#no one could have forseen this.

[tillman]

got really into this guy over maint. for some reason.

[jessaerys]

"But I finished [Near and Mello] together as a set, and although they aren’t particularly laid out as such, I still feel a bit like they’re twins." —Obata Takeshi

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same:

i. low sky, mahmoud darwish. ii. the world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire, ritika jyala. iii. kadan, 2008. iv. the dreamers, gilbert adair. v. @nathanielorion vi. nagiko, 2016. vii. elektra, sophokles (tr. anne carson). viii. wishbone, richard siken. ix. inbred, ethel cain. x. the boy who, tirol. xi. monster portraits, del samatar and sofia samatar. xii. in the field, @nathanielorion xiii. death note, "use" ch77. xiv. gut symmetries, jeanette winterson. xv. mystic union; fire and wine: poems, john gould fletcher. xvi. @inukai_0055, twitter. xvii. the carnivorous lamb, agustín gómez-arcos. xviii. my sister, the serial killer, oyinkan braithwaite. xix. the beatrice letters, lemony snicket (text); a quiet visitor, holly warburton (art); @unpardonablesins (edit). xx. ada, vladimir nabokov. xxi. this is how you lose the time war, amal el-mohtar. xxii. the borgias, s3e10, showtime. xxiii. @antaarf xxiv. @vilicity xxv. @boymiffy

[yutamayo]

no but you're seeing through the matrix Sasuke and idk why that's not getting the attention it deserves

hmmm

[quidcumque]

You ever, like, stand in Joann and touch yarn until you start crying

[vaguely-concerned]

godddddddddddd the vibes/agonizing Cinematique Parallels & Contrasts between taash and a romanced lucanis when harding sacrifices herself are just. unspeakable. and excruciating. they keep going through the same experiences, but taash repeatedly watches lucanis get back what he thought he'd lost, disbelievingly, in ways he would never have dared to hope for in his wildest dreams if it had even occurred to him to do so or have those. while they just. don't. nothing ever comes back for them. lucanis gets his tama back he gets rook back he even gets to keep his cousin in some fashion any way it shakes out. and how on earth could you ever begrudge him any of that for even a moment, especially if you had to see his eyes every day while rook was gone. but also here you stand with your empty hands and your burned-out ruin of a heart with nothing to show for all your love but grief and ash. what do you say to each other after something that. what could you possibly say to each other. what the fuck. what the hell.

there are some incredibly painful and difficult things that can happen between all these people even when no one is acting with anything but the best of intentions every step of the way, and it's such a good theme that keeps breaking through in the writing in this game. it doesn't matter if it's true (because of course it isn't, it's just an illogical but understandable emotional reaction), the guilty feeling that your happiness is at the expense of the happiness of someone else you care about is always lurking. we are inextricably linked. for good, and for ill. joy and regret unavoidably intertwined -- you don't get one fully without the other. and taash truly gets. mostly regret, depending on what you do. jesus christ.

also this is why I don't mind the 'lack of conflict' between the main cast at all. that's the fucking point. horrible and heartwrenching things can still happen between people without active malice or harmful intentions or even fundamental disagreements ever entering into it at all. isn't that awful? isn't that painful to sit with? that you can mean no harm and still cause it, even -- sometimes especially -- to people you love? doesn't it fill you with a very specific kind of dread that actions however well-intentioned have consequences you couldn't have forseen but have to live with now anyway and you won't always be the one to pay the price; that's not under your control?

[indelen]

I know that this exact way of processing trauma is probably not what 8 out of 10 psychiatrists would recommend, but I do wonder if re-enacting and weaponizing the traumatic events Kaz experienced as a child but in a way that he was more in control of and manipulated to his own ends was what allowed Kaz to move forward. Since I don't think revenge did anything to actually *heal* anything in Kaz.

Something about Kaz hinging his entire plan in Crooked Kingdom on the fact that no one would bother checking on a boy they assumed was dead during the plague is just so...

Like, he remembers lying in that alley with Jordie and watching people walk past and then being rolled onto a pile of corpses by bodymen and staring up at them thinking Wait. I'm still alive. and getting dumped on the Reaper's Barge anyway because no one in this city cares.

"But won't the medic check to see if he's really dead?" No. He won't.

[violettathepiratequeen]

How could the Shanshu Prophecy NOT have been about Spike in Chosen?

The Prophecy states that a vampire with a soul would play a pivotal role in the apocalypse, and would be rewarded with becoming human when that happened. This was introduced in S1 of AtS, where it was also explicitely stated that the vampire in question isn't named, just that it's one with a soul. And since Angel was unique in that way, naturally it's assumed that he's the one they're referring to (but then why not name him if he was the only one it could apply to hmmm?) Wolfram and Hart took the extra step of research to learn that it was unclear whether the vampire would play a pivotal role on the side of good, or the side of evil, so they tried their darndest to get Angel on the side of evil through all five seasons.

But, hello? Angel has had a soul for a hundred and something years. And he's been through an apocalypse or two, first with Buffy, then on his own show. What's he been doing all this time? Which apocalypse are we talking about here? Lindsey claims the apocalypse has been going on all around them in Season 5, but the Buffyverse has always had clearly marked events signalling the end of the world that had to be prevented. The world being a mess is NOT an apocalypse in and of itself.

And then another vampire gets himself a soul, that could only have been forseen in prophecy, because he decided on his own to go and fight for it. After getting said soul, the First Evil immediately latched onto Spike and started grooming him, manipulating him, and brainwashing him into killing people. Random bystanders at first, probably testing to see if it could work on Buffy and her friends.

So Spike could very well have been on the side of evil in S7, if he didn't work so hard to resist the First's influence, if he didn't ask Buffy to help him, if he didn't break through his trigger. Or hell, even if he'd left town.

And then Angel is handed a mystical amulet and some info meant to help with whatever is going on in Sunnydale. He hands it over to Buffy and offers to be the champion in question, but she says no, and chooses Spike instead.

I'm not gonna get into the whole Spuffy side of this, haha, but S7 was about Buffy choosing Spike, every single time, in every aspect of her life, in love, and in battle. And this universe did originate with her, so she ought to be the one to determine this, within the confines of the show, anyway.

Spike takes it willingly, they both know he's probably going to die, Buffy does try to get him out of there when she sees he IS dying, and he stays, giving his life so that she and everyone else can live. His soul powers the amulet, his love sets their hands aflame, and his heroic act bathes him in sunlight before he's destroyed.

In the battle against THE FIRST EVIL. If I was gonna pick which apocalypse the Shanshu was talking about, I would choose one that had a villain called THAT. Plus it's Spike's first apocalypse with a soul, so that would also make sense that it's the one the Prophecy is referring to. No resting on his laurels for THIS vampire.

Except, instead, he dies and shows up on Angel's show disoriented and alone and without Buffy and with a complete 180 personality, battling with Angel on who the Prophecy is about, and you'll notice the show never does answer that question. Because Spike objectively makes the most sense. But it's not like they could make Angel play second fiddle ON HIS OWN SHOW.

No, what they should have done, is let the finale of Buffy cross over with Angel properly. Not just a cameo, but bring the whole Angel crew in, so that anyone watching the show would be forced to watch that specific episode of Buffy just to keep up with the story.

And Spike should have Shanshued. And Angel would have been disappointed, sure, but hey, he's BEEN human before. And he didn't like it. He even got a ring that made him impervious to harm. And he didn't like it. He loved Cordy more deeply (and more recently) than he ever loved Buffy. So it's not like he's really waiting for her anymore. Plus Cordy is part demon now, so Angel doesn't have to worry about not being enough for her. (Oh yeah, they should have brought Cordy out of her coma for this ending, to make any kind of cohesive sense).

But Spike... Spike was always more human to begin with. He may not have ever thought becoming human was on his bucket list, but he didn't think that about a soul either, until the time came where he needed it. He would LOVE to take Buffy out in the sun, and grow old with her, and give her the family and white picket fence that she's always secretly wanted and didn't think she could ever have. He would have still died, the same way soulless Spike died the minute he got a soul, but without all the heartbreak the canon ending gave us.

