#this is all over the place but i love green cú so much

[soleminisanction]

I kinda joked about this a few weeks ago, but the more I think about it, the more convinced I become that the Bad Kids are Pathfinder 2e characters trapped in a Dungeons & Dragons 5e world.

Gonna start with Riz here because he's the one who put the idea in my head in the first place. Riz Gukgak and his parents are clearly closer in concept and design to the green, sneaky, tech-and-fire loving Pathfinder Goblins than they are the yellow, burly mobs of the official D&D goblins. (This is probably because most of the art you find when you google "Dungeons & Dragons goblins" is actually of Pathfinder goblins.) Riz also uses guns, weapons which are uncommon but well-established in Pathfinder, but barely exist at all in D&D.

Most importantly, Riz is fundamentally an Investigator, which exists as its own class in Pathfinder but not in D&D. You know what other classes D&D doesn't have? Oracle and Swashbuckler. The former of which is mechanically way closer to the way Brennan already plays Adaine's oracle powers narratively (and has its own built-in narrative hook to play with, a curse), while the latter has entire fighting styles built around dance and makes you a more effective fighter the more you show off.

For Gorgug you have to dig a little into the gritty details, because Barbarian is a class shared by both systems, but the big one is that unlike D&D, Pathfinder has actual technology rules. Non-magical technology rules, so taking on the Artificer equivalent, the Inventor, as an archetype wouldn't have had that particular synergy problem. There's also a feat, Adopted Ancestry, that would give him mechanical access to culture-based gnome feats to reflect his upbringing with his adopted parents.

Similarly, with Fig, Bards exist in both games (Warlocks don't, but multiclassing into Hexblade is mechanically similar to taking the Magus archetype) but you know what doesn't, RAW? Tieflings that are also elves, because of how D&D's races work. In Pathfinder, however, the tiefling equivalent (nephilim, specifically hellspawn) are a versatile heritage, a secondary template that can be applied to any ancestry, so "elf hellspawn nephilim" is legal RAW. And it's something where you can choose how much of that heritage is expressed in your character's appearance so, again, the mechanics line up better with the narrative re: it only being something she learned about later in life.

Finally, you've got Kristen, who is, on paper, the one who fits comfortably in either game -- a human cleric. But I will attest that, given what she's capable of, she's not just a human cleric. Given the shit Kristen has pulled off over the last three seasons, I maintain that she would be best represented by, at bare minimum, taking the archetype for the upcoming Exemplar class (playtested last year and releasing officially in War of the Immortals, Oct 2024), the only rare class in Pathfinder 2e because they're meant to be literal, actual demi-gods, legendary heroes on the same level as Hercules, Gilgamesh, Cú Chulainn and Maui. It's a class designed to essentially break the game in select ways to make the players feel awesome (hence why it's rare, so GMs can restrict access if they choose), and well. Tell me that doesn't sound like Kristen Applebees.

So yeah, there's the rational behind my crack theory that makes way too much sense: the Bad Kids are Pathfinder characters. Or growing up to be Pathfinder characters. Something like that.

[green-spear-of-causality]

You got any spicy Green Cu- I mean Achilles headcanons?

My friend, Achilles will forever be known as Green Cú, he cannot escape his fate -

Achilles Headcanons (FGO)

Yes, he has stolen Proto Cú's AND Fsn Cú's spears before (numerous times, too)

And yes, they would have beaten his ass for it if he wasn't so quick on his feet

He usually wakes up early, or hasn't even gone to bed in the first place. Whoever the chef of the day is (usually EMIYA), in the quiet mornings of Chaldea he'll sit down and ask anything that comes to mind while watching them cook

"Can our feet just be regarded as another pair of hands, just on the ground? Ground hands??"

"Achilles, for the love of god - "

"I didn't hear a no!"

If he's ever adventured on his own to places he thinks are good spots for picnics (read: romantic outings), he'll never tell another soul

He usually just takes the Servants who look like they want the day to just not exist in the first place there, whether they want to or not

"Yo! I found this place the other day and I think you'd like it - What? You don't want to go? Too late, you're going!"

Has a massive soft spot for Atalanta and the children Servants

Nursery Rhyme wants him to read out loud? You bet he's dropping whatever he's doing to go read

Jack is feeling a little stabby? Sparring session in T-Minus 30 seconds, with the added bonus of tips to improve fighting styles

Atalanta is questioning her capabilities? Movie marathon in her room, coupled with reassuring pats and hugs that she is doing just fine

"Y'know I look up to you, Ane-san. You're more than enough."

Will also deny that he has a soft spot for them

"What? Me? Never." (Proceeds to learn how to cook foods foreign to him so that he can make them their favorite dishes whenever they feel down)

It's kind of obvious at this point, but a favorite hc of mine is that Achilles has a high EQ. He just...knows when someone is feeling even a little bit off, and will do what he can to help

Yes, he still challenges Chiron to sparring sessions whenever he can

(Chiron usually beats him, but there are some notable times when Achilles one-ups him using skill alone and not pure strength)

Merlin gives him the worst ideas, like stealing Cascú's staff next

Green Cú only has one braincell and prefers to go with the flow, so you betcha he took that staff

"Hm? Where did- ACHILLES!!!"

Achilles usually hands the stolen goods to Merlin and is off like a whirlwind, the mage just smiling in amusement when the Servant Achilles stole from barges into the room a minute later

Stealing from Cascú was a bad idea because then Merlin plants the idea of stealing from Alter Cú next

...Achilles did not show up to dinner that night

Atalanta and Chiron are the first to notice. Admittedly, if it weren't for Jack and Nursery Rhyme asking for her to get Achilles to tell them another story from his past (which, yes, he does censor his swearing for them), she wouldn't have noticed

"Where's Achilles?"

Alter Cú chose that moment to walk by, a red substance that suspiciously looked like blood splattered on his front

"He's not coming."

...And that was that

Surprisingly, though, Achilles comes to be friends with even the most unapproachable of Servants

(Yes this includes Alter Cú)

King Hassan says that he's going somewhere alone? Achilles is volunteering to go with him, even giving him a friendly pat on the arm as they walk together

Can somehow decipher Hercules' roars

*Roar of the damned* "Oh, you want some lemonade? Coming right up, my man!"

Usually has nicknames for people he cares about (which is nearly everybody)

Proto Cú? "Yo, Bolt!" (He watched Bolt with the kids and thought it fit, he knew how much Proto hated being called "Kid" and plus, both of then were, well...dogs)

Fsn Cú? "Oi, Blue!" (Yes he stole Robin's nickname for Cú), sometimes "Blue Me" even though we all know he's the Green Cú

Cascú? "Mage-san, come take a look at this." Also calls him Grandpa whenever he wants to annoy him (gets whacked on the head with a staff for that one without fail)

Alter Cú? "You doin' alright, Big Guy?" (Overtime, Alter Cú just accepts the name because once Achilles likes you, you're stuck with him and his antics)

King Hassan? He's just called Grandpa outright. "Hey Jiji, how've you been?"

