#this is my gaius feature story

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! It's time for another Merlin au! This time featuring Uther's propaganda and a healthy dose of misunderstandings and pain! :D

This au was inspired by an idea that I pitched in a reblog of one of @tamaha's amazing posts! (Also, shoutout to my awesome mutual @achillesuwu, since you asked to be tagged when I wrote this! :) ) You can find that original reblog here!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In canon, we know that Uther had children drowned for using magic, and that most of those children were likely warlocks who were born with their magic. However, we also know that most people in Camelot believe that magic is a choice and that it's impossible for someone to be born with it, so how did Uther justify to his people both the existence of child warlocks and the killing of children for something that they had no control over?

Well, Uther utilized his propaganda to justify killing young warlocks. He found some ancient text that hypothesized that warlocks got their powers from being reborn demons, and he used those very shoddy sources to justify his actions.

He spun stories about how warlocks looked human, but weren't human at all. He told the people that while those warlock children might have looked like regular humans, they would grow into powerful demons that would hunt down regular humans and eat their souls to gain more power.

Uther's propaganda campaign was successful, and soon, warlocks were some of the most feared magical creatures in Camelot. The people were terrified at the thought of a beast that could consume souls and blend in among them, unable to detected until it was too late.

Warlocks were a regular element of the nightmares of all of the children in Camelot, who would jump at every shadow and wonder if it was a warlock, there to devour them. Arthur was among those children, lying awake late at night, trembling with fear at the thought of any person he passed on the street being a warlock who would eat his very soul, denying him any afterlife and instead turning his soul into more magical power for the warlock.

And fast forward to some point after Arthur's become king, Merlin has a pretty painless magic reveal. Arthur and the knights were out hunting, they all get ambushed by bandits, Arthur takes a bad hit that would probably be fatal, but Merlin rushes to his side and, without hesitation, uses magic to heal Arthur's wound.

Arthur was, of course, very upset to learn that his manservant and best friend has magic, and they have a big argument over it, but no one physically attacks anyone (despite Gwaine's threats to kill Arthur and the rest of the knights and run away with Merlin).

So, everyone endures a rather tense and awkward ride back to Camelot, where Merlin is the recipient of many irate glares from Arthur and reassuring looks from the knights. When they reach Camelot, Arthur bans Merlin from his presence until he calls for Merlin again. He says that he can't stand the sight of Merlin at the moment, but Merlin will owe him a full explanation later. Merlin tearfully agrees and holes himself up in Gaius's chambers for a few days, while Arthur makes an ass of himself with his foul mood, snapping at everyone in the castle.

The knights try to point out to Arthur that while, yes, Merlin had magic and had lied to Arthur, he had only revealed it to save Arthur's life. Most of the knights used that point as a tool to comfort Arthur and ease his temper, but Gwaine used that fact to rub it in Arthur's face how terrible of a person Arthur was being towards the man who had just saved his life.

Finally, after the whole castle had to suffer through five days of Arthur's prattish and unpleasant behavior, Arthur summoned Merlin to his chambers, feeling calm enough again to actually hear whatever nonsensical reasons Merlin would give for turning to magic.

You see, what Arthur, the knights, and pretty much everyone in the castle had assumed was that Merlin had probably just picked up on some small useful enchantments and healing spells for Gaius's old study of that material. Arthur was angry at Merlin for turning to magic, but he could understand where Merlin was coming from.

Everyone knew that Merlin cared about his friends to the point of idiocy, so it made logical sense that Merlin, since he had the resources available to him, would resort to learning healing magic in case of an emergency. Arthur understood that aspect of Merlin more than anyone else.

Knowing that Merlin's magic was probably just the result of him being a loving and caring idiot did help ease the blow for Arthur, and truthfully Arthur didn't plan on punishing Merlin at all. To Arthur, hopefully confining Merlin to his chambers for a few days would discourage any future stupidity along these lines, and they could put this entire situation behind them.

So, when Arthur summoned a distressingly pale Merlin to his chambers and demanded an explanation, he expected to receive some stuttered response about learning a few spells from some of Gaius's spare books and to extract a promise out of Merlin that he'd never turn to magic again, and then everything would be fine.

However, when a wrought looking Merlin opened his mouth to explain, Arthur's heart plummeted to the floor. At the very first words of Merlin's explanation, "I was born with it," Arthur's chest went cold, and he took a few staggering steps backwards until his back hit the cold wall behind him, his eyes seeking out his blade.

Merlin was born with magic. That made Merlin a... a...

"Warlock," Arthur whispered, his eyes teary and terrified all at once.

Merlin stopped his explanation and tilted his head at Arthur, a small grin pulling on his lips. Arthur flinched back slightly at the sight of it, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the all-encompassing terror, dread, and sorrow that swirled around his mind.

"Ah, so you do know the correct word for it then! Yes, I am technically a warlock, but the distinction doesn't really matter that much anyways."

Merlin made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if his words hadn't just completely shattered Arthur's heart. Arthur couldn't even listen to the rest of Merlin's explanation through the rush of his heartbeat and breathing in his ears.

The terror gripping his heart shouted at him to fight or flee, don't just stand there waiting for him to decide that he's feeling peckish for souls!

Arthur suddenly registered the pallor of Merlin's skin and the hollowness of his cheeks and came to the awful conclusion that he doesn't have much time, Merlin's already hungry and Merlin was stepping closer there was no time to escape nonono!

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to look at what must have been Merlin unfurling whatever demonic jaws he kept hidden and preparing to eat Arthur's soul...

But the sensation of his soul being devoured, whatever that was supposed to feel like, never came. Instead, he just felt a hand on his forehead, and after a few seconds another one cupped the side of his face.

Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes, almost not wanting to look upon Merlin's happy, friendly face that had always brought nothing but comfort. He didn't want those caring eyes to be that last thing he saw before he died at Merlin's hand!

Slowly, Arthur steeled himself and blinked the tears from his eyes, willing to at least face his death like a true warrior, looking at it head-on.

But, as his vision cleared from the tears, Merlin didn't look like his death, or like any sort of soul-eating monster. He just looked like Merlin, and by god wasn't that the worst part of it?

Merlin slowly smiled at him as his tears dried, coaxing him away from the wall and towards his armchair by the fireplace. Merlin gently guided him over to chair and helped him into his seat, holding Arthur's hand the entire time.

Arthur, once he was sitting, looked over at Merlin, still holding onto his hand and whispering comforting words to him, and Arthur felt like a small, scared child again, freshly awoken from a nightmare and jumping at every shadow.

It took what must have been hours for Arthur to catch his breath, stop his tears, and cease his body's terrified trembling, and Merlin sat next to him the entire time, drying Arthur's tears and comforting him.

Eventually, Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes again, and he could find nothing in them but love and care.

Whatever Merlin was, however hungry he must have been after going five days without being able to hunt for souls to devour, he apparently didn't see Arthur as a target.

Arthur took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with Merlin. Alright, Merlin might be a soul-eating demon straight out of Camelot's worst nightmares, but he saw Arthur as a friend, not a meal. Arthur... Arthur could work with that.

He just... he needed more information before doing anything else. Merlin was still looking at him with love and concern, and with each passing moment, Arthur became more and more convinced that Merlin was still Merlin, warlock or not. And damn it all, that still counted for something. It had to count for something.

Now that his fear was marginally under control, questions swirled around Arthur's head. How did Merlin even eat souls before this? How often did he need to eat? Did he need to also eat food, or did he sustain himself and his powers on souls alone?

Before he could ask Merlin any of the pressing questions that were on his mind, Merlin had already helped Arthur out of his chair and towards his bed, readying a limp Arthur for bed whilst the king was drowning in his own thoughts.

Before Arthur even knew it, Merlin was pulling blankets over him and snuffing out the candles in his room. Merlin promised to visit Arthur again in the morning to tell him more, and Arthur barely registered his words over the storm of his own thoughts.

When morning came, Arthur couldn't even tell if he had gotten any sleep throughout the night or not, but he woke up exhausted either way. Only a few minutes after the sun had risen, Merlin burst into the room, still looking paler than usual and helping himself to one of the sausages that was supposed to be a part of Arthur's breakfast.

Just the sight of Merlin eating anything made Arthur feel slightly queasy, imaging some terrified soul being devoured at Merlin's hands. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before getting out of bed, allowing Merlin to dress him as he normally did.

Merlin, much to Arthur's relief, was still acting like nothing had changed, like he was still the same harmless Merlin that Arthur knew him as before yesterday.

If that was how Merlin wanted to act, then Arthur was fine with it. Truthfully, even with all of the questions that Arthur had surrounding Merlin's nature, he found that he didn't really want answers to any of them. Answers would make this new reality, one where Merlin was never harmless at all and where there was a demon hiding under his best friend's skin, real for Arthur. If Arthur didn't have any answers, then he could just... pretend that everything was still fine, like nothing was wrong.

To keep Merlin by his side, he would gladly accept ignorance and pretend like nothing had changed.

However, there was still one issue that Arthur needed an answer to, to confirm that Merlin was still the man who Arthur always thought him to be.