I'm partial to the stories where the Shanshu means some vamp powers like extra strength and healing remain, but those are just semantics.

As a cherry on top it would prove to anyone who's ever called it into question, and I include Buffy and Spike themselves on this list, that it's not that Buffy wants normal, nor is it that she wants a demon. She loves Spike for who he is, demon or not, human or not, but the soul and humanity would have helped him be the best version of himself, a man worthy of loving her and living with her, and after all the battles they've fought in their relationship to get here, it feels like it would have been kind of a sign that someone out there gives their blessing on this pairing. And Buffy could have said she loved him and chosen him AGAIN, in front of everyone, including Angel, and that would have been our endgame ending. (Though... to be honest if the comics still happened after this and Spuffy broke up at any point I would have been betrayed in a whole different way.)

And that's how BtVS could have ended. Angel could have gone on to have another season more or less the same, without any Spike or Buffy or Shanshu to speak of. And it could have ended EXACTLY the same.

The writing was literally so perfect and set it up for Spike so beautifully and unexpectedly. It wouldn't have even had to be a slap in the face for Angel because a. neither show was afraid of disrespecting a character at any point, and b. if it had been done on Buffy's show, it would have been less of a blow and made more sense, that Angel went back to BtVS to watch this unfold, where he wasn't the main character anyway. The Prophecy introduced on his show was really intended to be in service to hers, as any spinoff show ought to be.

Plus the episode title Chosen is such a beautiful one that has so many double and triple and quadruple meanings that one more would have been awesome.

So yeah. Those are my thoughts on the Shanshu this fine evening. Obviously many, many Spuffy fics (including my own) have given it to Spike or Angel or neither, all with their own reasons. And of course there's lots and lots of opinions on whether we would even want that for Spike, or if Spike and Buffy would want it.

But I think it just needed to be spelled out that from a writing standpoint, this would have made the most sense, and why.

[soapoet]

Your first kiss with them

requested by anon.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

You very well may have felt this one coming long before it actually does. There is a sense of pieces falling into place as you had forseen. For some, you may have thought about this often, consciously or not manifesting it into your reality. Still, it feels special and somehow out of the blue. Despite scripting the perfect scene you are still in for the unexpected. Like a director watching the actor go off script with a strike of genius, giving an award winning performance worthy of applause.

There could be miscommunication receiving clarity prior to this kiss. It is possible one or both of you spend some time catastrophising words spoken previously and in the time spent apart a mountain is truly made from a molehill in your head. It may take quite a bit of courage to bring this to the table, but it is so very worth it in the end. It seems almost as if this obstacle is what clears not just the air of concern about the matter itself but the tension overall as well. Your person is hit quite hard by the revelation of having in some way hurt you unintentionally, and as they apologise for their trespasses against you they find it necessary to come clean about how it is that they truly feel about you, which may come as a surprise to you even if you already had your suspicions. They speak to you so earnestly, opening their heart and mind up like a book that appeared glued shut for so long. You may even go off script yourself. Having daydreamed and rehearsed this moment, you may stray from the practiced shock and awe and simply accept their feelings and show that you knew all along. Which could be to their horror as they were certain they had their feelings under lock and key.

Their prior stoicism and the austere walls built tall and daunting finally come down to let you in. They will ask to borrow your time outside their obligations. For many, you'll be taken by hand for a walk, or simply away from prying eyes for a moment of privacy. They seem concerned about your comfort, and it's possible this occurs late, outside, in chilly weather wherein you are left shivering, though telling them it's fine. I see biting cold winds and your hand in theirs. I'll be honest, much of this conversation feels like a job interview as they gauge your compatibility. They may ask major questions right away such as your wishes regarding children and marriage, and expressing theirs. The conclusion is that you are compatible at your core values despite being so different otherwise.

This first kiss is contrasted by the cold, like a home and hearth amidst the snow. Often we think of cinematic kisses as the rest of the world fading away to make room for the lovers, but in this instance it seems more like the lovers merge and blur into their environment. As an onlooker, it's akin to a mirage. Two figures under a streetlight, there in one moment and gone in the next. It feels like two previously disturbed souls at peace, finding home at last.

Additional details: hair dye, boundaries, text messages and phone calls, nostalgia, snow and rain, flowers (roses and lilies specifically), shoelaces, caffeine, napkins, gifts, disney, mental health, addiction, breakups, stress, muscle cramps, insomnia, fairy lights, dancing, candles, blue eyes, 4AM, winter and late autumn, short trips, playlists, lip gloss, hiking trails.

02.

There is a distance which sometimes feels larger than it really is. For some this is moreso an emotional distance, but for many, this is a physical distance between you and your person. It seems that even the construction of the foundation had a steep price of time, and building upon this connection was a steady, albeit slow, progress. Some days you may have felt silly, wasting precious time and your youth on potential rather than promise, but you stuck it out and found that many of the things you so often thought were only in your head were true after all, and your feelings were mutual all along.

This distance, be it physical or otherwise through hectic and uncooperative schedules and poor timing, feels frustrating for a while. Yet the two of you stay strong and carry on trudging through the uncertainties and overcoming obstacles. The time spent on laying a stable foundation of sincere friendship pays off here as you both remain patient and faithful, and manage to work things out in your favour.

There is much anticipation going into this. For those of you for whom this is a long distance relationship, this first kiss occurs upon the very first meeting. Could be at an airport, train station, or some other mode of transportation. For those of whom this is merely an emotional distance or unfavourable schedules, this occurs at the very first meeting after agreeing to take the next step in the relationship from friends to something more. Commitment is very sure and stable, and you feel at peace knowing there is no rug beneath your feet for you to worry about being pulled, but strong and solid rock that will not crumble. A lot of messages and calls are exchanged, and you both feel as though you're a part of each other's day to day as if you've lived together for years. And thus, this first kiss may feel a little like making up for lost time, as though it's a formality that must be checked off the list as mentally and emotionally you are so much further along in the relationship than you are physically and must play catch-up.

Though it feels rushed, it's exactly as giddy and exciting as you had always hoped it would be. A warm embrace and a sense of relief, both filled to the brim with excitement to finally be in such close proximity and have the time and space to enjoy each other's company fully and undisturbed. A hug quickly turns to a kiss, and two and three and four. It is simultaneously bashful and bold, nervous and full of glee. A poor attempt at maintaining a balance between remaining calm and being chill, and the inability to keep your hands off of each other. Regardless how busy the environment, nothing else seems to matter than the two of you. Hustle and bustle, noise and people rushing here and there, with the two of you amidst it all in your own bubble of stillness.

Additional detail: linguistics, green, crochet, painting, singing, mozzarella, long hair, winter coat, autumn, pumpkins, cardamom, children, sleepovers, astrology, witches and wizards, cats and felines in general, politics, psychology, scrapbooks, baking, bills, anime, youtube, video games, typing, cars, small apartment, herbs and spices, nutrition, skincare.

03.

This scenario feels the most outright romantic and purposeful. There is something so very classic about this situation altogether, as though it is here to prove courtship and chivalry are both alive and well in this era. And yet, it feels new and refreshing, like the romance novels of old received a brand new cover and a modern twist. The courtship feels meticulous, but not uptight or strained. There is a lot of ease and wind in the hair you're able to let down after a stressful period. For many this may occur some time after a breakup or another interpersonal relationship which comes to an end and you find yourself ready to accept suitors again, or pursue them yourself, or simply putting yourself out there, so to speak.

These new winds in your sail may feel different even solely by the way in which this circumstance comes about. Your person could be quite bold, or direct in a way you haven't experienced before. They make their intentions clear and allow you to call the shots and make the decision as to whether you'll take their hand and let them lead you on a brand new adventure, or simply choose to not get involved. This prospect is alluring to you especially if you have felt previously you have waited for initiative to be taken without having to ask, always feeling as though nothing gets done unless you serve as the taskmaster.