Nope nope nope, does not like Archer Gil or Ozy

They both rub him the wrong way, and he tries to not be stuck with them for long periods of time

He just...doesn't understand Mephistopheles

Oh, Mordred got summoned? It's Bro Time

To be honest, he was a little hesitant about Mordred, but once he saw that Mordred frankly didn't give a damn what side you were on before, the two became fast friends

What better way to hang out than to spar?

...Achilles likes fighting, it's why he gets along so well with the Cús

Pranks? He's in, as long as nobody gets to hurt in the process

(He's secretly a worrywart because he's all-too-familiar with how he was nearly invincible, save for his heel)

Despite that tendency, he's very laidback with everyone and is a honest as he can be

"Honesty's the best policy, don'tcha think?"

Asterios has a big spot in Achilles' heart

Achilles is just...soft for him, Asterios is so pure and innocent and fills Achilles with the need to protect him (despite Asterios being perfectly capable, he can take a hit and dish it out just as well)

This friendship is one of the purest things to ever occur in Chaldea

It started out when Asterios was fretting over breaking one of Master's glass animals. It had been a collective gift to show their appreciation for Humanity's Last Master, and they had exchanged tearful hugs with everyone (it took hours, there were a lot of Servants)

Achilles happened to come across him first, unafraid to approach and calming him down with reassuring words that "No, Master won't hate ya or kick ya out; they care about you too much. Let's hurry and buy another one, alright?"

Achilles also calls Asterios "Big Guy", it just...fits

They've become such close friends that whenever they see each other in the halls, Asterios gives him a wide happy smile while opening his arms to catch the sudden green blur that was close to moving at Mach speeds

And, finally, the nickname everyone has decided for Achilles is Carrot Top; Green Cú is what the Cú's call him

[awakening-girl]

Bloody Tears

(Author’s note. This was inspired by @teatitty and their awesome HCs, specifically the one about Diarmuid crying blood, but a lot of their HCs are mentioned.

Quick notes:

I love Fate, but I haven’t actually watched/read anything. Sorry if anything is OOC. Think of it as an AU if it helps.

Slight DiarCu, but it’s mostly at the end.

I’m using Ritsuka as the Master’s name. They/them pronouns.

Diarmuid here has not completely forgiven Fionn yet, he truly wants to though.

I’m also operating under the assumption that slight is the biggest contribution to Dia not getting that Holy Water(TM), even if Fionn regretted it instantly. Fionn is also not summoned yet, so they haven’t talked anything out yet.

Dia has had a bad day in general here, lots of self-loathing before the mission, bad memories + command seal trigger. I don’t touch on that, but that was my frame of mind when I wrote this.

This is like, the first thing I have ever posted. Constructive Criticism VERY appreciated.)

Diarmuid knows they'll be fine he knows it, but right now he can't believe it. They'll be fine, they'll be fine, they'll be fine. A mantra repeated wherever he goes in this godforsaken place. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it. All he wanted was to protect and serve his master like he couldn't do the last (two) times, he failed that too. He's a knight and he couldn't even protect the ones he holds so dear. Every time he closes his eyes he can see their body with that fresh, deep, red, lethal cut. Not that now is much better. The doctors are running diagnostics, so many things made of iron he gets migraines just being there but he stayed as long as he could, he had to be near his Master. He got kicked out after some time, no explanation given. Now he wanders the halls, listening to the pity of fellow spirits and staff. He can't do it anymore. 

He bolts as fast as he can down the hallway, down down down. Corridor 5 flashes by, as do 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. He stops at 10, hides in a little nook and climbs up on a crate. No one will find him here. This place hasn't been touched since they fixed the hole Beowulf made. Curling around himself, dog tags clinking slightly as they collide together he fights back a sob. He did everything perfectly! He was loyal, brave, just... he did everything perfectly and finally got his reward. A master to serve who never held him in contempt, who understood what he'd been through and didn't blame him. Didn't abandon him. And then, they were at death's door because he couldn't spot something so obvious!

Diramuid grabs his tags and chokes back another sob. He's shaking, and he hates it, he hates crying. He runs through everything he can think of to calm himself down, but he always comes back to one memory. His dear foster father Aenghus telling him that his tears are unnatural. That he cries as if his eyes bleed. In hindsight, Diarmuid understands that his father was simply warning him not to cry in front of human strangers, but as a child it imprinted. He became scared of letting anyone see him cry, to let anyone see his face as it dried. Vulnerability was a concept he didn't allow himself to personify. His father’s face flashes again and the first drops fall. Green stains red as he tries his best to stop it. To stop crying blood. He can't even hear anything until he sees a flash of blue. 

Diarmuid wipes his eyes again and looks down. A lancer stares up at him. "Hey, you okay Dia?" A soft voice asks. F*ck. Of all the people to see him, it had to be Cú. Handsome, cool, confident, amazing Cú. Just his luck. Diarmuid lowers his face into his knees. "I'm fine." He hoped it wouldn't come out chocked, but fate never seems to take him into account. Cú doesn't seem to notice. "Are you sure? Everyone is shaken up by Ritsuka’s injury. I thought you might take it worse than some other people." Of course. This is just Cú showing pity- "I know you were there when it happened. Those guys are tough as nails. All your focus was on the front or you, and Ritsuka would have been killed. You did your best, who knew that there was an assassin hiding in the woods? You did your absolute best, and that's all that matters." Another sob escapes from Diarmuid’s grasp. That gets Cú's attention. "Hey, are you crying?" Sh*t sh*t sh*t. "No... You're just imagining things." Diarmuid hugs himself a little closer, barley looking at Cú. He does manage to catch how Cú's expression softens. "You are, aren't you? Damn, I should have noticed it earlier."

The blue-haired lancer climbed up on the crate, perching himself right next to Diarmuid. He places a gentle hand on Diarmuid's back and Diarmuid can't choose between flinching away or leaning into the heat, so he freezes in place instead. Cú moves closer, closer, too close. If he wasn't focusing everything on not crying in front of his childhood crush he might have squealed. He doesn't know what would be worse, crying or squealing. "C'mon Diarmuid. It's okay, it's not your fault. Ritsuka is gonna be okay, they're strong." Diarmuid wants to believe him, to agree, instead, he turns his head away. Cú just gently turns his head towards him, a soft gracing the Ulster warriors features. "You know I'm always here for you right?" You know I'm always here for you right? That was all that was needed to break any defense Diarmuid could muster. His resolve crumbled to pieces in seconds. He started sobbing without remorse, choking from the power of an opened floodgate. Blood flowed freely from his eyes now. "Oh..." Diarmuid can feel himself being pulled into a hug, any thought of putting up resistance had vanished since long, instead, he complies and lets his head rest against Cú's chest.  His bloody tears stains every surface it touches, but the curly-haired lancer isn't in the right mind to notice. He cries and cries and cries, letting himself cry for all those times he hed it in, for his masters' betrayals and deaths, for everything and nothing, for the sake of crying. It's a strange feeling, pure relief washing over him. Cú sits there, whispering comforting words in Irish while stroking his back. The Child of Lights natural heat comforting for a lancer with skin so cold.