As Merlin was cleaning up Arthur's breakfast plate, Arthur cleared his throat, getting Merlin's attention. Merlin quickly turned around to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur didn't feel scared meeting his eyes this time.

"Merlin, I'm willing to let everything that was revealed yesterday be forgiven, and everything can go back to normal."

Merlin gave Arthur a beaming smile at his words, and Arthur continued with a solemn heart.

"However, there is one thing I need to know. You've never..."

Somehow, the words eaten the soul of an innocent person were so vile that they refused to pass Arthur's lips, so he chooses an alternative.

"... hurt anyone who didn't deserve it, right? And you never will in the future? If we are to have any sort of trust between us, you must answer me honestly"

Arthur figured that, if Merlin was indeed forced to eat souls to survive, Merlin was probably feeding on bandits or enemy soldiers that Arthur and the knights would've killed anyways. It was the only explanation, as innocent people didn't mysteriously turn up dead regularly enough in Camelot to indicate that Merlin was feeding on them, and Arthur knew, deep down, that no matter what he was, Merlin would never do such a thing.

Merlin froze at Arthur's words, his smile falling. He lowered his gaze briefly, before meeting Arthur's eyes once more, determination shining brightly in his eyes.

"Arthur, I swear to you, anyone whom I've hurt with my powers were enemies of Camelot. Whatever I've done, I did it to protect you and your subjects."

Arthur nodded, satisfied and relieved by Merlin's answer. Nothing had to change then, Merlin was still his friend and manservant, albeit with powerful magic and an appetite for the souls of his enemies. Arthur could... tolerate that.

As the weeks went on, Arthur found himself thinking about this new side to Merlin less and less. Merlin was still acting exactly as himself, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry, let alone dwell on any thoughts of warlocks.

(And if he had a familiar nightmare from his childhood featuring a warlock, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.)

Everything was fine, and months passed without any incidents. That was, however, until Arthur noticed Merlin becoming paler, his cheeks hollowing out again, and his eyes sporting heavy bags. As he took in the changes in Merlin over the past few days, he came to the sickening conclusion: Merlin was getting hungry again, and would need a soul to eat soon.

But Camelot was at peace, there were noticeably less bandits roaming the streets in the past year, and no assassins had come to the castle in the past months. Arthur could see that Merlin's usual... hunting grounds... had been drying up, and he needed to find a solution immediately. Arthur shivered at the thought of what devastation Merlin would unintentionally bring down upon all of them if his hunger ever got out of control.

After several hours of brainstorming on Arthur's part, he finally had an idea. It sickened him to have to consider, but he would do what he had to for the sake of Camelot.

Arthur called for Merlin to follow him as he made his way into the dungeons, where only one prisoner was currently being held. The prisoner was a minor noble who had killed several of his own servants and then used his status as a member of the nobility to cover up his involvement in the murders.

However, the nobleman was sloppy, and there was evidence left behind that proved his guilt without a doubt. He was set to be hanged for his crimes in two days time, as per Arthur's own judgement at the noble's trial, but... if he was going to be executed anyways... perhaps his death may be of use.

(What Arthur didn't know was that the real reason why Merlin looked so exhausted was because Merlin had spent every night for the past week searching for and compiling evidence that the nobleman was behind the murders, as the bastard would've gotten away with it otherwise.)

To Arthur, the criminal's death could be used to ensure that Camelot's only source of magical protection (and Arthur's best and dearest friend) didn't starve to death or go into a hunger-induced rampage, whichever came first.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the nobleman's cell with Merlin trailing after him, where the criminal was bound to a chair on Arthur's orders. Arthur solemnly opened the door to the cell, gesturing for Merlin to follow him inside.

As soon as Arthur set foot in the cell, the nobleman started begging him for mercy, pleading with him to lower his sentence, not knowing what punishment Arthur truly had in mind for him. Ignoring the soon-to-be dead man, Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was startled by Arthur's intense stare.

"Arthur? What's going on?"

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, his voice rough with guilt, sorrow, and fear alike. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side at the sound, trying to urge him out of the cell, away from whatever issue was causing Arthur such pain.

Standing firm, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Merlin, I need you to... to do something for me."

Concern marred Merlin features as he reached out to Arthur.

"Of course, I would do anything for you Arthur."

Arthur swallowed roughly, trying to force his next words out of his throat. He'd ordered executions before, hell, he'd even ordered this man's execution before, but this was much, much harder than any of the other orders he'd given.

"Merlin, I need you to... take care of this man, as you normally do for enemies of Camelot."

Merlin reeled back with shock, looking somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Arthur, you can't possibly mean for me to..."

"I'm sorry, but yes Merlin, it needs to be done."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few more moments, before slowly nodding his head and turning towards the bound criminal.

As Merlin stepped closer to the doomed noble, Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if there were ever a time for Arthur to show such cowardly behavior, it was here. He didn't want to see this part of Merlin.

He did, however, hear everything. There was a scream from the criminal, which was sickeningly cut off by a loud wet crunch that echoes off of the cell's walls, and then there was no sound in the cell except a very loud silence.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Merlin standing in front of a corpse and tried to believe that everything was still normal.

And that's a wrap on this au! Man, that got darker than I expected it to be.

Be sure to let me know if you'd like a continuation of this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[notedchampagne]

What makes a tlt au work for you? Do u have any favourites out there/that you’ve thought of?

its hard because it can go down to the writing! i have a huge bias for things that put focus on the characters acting awful and driving the story forward- if a story has a plot thats great, but its the difference between "gideon and harrow keep meeting up at parties and fall a little bit in love every time" and "gideons angry she lost her childhood to the cult so she attends a party with the tridentarii to shotgun adolescent experiences, and harrowhark, frustrated that gideon is pulling on her metaphorical leash, follows to stalk her". the former retains a 5+1 fic format and is more bite-size, while the latter puts more focus into their growth as characters. im not great at articulating what i like specifically, but ill put my favorite fics below:

what if nona was dogs tugs at my heart: its post-canon, slice-of-life, and has a unique concept (said in the title). i judged a book by its cover because i thought the premise seemed too silly at first but ive been made a fool and its pet clown. it feels so true to nona the way its about all the things nona loves and how she gets to explore the world through new eyes. i love the way it explores characters softening up and getting hurt through a third person pov

we have always lived in the apartment by @thatneoncrisis i keep saying this but for the love of GOD guys this au is so good it makes me cry and feel such a deep catharsis from it. it takes gideon and harrow and the ninth as a cult and explores their struggle to adapt to a modern society when noone ever gets a break (WOW ITS JUST LIKE IN REAL L-). quinn writes the sides of griddlehark i think go overlooked in fanfic often: their codependency, their tendency to lash out when theyre defensive, their mutual paranoia and different coping mechanisms, harrows psychosis and gideons bitterness, their relationships to each other as being the only other person who really understands what the other suffered through. god. i feel lightheaded.

"but SAM, i dont like angst but i want to see this writing!" read gap between a tragedy and a comedy

"SAM, i also like when gideon and harrow are horrible because theyre maladjusted teenagers! but i want more antics where the characters drive things forward over angst!" read whats eating gideon nav

you just aint receiving is one of my FAVORITE modern aus of all time (and i heavily recommend the authors other fics as well!) if you really want to see how much i love this fic the fact that my comments take up the entire phone screen probably says a lot. its hard to put it concisely: it keeps harrows air of misanthropy and cruelty but redefines it as the result of her upbringing and personal struggle to live in a university while dealing with a backpack of mental illness and frustration. it changes gideons personality as the daughter of john gaius in a way that makes sense having her grow up with johns middling parenting skills and getting everything she ever wanted (connecting it back to kirionas personality in ntn!). it brings in side characters (specially palamedes. my beautiful boy palamedes) in ways that compliment harrow and gideon but not so obviously that they only exist to be supports. they have their own lives and ideals. its a modern au that brings in the boiling politics of johns cult uprising once again in a really novel way

semi charmed kinda life by @griddlebait. jesuchristo and all his middle names this fic is GREAT for you if you want a slice of life, coming of age type modern au that explores what its like for gideon and harrow if they actually got the space to see who theyd become outside of the stifling fate tlt has for them. as far as modern aus go im usually very hesitant to read them because im afraid modernizing the characters takes features away from their core but i really love and respect the way the author treats the 69ers with care and draws distinct lines that shows me how their grow and change while keeping a line to the anchor. also they write HIDEOUS (complimentary) PINING. DISGUSTING. some of these chapters were so chock full of dyke drama that they made me nauseous and whimsical. i think once a friend said this fic felt like if gh could be reincarnated and i like that descriptor a lot

til the cows come home is another postcanon fic that made me feel sick and crybabyish about it- i would definitely recommend it if you want to explore a happier ending with griddlehark! with this and what if nona was dogs the thing i like most about them is that they mix up vulnerability with pain and fear, so it feels more lifelike that way if that makes sense. i lost my taste in fluff fics over time but when its interspersed with struggle and characters causing problems because they cant cope with themselves it feels much more earnest and raw

this became very long. im not sorry

[gaius-chambers]

[Merlin LEGO set idea proposed by lego user PrimeMerlinian in 2014] "Filled with magic, action, and monsters, Merlin would be a perfect addition to LEGO. This set is loosely based on the episode “The Fires of Idirsholas,” in which the villainous Morgana releases a group of ghost knights (the Knights of Medhir) to attack Camelot. The main feature of the set is Gaius’ iconic room, which also includes Merlin’s room at the back. The setting is spacious and show accurate, with lots of potions and books to recreate the feel and ambiance of Merlin’s place of residence. I attempted to replicate the show’s architecture in my building style. Included are several show accurate elements and play features such as: the entrance; a hiding place under Merlin’s bed where he keeps his Sidhe Staff and magic book; the stone dog Merlin brings to life in “Valiant”; a function to blast Gaius (or anyone you choose) through the railing of the second floor; one of the shield snakes from “Valiant”; and, of course, the sword Excalibur. Five minifigures are included: Merlin (with Sidhe Staff), Arthur Pendragon (with Excalibur), Morgana, Gaius, and two Knights of Medhir (with swords). This set would allow Merlin fans to reenact many key moments of the show in LEGO form, as well as create their own stories in a land of myth. If you want LEGO Merlin to become a reality, please support, and thank you for reading!"