Many of you could meet, or agree to go on a date, somewhere quite public and loud. A gathering of sorts, like a concert, party, or other lively event with plenty of eyes. There likely is an element in which these many pairs of eyes play a role, and I won't lie, the two of you may garner some attention and whispers amongst the crowd or people the two of you know. This doesn't appear to faze either of you, as there seems to be a good balance of public displays of affection and clarity that the two of you are indeed out and about together, and also spending time talking just the two of you, so gossip can travel without your care or concern, and the two of you could even enjoy the attention and the speculations, especially ruffled feathers of the few envious pairs of eyes.

Things seem lighthearted on the outside, but have more purpose behind closed doors, and you may discuss dreams and the future, expectations and plans, very early on. Though you're out proudly prancing in the sun together, it is not until it sets and you have the privacy of the dark between just the two of you that a first kiss is shared. It is sweet and gentle, but bubbles with unexpected chemistry. It's possible that something about this is very new to both of you. You could come from different backgrounds, cultures, or seemingly different worlds, or perhaps you are not their usual type or vice versa, yet it works somehow, and feels quite exciting and magical. There is a lot of security here, and a mutual understanding of what you both wish for the future to hold. Agreeing to take things one step at a time and look out for one another to make sure you both move towards the future in union, always on the same page, and have each other to lean on in case the going gets rough. There is a lot of passion here and it shows the most in your privately shared moments, though many may doubt what could possibly come of you two. It seems the unexpected seems the most stable experience yet for both of you.

Additional details: dinner dates, pumpkin patches, Charlie Brown, acoustic guitars, birthdays, calendars, live music, handwritten notes, bouquets, cinema, popcorn, red, meeting the parents, karaoke and singing in general, dancing, swimming pools, sports, motorcycles, muscle cars, brown hair, cuddling, smiles, archery, airplanes.

[silverameco]

Secret Relationship - @wolfstarmicrofic - 746 words

What Sirius didn't forseen, is that a secret relationship implied a secret break-up. Hidden love meant hidden sadness when it was all over. To be completely honest, he never thought it would end at all. He should have known, though, that he would find a way to ruin everything.

It had been a week. A week since Remus said I can't keep doing this. I don't want to be your secret anymore. A week since Sirius was stuck with the secret tears he shed every night, and the awful knowledge than the boy he loved was so close all the time - across the bedroom, the classroom or the dinner table - and yet so far away.

He didn't know what to do. They were so good together. Like friends, but better. All those secret meetings, passionate kisses behind closed doors and heated moments in the intimacy of silencing spells, all of it made Sirius feel more alive than ever. And now it was all over, because of him.

Nobody knew about them. Because he was so scared. Of the world, of himself. So scared he couldn't let himself take Remus' hand in an empty corridor, he couldn't show all the love he felt, couldn't tell the world about how amazing Remus was. But he wanted to. He really wanted to. He didn't even realize Remus drifted away from him, until it was too late. And now he didn't know what to do to fix it. He couldn't tell anyone about it, because nobody knew about them. Because it was like it never existed at all, even though it felt like the only real thing Sirius ever lived.

Well, it was without one James Potter to count on. He was cornered in the dorm one evening, before they went down to dinner. Sirius was sitting on his bed, James joined him and began talking before he could think about fleeing.

"Oi you wanker, what's up with you and Moony ?"

"Um, nothing ?" he felt himself flush with the blatant lie.

"Sirius. You've both been looking like miserable sods for days, and you're barely talking to each other."

Sirius didn't answer, and kept his eyes fixated on his hands, playing with a loose thread from his bedsheets. He didn't know what to say that wasn't a lie. It didn't deter James.

"You've both been so happy these past months. I thought-"

At that, Sirius raised his head to look at James, eyes wide and beseeching. Maybe he wanted someone to know, after all. "You thought ?"

"Well, that you were together."

He said it with a soft voice and a kind smile. Like maybe, it was all okay. Except it wasn't, because they weren't together anymore. He felt the tears welled in his eyes.

"Oh, Pads. What happened ?"

Next thing he knew, he was pulled into a hug, and Sirius was sobbing into James' chest.

"I- I ruined everything. Because I w-was so- so scared. And now he d-doesn't want me any- anymore."

"Padfoot, listen to me. I don't know what happened exactly, but I know that Remus has been looking at you like a lovesick idiot for years. You can't ruin that. I'm sure it's fixable, okay ?"

Before Sirius could answer, the door opened on no other than Remus himself. Sirius straightened himself, hastily wiping his tears.

"Er- sorry, I-"

But then their eyes met, and it was like Remus didn't know what he was going to say anymore. He seemed lost, looking at Sirius' teary face like it was hurting him. Sirius noticed that the circles under his eyes were darker than usual. He wanted to erase them. Before he could think about what he was doing, he got up and stepped in front of Remus.

"Moony." he said in a small, tentative voice, that he barely recognized as his own.

"Yeah ?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "I love you. I want to be with you. I'm sorry I made you feel like I didn't. I'm not sure I'm ready to tell everyone yet, but I don't want us to be a secret either. So, if by any chance, you still want me-"

And then, Remus' lips were on his, just like that. Like they've never been apart in the first place, because they shouldn't be. James was cheering obnoxiously behind them and it felt right, because they were too good together, loved each other too much to be a secret.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Silly oneshot where kid Madara attends some festival in the capital and bumps into some white haired kid in a mask (wowww I wonder who it could beee) and they spend the festival together doing silly festival things and being cute, holding hands as they weave through the crowds and doing that one little goldfish game (Madara wins Tobirama a fish and he looks away for like 2 seconds and when he looks back it's implied Tobirama just fuckin swallowed it whole (*half hatake headcanon noises*)) and watching the fireworks n stuff

And the mystery masked kid was totally his first crush and at the end Madara manages to pull a promise to see the fireworks again at some future festival from him. But they never see eachother again oh nooo who could have forseen thisss

The fic then flashes forward to him being older theyre planning Konoha's first festival. Izuna brings up his silly festival boy crush, which Tobirama overhears and gets a really weird look on his face about before power walking away.

Then the festival happens and Madara is in some corner looking out at the crowd, feeling nostalgic. And then through the crowd there's a flash of white and he sees a masked man looking at him. The same mask from before, complete with some distinctive scratch or marking that makes it easy to tell it's really his guy. And then they get to spend the festival together again, and it ends with them sharing a kiss under the fireworks bc I say so

(Might actually write this one tbh I'm very tempted)

[yandere-toons]

Yandere Golden Guard | Hunter (Platonic Scenario - “That Old Fire”)

Warnings: Fantasy Violence, Mention of Blood, Toxic Mindsets.

Word Count: 5,046.

A.N. – The illustration comes at the hands of Mike Austin, a storyboard artist for the series.

Footsteps amplified by the stone in the walls echoed as booms throughout the palace hallway. Hurriedly, you followed along behind until the door to one of the castle’s many antechambers was haphazardly thrown open. Within moments, the two of you had entered, and the door was again shut.

A poignant silence deafened the room, and while you acknowledged the urge to break it, something within cautioned you against it. Your companion, twitching and trembling, had taken to pacing the cramped area. Every five steps, he’d stop, muttering to himself, his ashy blond hair bouncing as he jerked his body from side to side, as if arguing with invisible foes.

Although you remained closer to the doorway than was probably necessary, a familiar sense of tiredness, coupled with annoyance, worked its way up within you. Time again, your companion had these episodes, and each time, they seemed to grow more visceral, more impassioned. It was as though something deep within had been attempting to claw itself free, and with every episode, every slight, whatever it was writhed that much closer to the surface.

It was the fifth time this month, and the month wasn’t even halfway through. A whisper, and your companion’s hand lunged from his side. Barely a second later, an audible zap sent a metallic cylindrical object flying from its perch atop a stack of nearby crates and soaring across the room.