They sit there for what feels like hours, Diarmuid's sobs weakening to small hiccups. "You know, it's kinda cool how you cry blood." Diarmuid scoffs. "Yeah right." The blood on his face has dried, making two large streaks down to his chin. It almost looks like warpaint, nicely contrasted with skin paler than usual. The personal guard dog of Ulster simply smiles a toothy grin. "I'm serious! It looks cool, like your main character in one of those video games." The fae-raised child laughed at that. "You and I have seen very different video games." "Alright, a violent video game then. Happy?" Diarmuid nods. "Yeah. Thanks. And... I'm sorry, you really shouldn't have seen me in such a state. That was... not proper of me." Cú just shakes his head. "Nah, that's what friends are for. Besides, you looked like you needed that." Right, they're friends, Diarmuid smiles at that. "Right," he looks down on the blue lancer's shirt and chuckles, "I think I owe you a new shirt though." "Hm?" Cú looks down. Two big splotches of dried blood reside near the middle of Cú's chest. "Oh, that's nothing a good wash and some hydrogen peroxide can fix." The older of the pair climb down, motioning for the other to follow. "C'mon Dia, everyone is worried about you. Let's go back, I'll make you some honeyed toast." That got the other man's attention. He jumps down from the crate and lands next to Cú. "Pff- You do love that stuff." Diarmuid playfully jabs the other man. "Yeah, it's delicious, not that you would ever know, you refuse to try it." Cú begins to walk away, grabbing Diarmuid by the hand. "Well, I'll try it after my shirt is washed. Promise." Diarmuid suddenly laughs. "Hahaha! You realized that you made a promise to a fae right?" Said promise maker just turns back with a smile. "And I am in the habit of keeping my promises. Not going to break that one just yet."

"Hey..." Cú stops and turns towards Diarmuid. "Hm? What is it, Dia?" Diarmuid just smiled, the most sincere one the Ulster child has seen from the other. "Thank you for everything... Sétanta."

Cú Chulainn's brain shortcircuited that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[caemthe-a]

" i can't believe you still have that with you. " the cherubim had her eyes upon the green spear he was holding. a remnant of that war they had spent together no matter how short a time. something so fickle and how it was simply a makeshift weapon compares to his noble phantasm, yet, he had kept it all these years. " so you remember what i told you back then, huh. " even after all this time. fingers toyed with his azure locks, drawing him closer as her lips captured his own quietly. silly pup.

To tell the truth, he still was getting used to the idea that she was here. It could be considered silly by others but, after everything that had happened and all the hazards that had been overcome until now… it still was hard to believe that fate had reunited them. That and there also was the fact that the Ulster warrior had gotten too used to using the spear that Misaya had given to him as a gift. It was one of his favorites after all and a reminder of the promise he had made to her. That’s why he always carried with him, always using it at the battle, switching to gae bolg only if he was forced to.

But now that Misaya was here… sometimes, technically, depending on who is taking over at the time(?)… they’re still figuring that out. Now that Misaya was here, the Lancer had to make a couple changes and switch to gae bolg once again so that she wouldn’t tease him about how much he had missed her and how attached he had become over during the time where they were apart from each other. Even after everything, he still found himself holding onto his pride and refusing to give her a reason to show that wicked smirk of hers. It had been a long time since he accepted that he was weak for her, he loved her so there was no shame in that. But what he didn’t need was to have her remind him of that at any given opportunity. He knew she enjoyed watching him get flustered or nervous, that slightly sadistic nature of hers never changed.

Unluckily for him, he forgot about his own plan once their party was taken by surprise by a group of beasts. The summoning of the green spear was practically instinctual and soon he and the other servants were engaging in battle. And, once the last body fell to the ground, once they returned to Chaldea and everyone took their own path, once it was just the two of them, she broke the silence. His eyes widened like never before and he wasn’t sure if it was because he had completely forgotten to use gae bolg or because he had been caught and there wasn’t much he could say to save face.

So he did nothing. The Lancer didn’t move from the spot where he was standing as he watched her get closer and reduce the distance between them with each of her steps. There was no way for him to hide the embarrassment that painted his face red. He opened his mouth hoping that the words would flow on their own. “That’s because…” But he couldn’t come up with any excuse. The only thing that came to mind was the truth. That’s because I missed you. I love you. I made a promise to you. All things that he didn’t need to say out loud as she most likely was aware of them.

And then they were only a few inches apart from each other and it was difficult to think when all he wanted to do was to lean down and kiss her. But her next comment threw him off balance. He wanted to tell her that of course he remembered like it was the most normal thing in the world. But then her lips were on his and his hands were pulling her closer by the waist and just how many years had it been since he first dreamed of kissing her? It was in moments like this that Cú felt like they were cheating on destiny, refusing to accept the tragic fate that was meant for them, stealing a few minutes of happiness and making them last for an eternity.

Once they pulled away from each other -as if by magic- the Lancer had recovered his voice and his thoughts weren’t all over the place like before. A tender smile appeared on his features as he leaned down to press a kiss on the space between her hair and her forehead and say: “How could I ever forget?” It was like asking if he could ever forget her. It was simply impossible. He remembered every little detail of that war, the time they spent together as if it had happened just yesterday.

“And just so you know, my promise hasn’t changed. I still plan on winning that war with you and see you take back the years that were stolen from you. So I really hope that you’re starting to make plans for the future instead of thinking of leaving a pretty corpse behind.” Dying young wasn’t as cathartic or poetic as artists made it seem. The two of them knew that well enough and, if he tried harder, Misaya would still have a chance to lead a long and free life. That was his only wish.

@lunaetis

[saorsayay]

Hi there Saoirse! Thank you so much so far for both your work, support AND tips on Irish dancing. Now I am here to ask you: What Irish fairytales/folklore does fascinate you the most? Share and elaborate please :3 ~Sia

Hey Sia! Thank you for your question! (I was actually thinking about doing a post related to this topic, great timing)

Now when it comes to Irish folklore, there is a LOT that I could discuss, but the most interesting aspect of it, in my humble opinion, are the myths and legends.