[adolin]

would you be able to give examples/explain more about how race only impacts gideon in the tlt-universe? not being facetious or condescending, genuinely asking. thank you!

Hi anon! If you mean my tags to this post, I wrote

#earth conception of race doesn't impact any character in the series except the canonically brown main antagonist

By which I mean my Worstie and main antagonist of the series, John Gaius (PhD).

I don’t think TLT as a series engages with race in any especially meaningful ways. It’s set in a post-Earth society with entirely different social norms, and there’s no concept of race and ethnicity within the population of the Nine Houses. Physical descriptions of the characters are scarce to say the least, and they rarely spell out the kind of features that suggest specific racial connotations, because the POV characters don’t seem to think it’s something worth remarking upon. iirc, it takes until halfway through HtN for the narrative to confirm that Harrow has brown skin.

[See also Tamsyn’s GtN characters description post. It quotes passages from the book, and you can see how minimal the descriptions are, and she repeats several times that her characters’ appearances are up to the readers’ interpretations. It just doesn’t seem to be a big concern of hers]

Then there’s John, who grew up in twenty-first-century New Zealand and IS explicitly Māori in a way that absolutely impacted his character arc. It's not A major theme of his Nona chapters, but it’s there if you read between the lines. The boarding school he went to, which IRL had a high percentage of low-income Māori students on scholarship. The depth of his climate anxiety, his uncompromising “Nobody left behind” stance before the cryo project was halted, and his fervent hatred of ‘the trillionaires’ afterwards... these are all informed to some extent by his background as an indigenous man imo, and so was the global reaction to his developing powers. The “We were going to put you fellas in jail, weren’t we?” the way his initial attempts at publications are all flat-out ignored by the scientific community and dismissed as culty gimmicky faith healing until he leans into it.

John being Māori is just one of the many pieces of his backstory, and far from the most impactful to what eventually went down, but my point remains that he is the ONLY character in TLT whose racial background 1) affects his story arc and 2) is relatable to the audience. Everyone else is ten thousand years removed from Earth, and I’m just not very interested in using racial identifiers when exploring these characters and their dynamics, because the characters themselves don’t care and neither does the narrative.

[ravenwilds]

Merthur fic recs for my @merlinbingo square H2 'enemies to lovers'

This is one of my favourite tropes and I have loved re-reading some of these fics while putting these recs together. My recs are all smutty, some very smutty, but I guess that's kinda what I love about this trope :))

World Enough and Time by alicephantomwise

Explicit; 19K; posted 2021; modern au

This is one of my very favourite Merlin fics. They are both expert assassins on opposite sides, with a slight age difference - the dynamic between them is so perfect and Arthur is so besotted with Merlin and the angst is so gorgeous. Can't recommend this enough. The summary and tags don't really sell it but it is so worth reading!

Arthur had had it all figured out. And then Merlin shot him in Beijing.

six months, four days by merelydovely

Explicit; 5.5K; posted 2021; modern with magic

This was gifted to me for the 2021 Glompfest and I love it so much! So much story and world building, great characterisation, very very hot! Merlin is a leader of the magical resistance tasked with seducing Arthur to enable one of their plans

“As long as it’s not my idiot brother,” says Morgana, making a face. “I dunno,” says Merlin, eyeing the headshot labeled 'Arthur Pendragon'. “Magic-hater or not, he’s quite fit.” The Resistance movement needs an in with a member of an elite anti-magic task force. Merlin ends up far more entangled than he'd planned.

Sweet Retribution by SPowell

Explicit; 30K; posted 2012; modern au; dub-con

The whole premise of this fic is non-con/dub-con - Arthur is contracted to Merlin by Uther in order to save his business. In that context the fic is actually very sweet overall (but not sweet at all in places) and both characters go on a huge emotional journey, especially Merlin, and the shift in how Merlin thinks about himself and Arthur over time is brilliantly written. Features a great Merlin and Will friendship too. It may be too dark for some and it doesn't have many tags so if you want to know more about it before trying it feel free to DM me

Merlin hates the wealthy. A perfect opportunity to purge himself of his feelings of helplessness against them comes in the form of the young Arthur Pendragon.

Excalibur Hotel and Casino by rubyjayne

Mature; 3.2K; posted 2021; modern au

The hottest kiss on AO3 - big claim I know but it lives up to it. Such excellent 1:1 vibes with Merlin being a little shit and Arthur full of arrogant swagger *fans self*

“You just coughed, deliberately.” The man clenches his jaw, a look of genuine irritation on his face, and Merlin can’t help but roll his eyes. “Admit it.”  “Bravo, jackass, you caught me,” Merlin deadpans, slightly pissed now. “No fooling you, huh?” The iconic 5x12 tavern scene, but Merlin meets Arthur at a casino in Las Vegas.

My Significant Bother by Leandra

Explicit; 96K; posted 2021; modern royal au

I love all Leandra's fics and this one is a modern royalty au with such good snark and friction turning to feelings and affection between Merlin and Arthur - the fake boyfriends with benefits phase is so hot

Merlin's job as PR junior on the royal account isn't as glamorous as people believe: Most nights, he's saving Arthur, Duke of York and black sheep of the family, from possibly committing monarchy-shattering shenanigans... Roped into posing as Arthur's fake boyfriend, he's supposed to make Arthur's popularity levels rise with his steadfast and relatable presence and elevate him from scandalous rake to romantic figure...

This Is Not What I Came for (It's Better) by GeekLover

Explicit; 56K; posted 2016; modern sports au

An Olympics AU is perfect for enemies to lovers, right? In this one they are both gymnasts who do not like each other. Until they do ;-) Gaius is the unsung hero of this fic, trying to deal with them both

At the 2012 Summer Olympics, Great Britain's men's gymnastics is ready to work together to win gold, except two members can't get along. When Merlin & Arthur get caught on camera fighting like idiots, Gaius comes up with a solution to knock some sense into them. Merlin and Arthur have to share a room and decide if what they have in common outweighs their major differences.

Just Can't Get Enough by Ravenwilds

Explicit; 1.7k; posted 2024; mob/mafia au

And a bonus self-rec - it's a hate sex mob/mafia AU and more enemies to fuck-buddies than enemies to lovers but I was happy with how it turned out

“There’s no need to be pissy. I’ll go if you want me to.” Arthur paused. “If that is what you really want.” “Yes, it's what I want,” Merlin spat back. “Or do you want my knee in your balls again?” “I want your face in my balls and you fucking want it there too, sweetheart,” Arthur replied.

[multifunctionalnitroglycerin]

Poe’s Annabel Lee in TLT #1

“Annabel Lee” is the last poem E. A. Poe composed, and arguably one of his most famous ones. It is in many ways, typical of one would consider a Poe poem, featuring thematics such as the death of a beautiful young woman, love, and grief. Thematics and subjects that are ever-present in the tlt book series, and I will do my best to dissect in this post.

With a superficial read of the books, most would garner the rather obvious parallel between John Gaius and Alecto on the one hand, and the hero of the poem and Annabel Lee, on the other. John himself is not particularly mindful or discreet of the analogy he himself creates. And he has no need to, seeing as he is the only one that remembers the world from before. And I think it is terribly beautiful and utterly devastating, in a poetic irony sort of way, that a comparison so obvious as this, a hallmark of American poetry would go completely unnoticed in the new world that John has built in his image, for he is the only one who truly knows, the only one who remembers.

Another more subtle parallel, I feel could be drawn between Gideon and Harrow, and the poem’s heroes. Though, I must admit it is perhaps a bit of a stretch. I might make another post abt that. But for now, let’s dive in the magical world of Annabel Lee, and dissect the poem, bit by bit.

For all our literature geeks out there, I will just point out that the poem is a narrative poem, and it uses a few different rhyme schemes, and meters, with both anapests and iambs being present (Shout out to all the lovely people who are familiar with iambic fifteen-syllable lines and have been haunted by them).