The object was a yardarm, a horizontal component to attend one of the many flags of royal heraldry that were scattered across the room. The polished yardarm did little damage to the crates into which it smashed, but the clicking as the spearhead caromed from surface to surface drowned out any opportunity for interruption.

"Belos doesn't trust me! He thinks I'm nothing but a kid…” A huff escaped, scarcely audible as the spearhead made its final bounces. “He thinks I’m not good enough to do such an important job, and you know what? What if he’s right? What if I’m not, and this was my only chance? If I could have gathered some stupid recruits and brought them, then he’d have to take me seriously! Well, good luck with that now...” He scoffed, sweat forming on his brow.

You stood there, motionless, eyes cast over his sunken and shaking form. You knew he’d be upset at the failure to complete the mission but hadn't forseen it hitting him this hard. His hands twisted, and his eyes seemed to dart around the room, almost as if expecting Emperor Belos to come lurking behind any of the assorted tapestries.

“Failure,” the word haunted him, a mantra whispered in memory of his every mistake. “Why did I think volunteering for another mission would be a good idea? Nice one, Hunter! You’re a true professional. Making the family proud, huh?” He'd flung his hands up into the air in a dramatic gesture.

The rhetorical questioning was something you’d grown accustomed to, for better or worse. Once he started down that line of questioning, though, there was nowhere positive things could go.

You spoke softly, neither with condescension nor timorousness. “Hey. You are not a failure. Belos let you take on the mission, right?” You paused for a moment, allowing his breathing to slow before you continued. “He didn’t want that little demon he has following him, not any of those punk-head mages, either. And he didn’t say you were off the job, despite everything. You know what that means?”

He had stopped with his own line of questioning, and while his head remained tilted down at the stone floor, you could tell his nervous movements had lessened. You approached, not quite to the point of standing above him, but close enough to allow no mishearing of your words.

All he needed was a little nudge, and he’d be pulled away from those nasty thoughts eating away at him.

“It means the mission is still on.” Your fists clutched the ends of your gloves, drawn up to your chest, and rocked to and fro. “Maybe you just need a little help? I’m already off duty for the day, so I'll help you. We’ll go headhunting together, bag some recruits, and show all those dopey mages how wrong they were! What do you say, friend?”

In one swift motion, his eyes lifted from the ground and widened. The shadow of happiness crept onto his face and, beside it, a hint of worry about how short it might last.

He looked at you like a boy who was seeing the dawn. In his rose-coloured gaze was relief at having seen it after questioning for so long whether he would.

Hunter pushed himself to his feet as a knight would upon receiving a quest from his liege, and he offered his hand. “Let's go.”

You offered a slight smile, adorned your mask, and set off behind Hunter. The mission wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it.

***

It took more time than it should have to find Hexside, but once the two of you laid eyes on it, there was no mistaking it. The school was a distinguished landmark, separated from the Titan’s ribs surrounding it, with its dense foliage and rolling hills that seemed to swallow the place.

Still, you and Hunter could see various students and staff meandering across the grounds, and while you investigated the landscape, Hunter scanned the student body.

“They don’t know it yet, but they’ll love being in the Emperor’s Coven! We’ll sell them on sleeping in until 6 A.M., ditching their lame friends for better ones, and learning the best kind of magic there is… Rules and authority!”

You weren’t sure whether Hunter was talking to you, himself, or someone else, but same as before, you didn’t feel the need to try and take the wind from his sails. You’d be there to support, as you’d done before, win or lose.

“I’ll go in first since I’m supposed to lead the mission, okay? But you stay close by in the event we have to fight some of the other coven reps for the recruits. Those guys will do anything to see me fail, so be ready, okay?”

He wasn't dour like before, and his body had shifted to one of nervous twitches in the face of some uncertain future rather than ruminating on the difficulties of the past. His head held higher, and his eyes seemed to fill with that curious gleam again. You wondered briefly if he'd even noticed your staring, but before the question could be answered, you nodded.

Releasing a quick breath, the two of you set off for the grounds of the school. You’d need to change your clothes and stash your uniforms for the mission, and with a reminder of that to Hunter, a fast spell had ensured the two of you looked the part of regular, blissfully unaware, students rather than disciplined soldiers of the emperor.

With Hunter in tow, you wandered the grounds, occasionally socialising with students and other creatures you could only assume were faculty. No one seemed inclined to check your respective identities, and neither of you cared to overshare. If agents of the Coven Heads were present or any practitioners of wild magic, it wouldn't do to draw too much attention to yourselves.

After what felt like hours, the two of you emerged from one of the many pathways around the school into what appeared to be a courtyard. Bleachers formed a barrier on one side, and across from them, a stretch of wood formed another.

Despite being so close to the school, the dense vegetation managed to obscure vision from the courtyard in at least two directions, but parts of the main campus, jutting out above the bleachers, still seemed to cast a watchful eye upon the area.

Any activity here was purposely made to be seen by an audience.

Hunter redirected your attention with a quiet grunt back to the far side of the courtyard, where six of what you could only assume were students lined up in two teams of three. They adorned themselves with knee pads, exercise shorts, and various sports shoes.

One of the students, a three-eyed girl with violet-coloured hair, seemed to be the most animated of the group, boasting of her prowess in the game known as “grudgby” and hurling unflattering accusations at the students gathered opposite her.

Within seconds, the students were casting magic, shouting at one another, and flying across the courtyard, and at every opportunity, the velvet-haired girl continued to roar out insults.

Hunter scoffed at the brash display, keen to move on, but your snickering compelled him to turn and face you.

“And you weren’t like that to the conscripts and weekend warriors they had to bring down after we made it to the bottom of the mountain? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?” You offered a cheeky smile, and Hunter, mind aflush with memories, wrenched his head away. His cheeks had developed a tinge of red, and he’d instinctively reached for a mask that was no longer there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” he stuttered, neck craned. “I—We… were gracious in victory. That’s what the emperor expected, and that’s what we did.”

“That’s what we did after you had the training supervisor tally up the scores four different times to repeat that our team had won… Handily.”

Hunter fell silent, the red on his face glowing brighter as his shoulders locked up again.

“If we kicked out everybody with a bad attitude, neither of us would have been selected for anything beyond cleaning duty.”

Hunter offered no response, mouth straight and flummoxed by your argument.

“Let’s give them a shot. If they’re all talk, we’ll move on, but if not, then maybe we’ve found some of our recruits. Plus, if you end up being right, I’ll let you say, ‘I told you so.’ Sound good?” You offered a soft smile, careful not to interrupt Hunter as he reclaimed his bearings. He didn’t like being bombarded with questions when he was flustered and didn’t care for swift, sudden moves either.

Hunter’s head slowly rose, and he bore a slight yet noticeable smile on his face. “All right. Let’s do it!” His shoulders relaxed with his next breath, but you could still see a touch of red on his face as you marched past him towards the courtyard.

Grudgby, as it turned out, was a mixture of a capture-the-flag game and a close quarters combat course. The rules were of limited interest to you, save for the opportunity embraced by seemingly every member of both teams to clobber one another with magic or their fists when an opponent came too close.

It wasn’t easy, certainly, and there was a clear possibility of injury, but the game was exciting. Hunter elected to watch from the first row of bleachers, but you found yourself knee-deep in a match, tasked with defence. When an opportunity came to guard against opponents, you fared well.

The soldiers of the Emperor’s Coven did not yield to their enemies.

***

Another goal defended, and you’d lost track of time. Another point against your team prevented, and in the stupor that came with that train of through, you’d neglected to notice the velvet-haired girl, Boscha, charging you from another direction.

Her teammate had been decidedly less coordinated and inclined to deception, charging at you head-on, but Boscha was a different animal. As her teammate was flung back, Boscha advanced on your left flank, just outside your periphery. She surged toward the goal, unleashing a blast of magic powerful enough to send you plummeting into the grass.