Many of these myths and legends can be traced back as far as the Celts, though do to the conversion to Christianity before the 5th century, a lot of it was either lost are altered to fit Christian beliefs (many Pagan customs/traditions were also changed due to this) Because of this, a lot of what we do know about Irish mythology today is quite vague :/

Luckily though,Many of these stories were preserved in manuscripts.And although many haven’t survived (some stories weren’t even written at all!), there are manuscripts that can still be viewed to this day. (e.g the Book of Leinster)

Irish legends are divided into four cycles, which mark important periods in early Irish history. They are..;

Mythological

Ulster

Fenian

Historical

Mythological Cycle

These stories are set in pre-Christian Ireland and are the last remnants of the Iron Age Celts in Ireland (500 BC- 400 AD). Christian preserved them in highly decorative and detailed illuminated manuscripts.(The Book of Kells (though not a book of mythology) is a good example of an illuminated manuscript.) Celtic gods were often depicted, though due to vast alterations, many god-like characters were changed and presented as people who had lived in Ireland long before mortals. The Book of Invasions, or An Leabhar Gabhála (pronounced “On Lao-er Gov-Aw-La) is a collection of poems and stories from the Mythological Cycle and tells us a lot about what life was like from Pre-Christian Ireland to the Middle Ages.

A favourite legend of mine from the Mythological Cycle would be the Children of Lir. You can read the full story here, but to put it simply, There was once a king called Lir who had four children, one daughter named Fionnuala, and three sons, Aodh, Fiachra and Conn. Their mother had passed away, but the King then decided to marry again, to a woman called Aoife. Aoife was jealous of the love the King had for his children, so one day she put a curse on them, turning them into four swans. They had to remain swans for 900 years, and only the sound of a church bell could break the spell.

(A sculpture of the Children of Lir in the Garden of Remembrance, Dublin.X) 

Ulster Cycle

Formerly known as the Red Branch Cycle (Rúraíocht in Irish), these legends deal with the heroic tales of the Ulaids (from which the modern word Ulster derives from) set in around 1st century BC. Like many of the Irish legends, they were carried on through oral tradition between the 8th and 11th centuries, until they too were preserved and written down in the 12th century. Notable resources about the Ulster Cycle include the Book of the Dun Cow (Lebor na hUidre) and the Book of Leinster.

Generally, stories from this cycle have a more serious and realistic tone to them, and center around tales of heroic warriors and epic battles. A good example of this type of story would be “An Táin Bó Cúailnge”, or The Cattle Raid of Cooley. Another example of a legend from this cycle would be Deirdre of the Sorrows.

Cú Chulainn (literally Culann’s Hound in English) is also a famous figure from the Ulster Cycle, if not one of the most famous characters in Irish mythology. I could make an entire post about him alone, but for now I’ll just go over the story of how he got his name. (Here’s just an overview of his life, according to legend)

Setanta, as he was called as a child, wanted to be a member the Red Branch Knights and join the Macra, a special school for young boys in Armagh who trained to became warriors for the Red Branch Knights. His father, the King of Dundalk, however refused to let him go because he was too young. Setanta decided that he could wait until he was older. So with his hurley and sliotar, he ran away to Armagh by himself.

When he arrived at the castle of King Connor at Armagh, he spotted the boys of the Macra playing hurling(one of Ireland’s national sports, imagine a game like lacrosse mixed with field hockey) on the green plain in front of the castle and decided to join them. He was immediately able to show off his incredible skills, which made the other boys angry, so they started to gang up on him for joining their game uninvited.

The noise disturbed the king from inside the castle and he sent out one of his servants to find out what was happening and brought Setanta before him. When he stated who he was and why he was there, the King then allowed him to become a member of the Macra.

One day Culann, the King’s blacksmith,invited Setanta to a feast. Setanta made his way to the house where the feast was taking place, but when he got there he could see a large wolfhound guarding the entrance. Suddenly without warning, the wolfhound leapt forward at him and barred its sharp teeth. Without a second thought, Setanta got his hurley and sliotar and aimed it at the dog, hurling the sliotar down its throat. Soon, the dog laid dead on the ground.

The people inside the house heard all the commotion outside and were astonished to see the boy standing over the wolfhound’s body, amazed by his bravery and great strength. He promised to Culann to protect his house as a replacement for his dog, and from that day on he was known as Cú Chulainn.

(“Cuchulain Slays the Hound of Culain”, X)

OKAY. Since I think this is starting to get a bit longer than I though it was gonna be and since I have a lot more that I wanna talk about (with pictures and everything :’)), I will talk about the Fenian Cycle and the Historical Cycle in another post to go along with this one! 

(If you see anything here that seems inaccurate and can be improved upon, please let me know and I’ll be happy to change it Xx)

I hope this was interesting so far, and please stay tuned for the next post!

Slán go fóill!!

[imagine-loki]

A Warrior’s Life

TITLE: A Warrior’s Life

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Thirty-Six AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Viking Loki coming to your village, raiding, and pillaging, before deciding there is something about you that intrigues him and deciding to take you back to Asgard with him. There, you are forced to learn a new life and language, and though you hate what has happened to you, you learn that Loki is not as bad as you think.

RATING: Mature

Further meetings took place regarding the discussions with Svartalfheim, only this time; Loki was very much involved as Thor's advisor and second in command, meaning he was often away for entire days in the village, and more than a few nights, which left Maebh to deal with the brunt of the preparations for their move to Baldr’s old residence. On the evenings that Loki did not return, she found herself unable to sleep properly, feeling cold and longing for her husband. There were several nights she woke from fitful sleeps to Loki wrapping his arms around her, still clothed from the day, trying to calm her after yet another nightmare, or simply waking in the morning to realise he had slipped into the bed while she slept without her noticing at some stage during the night, and was preparing to go to the village again to aid talks once more.

“Am I to see you at all over the coming weeks?” Maebh queried half-jokingly as she prepared some food for her husband before he left for another day.

“I know I have not been home much of late, and I am very sorry, you have done so much in my absence.” Loki wrapped his arms around her waist as he spoke, planting a small kiss on her neck as he did so. “My goodness, someone is growing fast.” He commented, eyeing her ever growing stomach. A small movement next his hand caused his eyes to widen. “Is that?”

“Yes, it has been doing that for near a week. I have to say, it is the oddest sensation I have ever experienced.” Maebh smiled, bringing Loki’s hand to where she had felt the most movements. Soon after, a kick pushed firmly against his palm. “It is a strong child, I have no doubt it will be a warrior, regardless of its gender.”

Loki swallowed hard, hardly able to contain his tears of elation and joy at the feel of his child moving within his beloved wife. “Do you sense as to what it is?” he asked almost sheepishly.

“A baby I would reckon.” Maebh laughed, before answering properly. “I am unsure, some days I keep thinking of it as a girl and others a boy. Not that I care much regardless so long as it is healthy. That is what concerns me most.”

“I share your sentiment, I merely ask out of curiosity,” Loki explained, hoping not to have irritated his wife.

“And what do you sense?”

