles to stop himself from yelping and falling back when they reappear in front of him.

Morgause is still kneeling, Merlin in front of her with a blank expression on his face. Morgana stands to the side, her face an odd mix of sorrowfully defeated—Morgause was her sister after all—and vindictively victorious. Mordred stands at her shoulder, looking a lot more tired but still managing to stay upright as he gazes upon the scene with well put together indifference. Aithusa bounds over to be stood at her master’s side, and even Kilgharrah joins them, standing behind Aithusa a way’s off.

Morgause finally speaks through her deep breathing, staring up at Merlin in desperation:

“Who are you?”

Merlin just tilts his head and frowns slightly, crouching down to place a soft hand on her shoulder:

“Who do you think?”

Morgause sags even further, her tears streaming down her face as she almost whispers, her voice cracking:

“Emrys.”

Merlin nods slowly, looking to Arthur for the first time since the whole ordeal started. Arthur is taken aback at the shining gold of his eyes, but holds his gaze, gulping and waiting for his servant (?) to make the first move:

“Your orders, My Lord?”

Arthur takes a deep breath, looking first down at Morgause, who is staring at the floor blankly, then to Mordred and Morgana, who raise eyebrows at him, then Lancelot, who shrugs, and finally the other knights, who stare at him with wide eyes, waiting for his answer just as Merlin is. His hands clench at his side, but he looks back to the dark-haired man, his face determined and his voice strong:

“Your suggestion?”

Lancelot nods approvingly at Arthur’s obvious show of trust; the question is more than just a question, it’s a display that The King is treating Merlin like an advisor, asking for his counsel and trusting his allegiance in front of a crowd. Merlin smiles slightly, tightening his grip on Morgause’s shoulder, not that she notices:

“I’m not overly fond of execution, but we don’t have dungeons strong enough to hold her long term, and too many have suffered at her hand.”

Arthur nods, though he sheathes his sword. He takes a deep breath before his next instruction, knowing that this is... delicate, and important; a turning point in his Kingdom’s history:

“Make it merciful.”

Merlin holds in his proud smile and Morgause only has time to gasp quietly as his hand moves from her shoulder to her forehead. Her eyes roll back and she collapses to the floor, dead before she even hits the ground. 

The Warlock spares the dead witch a quick, pitying glance, and the grief in his eyes, even after all she had done, is endearing, reminding everyone around them of the compassion Merlin is capable of. He stands quickly, but is careful not to make any of his moves too sudden, stepping away from the body and towards Arthur. His stance is strong once again, allowing some before unseen authority, confidence, power to shine through; Mordred and Morgana take their places either side of them, and even Aithusa sits up, tall and proud, as Kilgharrah edges forward slightly.

This is Merlin, showing off his army, presenting it to his King, offering it up for judgment. An army consisting of himself, his two apprentices, and two Dragons; not large, but likely the most powerful the land has ever known, and ever will know.

Arthur gulps, but meets Merlin’s golden gaze. The atmosphere is thick and charged and The King couldn’t pinpoint whether it was from the residual lightening still jumping between Merlin’s fingers, or the sheer power that was just displayed, seemingly effortlessly. He glances over the Warlock’s shoulder at the carnage behind him and can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath. Merlin tilts his head, glancing at the massacre for just a moment before looking back with an almost repentant smile:

“I apologise for the theatrics,-”

He’s interrupted by Morgana’s whispered murmur of “I don’t, that was brilliant.” but ignores her:

“-but I can... fix that. If you like?”

Arthur frowns slightly, confused and so far out of his comfort zone that he doesn’t even want to hazard a guess at what Merlin might be implying. He feels a mould grow spontaneously in his gut, a horror with spores that spread throughout his bloodstream as he realises that... he doesn’t really know anything about magic, about how it works, about how Merlin is offering to use it. It had yet to occur to him to be afraid of Merlin, but the sudden realisation that he’d been persecuting his servant’s people with no real understanding of his own former hatred was... jarring.

The Warlock sees Arthur’s hesitation, widening his reassuring smile slightly as he repeats an earlier question, from a time that felt as though it had come years before, but was really only minutes. The discrepancy in timelines between Arthur’s head and the real world does not alter the King’s answer

“Do you trust me?”

“More than anyone.”

Merlin closes his eyes, holding his hands out to the side slightly as he lets out a deep breath. The storm, which Arthur and the knights had become entirely oblivious of despite it’s ruinous thunder and blinding flashes of lightening, quickly dissipates; blue sky and bright sun peek through the fading clouds. A gold shimmer ripples out across the ground from Merlin’s feet, spreading backwards like a wave over sand, turning pebbles and leaving the beach clean and fresh in it’s wake. The ground clears, bodies sinking into nothingness and fires being smothered by magic, even Morgause disappears into the dirt. 

Arthur absentmindedly thinks that that could be seen as honorary or disgracing; he supposes it depends on what type of person you were before the end of your life. Merlin would see being entombed within the Earth itself as a blessing, he somehow thinks that Morgause, with her God complex and inflated feelings of infallibility, would find it... demeaning.