Your vision went black for a moment, and your ears rang with a tumultuous melody. Something high-pitched sounded to command the field, and within moments, you could hear a frenzy of concerned questions. Your face had become buried in the grass from the fall, and you were unable to immediately answer.

Unbeknownst to you, Hunter had risen from the bleachers, determined to approach but had yet to sort through the crowd. His breath quickened to a subtle pant, and he hastened to view the scene for himself.

A member of your team, a neon green-haired girl named Amity, had crouched at your side. She gently wove her hands across your limbs, chest, and head, checking for open wounds and any lingering magical damage.

Amity leaned towards you and, upon turning your head, a gasp escaped her that she tried to stifle.

Hunter's trained ear caught the start of it. “What?” he asked, his voice rising as he turned to Amity. “What is it?”

Folding her hands on her lap, Amity sat up and kept her eyes down. “Nothing. They just had some dirt on their face.”

The slight pause after the word “just” caused Hunter to tighten his grip on the staff. He gritted his teeth, narrowed his eyes and struggled with his innate distrust of the situation. Relocating, his eyes locked onto your form as he maneuvered closer to you, but barely a second later, he pressed his lips into a straight line and stormed in her direction.

Amity widened her eyes and raised her arms when a gloved hand clutched her left shoulder, and a grunt flew out her mouth as she was shoved aside.

Hunter stood in her place and searched for the reason behind her surprise, nearly dropping his staff when he saw it.

The voices of friends, memories, nightmares swelled like the tolls of broken bells.

Despite this, Hunter could not rid himself of the thought that your wound mirrored his. Back when it was fresh and still stung like the point of a fire bee, it was dripping red. The magic blast had singed a streak of burnt skin across your jaw and cheek, just as the mystical vine had sliced a stripe up his flesh.

His scar began to itch, and Hunter reached out to scratch it when he realised he had been picking at it for the last minute.

The drop in his stomach brought a wave of cold sweat over his head. It was as if a rainstorm had developed and poured only on him, chilling his bones and drawing shuddering breaths from his lips.

Strips of yellow and red magic crackled at the end of his staff. He squeezed it until his hand shook and his knuckles turned white.

As soon as he spun towards Boscha, every Hexside student on his side of the court rushed to block his path. Multiple shouts of “Woah!” and “Easy!” spilt from the group as they formed a half-circle about him, many with their hands up high to deflect any far-reaching spells.

In the confusion, other students loafing nearby had arrived, some to help, and others to simply gawk. At least a dozen students had made their way onto the courtyard by that point, including another young witch identified as Luz.

Boscha, for her part, stood comfortable across the field, bragging to her entourage about scoring points and retelling the story of how she’d knocked the enemy team’s ‘newbie’ straight into the dirt.

You were lucid by this point and, though still somewhat slurred in speech, stable. That fact eluded Hunter, however, who struggled against Luz barely half a court away. You noticed that, amidst the students seeking to deny him his quarry, he’d shouldered and darted past as many as possible to bring himself closer to Boscha.

He was perhaps fifteen metres from her before Luz succeeded in halting his lunge forward. Hunter fought against Luz, placing a strenuous emphasis on every third word. “She does not get to do that and just walk away!”

Luz dug in her heels, pressing her weight into the staff. Though Hunter was almost certainly physically stronger than this witch, you could tell there was something about her that commanded his attention; it seemed as though they knew each other.

“No one is saying what she did is okay!”

A shout of fury burst out of Hunter as he shoved Luz back a step. “Then why are you defending her?”

“I'm not!” Luz relaxed her clenched teeth and softened her furrowed brows into a look of sympathy, her voice lowering alongside it. “I'm trying to stop you from doing something you'll regret.”

Hunter glowered at Boscha from across the court, his head down and his eyes looking up. “I won't regret it.”

He spared Luz a final glance before ripping his staff free of her and marching once more to you, his fury temporarily repressed whilst he had something else to swallow his attention.

“Hunter?” As he lifted you from the ground in silence, you pressed a hand to your cheek and winced at the burn. “Why is my face on fire?” you mumbled, to which Hunter offered a sullen glance.

He laid your arm across his back and shoulders. “Come on. I'm taking you home.” His eyes seemed far away with that remark, but his voice rang sincere.

With a nervous but hopeful smile, Gus, a friend of Luz’s, dashed forward. “Hey, it's just a little burn! Have someone from the Healing Coven take a look at it, and we can start round two.”

After ensuring you could stand on your own, Hunter whirled towards him and pointed a finger at the distant shape of Boscha. “I say we don't want to play with anyone who thinks this is okay!” His finger swung round to your wound.

Taking a breath, Willow, another friend of Luz, closed her eyes before reopening them with a frown. “You can leave if you want, Hunter, but it's their choice.” She extended a hand to you.

His face reddened at this.

Hunter clenched his fists at his side and looked between you and the group. “You agree with me, right?” There was a layer of desperation in his words that gave you pause.

It felt much more personal than it should have. Hunter had known more of these students than he had let on, and though the burn on your face continued to sting, your attention remained directed elsewhere. It hurt to know that Hunter hadn't been forthcoming about the environment into which you'd both entered, but you couldn't quite blame him for it.

Everything about this situation upset him, but if you spirited away with him, he'd spend the rest of the mission upset. As usual, he'd blame himself, and that wasn't the point of any of this.

Firmly, but not aggressively, you shook the hand of Willow, offering a slight nod in affirmation. “I don't see why I can't stick around for the end.”

Hunter uttered a slight grunt but voiced no further complaints, eyeing the contact until it broke.

You resolved that while you wouldn’t enter the second event, and would instead watch, you’d give Hunter a chance to collect himself and cool off. Pressuring him into conversation before he was ready wouldn’t help, and for the purposes of the mission, the both of you were simply students with but limited history together.

Hunter made his way to the bleachers, shoulders tensed and brooding. You’d elected to sit on the bench proximate to the court, presumably where the teams would sit in between time on the field.

Gus and Willow, after being thanked for their assistance, departed to pursue their own activities, but even if they hadn’t, you paid them little mind.

The sounds of the grudgby match echoed far beyond the court on which they took place: spells cast, players sent flying, and occasional obscenities hurled. The injuries sustained, non-life-threatening but certainly inhibiting, all reminded you of training. The organised chaos, the stenches of fear and exertion, and the desperation for success were all familiar bedfellows.

You had a slight smile on your face as you watched the madness unfold.

Casting only a peripheral glance to your side, you confirmed that Hunter lingered in his perch upon the top row. Given that he hadn’t already returned to sit beside you, he must still have been sore over your disagreement. It was something you’d have to talk out once the mission was over.

***

After a vicious and profanity-laden game, the braggart, Boscha, and her team claimed victory. Amity and her team fought well, scoring several goals in rapid succession early in the game, but Boscha’s malevolent energy could not be matched.

She kicked, spat, cursed, and cast at every opportunity, and though it left more than one member of the other team requiring bandages by the time of the game’s conclusion, her approach had paid off.

Simmering with pride, Boscha had soon taken to rehashing everything she and the rest of her team did to secure victory with her fellow grudgby players. Amity’s team was more personable, choosing to tend to one another’s wounds, clean up the courtyard, and move as a group towards a path back to the school grounds.

After turning in your direction, Boscha spied you sitting alone. A devious smile crawled onto her face, and she started to approach you. Unfortunately for you, the injury to your face had resumed itching, and while you sought to address that issue, Boscha made her approach.

The rest of her team made no attempt to regain her attention and instead began one-by-one to slip away from the courtyard as well. You spied Luz, the human witch, moving at high speed, but your attention broke from her in a fresh round of scratching.

Boscha had nearly closed the distance, but amid a scratching fit, you’d shut your eyes. Further unbeknownst to you, Hunter was on the move. Still, the game was over, and the only thing left to do was to link back up with Hunter, decide how to proceed.