“Well, they say mothers have the intuition as to a child’s gender, not the father. I will be happy either way. Though I will not know what to do with a daughter if she is as beautiful as you, I fear my heart will be broken by the number of young men that will chase after her.”

“At least she will have you and her older brother to care for her and defend her honour.”

“I have little doubt she will be as able as us with a weapon if she is truly your daughter,” Loki commented proudly, earning him a small nudge from Maebh again as she feigned insult. She walked over to the table with his meal and placed it at his usual spot. “I really wish I did not have to leave you like this.” He reiterated as he sat down.

“I know, it is not your doing, and if it ceases war with Svartalfheim, then think of the good it will do the realm,” Maebh stated.

“You are too understanding.”

“It is the curse of our station I fear.” Maebh shrugged. “Now eat that and be on your way. Thor may stick his foot in it in your absence and we could have to endure longer without you here as a result.” Spurred by her words, Loki ate fast before leaving for another day of talks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Maebh sighed as she heard Loki roar with fury and frustration in the outhouses, causing Cú the hound pup and the Ellie to scarper in fear. His wife stood at the door of their home and watched as the farmhands stared at the buildings the noises were coming from with confusion. She was grateful that Nafi had already set off for his training for the day when she came across a small satchel of herbs hidden in a corner of the kitchen, on opening the bag she recognised the contents. Loki asked her what the herbs within did seeing as she clearly knew what they were for, and when she told him, he descended into a fit of rage before storming out of the house. After the roars ceased, she wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing, before cautiously approaching the outhouses, both farmhands looked at her with a sort of fearful respect as she knocked on the door before entering, thus informing her husband that he was no longer alone.

“That heartless, evil, conniving bitch, she is the living carnation of Hela herself!” he declared as he struck his axe into a training block over and over as he attempted to relieve his rage. “Even now she is somehow managing to ruin a great time in my life and I have not had the misfortune to lay an eye on her for a year.” He growled.

“Why then let her anger you so? There is nothing can be done about what has passed, you can only move on.” Maebh walked over and rubbed her hands on his arms as he panted slightly from exertion. He sighed sadly.

“I am just so angered by her incessant lies.” He had tears in his eyes as he spoke. “If she had said she had never wanted to have children, then perhaps it would have been different, but she always made comments and statements about how much she hoped it would happen.” He silenced for a moment. “And you are sure of what that is?” Loki asked, hoping Maebh had been wrong.

She nodded, “I know it well, it grew in abundance on the land with the cottage. It was a coveted trading item to have when dealing with a brothel, the girls there often required it. And what you say she did with it, that is what they used to do with it too.” She bit her lips together, unsure of what Loki’s reaction would be.

He simply shook his head and allowed the tears to flow. “Nearly eight years I spent terrified there was something wrong with me, the amount of nights I spent awake worrying about it. And when you told me of that part of the marriage contract, I became beyond frantic. You agreed thinking it would be simple enough, but it could have all have been for nought. The thought of the marriage being nulled was destroying me.”

Maebh smiled at her husband, who was looking at her with sad emerald green eyes. “I do not think you need to worry about such things now, do you?” she laughed, indicating to her large swollen stomach.

Loki smiled softly and placed a hand on it. “I still find it hard to believe some days.”

“Well believe it; I have endured great sickness and backache to carry your child; willingly of course.”

“I wish you did not have to endure such things, my love.” Loki bent down to kiss her stomach before standing to full height again and tilting her chin up with his finger to kiss her.

“I do not complain about doing such things, as I could not be happier. Though I understand why your heart aches.” Loki furrowed his brow. “You are angry that Aslaug was willing to carry the child of a monster, but not of her caring and good husband. Any would be angry at such as that.”

“I do not deserve one as good and understanding as you.” Loki kissed her again.

Maebh smiled as he pulled back from the kiss “No, you do not. So thank one and all for having such good fortune.”

[clan-fuildarach]

danza verz

luke and rúth have some violent fun at a wind market together. this is what true love is made of

~

The Cú na Mara had made land for the first time in months, a diversion that was sorely needed thanks to the dwindling supplies on the ship. The Ashfall Waste had been too dangerous to approach in a wooden boat, so the ship had docked at the southern-most port in the Whirlwind Plateau.

Night had fallen by the time the clan begun to disembark from the ship. But the port was far from dark – the mistral jamboree celebrations had been going on all day, and if the lanterns and fireworks were any indication, the celebrations would go on all night too.

The night was hot and humid. Brightly coloured crowds milled around the port market, under a constellation of orange and green lanterns. Every so often a round of fireworks would go off overhead, showering the market with harmless multicoloured sparks. A pair of bands were playing too close to one another, producing a jangling clash of string instruments and flute music.

“Right, listen.” At the edge of the pier, Leo waved for attention. The clan was gathered around him, awaiting instructions. “We don't have a lot of money so I'm going to have to insist that you guys stick to your shopping lists. Got it?”

There was a grumbling chorus of assent.

Lehine's loud voice carried over the crowd. “Okay, but when we're done with the boring stuff we can have fun, right?”

“Yeah, sure. As long as it's free. Try not to wander around alone – use a buddy system or something. And I want you all back here at midnight.” Leo made shooing gestures at the clan.

Luke checked their own shopping list. They'd been given control of the healing supplies for the night, and it was their job to pick up ink and paper. Not a huge fan of crowds and loud celebrations, Luke had done their best to get Zeta to take their place, but Leo had insisted Luke take charge. Which would have been a nice gesture of trust, only Luke would now have to do business with complete strangers with the word CHEATER written across their face.

Admittedly, this was a pretty brilliant act of vindictiveness on Leo's part. Luke would have to think of some way to get him back for it later.

Lost in thought, they trailed after the rest of the clan and stepped under the net of lanterns. It was hot, sweaty, and noisy in the market. Large moths flickered past overhead, occasionally tangling with the lantern netting or stall awnings. Luke wished they still had a hood to raise to hide themself, but, this close to the Ashfall Waste, the night was sweltering.

People stared. Of course they did. Verzan face-paint was not a rare sight in the Windswept Plateau, but most of the dragons around seemed to stick to more conventional styles of ornamentation.

Head low, Luke quickly found a healing magic stall and made a beeline for it. Huge stacks of green and lavender paper stood on the counter, along with bundles of herbs and pre-made poultices. Luke checked the price tag, their heart sinking.

The shopkeeper stifled a snort of amusement behind one hand.

“Okay, okay,” she said, “I have to ask, what's the story behind the...” And she indicated her face with a wave and pointed to Luke.

“You can probably guess. How much paper can I get for ten gems?”

She grinned. “Changing the subject, huh? Well, that depends on the grade you want – I've got some high-grade stuff that's actually very nice, it's been treated to offset the heat of spell activation, so you don't burn your patients.” She held up a roll of nice but very expensive paper.