I will now start with a general feeling of the poem before jumping into the details. From the start, Annabel Lee feels like a fairytale, with a hopeful start that alludes to the fairytale opening of Once upon a time… However, as the poem progresses this hopeful emotion slowly devolves to something eerie, ominous, and desperate. Something dark, cynical, and terrifying. And this is where we will draw our first parallel.

The Earth is dying. That much we can garner. There is however a man, that loves her more than anything else. That desperately, with his clumsy, human, imperfect, selfish way wants to save her. And thus, she bestows him with a gift, hoping that he would indeed help. It does make for a nice fairytale start of the story does it not? Unfortunately, however, this is not how it evolves, for John inevitably fails to do what he has been tasked with, despite all his love for her. And he kills her. She is now trapped in a human-like body of John’s design, a body that in its design is proof he could not escape the industrialism he so loathed, and she feels like a monstrosity. And the story only gets worse from then on, with her inevitable banishment in the Tomb for what seems to be an eternal sleep at the behest of John’s Lyctors.

Both takes I feel follow the same pattern of emotional development, regarding both their content of the text and the emotional rollercoaster they inspire in the reader.  

It was many and many a year ago

In a kingdom by the sea

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

by the name of Annabel Lee

10.000 years ago, to be precise, in a water-filled planet called Earth. See that fairytale tone? Also, I would like to point out once more, that saltwater references. Salt water, the sea, Θάλασσα as a source of life and energy is a strong thematic that repeats itself multiple times in Muir’s books, and this is no exception. And the fact that Earth is a planet with a lot of saltwater, and in this instance serve both the kingdom and the personification of the maiden is an apt usage of the theme. Moreover, in these introductory lines, we are immediately presented with what will be the central figure of the poem, Annabel Lee, an alleged maiden. A noun that alludes to a young, beautiful woman. (Alecto is arguably in the form that John gives her, also a beautiful woman, despite the Lyctors finding her monstrous. I am of the opinion that what unsettled them was that Alecto was both too bizarre, too other, too immense to be fully understood and contained within so plain a physical vessel, and way too human to be clearly marked as different and other. One look at John’s creation and they would immediately see that alien strange cavalier, and their closest friends in her quirks and mannerisms, all at once.)

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

than to love and be loved by me

I was a child and she was a child

In this Kingdom by the Sea

I need not point out I feel the thematic of an impossibly powerful love that is introduced in these lines, the desperate love that John harbored for his dying home planet, and the equally desperate love Alecto harbors for the man she thought would save her. Even when he betrays her, one of the things she says to John immediately after he confines her in the human form is I love you. (“What else...” “I love you”, “…You said that too.”) And of course, the notion that they were both “children”, inexperienced with little idea of what they were doing in their despair– most certainly not untrue. A line that heavily points to one of Pyrrha’s most iconic lines in Nona the Ninth “We were children - playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water... Thinking it was space.” And they were children in comparison to what they are now. Inexperienced and stumbling through their first steps in the chaos that love is.

But we loved with a love that was more than love— 

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven  

Coveted her and me.

Now these lines tie a bit more loosely to tlt. The love that these children so to speak harbor is not any less real because of their youth and inexperience. On the contrary the aftereffects of Alecto’s and John’s love are very much real and rather disastrous for the solar system. And such love, apparently inspired jealously. In the poem in the usually benign and protective guardians that angels are, and in the books, in the Lyctors. And I think that it is at this point that the thematics might or might not deviate from the books. Because one might say, that the Lyctors, that I feel are in these lines represented by the angelical figures, could not possibly be jealous of Alecto, and her relationship with John, could they? They find her monstrous and wrong, a hindrance, so what could they be jealous about? A lot of things, I believe. For we do see in the books the extends of the affections that John harbors for Alecto, even though his little man not responsible for the consequences of his actions, behavior. In the beginning John explains everything to Alecto through his eyes, takes her everywhere, and does not part with her. He harbors this love and kinship for his strange cavalier, or the soul of the Earth that chose him to save her, that it seems to overshadow even the depth of emotion he feels for his Lyctors. For he cares for and loves Augustine and Mercy and Gideon and Cassiopeia, Ulesses and Titania, but I feel that the love he has for them is but a speck in the ocean of the emotional turmoil that Alecto inspires in him. So they cover them for a love they themselves cannot feel.

��              And what would you do, how would you feel, if the man you gave everything up for, the man you uprooted your life for, the man you condemned the planet and the billions of lives on it for, barely had eyes for you? If despite all you had done for him and all you did on a daily basis to keep this impossible empire intact, all he ever did was parade his monstrous, weird, wrong, guard dog around? And no matter what you did you could never get rid of her, for she was everywhere, and she was his, and he never could care for you as his friend, as a companion, an advisor, a pillar of the empire, his hand and gesture and manifestation of his will with nearly as much love and devotion he showed her? What if you felt that she was a distraction keeping him from building the empire he was meant to build?  

And this was the reason that, long ago,    In this kingdom by the sea,  A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling    My beautiful Annabel Lee;  So that her highborn kinsman came     And bore her away from me,  To shut her up in a sepulchre    In this kingdom by the sea.   The angels, not half so happy in heaven,    Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,   In this kingdom by the sea)  That the wind came out of the cloud by night,    Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

Given my ramble above I will not expand anymore on how the Lyctors would see Alecto at least as a hindrance to the empire, and at most would loathe her, for despite never having sacrificed as much as they had – in their eyes at least - she had John’s attention, devotion, respect and -frankly obsessive- love. What follows now, is an abrupt change of tone (gone are the fairytale notions) and an allusion to the Tomb, even though we know that John himself put her in there and not the other Lyctors. But we also know that the other Lyctors were on a surface level, the driving force of that decision. He sealed her away to appease them. And at least in John’s little man mentality he could insist that it was for them and their insistence that he sealed her away. And he feels the loss of Alecto, his Annabel Lee. Furthermore, Annabel Lee has been chilled, and while the interpretation in the poem can be a bit vague, we know that Alecto is held in a freezing ice coffin practically. Frozen in time in the subzero temperatures of the Ninth.

 But our love it was stronger by far than the love  

Of those who were older than we—  

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in heaven above, 

 Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 

 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

Lyctorhood ala John. Binding your soul to the soul of a planet, to the soul of Earth. It doesn’t get any stronger and up and personal than that. A love and bond that is stronger than all he knows I don’t think there is much of anything anyone can do to sever Alecto’s connection from John. It is presented as one of the big issues in the book. How to kill God when he has bound his life force to a bloody planet, who seems to be rather murderous on the best of days. I quite look forward to seeing how that moves forward. For the hero of our poem, don’t know about John I must admit, seems to be certain nothing can tear their souls apart from each other.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 

 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes  

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, 

 In her sepulchre there by the sea, 

 In her tomb by the sounding sea.

The first two lines are pretty familiar, aren’t they? They should be because they are featured in the books. And they point that our hero meets Annabel Lee in his dreams. Aka the whole premise of Nona the Ninth, where Nona dreams of Alecto’s memories. As for the second set of lines, it seems to be an allusion to both John’s original bright  golden eyes and the bottomless black pits of Alecto’s in which the stars never rise. As for the next line, my presumptive butt would like to take it as a bit of a foreshadowing. And a symbol. Yes, it does bring to mind John’s ascension in a sense with the lying on the ground theme, but the imagery here is much more serene, peaceful. So, I would like to believe it alludes to the end, where John will finally find peace and will lie besides Alecto for what could be their final rest. I do not remember if he lay beside her every night before, so correct me if I am wrong. But I would find it awfully poetic for them to do that as they set off Resurrection Vol2 or they reverse what they have done. And the last lines again allude to the Tomb and the sea. So, a random crazy idea is that they would both lie together in the Tomb and reset everything. And that the Tomb, their place of final rest or not, will be surrounded by water, so I have this crazy imagery that perhaps the Tomb containing Alecto’s and John’s lifeforce will be the center, the core, of the new planet that would resemble earth. And thus, an ocean shall rise surrounding the two, and they will eternally lay beside each other in the depths of a planet surrounded by saltwater.

All in all, both stories are stories of love in its all-consuming nature, that can be romantic and all encompassing, or take a darker turn and become obsessive and destructive. Of Love that can transcend the mortal realm and alter the laws of the world as we know it, inspiring dark feelings in what should be benevolent characters. And still that love transcends the obstacles that are set, for better or worse. Is it really as beautiful as it appears? The stories also are stories of grief and loss that defines the one that gets left behind, grief that attaches itself to the person and doesn’t let go, overpowering sense and sensibility. That becomes the past present and future of our hero. That has no outlet and suffocates its bearer. (We have seen John’s darker days, where he is drunk and barely functional.)

Okay it is probably way too late, and I am way too tired, but it makes sense in my head. Next part of this one we will be analyzing possible comparisons between this lovely poem and Gideon and Harrow’s relationship.  

Take care of yourselves.

[catindabag]

TBOSAS on Crack short take (47)

Felix: Hey, guys, please settle down and listen to me-

Clemensia: Class Pres, why is your hair bubblegum pink today?