Turning about, you noticed he was no longer atop his nest in the bleachers, and for a moment, your blood froze. Was it possible that in your awe at the game, you’d failed to spot a threat? Had something occurred on the bleachers, so close to you, without your knowledge? Had Hunter been discovered and abducted? Had this whole game been a well-planned ruse by the enemies of the emperor to seize his nephew?

Taking a deep breath and letting it flow out slowly, you evaluated the situation. Luz emphatically conversed with an annoyed and uncomfortable Boscha, and you could still see a few wandering students sashaying across the surrounding area. Either whatever happened was subtle, or perhaps, Hunter was simply out of your sight.

There came no noticeable change in temperature or breeze, and the sunlight illuminating the court shone unobstructed. No sizzling of recently cast magic reached your ears, no moaning of abominations, and no belching of steam from exhaust vents of heavy machinery. Still, it was highly doubtful Hunter would have taken off without you.

Another moment of scanning, and you spotted him, lower than usual, and with staff clenched. You almost made to join him in what you first thought was imminent combat before your eyes followed his gaze.

He fixated on Luz and Boscha, the duo barely ten metres from you. Once again, noted a passing thought, you had failed to notice Boscha’s approach.

Boscha opened her mouth and raised a hand to the side of it, only to pause when Luz darted in front of her. She wrinkled her eyes and curled her lip in disgust as Luz grasped her hand with both of her own and began shaking it up and down.

“Wow, that was a great game! You really had us beat!” The words spewed out of Luz's mouth in a flurry of haste and nerves, and she leaned forward with closed eyes in an attempt to command Boscha's attention.

“Your team was awesome! Like, I don’t even know how you guys moved that fast and how you kept scoring so many goals. You were crushing the other team! We’ve met before, by the way. I’m Luz, and have I told you that I’m a huge fan of yours…?”

Luz’s words flooded out in a hodgepodge of watered-down criticism of Amity’s team, praise for Boscha’s apparently unbelievable skill in grudgby, and overeager begging to be taught the secrets to the game’s success. Hunter didn’t move an inch throughout the exchange, his narrowed eyes locked onto Boscha and burning through the human obstacle in the way.

After two full, uninterrupted minutes of Luz heaping further praise on Boscha and desperately seeking tutoring, the aggrieved victor recoiled and yanked her hand free. Visibly cringing, Boscha turned her body to the side, raising her formerly gripped hand in an almost defensive arc to shield her face from Luz’s sight.

“Let go of me, freak! Get lost!” Boscha spat in unabashed repulsion at Luz’s fawning. Luz, either unaware or dismissive of the effort at escape, took the opportunity to move closer to Boscha, even opening her arms for something she called a ‘victory hug.’ She boosted her verbal barrage, adding in personal compliments about the grudgby player’s hair, shoes, and even her smell.

Horrified, Boscha lurched about and, after shrieking a string of words you could only assume she did not learn in class, raced away, presumably to find any remnants of her team.

Luz abandoned any attempt at pursuit and instead rounded herself to face Hunter. Her shoulders drew in tight, and her eyes remained focused on his, but her stance demonstrated less malice than it did determination.

“Why did you do that?” Hunter asked, failing to contain the wrath singing in his ears. Once again, his shoulders tensed up, and his posture ran rigid. Eyes slitted, he glared in unrepentant disgust at the retreating figure of Boscha and the interrupting one of Luz.

“Because, like you, I saw what she was about to do. That wouldn’t have been good for anyone, least of all, you.” Her words betrayed an edge, akin to Hunter’s, but the intent was different: where Hunter’s reeked of hostility, Luz’s turned quiet with worry. The steadiness with which she spoke belied her erratic actions towards Boscha merely moments prior.

“Come on, Hunter. It's just a friendly game."

"Is it? Does this always happen at your 'friendly games'? People getting bludgeoned because the enemy team decided not to play fair!" Sweat resurfaced on Hunter’s face, with beads of it dripping across his forehead. His teeth remained grated, but as Boscha had left his field of view, he seemed to mellow out, albeit slightly.

"Well, no. That was a little extreme, but—"

"But nothing! The game's over, so we're leaving. We're done!”

Luz made an effort to step forward, offering a hand in support of the shaking Hunter. He bristled at the potential contact, turning away in a flurry of loathing and shame.

“That wasn’t okay for her to do that.” Hunter stared at a plot of dirt, emotion draining from his voice. Despite his choked attempt at masking his feelings, an occasional tremor tickled up his arm.

The other students, either ignorant or indifferent, continued on with their day.

With the match over, you made for the bench, intent on passing through Hunter’s field of view before quietly slipping off back to the main school grounds. A direct interruption of Hunter whilst he was in the midst of conversation would do little to assuage him, but he needed a reason to pull himself from the interaction.

An impulse to scratch at your recent wound emerged, however, and with it, came a ringing in your ears that made you all but deaf to the surrounding world.

Luz playfully hit Hunter’s shoulder, which yielded a twitch. “See? I knew you'd come around!” She offered a kind smile, careful not to reveal hostility or make any additional sudden moves.

Hunter blinked, a tired push against the dark bags already set in, turned to the stands and looked away from Luz, eyes seeming to glaze. “If she hurts them again, you won't stop me.”

Luz eyed him with her arm drawn to her chest. She pursed her lips and closed her fist, a seed of worry in her gut.

Seeing you paw at your injury but swerve in his direction, Hunter lifted his eyes from the ground and began striding to meet you. Energy returned to his movements, but before he could reach you, Luz again called out to him.

"Hunter! Why don't you stay five?" She inquired, seeming determined to make peace. Hunter stopped on a heel and, casting one further look in your direction, turned back, less forcefully than simply aggrieved.

"Unlike you, human, we have places to be." The condescension in his voice was overpowering, reminiscent of someone with infinitely many other, and all decidedly superior, opportunities for social interaction than the one in which he found himself.

Dismissively, Hunter spun about, certain to find you standing behind him, or at least, proximate to him, but instead, he gaped at the sight of you having just passed by him to meander on the pathways winding about the bleachers.

In an instant, the anger evaporated from his face. "Where are you going?" The tone change in his voice betrayed no small amount of uncertainty and even suggested a hint of fear.

"I thought I told you to wait for me," he sputtered out, ignoring any further communication from Luz, or indeed, any of the other students or creatures that remained on or near the courtyard.

"You'd have lain into everyone on the court if I didn't give you a reason to leave." You turned your head slightly back towards Hunter as you continued walking, presenting a slight smirk.

To him, there lurked no anger in that face, no sting of disappointment, no plot to humiliate, no condemnation shaved sharp on the tip of your words. You spoke to him then, just as you had so many times before, like another person, rather than some useful tool or obstacle in the way of brighter prospects.

Though your eyes only met his momentarily, and via periphery, that old fire bloomed on his face once more. "I just—" he turned his head away, again reaching for a mask he did not possess "—want things to be fair."

You offered a snicker, quiet, but due to Hunter’s proximity, audible.

All you heard in between your steps to the forest was a single, solitary squeak.

[lesbiansforboromir]

There is one moment in RoP that I keep forgetting to talk about but that I really enjoy and tickles my 'complex theological questions' interest to no end. It's when a wave knocks Cirdan's boat and dislodges the bag with the rings in them.

Because everything Durin III says is technically correct, the elves should not be in Middle Earth and their fading is a reality decreed by the powers that be. And if they had faded, if they had all left and taken Celebrimbor and Galadriel with them, likely all the horror that we are about to see come to pass would have been avoided. Sauron would not have been able to fulfill his plans to bind people to his will, that supernatural power would have been beyond him.

So, with that in mind, the general concensus is that the elves are acting counter to the will of Eru and the Valar, they are proud and rebellious and think too much of themselves (all of which is technically true) even though they have good intentions, and all of it will bring Middle-earth ruin and despair.

And yet! In the pivotal moment when an ancient elf of great virtue is about to seal the fate of elves forever and nobley refuse to play any part in the machinations or tools of evil, an Act Of God changes the whole course of history. Which is just a really neat nod to the other supposedly irrefutable fact of the cosmology of Arda; nothing happens that Eru has not already forseen or devised. The song was already sung and it is all just as he composed it, even those parts which Morgoth believed to be of his own devising.