“No thanks,” Luke said. “Give me your cheapest paper.”

“My friend, cheap paper is a false economy. You'd be much better off with a quality product like this, you know. It's safer, lasts longer, and-”

Raised voices sounded over the crowd. Luke turned. Over by the bandstand, a shopkeeper was arguing very loudly with Rúth. The crowds had begun to edge away from the pair of them, half-wary and half-excited at the prospect of a real fight.

The paper seller tutted under her breath. “Why is it always those fucking verzans who get in fights around here? They shouldn't be allowed at all.”

By the other stall, the situation was growing more heated. Mostly, it seemed, due to the language barrier between Rúth and the shopkeeper. There had been some misunderstanding, and then it had all just escalated – Luke bit their lip, unsure. Rúth never performed well in crowds, surrounded by noise.

The shopkeeper leant forwards aggressively, pointing at the price tag on the roll of cloth on the counter. Rúth punched him in the face.

A cheer rose from the crowd.

“Oh, gods...” Luke shoved their gems back into their pocket and ran over, shoving through the tightly-packed dragons to stand beside Rúth.

The shopkeeper was still regaining his balance. Pale green blood spouted from his nose, which was clearly broken. Shying away from Rúth, he rounded on Luke instead.

“Do you know this person?” he said. “Control them! This is unacceptable!”

Rúth raised their metal fist threateningly and issued a stream of angry verzan, some of which Luke understood. Rúth was accusing the shopkeeper of robbery. Rúth had paid for sailcloth, but the shopkeeper, claiming not to have understood Rúth's request, had taken the money and given nothing in return.

“Once again,” the shopkeeper said in a slow, exaggerated voice, “I. Don't. Understand. You.” He gestured at Luke. “They're lying! I didn't take anything!”

Luke didn't even consider it. “They don't lie. Give them back their gems.”

“I don't have their gems,” the shopkeeper insisted, holding a wad of cloth against his bleeding nose. “Prove that I took them.”

There was probably a way to solve this situation peacefully. Luke could have called on the market guards and explained the situation. Once Rúth calmed down enough to be able to speak the right language, they could tell their side of the story. It could have been easy and pain free.

Then again, though, it was just so much more satisfying to simply help Rúth attack the shopkeeper. The world descended into multicoloured chaos as the stall supports cracked and the awning came down. While Rúth was busy putting their size and strength to excellent use, Luke rummaged in the till box under the fallen counter.

The guards at the edge of the market were yelling, someone was still clapping and cheering, and the lanterns were coming down all around like falling stars. Luke waved for Rúth's attention, showing them a triumphant handful of gems. Rúth released their choke-hold on the shopkeeper, sprang to their feet, and bolted out of the back of the stall. Luke followed, almost tripping over a fallen stall support, but Rúth reached back and grabbed their free hand.

Somehow, they made it back to the pier without being caught. It was much darker out by the moored ships, a cool breeze moving in from the sea. Rúth drew to a halt at the very end of the pier, by the huge, hulking shape of the Cú na Mara, and sat down with a gasp. Luke joined them, pausing to count through the gems they'd blindly snatched from the stall.

“That's... uh... fifteen? How many did you have?”

Rúth pulled up their heavy skirts and dangled both feet in the black water. Back in the market, the bands had begun playing again. “I had twelve.”

“Close enough.” Luke pocketed the gems.

The distant moonlight skimmed over the waves, washing all the colour from Rúth's outfit. It was so much more peaceful out here, away from the heat and the noise. It was the first time the two of them had been alone together since a couple of days before, when Rúth had written on Luke's face.

“He deserved it,” Rúth said decisively, folding their arms. Although their voice was hard, still angry, they were grinning. “Next time he will not try that again.”

“He'd better not,” Luke said, after a pause. They'd never been more conscious of the awkward gap between the two of them. Was this Rúth's way of showing they were ready to talk? Unsure, Luke moved to the side a little, putting another couple of inches between themself and Rúth.

Rúth glanced across at Luke and snorted, their grin widening. “You look so funny with that on your face. I am sorry, but you do.”

“Thanks,” Luke said, chancing a smile in response. “I think it suits me.”

“No,” Rúth said critically. “No, red is not a good colour for you. It makes your skin look grey, and that is so ugly.”

“So what would you recommend?”

Rúth stared at Luke for a long moment, frowning. The distant light from the market washed one side of Rúth's face orange and gold, setting off the vivid red markings on their cheeks.

“Brown,” they said, after a pause. “Or green? Blue would get lost, I think, and it's boring.”

“Good to know.” Luke's gaze fell on Rúth's hair, which was loose around their shoulders, glowing in the dim light like a coil of copper. It was so maddeningly pretty that Luke had to force themself not to reach out and touch it. It was almost as if Luke had been transported back to those very first weeks when Rúth had just joined the clan, and the two of them had been so awkward around one another. But this time it was no one's fault but Luke's.

“Rúth,” they said quietly, “I'm really sorry. For what I did, but also for avoiding you afterwards. That wasn't fair.”

“Okay, yes,” Rúth said, “you should be sorry for that.”

“I know.”

With a deep sigh, Rúth shuffled closer to Luke and slung an arm around their shoulders. Suddenly finding themself pressed up against Rúth's side, Luke froze up, then just as quickly relaxed into the embrace.

“And I am sorry, too,” Rúth said, a touch of amusement in their voice. “That paint is not going to come off. But... well, it was funny...”

“I think I can live with it,” Luke said, turning in to inhale Rúth's beloved scent. It had been so long since anyone had hugged Luke that it was starting to make them a little giddy. The fight and subsequent escape from the market had already made it the best evening in recent memory, but this was something else. The other aspects of their reunion could wait; for now, Luke was simply content to just sit in silence and hold Rúth again.

It didn't last, of course, because within ten minutes Leo had arrived to tell them both off about their behaviour at the market.

“We have to set sail again,” he said, setting out the gangway to return the ship, “thanks to your shit we're fucking banned from this market. I've half a mind to leave you both here.”

In small groups, the rest of the clan returned to the pier, some still complaining about having been forced to leave so early thanks to the brawl at the market.

Luke was sorry about a lot of things, but they really were not sorry about that.

[green-spear-of-causality]

For the OTP Drabbles Ask thing. 21- Proto-Cu and Robin Hood

- And so it begins.

I hope you enjoy, @oddnub!

21. "Jinx, you owe me a coke." *Can't speak until they buy the other a soda*

Proto Cú's Luck was as abysmal as ever.