Felix: Well, Clemmie, that’s a funny story. You see, a certain someone happened to steal my very expensive Ravinstill exclusive shampoo and replaced it with pink hair dye-

Androcles: It wasn’t me! I swear on my mother’s cooking that it wasn’t-

Felix: Andie, your mother doesn’t cook.

Androcles: Oh, yeah.😐

Coryo: Let’s just go straight to the point, Class Pres.

Felix: *sighs* Fine. So I’ve gathered everyone here to discuss our upcoming PTA meeting this Friday-

Hilarius: PTA meeting?! With my father?! Class Pres, I’m not sure about that-

Felix: Calm down, Heavensbee! Your creepy old man is not even allowed to go near our school.

Urban: True. He can’t even go near us without Dean Highbottom calling the Peacekeepers-

Hilarius: You don’t understand! My old man will try to sneak into that meeting either way!😫

Coryo: Well, if he does, we can always call the President to punish him indefinitely-

Urban: Or strangle him ourselves for the greater good of Panem-

Hilarius: Hey!😠

Urban: Just saying~.

Sejanus: I’ll protect you from that creep, my Coryo, my love!😍

Coryo: Sure, Babe. Whatever you say.

Io: By the way, Hilari, how many restraining orders does your father have?

Hilarius: 42-

Felix: It’s 77 and counting. But anyway, Dean Highbottom told me to list down the parents who would be attending our PTA meeting this Friday. So-

Livia: Obviously, my ever fabulous mama will represent thee~!😌💅

Pup: Meh Daddy~!😘

Felix: Stop saying “daddy” like that, Pup.

Florus: Both or none. Depends on my crazy dad’s mood.

Dennis: Sorry~. My mama can’t attend this week. She’s too busy running the Capitol black market and trading illegal magazines with Cardew’s mom-

Livia: You lying little shi-

Felix: How about you, Urban?

Urban: Same with Florus.

Felix: And the rest?

Io: Both will come as usual~.😎

Arachne: My pushover big brother will represent me as always.

Androcles: My mama and her camera crew-

Felix: Andie, we’ve talked about this issue before. Your mother can’t bring her camera crew to our PTA meetings again-

Androcles: They’ll pay everyone 20 bucks for a feature.

Festus: Free money?!

Coryo: Free money!!

Persephone: I love money!

Dennis: Oh, yes~. Mah money~.😏

Felix: Fine! But this is the last time-

Gaius: Class Pres, can my crazy grandmother attend for me?🥺

Felix: The one who fought and defeated the rebels with a giant toothpick?

Gaius: Pretty please?

Felix: Sure. She’s a war hero.

Palmyra: Can my unhinged mama and her delicious pies-

Felix: No. Next.

Hilarius: My father-

Felix: He’s banned. Next.

Hilarius: My mother-

Felix: She’s banned too. Next.

Vipsania: My gym instructor-

Felix: Nope. Next.

Lysistrata: My drug- I mean, medicine dealer?

Felix: For legal reasons, no. Next.

Iphigenia: The pizza delivery guy next door-

Felix: Not a parent. Next.

Domitia: My emotional support cow-

Felix: Too hairy. Next.

Apollo: My imaginary friends-

Felix: Not real. Next.

Diana: My cute stuffed animals.🥺

Felix: Sure. Why not.

Apollo: That’s not fair-

Felix: Next!

Coryo: I’ll bring my cousin Tigris. But if Highbottom’s drunk, I’ll summon the ghost of my gorgeous dead dad instead.

Sejanus: My Ma will represent!

Coryo: Will she bring food?🥺

Sejanus: Always, Babe. Always~.😘

Coryo: I might kiss you right now-

Lysistrata: Kiss him, Coryo! Kiss him!

Coryo: Not now, Lizzie!

Felix: How about you, Creed?

Festus: My whole family’s going.

Sejanus: The whole Creed Clan?!

Festus: Yup! Free food is free food.

Pup: Especially when Ma Plinth’s the one cooking it.🤤

Juno: Well, whatever, peasants. My royal daddy will represent for me as usual~.😌💅

Urban: Nobody asked you, Juno~.🙄

Juno: Suck a di-

Felix: How about you, Clemmie? Is your dad going too?

Clemensia: Depends~. If my mom wins their annual wrestling match, then she’ll be the one attending-

Vipsania: Wrestling match? What kind?

Clemensia: Do you truly want to know, Sickle?😏

Vipsania: Yes-

Felix: Nope. We don’t wanna know about that, Clemmie.

Persephone: Well, I think my old man-

Coryo: Wasn’t Nero Price banned from the school grounds last year?

Persephone: My dad was banned?!

Coryo: Yes.

Persephone: What for?!

Felix: Cannibalism allegations.

Persephone: That’s a lie-

Coryo: He literally almost bit off Highbottom’s foot when he found out about the Heavensbee Hall Flooding Incident.

Persephone: He did that to defend me!

Felix: He also bit Professor Click’s hand-

Persephone: He was hungry!😭

Coryo: And stole all of Ma Plinth’s ham sandwiches from her body bag.

Persephone: To be fair, my daddy thought that there was a literal dead body inside her bag-

Felix: Still banned. Next.

[tiodolma]

Colin Morgan and Katie Mcgrath DVD Commentary on Merlin and Morgana's Relationship in S1x08 "Beginning of the End" (Mordred Episode)

featuring

Colin Morgan, BBC Merlin Katie Mcgrath, BBC Morgana Julian Murphy, Producer Angel Coulby, BBC Guinevere

S1x08 Merlin and Morgana watching over Mordred who was behind the curtain

COLIN: This is one of our few scenes together. KATIE: Actually this is one of my favorite scenes. JULIAN: Yeah, mine too. KATIE: me and you JULIAN: I think when you think about the whole sort of texture of the legend about what, who these people will become COLIN AND KATIE: MHHM JULIAN: Or what we think they may become. We’re pretty sure about Merlin but we don’t know about Morgana. And then it has a real resonance. KATIE: It’s just really nice, this… do you remember we played it two different ways? COLIN: Yeah.. KATIE: there was one other way that’s ah.. JULIAN: It’s a little bit too sexy, really. KATIE: Yes! There was a lot of eh.. COLIN: It was… JULIAN: I was like hang on wait a second you’re smiling at him too much! COLIN: It was a bit too flirty, wasn’t it.. as in... KATIE: (Squeaking) I thought it might have been an interesting sort of sideline story but apparently not. COLIN: MHHM MHMMM JULIAN: No, I came in and stamped on that. KATIE: Yeah… that was... that was my idea was obviously useless. COLIN: HEH HEH It’s good though the undertones of this because you know I know about you at this stage and it’s funny that you’re sort of picking up on on on things as well but you know, you know not quite sure so it’s... there’s loads going on thinking... the scene is just cool JULIAN: Just trying to test each other on you COLIN: mmm JULIAN: Find out what each other is about. You’re also hoping that you, that you may have found a kindred spirit. COLIN AND KATIE: mmmhm COLIN: Well that’s oh yeah finding one like you and she mean hers and ehm you know, if there’s wrong and what if, you know, magic chooses you. It’s exactly what you’ve/he’ve been looking for. KATIE: And it’s sort of I’ve been speaking directly to you as it were. I’m saying exactly what it is that you’re thinking, you know? But you’re still a coward and don’t tell anyone anything. COLIN: Thanks, Katie KATIE: You’re welcome COLIN: …. KATIE: Saw you’re all being serious there. COLIN: (chuckle)

Scene: Gaius and Merlin treat Mordred's Malady

KATIE: ..that they’ve done it as well because everybody knows what Mordred ends up being and what Morgana ends up being and this connection here, you wonder if the connection is because they’re magical or if it’s because they’re ultimately evil. COLIN: MHHHM KATIE: You know, Which is why I asked you whether you and you felt Mordred were similar COLIN: Yeah. KATIE: You know, Whether the connection is through magic or through or (whispers) our ultimate evildoing. COLIN: (surprised laugh) Well suppose that’s where, you know, if, if there’s sort of Morgana-Merlin thing was any further there’d be a point, you know, where we’d possibly do come together at some point but again ultimately going completely different directions. KATIE: See, I’ve come to the conclusion that in, in Merlin and in Camelot that magic isn’t good or it’s bad, it just is and it’s the person, what they take it . COLIN: YEAH KATIE: You know, So I feel Morgana does the, the right thing for the wrong reasons. JULIAN: Well I think that’s what we kinda decided. COLIN: Well suppose you don’t, you don’t have a mentor whereas Merlin’s got Gaius here to really steer him KATIE: And you guys know I’m magical and yet you leave me! COLIN: (laughing) KATIE: So it’s really your fault that I become evil! Without your guidance! ANGEL: …besides you COLIN: Well you’re the king’s ward. ANGEL: YEAH COLIN: He’s gonna believe you over us. KATIE: But I don't even know!

notes:

the (in)famous interpretation of colin and katie portraying merlin and morgana with more romantic undertones and getting blocked by the producer

katie telling colin that merlin is a coward.

colin morgan projecting what a merlin-morgana conflict would look like if mergana actually did happen.

both of them hoped for mergana to happen

[magicalsniper]

A Vampire Resides in Camelot

4,118 words | Teen | Part 2 of 12 Author's AO3: MagicalSniper Story Link: A Vampire Resides in Camelot Part One

Summary: In the kingdom where the Pendragons reign supreme as ruthless vampire hunters, Arthur Pendragon stands as the most feared and skilled of them all. His loyal servant, Merlin, appears to be a clumsy, scrawny, and goofy young man, but secretly, he is a pureblood vampire—the rarest and most powerful kind. As Arthur travels the land, slaying vampires and declaring them dangerous monsters, Merlin remains by his side, hiding his true nature. Initially, Merlin's need for blood is minimal, allowing him to pass as a human with ease by claiming the vials of blood from Gaius are medicinal. However, as Merlin's strength grows, so does his thirst, and he becomes increasingly desperate to avoid drinking human blood, fearing he will become the very monster Arthur hunts. When the charade unravels, and Arthur discovers Merlin's true identity, their world is thrown into chaos. Faced with losing his friend, Arthur makes the ultimate sacrifice: offering his own blood to keep Merlin alive.