Cirdan and Elrond did everything in their power to be as faithful and good and obeiscent to the west as possible, but in the end the darkness and despair is as the west wants it to be, and so they were never meant to succeed in the first place. It's both an extremely fun mental spiral to think about but also enraging and agonising enough to make you want to wail and rage at the heartless sky!!!! They never had any choice at all!!! They could never have saved anyone!!!!!!!

[why-ai]

Who could have forseen this

[kit-williams]

Consequences

Male Lead: Konrad Curze/Solruthis Uadasha/The Night Haunter (Sol being his nickname) Female Lead: Reader/Sorsollia (sun that illuminates)

I'm sorry I love Zalgo text a lot it says HIS

tw: yandere, broken bones, physical assault, torture

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

Another successful compliance! As they didn't receive as much fighting as he had forseen but he was certain that would please Sorsollia. The smile on his face disappears seeing another scribe there waiting for him... you were the main scribe they were to collect when he had to do these frivolous talks of what he had done.

The other scribe bows their head and he feels a sense of anger... perhaps disgust that someone else is here... but he swallows the feeling and gets the talk over with. As they are packing up their tablet he stops them. "Where is Sorsollia?"

There is an upturn in their heartbeat, "She hasn't been feeling well. I don't know what she is sick with all I know is that she's off rotation for some time." LIAR his mind hisses but he knows his Sorsollia will be displeased if the only other Scribe that he has 'dained to be in his presence is dismissed.

"Thank you." He dismisses them as he sits and broods. His Sorsollia is alive... he would have been told otherwise. So he simply waits for a few hours... and waits... and waits... and waits. Sorsollia does not come... she does not message... there is silence... and Solruthis Usdasha does not like this.

He moves with the flickering lights... they turn off long enough for him to move to the next hall... to cram himself into the next crevice. Humans are surprisingly unaware creatures though many are Nostroman he passes... he frowns as he heads into the part of the ship that is inhabited by those who do not like it being so dark. Here the prey tends to act skittish... as he watches how one person turns on their heels when they see the hallway lights flicker hiding his movements. The soft nope from their lips would normally make him smile but he is on a mission.

He could easily also push himself into the service halls and move around that way but no... this is his ship and he can slink about how ever he pleases. He comes to her door pushing his thumb over the reader and overriding her locks... after all it is his ship he is the skeleton key.

He moved with unnatural quietness into her abode; spacious given her rank it had two rooms compared to the typical singular room. His ears moved as he heard her pained hiss.

Sorsollia winced as she dabbed the cotton ball against the cut on her forehead her non dominant arm in a sling as her broken wrist was splinted. Most of the swelling on her face had gone down just leaving the ugly bruising. She sniffled hard feeling herself want to tear up and cry again, her eyes went up freezing as there was someone- "Sol?" Her voice cracked as she turned around.

The fearful beating of her heart died as he knew that rushing hopeful beat. His mind was terrifyingly silent as he took a step closer... as he gently grabbed her face and turned her toward him... it was so quiet when he looked over her face... someone had beaten his Sorsollia. Someone had harmed his Sorsollia while he was away. His eyes look at her broken wrist and splinted fingers too he knew a threat he knew what a threat to someone's livelyhood looked like. His thumb absentmindedly wiping away the tears rolling down her cheeks as her legs give way and she lets out a dispared wail. A wail that normally excites him... and oh how it still excited him in a different way. He pulls her out of the small room of the bathroom and holds her close. "Oh my Sorsollia what happened? Did the head scribe order this?" His voice suddenly went cold at the thought of someone abusing her because they were on a power trip.

"No! No... no... no... I don't-"

"Don't lie to me. Sorsollia you know I don't like lying. Don't protect the scum." He snarls holding her tightly, "They must be punished... I am a Primarch no one-"

"I don't know who they were." She sobs into his chest afraid of the repercussions but her Sol was there. "They came to me when you were gone. They didn't tell me who they worked for but to only edit a few documents to make their lord look better. I assume they were thugs for some noble. Because one of them had to have been one... because I talked back to him I was too comfortable in my position working for you because they didn't like a scribe talking back to them." Her voice strained at the end as the tears ran harder. "They knew which hand was my dominant one... so they broke my wrist of the other one to send a message." She was so very ugly when she cried... utterly distressed and distraught.

"And you still told them no?" He probes.

"They told me that they would be back and to use this time to consider it." She hiccups softly.

"When they come back I want you to agree." He says holding her. "I'll make sure I find out who they are and who their employer is." He whispers to her as she sobs into his shirt. Solruthis Uadasha finally truly comes out... there has been a great injustice inflicted upon his charge... upon his Sorsollia. And he will make them pay.

She was withdrawn... hardly holding the name Sorsollia but he played his role just as she did. They stayed apart as he played the distant ruler and not the attentive lover and she hardly needed goading into her role of the cowed submissive. He held her the night he came back... as she was tired and sleep wasn't coming to her... she was afraid and clung to him but for now she was by herself.

Konrad leaned back on his throne as the chirping of the small cogitatior he planted in her room. His impassive face split into an insane grin as he watches how the three... no four, his eyes spy the man at the door, "faceless" mooks walk with such false swagger. His nails dig into his seat as her arm is grabbed and Sorsollia collapses to her knees trying to get her wounded arm free. Konrad had sat and tended to her wounds to soothe her as she had been living in such sweet fear for days.

His dark eyes narrow at the hand touching his Sorsollia far too affectionately. Konrad gritted his teeth in that manic grin feeling the teeth chipping before healing. But once they were gone he quickly collected his Sorsollia taking the document they wanted her to improve and the name of the noble that had the AUDACITY to threaten what was H̷̨̭́̿Ḭ̴̏̕S̷̢͇̐. He hid her away in his room as Solrithis Uadasha got to work.

The lookout lay dead and blind... his tongue shredded to ribbons as they went down without saying anything. His torture felt much like an afterthought much just like their role in all of this. The two guards who had beaten and broken his Sorsollia's wrist he was careful in the application of pressure and pulling away... breaking more and more of their bones and perhaps like a Drukhari he twisted their useless limbs into unnatural shapes as the two bleated for death and each day he brought them closer and closer with more and more bones breaking and each day they did not expire he continued to crush and twist.

The lower noble who felt so big to be perhaps within the fucked up standards of society be able to get away with beating the personal scribe of a Primarch. Perhaps he had the right.... perhaps he did... but unfortunately for him he picked the wrong Primarch to try and get away with this crime. He had cut off the hand that he had dared touch what was his and was slowly peeling it bit by bit and feeding the flesh back to him.

Sorsollia was far too kind for her own good... he'd have to see what the laws from where she was were like... He pushed the flesh into the mans mouth grinning. "You know she said that the sins of the father don't pass on." He laughed, it was a hideous laugh one of disbelief that he held affection for someone so blind to the cruelty of the universe. And yet he hesitated to rip the veil from her eyes because once he did that... he was certain she would see the disgusting creature that he was. He craved her affection... he craved her attention... he craved her seeing him as a man. She couldn't be blind to everything... she was a legion scribe... she knew the methods.

There was a nasty thought planted in his mind now... the paranoia and mistrust rearing its ugly head... he left the torture room unable to find satisfaction in conducting the punishments until he figured out why. "Sorsollia." He said entering the room wiping the blood from his hands as she paused what she was listening too looking over at him from the lit corner of his room.

"Yes?"

"I need to know something." He walked over.

"Of course I live to serve." She said with a genuine smile but that only heightened his paranoia.

"Why did you want to work for my legion? We are perhaps the most cruel ones... and you had personally applied."

"I had personally applied for both your legion and the blood angels." Her lips became a thin line as she thought of words, "While I don't agree with the methods you employ... your rate of compliance compared to the body count is a good ratio. Um..."