First, he woke up and fell off the bed. After untangling himself from his blankets, he padded towards Chaldea's mess hall only to accidentally bump into Gilgamesh -- yes, the one from his older self's Grail War. The Gold Archer then proceeded to mock him, pointing out his messy hair (that was hastily put into its ponytail, give him a break it's his day off - ) as well as his clumsy footing while laughing in that condescending way of his. Proto Cú hurried around him to grab a bite to eat, only to slip in the remnants of last night's Food War and fall face-first into a pile of molding cheese. Gilgamesh howled with laughter, and Proto Cú felt his cheeks burn as he stood up and went to the sink to wash his face off.

He didn't think it could get any worse than this.

"Yo."

Proto Cú whipped his head around to see Robin Hood wave to him, the Green Archer situating himself on one of the very few untouched seats. All the others had some form of ketchup, eggs, or relish on them (Nobu knew how to utterly vandalize a place).

"Yo..." Proto Cú sighed out, wiping his face off on a dish towel. Robin's mouth quirked in amusement at seeing the Lancer's miserable face, eyebrow raised in concern.

"You look awful. What happened?"

"Goldie happened."

"Ah." Robin tilted his head towards him in sympathy, and Proto Cú felt a wave of gratitude for the Archer. Ever since they met, they hit it off almost instantly. It was similar to how his and Emiya's friendship worked, actually; the main difference was that he apparently shared a single brain cell with Robin, considering the amount of memes they casually throw at each other.

Another thing they shared was their love of pranks. Proto Cú had waited until he felt that their friendship was on a more secure level to hide Robin's cloak (it...actually smelled pretty nice) underneath Alter's mattress. He did it with permission from the Berserker, of course; he didn't have a death wish. He then got to watch with amusement as Robin sent him a withering glare for the rest of the first day, the May King scurrying around Chaldea and asking numerous Servants if they've seen his cloak. The Archer eventually found it a week later, looking like he fought four lions to get to it and flipping Proto Cú the bird once they saw each other again.

"I won't forget this," He had declared. Proto Cú remembered waving him off, too busy wheezing as he took pictures of Robin for future blackmail to really consider the implications.

And now, he wishes that he had. Proto Cú wasn't an idiot; he'd get his due eventually from him. The questions were when, and how.

Actually... Proto Cú frowned. "What are you doing up this early? You're usually walking around in another hour or so."

"Can't a Servant change their schedule up a bit?" Robin said innocuously, and immediately warning bells were ringing in Proto Cú's head. Robin prided himself on the amount of sleep he got; while Proto Cú rose with the sun, the May King waited until it was nearly all the way up in the sky to even consider moving.

Crimson eyes narrowed. "Uh-huh."

Robin snorted in laughter at his suspicion. "Nevermind that; let's eat some breakfast!"

"Like what?" Proto Cú asked as he grabbed some dish soap and a sponge, wiping down the seat next to Robin and drying it off before sitting down.

Robin looked around, stopping his search as his eyes landed on something. "Well, we'll just ask the Red Archer himself."

Proto Cú followed Robin's line of sight to the dual-wielding Archer, who scrunched his nose up at the sight of the destroyed mess hall. The Lancer lifted his hand and waved to him, calling out. "Yo, Archer! Do you know what's for breakfast?"

"I was going to try my hand at a Western-styled dish," The Counter Guardian began, making his way over to them, "But it seems that it will have to wait until a new shipment arrives. The only thing left should be the leftovers from yesterday..."

The Red Archer stepped into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a plate of dumplings. Robin and Proto Cú stared; they knew that it was enough food to fill one Servant, not two.

Silence. Then,

"Gimme that bitch!"

"You better STOP! STOOOOP!!"

Emiya grunted as the two Servants pushed each other out of the way to reach for the plate, the taller Archer holding it over his head as they jumped for it. They were arguing all the while, and slowly he was developing a headache because of it.

"Let me at least set down the goddamn plate first or so help me I'll - "

He didn't finish. He didn't need to; Robin and Proto Cú stilled, drawing back and looking at him.

They spoke in perfect unison, seeming to sing the two words. "...You're angry."

Emiya blinked. The duo locked eyes with each other, shouting in tandem. "JINX! DOUBLE JINX!"

Robin then kicked Proto Cú's shin hard, making the blue-haired Servant double over in pain. He grabbed the plate of dumplings, Emiya letting him with a sigh as he dropped back into his seat to eat.

Proto Cú could hear the smugness in his voice. "Triple jinx. You owe me a coke."

"Son of a bitch!" Proto Cú cried out, Emiya sending him The Look as Jack and Nursery Rhyme chose that time to enter the mess hall themselves. The Lancer couldn't believe that he fell for it; Robin was known for playing dirty when it was required, and he's seen him do it numerous times to their enemies.

"You know the rules." Robin sing-songed, and Proto Cú gritted his teeth. He then mimed drinking a bottle, favoring his injured shin as he all but ran out of the room.

Emiya turned to Robin, anger forgotten as curiosity took over. "Mind explaining that?"

"He's jinxed." Robin stated matter-of-factly, taking a bite out of another dumpling and humming in content. Emiya didn't even know that he liked cold dumplings. "He can't talk until he gets me a soda. Specifically, Coca-Cola."

An ominous smile stretched across his face. "Little does he know that I've hidden all of the Coca-Cola Chaldea has in the last place he'd ever think to look."

Emiya blanched. He then paled in horror, eyes wide with disbelief. "...You didn't."

Robin cackled. "I did."

"But - That's - "

"Suicide?" Robin poked a dumpling absentmindedly. "Well...he should've thought about that before stealing my cloak and putting it in Alter's room."

"This is an entirely different manner of beast we're discussing here, Robin." Emiya stressed, resting his hands on the (thankfully clean) counter. "You know what she can do, especially considering it's him - "

"He'll be fine." Robin said, a little bit too forcefully, and Emiya could see that he was trying to reassure himself. The May King grimaced, no longer finding the situation as amusing as he had beforehand.

"...He has to be."

--------

Goddamn smug Archer with his goddamn kicks - ! Proto Cú seethed, unable to voice his frustrations out loud as he made his way over to Da Vinci's Workshop. He couldn't believe that he fell for the oldest trick in the book; hell, he should've expected it!

He threw the door open, startling Da Vinci. The genius let out a breath, body sagging in relief.

"Oh, it's just you, Proto...I thought you were Romani for a second. What can I do for you?"

Where can I get some damn Coca-Cola? Proto Cú almost said that out loud, but he remembered Robin's smug look as he jinxed him.

He grimaced. He mimed drinking something, drawing a C in midair before Da Vinci got it.

"Oh, Coca-Cola? So Robin finally got you, didn't he?"

HE PLANNED FOR THIS?! Proto Cú wanted to scream, instead settling for throwing his hands into the air while his face contorted into some form of angered exasperation. I should've known that it was payback for the cloak...

Da Vinci giggled at his antics, looking over her work with a knowing smile. "Sorry, but I don't have any Cola here. You can wait for the new shipment to come in, if you want to; it'll come in...oh, about three months."