0===][:::::::::::::>

The One Where Merlin Struggles with Puberty

0===][:::::::::::::>

Arthur strode into the great hall, his boots echoing against the stone floor, with a determined glint in his steely blue eyes. His father, King Uther Pendragon, sat upon his throne, a figure of imposing authority. His scrutinising gaze fell upon his son like his very presence disappointed him. 

"Father," Arthur began, his voice resonant within the chamber, "the villages at our borders are succumbing to vampire attacks. The people live in constant fear; their lives are being destroyed."

Uther's gaze remained unyielding as he replied curtly, "Those are outlying territories, Arthur. There is no immediate threat to the castle’s safety."

"Then, at what point does their suffering become our concern?" Arthur's tone rose, laced with frustration. "When they are but half a day's walk from our walls? When the terror is upon our doorstep and half our people have already been turned?"

"Exactly," Uther said, his voice cold. "That is when it becomes a matter for the crown."

Arthur's jaw clenched; he knew that waiting was not an option. The problem would only get worse if they allowed it to continue. With a curt nod, more to himself than to his father, he turned on his heel and departed, his mind set on a quest to rid the kingdom of its lurking shadows.

Meanwhile, Merlin paced in Gaius' candlelit chambers, the flickering light casting long shadows on the stone walls. Dusty shelves, crammed with vials, herbs, and ancient texts surrounded him. A large wooden table in the centre held various alchemical instruments and an open book, which Gaius stood before with a deep frown. He turned from the book and watched with weary eyes as Merlin paced back and forth, his dark hair tousled, his usually mischievous blue eyes now clouded with angst.

"Merlin, you must calm yourself," Gaius urged.

"Easy for you to say, Gaius," Merlin replied, a wry smile flickering across his pale features. "You don't have fangs threatening to sprout whenever you smell a fresh pie."

"Indeed, I have other ailments to worry about at my age," Gaius quipped, but his expression soon softened. "What happened?"

“I felt bloodlust,” Merlin stopped pacing, his shoulders slumping. "Stronger than ever. My senses and strength intensified, and I could barely hold back... If this continues, I will lose control."

"In those times, you have to try to remember who you are, Merlin—a young man with a kind heart, no matter what runs in your veins," Gaius assured him, placing a comforting hand on the young vampire's shoulder.

"Kind heart, maybe," Merlin mused, a spark of his usual levity returning. "But if you ever see me eyeing your neck, feel free to whack me with your walking stick."

"Rest assured, I'll do so without hesitation," Gaius replied, his lips twitching in amusement.

He motioned for Merlin to sit at the table before sitting opposite him. “Has your mother told you anything about pureblood puberty?”

Merlin scrunched up his nose. “Another puberty?” He barely just left the last one!

“Pureblood vampires, Merlin, experience puberty quite unlike humans. It's a critical and turbulent time for them. Their abilities and instincts are heightened to extreme levels. Their senses become razor-sharp, and their strength can be overwhelming.”

Merlin leaned forward, his eyebrows drawn low on his face. “That sounds… dangerous.”

“It is. You will have to learn how to control your new powers and urges. Without proper guidance, you could be a threat to yourself or those around you.” Giaus pushed the book between them towards Merlin, pointing to a faded picture on the page. “During this period, your emotions will be intensified. You will be more volatile and more aggressive. This is why many vampire clans have strict rites of passage to help their young navigate this phase.”

Merlin frowned, “But I don’t have a clan… what are these rites of passage?”

“Rites and trials designed to teach control and responsibility. Normally, those going through puberty are often secluded from society until they have mastered their abilities.”

“What!?” Merlin cried, jumping up. “Secluded? I can’t seclude myself. What am I going to do?”

“We could send you to your father’s old clan.”

“Absolutely not,” Merlin growled, slamming down his fist. He winced as the sound of cracking wood met his ears. “What… what happens if one doesn’t master their abilities?”

Gaius sighed, closing the book softly. “If a vampire going through puberty fails to gain control, they risk becoming feral, driven by their primal instincts rather than reason. They become a danger to everyone around them.”

Merlin sighed heavily and sank back into his seat, burying his face in his hands. 'What am I going to do, Gaius?' he whispered, fear lacing his voice.

Gaius stood and reached for a small chest on his cluttered bookshelf behind him. He placed it carefully on the table and flipped the lid open to reveal an assortment of glass vials, each filled with a murky red liquid.

“Listen carefully,” he began, his tone shifting to one of utmost seriousness. “We can try something. I created these for Balinor during the tail end of his puberty.”

Merlin took one of the vials and held it up to the light, studying the contents with a frown. “What’s in it?”

“Each contains a single drop of human blood, diluted with herbs and other...less conventional ingredients.”

Merlin eyed the vials warily. “Blood vials?”

"An interim solution," Gaius explained, meeting Merlin's gaze. "They will sate you temporarily, but they are not a replacement for sustenance. You must seek out alternative sources—animals, perhaps."

"Animals," Merlin repeated, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "Well, at least the blood from the poor creatures Arthur insists on hunting won’t go to waste… And when these vials no longer suffice?"

"That is a bridge we shall cross when we come to it," Gaius said with a resigned sigh. "For now, they will help keep your secret—and your wits about you."

"Thank you, Gaius," Merlin muttered, pocketing several of the vials as the sound of clanking armor approached.

“Merlin!” Arthur's commanding voice rang through the corridor. The door swung open, revealing the future king, eyes blazing angrily. “We haven't much time. Gather our provisions; we leave by the next candle mark.”

"Right away, sire," Merlin replied, slipping another vial discreetly into his pocket.

As Merlin ran around to gather the necessary supplies, Arthur inspected an array of weapons on the table before him. He reached for an ornate dagger, its blade engraved with his initials and a dragon head, which his father had gifted him when he turned thirteen. Arthur's hand slipped in his haste, and a thin line of red blossomed across his palm.

Arthur cursed under his breath, his blue eyes narrowing at the sight of his blood.

Merlin's head snapped up at the scent, his fangs aching beneath his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled out a vial from his pocket. With trembling hands, he uncorked it, the concoction's pungent aroma masking the tantalising smell of Arthur's wound.

He chugged it down and corked the vial back up, shoving it in his pocket before turning to Arthur and sidling up to his side. “Here, let me.” He took Arthur’s injured hand in his, his movements deliberately awkward to distract from his trembling. With his free hand, he reached into the bag on the bed and pulled out a bandage roll.

"I guess even future kings aren’t immune to the sting of their own blades," Merlin jested, trying and failing to hold his breath to keep the smell of blood out of his system, already reaching for a second vial as he pulled away from Arthur. It was going to be a long journey.

Twilight reached across the kingdom, casting a pinkish hue over the dew-laden fields. Arthur and Merlin set forth on their steeds with solemn looks on their faces.

"Remember, keep vigilant. We don’t need you falling off your horse because a rabbit scared you." Arthur teased, even as his eyes scanned the horizon as if he could already see the shadows that skulked in the night.

"That was a vampire rabbit, and you know it," Merlin muttered. “Next time a furry little fanged monster comes at you, I’ll just let it happen.” A pang of unease twisted within him, and he scanned the area for anything hiding in the wood.

As they traversed the cobblestone roads towards a small village, villagers emerged from their homes like wary spectres, their eyes hollow with fear. An old woman approached, her hands gnarled as the branches of the ancient oaks lined the village square.

"Milord," she croaked, her voice carrying the tremble of witnessed horrors. "Our kin vanish, and nothing is left but shadows and blood."

Arthur dismounted, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword. "Tell us what you have seen," he urged, the furrow of his brow deepening.

Merlin followed suit, the frown on his face deepening. Something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He sniffed the area subtly but found nothing of interest.

"The creatures... they come with the moon," another villager chimed in, his words tumbling out in a frantic cascade. "Like death itself, they are—silent and swift."

Merlin half-listened to the stories. Between the treacherous whispers that taunted him and the feeling of unease that he felt from the area, he was struggling to concentrate. It was usually the same story—someone, or multiple someones, went missing in the middle of the night, only to turn up several days later with red eyes ready to destroy them all. 

It was late into the evening when Arthur and Merlin were about to find solace beneath the boughs of an ancient grove.