"Speak."

"I just don't agree with it... but it leans more into the necessary evil. Not that you are evil Sol." Sorsollia quickly adds, "Just all of this... the great crusade... perhaps there is a selfishness in my part for hoping that I'm on the correct side of history... instead of simply being a conscientious objector... that maybe this will all be worth it in the end. But what do I know of war and combat... I'm just a helpless Scribe." She says looking at her wrist, "I chose you for the low ratio of bodies to compliance."

"And Sanguninius?" He says not betraying the way his hearts were twisting at the thought of his Sorsollia being in the Great Angel's company... being his Scribe. Konrad wants to claw his scalp at the anxiety that bubbles over at the thought of her being enamored with the perfect angel.

"I've heard he is kind. He gives many chances to accept the imperium's generous offer... but I've heard that the Blood Angels can be... scary. " She nervously laughs, "Me talking about how scared I am of the Blood Angels when I work for the Night Lords. I probably sound stupid..." He's noticed since she's been attacked how critical of herself she has been.

He pulls her into his arms his long fingers combing through her hair, "Sorsollia." He listens for her hum, "In a couple of days this will all be over. I want you to return to being yourself."

The pitying smile she gave him nearly had him snarling, "You're very bad at comforting but I appreciate the attempt. Just..." Her voice sounded so small, "Please promise me this won't happen again? Just... I thought I was safe and-" Her voice breaks as tears flow.

Giving her his child would let everyone know who she was... it would make sure no one would touch her... He kisses away her tears, "Shhh Sorsollia I swear upon one of my hearts that it won't happen again."

That gets her to smile, "If I'm keeping track that means you've sworn on both of your hearts so far."

"So it is. I've already taken care of the thugs that hurt you. They've been punished."

She just nods and hides her face in his chest, "I should probably go back to my room."

"One more day Sorsollia. You slept so fitfully last sleeping cycle... it would make me worry to find out you've been struggling to sleep. And I need to make sure you are comfortable so your wrist and fingers heal."

"Okay Sol. One more night." She sighs happily just feeling that she'll soon be able to put this all behind her. For Konrad he was thinking of what he was going to do to the noble who was so eager to get the Primarch's gaze... oh the dark grin on his face as he certainly had it now. He gave his Sorsollia a kiss on the forehead and swore that the sparkle to her eyes was slowly returning and that made his hearts sing.

[merlins-strawberriesandroses]

TO be honest. I don’t understand what it means when people say Merlin was Arthur’s bane. Mayhaps I misunderstand but. Arthur was a bit of an assassination magnet (not to mention all those magical creatures and bandits... so many bandits), and Merlin actively prevented Arthur's death for years, which would have occured without him anway in the very first episode. I can see why one might argue that Merlin was just delaying the inevitable, or that he didn't succeed in keeping Arthur safe until Arthur could enact the golden age, but certainly I don’t see how he could have been Arthur’s bane.

Also, it’s implied in the last episode that the golden age does occur, but under Guinevere. Which makes sense as she knew Merlin was the sorcerer and that she was pleased about it (and I recall it was confirmed in interviews), so I also don’t follow the twin train of thought that Merlin was his own bane or even Camelot’s. Camelot was already bane-d(?) under Uther. But partly because of Merlin's steady friendship, Arthur matured into a king who was kinder than his father. He also actively sought magic's aid on multiple occasions, so he knew magic had potential for good (like healing his queen) without Merlin needing to tell him about his magic.

I don't think it's fair to say Camelot's laws on magic remaining relatively static was because no one close to Arthur came out as having magic. There was still much risk in that, and for Merlin a lot at stake, not just his life. A law change was still possible (and almost seemed to be set up that way) without Arthur needing someone he was personally close to having to do the work to humanize it for him (in the sense that the episodes with the druids, the druid boy with Elyan, and the dolma seemed like they were pointing to a law change because Arthur sees the diversity of magic and those who have it).

At worst Merlin’s efforts didn’t change the status quo, but we do have things indicating that they did. And Merlin was not single-mindedly serving Arthur at the expense of everyone else. He saved Camelot as a whole multiple times. He was also very willing to stick out his neck for many others even during the height of his anxiety and agitation in season 5. (Also only being slightly silly when I say this, but he was also THE wingman for Arthur when he was getting with Gwen, so in a way Merlin’s help led to their courting being a success and thus contributed to her being in a great position to change the laws. so personally I give points to Merlin for that). Most of the decisions centering Arthur's safety seemed to stem from the fear that Albion would crumble before it began if Arthur were to die, so he tried his best to prevent that from happening in any way he knew. (Like, when Arthur is dying, Merlin asks "So I failed?" regarding the whole golden age thing, which I think is telling that the prophesy and his role in it was still VERY much at the forefront of Merlin's mind).

And this is a digression but I know people think Merlin should have done more for Camelot, or for folks with magic (like, as a revolutionary or something akin), which I understand but no one reached out to network with him really? It'd require resources, people (always confused why there weren't a whole bunch more folks offering Merlin material/intellectual/emotional support if they thought he should be the one to bring about the golden age. all he was told was that the forseen way it actually happens succesfully is through Arthur), time (I doubt it’d have been much of a ‘quicker’ way necessarily), and incredible planning + foresight if it's meant to be something that works out effectively + long-term. Okay I think I've digressed enough now. This is a whole seperate thought that I don't think I'm gonna do any justice here lol, and I'm already rambling, so I'll stop now :,)

But anyway, in terms of being his own or Arthur’s bane, we know Arthur will return, and we don’t know how Merlin spent his years. His magic can play with time and maybe he learns how to control that, or he could have entered a stasis like in various legends, etc etc etc. And I mean it is tragic on many levels, and it’s sad we didn’t see Arthur’s arc completed, and that Merlin sacrificed so much for a goal that didn't get much acknowledgment by the show at the end, but still. I don’t think Merlin was Arthur’s bane, or Camelot’s, or his own.

[kyuubinosennin]

HOME AT SEA: PROLOGUE

No one in Kiri could expect one of their eldest to come back with a body - not in the way that occurred. The elder swordsman, Miraomoi Akawarai, had left the isolated and quiet village for some unknown purpose. Some speculated it was to collect the stolen Swords of the Mist. Others speculated it was to find an apprentice, but none could have forseen the aged warrior coming back with a body of a boy - a blonde haired boy with whiskers on his face. The boy was quickly ushered to Kiri's hospital - still fully rebuilding after the bloodied Civil War that had swallowed the nation up for years. Yet, enough of it was rebuilt to tend to the one brought into their home. As Akawarai handed Naruto off to the medics, the man tilts his head. It seemed his return home had come with attention onto him from others seeking to rebuild Kirigakure. So he stepped away from the on-going healing to greet those coming to see him. A singular grey eye stared at the figure of Terumi Mei. A powerful and influential figure among Kiri's circles - one rising in the aftermath of Yagura's death and the betrayals from several Swordsmen of the Mist. She was, of course, joined by Ao - newly forged leader of the Hunter-nin and a personal compatriot of Kiri's "elected" council. A council that happened to include both Akawarai and Mei. "Councilor Mei." comes the gruff voice of Akawarai. Akawari stood tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed like he came from battle. A mixture of shinobi gear and customized samurai armor from the shoulders down. "I'm not surprised you are the first to come the moment you heard of my return." The man was blunt and to the point - he wasn't one to dance around with a silver tongue. It made for poor politics, but good for getting details out. "Who is the boy, Councilor Akawarai? Why did you bring him here?" questioned Ao with a pointed stare. "Because I believe that boy may be a key to Kiri's future." Akawarai knew him throwing that much faith into this stranger was heavy but intriguing. "He's special. Not just because I say so, but because I got a good look at him." He pauses. "He's a jinchuriki." Ao's sharp inhale was more like a hiss. "You what? You brought that...to Kiri? Are you mad?" Akawarai shrugged to that before resuming looking at Mei. He awaited her response.