THAT'S THREE MONTHS TOO MANY!! Proto Cú silently groaned, burying his face in his hands. Da Vinci hummed.

"Well, try asking Romani. He's the one who keeps an eye on the shipments coming into Chaldea, and also keeps track of inventory. If anyone would know where to find some Cola, it'd be him."

Proto Cú bowed in gratitude, taking off down the hallway towards the Doctor. In his haste he almost ran over Arthur, scaring the Saber.

"Lancer! Why are you in such a rush?"

Proto Cú waved his hands around wildly, mind in disarray. Can't talk gotta go find Roman so he can tell me where the Cola is because for some reason it's gone from Da Vinci's Workshop and this is turning into some Grand Adventure -

Arthur held up a hand, making him pause. "Is this about a bet between you and Robin Hood? If it helps, I heard him in the West Wing a couple of days ago in the dead of night. I was visiting Mordred at the time, and it was late, so I was surprised to see him out and about."

The West Wing. That was where the female Servants resided, and if Robin was there, then -

Oh no. A voice, one that sounded very much like Ozpin when Hazel found him reverberated within his reference-addled mind. Robin had to have hidden the Cola as payback; that much, he was sure of.

If he was in the West Wing, then that left two options: Scáthach, or -

Don't think about the Devil lest she appear.

Proto Cú nodded his thanks, Arthur wishing him luck with a smile and a wave as he took off. He'd go to his mentor's room first; that way, if he had to die at least it'd be an honorable death. He straightened himself as he approached her door, knocking thrice.

The answer was immediate. "Come in."

Proto opened the door. His mentor sat cross-legged on her bed, braiding Fran's hair as a soft tune played in the background. The Berserker hummed along brokenly with it, a smile on her face, and Proto felt as if he was intruding on a serene moment.

Scáthach side-eyed him. "State your business."

Proto Cú inwardly sighed. Was he really prepared to embarrass himself in front of his mentor? ...It was too late to back out, anyhow. He outlined an invisible drink, spelling out C-O-L-A with his hands before stepping back and waiting for a response.

Scáthach paused in her actions, Fran continuing to hum happily. "If this is about that Green Archer, then I don't have anything of value to you. I heard him speak to Medb three days ago, though, in the dead of night."

...

It really was the Worst-Case-Scenario.

Proto Cú nodded his thanks, and turned to go. Scáthach stopped him, her words giving him pause.

"Good luck, my student. You know what you must do."

Aye. He thought miserably, gently closing the door behind him so as to not further disrupt the serenity. He had two options: either wait for the next shipment to come in, or to brave the horrors of Medb's room.

He didn't think he could stay mute for three months.

Robin's lucky that I'm not going to eviscerate him with my spear. Proto Cú manifested it just in case, tip toeing towards the Rider's room. Then again, this whole mess is my fault in the first place. I've learned my lesson.

He sucked in a breath and knocked.

Silence. He waited with bated breath, deciding to knock again. No response. He almost knocked a third time before noticing that the door was unlocked. Just as he was about to open it, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

A dust cloud was seen in the distance, seeming to grow larger with each passing second. A high pitched sound made itself known to him, becoming louder as he turned to face it.

...The hell?

He peered closer. It...actually looked like a person was running -

"CÚÚÚÚÚÚÚÚ!!!!!"

Medb.

Oh shit.

RUN!!!

Proto Cú let the fear kick his legs into overdrive, turning tail and running back the way he came. He could hear the Rider's footsteps growing closer; was she..actually catching up to him?

If you stop, you're dead. His mind helpfully supplied, making him almost let loose a string of curses. No matter how many turns he took, she was right there behind him. It was like she had a Cú Detector on hand.

I need to lose her somehow!

He was in the East Wing. Think...Think! His older Lancer counterpart yawned as he stepped out of his room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Perfect.

Proto Cú slapped his fellow Lancer's back as he ran by, diving behind the couch as the other stumbled. "What the - ?"

"YAYYY THERE'S ANOTHER CÚ!!" Medb's voice made the counterpart yelp and start running, leaving Proto Cú alone as he emerged from his hiding spot. He dusted himself off, sending a silent apology to his older self as he ran towards Medb's room.

It was time to end this nightmare.

--------

He'll be fine. He has to be. Robin paced back and forth in one of the break rooms, Emiya watching him out of the corner of his eye with a knowing smirk.

"Worried?"

"Shut up." He retorted, mentally berating himself for not telling Medb to go easy on him. This is the last time I let my anger get the best of me.

The door burst open. Robin's head whipped up to see Cú - not Proto, but the other Lancer version - throw himself into the room and slam the door shut behind him, locking it.

Crimson met steel. "Hide me."

"Pardon?" Emiya asked, confused. Cú gave him no time to respond; the Lancer moved around behind him and peeked over his shoulder, eyes trained on the door. Robin noticed his messy hair, strands sticking this way and that, and figured that the blue-haired Servant just woke up.

"A crazy bitch is after me." Cú whispered, eyes wide yet unmoving. "I don't care what I have to do to make it up to you; just hide me."

Emiya glanced down at him. To Robin's amazement, his face morphed into a strange expression for a split second before going back to its default. "There's a side room tucked away in the back right. Stay in there until I say otherwise."

"You are a lifesaver!" Cú breathed a sigh of relief as he went through the side door, shutting it softly behind him.

Robin stared at Emiya.

"Don't say it."

Robin stared.

"...It was spur of the moment."

Stare.

Emiya flushed in embarrassment. "It's not - "

The doorknob jiggled.

The two Archers zeroed in on it, falling silent as it rumbled more violently. The readied themselves for a battle they'd rather not have, drawing their weapons -

The knob broke as Proto Cú burst into the room, scouring it for .4 seconds before chucking something at Robin. The Green Archer yelped as the offending object hit his head, falling into his lap innocuously and resting there.

"There's your motherfuckin' Cola." Proto Cú said in exhaustion, closing the door behind him and dropping to the ground. Emiya lowered his weapons, letting them dematerialize as he let out a puff of air to relax his suddenly tense muscles.

Robin opened the Cola, taking a sip. "You're alive." He noted.

Proto Cú bristled. "Yeah, no thanks to you! I can't believe you've done this!"

The British accent made Robin chuckle. "I know, I know. Bringing in Medb was a bit much."

"A bit? A BIT?!" As Proto Cú began his (unnecessarily long) rant, Emiya gave the two a small smile. They really did act like an old married couple, didn't they?

All's well ends well, I suppose.

-------- OMAKE! --------

Fsn Cú: ...Is it safe to come out yet?

Fsn Cú: Oi! Guys? Helloooo?

Robin: Just come out of the fucking closet already

Robin: We all know you're gay for Emiya

Fsn Cú, opening the door: Okay, thanks -

Fsn Cú:

Fsn Cú: Wait -

Fsn Cú: WHAT -