"We need a good strategy," Arthur said, unsheathing his blade and inspecting the edge with a critical eye. "We should seek them out under the cover of night. We'll strike swiftly, using the element of surprise."

"Surprise is good, but caution is better," Merlin countered, the image of Gaius's vials flashing in his mind. "These creatures are cunning. We must not underestimate them or risk becoming prey to overconfidence."

"Afraid, Merlin?" Arthur teased.

"You can’t win everything with stupidity and a sword," Merlin quipped, his humour a thin veil over his gnawing anxiety.

Arthur reached over and cuffed him over the back of the head. “Shut up.”

Several hours later, a sombre view unfolded before Arthur and Merlin as they crested the low hillock. The village below lay in disarray, homes ransacked, timbers charred, and an eerie silence hanging over the desolation like a shroud.

Arthur swore under his breath, his jaw set with a grim determination as he surveyed the wreckage.

Merlin followed close behind, his gaze darting about nervously. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, coppery and sweet, and he was forced to hold his breath. He reached into his cloak and clasped a vial. With a furtive glance at Arthur, he uncorked it and took a swift draught, feeling the potion's immediate, albeit fleeting, relief.

"Stay vigilant, Merlin," Arthur said, oblivious to the inner turmoil of his companion.

"No, I’ll walk about with my eyes closed," Merlin snarked.

They stepped through the crumbling gate, each footfall stirring up the ashes of the once fertile lands. Around them, remnants of life stood still—dolls abandoned mid-play, pots overturned, their contents seeping into the earth.

"Such destruction…" Merlin's words trailed off as he knelt beside a fallen beam, his fingers tracing the scorched wood. He froze as his skin began to tighten and his senses sharpen. Desperately, he consumed another vial, the concoction bitter on his tongue.

"What’s wrong with you?" Arthur eyed him with a hint of concern.

"Headache," Merlin lied smoothly, averting his eyes so Arthur wouldn’t see the change in his eye colour.

"Come, let’s see if any evidence was left behind."

Together, they moved deeper into the devastated village, passing by splintered doors and ripped animal carcasses. Arthur's hand rested on the hilt of his sword as they scanned the area.

"Look," Merlin pointed toward the well, where dark stains marred the stones. He held his breath again, feeling his fangs fall. The scent of fear and blood was too delicious to his senses for his body not to react. He pushed his trembling hands into his pockets to hide them from view. His next vial would need to wait, but for how long, he could not say. As the shadows grew long, so too did the thin line he walked between loyalty and the beast within.

A cold gust of wind signalled their foes' approach. Vampires emerged from the obsidian shadows, silent as death, their eyes gleaming with feral hunger. Arthur's sword was out instantly, its blade reflecting the scant moonlight with deadly promise.

As steel met undead flesh, Merlin wrestled with the tumultuous storm inside him. His blood sang with the call of his kindred, yet his heart belonged to the realm of men. With a silent invocation, he summoned the arcane winds, his hands weaving incantations that sparked with eldritch energy.

Merlin snapped his fingers, and a surge of mystical force burst forth, striking the vampires with stunning light.

Together, they fought—a symphony of blade and magic. Arthur's courage never wavered, and his every strike was a testament to his resolve to protect his kingdom. Merlin's spells danced between the trees, their radiance illuminating the battlefield with flashes of spectral light.

"Your aim improves by the day, Merlin!" Arthur called out amidst the fray, a grin on his face even as he dispatched another foe. “Then again, anything is an improvement from nothing.”

"Learning from the best," Merlin shot back, throwing back his head in a laugh as Arthur tripped over a conveniently placed rock.

Finally, as the last vampire fell to the ground, silence descended upon them once more. Arthur wiped his brow, his chest heaving from exertion, but his eyes shone with the fire of victory.

"Another battle won," he declared, sheathing his sword.

Merlin nodded, exhaustion clawing at his limbs. He took a deep breath, wincing at the taste of acrid blood in the air. "Yes," Merlin agreed, his voice steady despite the weakness he felt.

The ground was cold and unforgiving, swallowed by the creeping tendrils of evening fog. Arthur's armoured boots struck the ground confidently, while Merlin moved with less certainty, his thoughts as scattered as the mist veiling the area.

"Are you sure we're headed in the right direction?" Merlin asked as he glanced over at Arthur, a teasing smile on his lips. "You know, you tend to struggle with reading the stars."

Arthur didn't stop, but a half-smile formed on his lips at Merlin's jest. "No, Merlin, the stars are aligned for us, not against us," he replied, firm yet with a touch of mirth. "Stay sharp. We're close."

Merlin snorted if only Arthur had any idea. 

As they delved deeper into the labyrinthine forest, an unsettling prickle danced along Merlin's neck. His senses whispered of something lurking in the shadows. He strained his ears, trying to catch the soft footfalls of the unseen follower. The air was still, too still, and carried a scent both unfamiliar yet oddly recognisable.

"Arthur," Merlin murmured, drawing closer to the prince. "We're not alone."

Arthur's hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword, his heart pounding as his eyes scanned the darkened surroundings. "Reveal yourself!" he commanded, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Only silence answered his call.

"Maybe it's just a stray cat," Merlin chuckled, though his heart hammered in his chest.

“Leave it to you to be frightened by a kitten,” Arthur scoffed. Despite his words, he remained tense and squinted into the darkness.

“They’re coming,” Merlin murmured, his eyes flashing gold. “They’re using something to shield themselves from me. I can only tell that we’ve met them before.”

“Friend or foe?”

“We’re about to find out.” Merlin tensed as her gaze lingered on them from the embrace of darkness— a pair of emerald eyes glaring out from the trees at them.

The figure stepped forward, the moonlight revealing her face. Morgana emerged from her concealment, her long dark hair cascading like a raven's wing and her piercing green eyes fixed on her half-brother with an intensity that could cut through steel. 

"Arthur," she said, her voice melodious.

Startled, Arthur almost dropped his sword at the sight of her disarming him. “Morgana!” Shock and relief battled on his face as he stared at the sister he thought he had lost. “Where have you been?”

"Six months, dear brother, and nary a sign of you," Morgana stated, her tone both accusatory and playful. "And here I thought you'd forgotten me."

Merlin watched her warily but closed the gap and joined Arthur in a heartfelt embrace that enveloped Morgana. "We feared the worst," Merlin confessed, his eyes still taking her in, a frown on his face. He subtly leaned closer and sniffed at her neck. It was Morgana, that much he was certain of, but she definitely had a scent on her he had sensed on her before. The look she gave him as he pulled away did not go unnoticed. 

“Yet here I am,” was her simple reply. “I am afraid I come with dire news.”

"What do you mean?" Arthur urged, his brows knitting together. "Have you heard about what has been happening?"

“You’re chasing the fodder when it is the puppeteer you should seek,” Morgana stated plainly, her eyes flicking to Merlin’s before returning to Arthur’s.

It was just as Merlin had feared then. He cleared his throat, “Armies are being created then? To what end?”

“Is it not obvious?”

Unfortunately.

Merlin scowled, “Just what we needed.”

“Enough of this nonsense,” Arthur commanded. "Six months vanished without a trace," he muttered, more to himself than to the enigma before him. "And now you return with tales of darkness? It ill suits you to play the seer, Morgana."

Merlin snorted and rolled his eyes at the heavens.

"Does it?" Morgana's voice was silk over steel. "Or does it simply displease you that I might know something you do not?"

"You’re making no sense," Arthur retorted. "You speak of vampires as if they’re capable of taking over a kingdom! Their mindless creatures, nothing more."

Morgana’s eyes bored into Arthur’s before turning to Merlin. “Is that what you believe?” Merlin’s heart dropped to his stomach. She knew.

“I—” Merlin was saved from answering by a bloodcurdling scream piercing the night air.

The abruptness of the scream tore through them, and their heads snapped towards the direction of the disturbance. Merlin sniffed the air and froze, “Oh no.” 

"Arthur," Merlin warned his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying an edge of urgency. That scream hadn’t been human— it was primal, guttural, and filled with a rage that sent your blood cold.

As the echoes of the scream died down, a massive shadow lunged from the trees, its form grotesque in the moonlight. A werewolf, its fur matted with blood and filth, bore its fangs— a snarl ripping from its throat as it set its sights on them.

"Merlin, do something!" Arthur shouted, stepping protectively in front of Morgana with his sword extended.

Merlin extended his hands, murmuring incantations under his breath as his eyes burned gold. These spells should have calmed the beast or turned it away, but the words dissolved into the night, powerless. His magic, usually so potent against creatures of the night, fizzled into nothingness. He stared, mouth agape, unable to comprehend what was happening.

“What is wrong with your magic?”Arthur grunted, dodging the werewolf’s swipe, his blade meeting the creature’s hide with a clang.

"I—I don’t know!" Merlin replied, panic lacing his voice. He racked his brain for any alternative, but his thoughts were chaotic. How could this be happening? Werewolves were susceptible to magic—it was one of the few advantages they had against such monsters.

"Vampire magic doesn't work on them," Arthur said between breaths, dodging another attack. "But yours should!"