Merlin sags his head slightly, and when Arthur’s brain comes back into focus, mostly prompted by the gasping and widespread whispers of the uneasy army behind him, he sees that the barren fields of Camlann, soaked with blood and scorched by lightening, no longer exist. In their place was a vast meadow, bright with the colours of spring and summer; untameable wildflowers stood tall and crimson butterflies were the only reminders of the bloodshed that had watered this paradise before them.

Arthur feels the smile on his face before he had even made the conscious decision to smile, but he decides that today, of all days, he doesn’t mind accidentally wearing his heart on his sleeve. Trust Merlin to do something as unspeakable as rip an army to shreds with lightening, and then apologise for his dramatics by creating heaven on earth.

The King sighs before shaking his head slightly, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh. He can feel the sun on his skin, and his smile grows with the knowledge that the heat warming his cheeks was entirely unnatural for this time of year; Merlin really was pulling out all of the stops.

“You’re a gift to this world, Merlin.”

His voice comes out softly, as if he were afraid of ruining the peace, though he only adds to it; The King finally turns to his Warlock again and almost stumbles back at the immeasurable devotion shining from his now-blue-again eyes. His whispered response carries on the wind as if he were a part of it, and Arthur wonders just how much of this world Merlin has touched, just how much of this universe Merlin has created, extended himself to. Did the wind exist before Merlin? Did the sun? Did butterflies, or lightening, or the colour gold have any space in this universe before Merlin willed it? Gaius’ thick books say they have an answer, but Arthur thinks they might be lying:

“A gift to you, Arthur, only to you.”

~

THE END!

I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for a while, so I hope y’all liked it!! I LOVE writing BAMF!Merlin, (and BAMF!Mordred/Morgana as well so) :D

Same as always, you wanna extend it/write it properly/remix it, then that’s fine, but drop me message before hand and credit/tag me!! :)

[lazarusawaken]

Random Nona thoughts

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

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— No but really, what medical(?) secret did Nona tell Hot Sauce? Will it ever be revealed?

— As someone who doesn’t speak Māori and is not familiar with the phonetics, I was 100% sure that “Kiriona” was a play on “Kyrie”, as in “Kyrie eleison”. Still not sure Tamsyn didn’t put the same connection as a second layer of meaning (because we’re talking onion layers of meaning with tlt)

— I absolutely love that the pre-ressurrection chapter is so NZ-centered

— Kinda feel that the main problem with Paul is that both Camilla and Palamedes have very strong presence and vibe, which was played beautifully in this book. With Paul, we didn’t get a strong introduction of character’s personality and at the same time it’s hard to imagine a melange of Cam’s and Pal’s personalities because they are so different.

— I normally don’t enjoy heterosexual romance in books, but even if we read Cam’s and Pal’s relationship as a platonic romance, they still have a place in my broken heart

— Still waiting for Crown to reveal herself as badtwin. So far she’s just very indecisive and tries to have all at once when it’s obviously not possible.

— Messenger????! Message?????!!!

— Was very intrigued by the nameless nun, but it’s very hard for me to keep track of ALL the original Lyctors (thanks God Tumblr exists for people to explain tlt to me), so didn’t catch Cristable but MY GOD, SHE.

— I really hope there will be a better explanation on how and why John’s powers manifested rather than “it just happened”. I mean, it wouldn’t ruin the series for me if it just stays, but I think it was not the usual level of, erm, logical basis?

— OG Lyctors, you bunch of horrible enablers.

— The cow refrain. My god.

— No but the cow wall. The “accident”. The way John’s arc was almost redeeming until it wasn’t.

— I personally did feel that NtN works perfectly fine as a separate book. I feel like a lot of criticism on that comes from a bias as we already knew that it originally was supposed to be a part of AtN.

— I really hope that we’ll see Nona integrated into Alecto’s personality.

— I’m still curious whether Pyrrha made up the mustache t-shirt or really bought it.

— Somehow Nona’a tantrum was really scary. The finger. Ouch. Oh.

— Is there some connection between Alecto wielding a two-hander and two-hander being Gideon’s favorite sword?

— I’m kinda happy that I’m not the only one confused by the whole BoE inner feud. At least it’s not me being dumb lol

— Genuinely enjoyed the domestic part of the book because it felt very much like grasping at tiny shards of happiness amidst hell knowing that something even more horrible is coming and everything will end soon, and I wish I could relate less.

— I kinda think the pacing was similar to the previous two books? The long slow beginning and a chaotic last third — at some point I almost walked away from GtN because of how slow it was? So happy I didn’t though.

— Reading tlt is like talking about your pain and trauma with a very compassionate listener. I don’t know if I can elaborate.

— Mercy appreciating the fierceness of teenage girls. Yes please. John getting a bunch of babies as Lyctors. No please.

— No but Ianthe in leather pants.

— Naberius was the last character I expected to have a comeback. Sort of.

— Alecto starts with Harrow in Hell — and seemingly picks up where HtN ended, Harrow-wise? I’m curious whether the Harrow John was talking to was Harrow at all? I was going into ask whether we’ll get a glimpse of what half a year in the River was for Harrow but we sort of already did?

— I love Tamsyn’s love for the most clueless characters as narrative focus.

— The Tower feels like the Tarot Tower. Like, a lot. I think there’s actually more of Tarot symbolism in tlt, but I’m not entirely sure.

— there will probably be more thoughts later, but it I don’t wrap up now, I will simply never stop