“Oh, should it, Arthur. Should it? I had no idea,” Merlin snarked. His gaze darted around, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon or distraction. He grabbed a fallen branch, hardly a match for claws and teeth, but he couldn't stand idle while Arthur fought alone.

"Focus, Merlin!" Arthur commanded, narrowly avoiding a particularly vicious lunge from the werewolf. "We need to drive it back!"

"Right," Merlin said, forcing confidence into his tone. He feinted at the werewolf with the branch, hoping to draw its attention long enough for Arthur to find an opening.

“Behind you!” A strong voice from behind them called.

Arthur spun, his blade glinting in the pale light as he managed to slice across the beast's flank. The werewolf howled, the sound mingling with the clashing of metal and the thundering of their hearts.

A man with dark wavy hair and a strong athletic build got between Arthur and the werewolf. His sword gleaming under the moon’s pale light, he met the creature mid-leap and turned its ferocity aside with a well-placed blow.

"Stay behind me!"  The man shouted, parrying another swipe of the werewolf's deadly claws.

"Behind you? You'll find I'm quite capable of standing at your side," Arthur retorted grimly, joining the fray.

The two men’s movements were synchronised as if they had trained together for years. The man was precise, finding weak spots in the beast's defenses, while Arthur's strength drove the creature back, step by torturous step.

Who is this man? Merlin wondered silently, clutching the useless branch against his chest. He felt a pang of guilt for his inaction, but there wasn’t much left he could do. To engage would mean to reveal, and revelation was a luxury he could ill afford.

"Merlin! A little help here!" Arthur's voice cut through his reverie, tinged with urgency. Arthur's blade sang a metallic song as it cleaved through the air, narrowly missing the werewolf's snapping jaws. The beast was a maelstrom of claws and fury, each blow from its massive paws sending sparks flying from Arthur's armour. The prince's face was set in grim determination, blue eyes tracking every move with predatory precision.

"Right," Merlin muttered to himself. "Help. Without magic." The irony was not lost on him. He was a vampire who couldn't fight a werewolf with strength lest he reveal himself, and a wizard who couldn’t fight the werewolf because of a magic that should have worked but didn't. The absurdity of it all would have been laughable under different circumstances.

He watched the man move, throwing himself into the fray with a ferocity that matched the beast they fought. There was something inherently noble about him, an aura that spoke of chivalry and honour—the very ideals Arthur so cherished in his knights. It was no wonder they fought well together.

"What are you doing, Merlin!?" Arthur grunted, sidestepping a vicious pounce and driving his sword into the werewolf's flank.

With a howl that seemed to shake the very stones beneath their feet, the creature stumbled, its form shimmering as it tried to flee—but in a moment of quick thinking, Merlin shot out his hand, “Fyr!”

A line of fire blocked off the werewolf’s escape. “Fire, they hate fire!”

Arthur and the man seized the opportunity. The man harried the beast, keeping it engaged and enraged, while Arthur readied himself for the killing blow.

"Keep it steady, Merlin.” The man called, “Just a little longer..."

With a mighty roar, Arthur lunged forward, his sword glinting in the torchlight. The werewolf, caught off guard by the sudden assault, had no time to evade. The silver blade, guided by Arthur's unwavering hand, found its mark, plunging deep into the creature's chest. A howl of agony split the night as the werewolf's form shuddered and then stilled, its body reverting to the twisted shape of a man.

"Good thinking with the fire, Merlin," Arthur said, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin that belied the seriousness of their situation.

"Yeah," Merlin replied distractedly, a frown on his face as his mind was elsewhere. Why did his magic not work on werewolves all of a sudden? Did it have to do with his ‘vampire puberty’? And if so, what was he going to tell Arthur? “Hey, Mor— where did Morgana go?”

Morgana's second disappearance left them with more questions than answers, and Merlin knew they were far from unravelling the mysteries that ensnared them.

As they gathered, ready to continue their quest into the night, Merlin cast one last glance at the fallen foe. The battle was won, yet the war was far from over.

[esper-lit]

Listing them out Rq for the iceberg, cause I’ve played Dislyte on and off since it came out so there’s gaps in my memory: beta Gaius, “special loli” Chang Pu’s age, Legge, Celebrity events.

(Btw I love the iceberg it’s so funny seeing community events all piled together)

Hiya, thanks for the ask! Here's an elaboration of those specific entries:

Beta Gaius

Gaius is a well-known character in the game right now - one that was introduced in version 3.1.1 with the static shock Event.

But! His name was known way before that. Gaius has made an appearance in promotional material before the event was released - before the game itself was actually launched, even! His strange absence after the game's official release was a point of many discussions and a lot of confusion within the fandom, many wondering if he was outright scrapped or just being withheld for an unknown reason.

(the above is a clip from an October 2, 2021 live-stream - about half a year before Dislyte had it's global launch)

As you can see, his early design was a bit different from his final look too - being a lot more yellow than pink.

"special loli"

This is a reference to a very... peculiar ad.

Dislyte is known for having weird advertisements (which I was told is a result of Lilith outsourcing most of their marketing), but this one garnered particular notoriety.

Chang Pu’s age

When the game launched, Chang Pu was officially 15 years old. Later on, however, her age has been changed to 18.

(I could not find screenshots of her in-game bio that showed Chang Pu being 15, but the wiki's change history can attest to this actually happening)

Many speculated this was a result of players being gross towards a minor character, and thus a reason for why we hadn't gotten any non-adult espers since.

Legge (Heimdall)

Datamined information shows that Heimdall's esper was originally conceived as a male character named Legge:

(his name and this image are the only things I have been able to find regarding him)

As you probably already know, Legge has since been scrapped and replaced with Ashley. Not much is known about him I'm afraid.

Celebrity Profile Events

These events have been used to introduce new characters during the game's beta and are the very first Event Tales (at least as far as I know) ever released.

There have been two of them: one for Clara and one for Sienna.

Post-launch, these have been replaced with the story events we have now - beginning with Ollie and The Lone Star event.

Whitewashing and Blackface

(I'm including it here so I don't have to make a separate answer lol, for the sake of being tidy and all that)

There have been minor controversies within Dislyte due to how it has treated it's dark-skinned characters.

One such instance was when the Amunet - Bloody Hunt trailer was released, featuring imagery that many considered racist:

(on the left - the original trailer; right - re-uploaded version)

The other instance included characters having their skin tone made lighter than originally depicted. The most famous example being Ahmed:

I distinctly recall an advertisement doing the same to Asenath, but I cannot find it anymore, so you'll just have to take my word for it

2024/03/25

this has been answered in a previous ask and I kinda don't really wanna repeat all of that, so I recommend checking out an earlier post of mine if you're still curious!

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk about this game some more <333 And yeah! Icebergs are a really fun way to present a bunch of scattered information in an engaging manner, and it's always fun to see how deep your knowledge of a topic goes :3

[robynmizore]

Smexy beach Takumi pic for attention. So! Who’s down for a game of Fire Emblem Truth or Dare.. Heroes edition! In the upcoming chapter of my fan fiction Redemption we’re doing a fun game of truth or dare and even if you don’t read Redemption you can still participate! Below I’ll be posting the roster for my story and you get to pick the truths or dares to give the characters! If yours is featured you’ll get a shoutout at the end of the chapter! So here’s the roster for Redemption:

Robyn (oc), Takumi, Niles, Jakob, Ricken, Alfonse, Commander Anna, Elise, Sharena, Lissa, Chrom, Cherche, Caledori, Flora, Felicia,Laslow, Sumia, Gregor, Henry, Frederick, Leo, Owain, Gaius, Eir, Kaden, Keaton, Peony, Kiyoshi (oc), Leafa (oc) Dagr, Nött, Fjorm, and Reginn.

I shall look forward to hearing from all of you ;3 If you’d like to check out Redemption feel free to take a look at my pinned post!

Current pairings for reference: Robyn x Takumi and Gaius x Caledori

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

I'm trying to come up with a government system for my fictional world that has three powers at the head of it (like when you think of a typical king+queen, except it's three people but all share the same power) but trying to figure out how to divide the duties? That might be just story stuff, but I'm trying to figure out how that might work and not have things getting overlapped as much because the goal is to not have the three butting heads if there is disagreement.

Tex: So Rome tried this twice - the First Triumvirate with Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, Marcus Licinius Crassus, and Gaius Julius Caesar (Wikipedia), and the Second Triumvirate with Mark Antony, Lepidus, and Octavian (Wikipedia). The former lasted from approximately 59 to 49 BCE, falling apart piece by piece due to various wars, invasions, and rebellions. The latter lasted from approximately 43 to 32 BCE, and also resulted in the assassination of Caesar and a civil war.

Another attempt at multi-party rulership over a kingdom (ish) also happened in Europe, but between a pope in Rome, a pope in Avignon, and a third party entering the fray from Pisa, constituting what we now know of as the Western Schism of 1378-1417 (Wikipedia).

Of interest is also the Warring States period (Wikipedia), and its subsequent Spring and Autumn period (Wikipedia). It’s not exactly the same situation as the triumvirates or schism in western Europe, but the infighting is a familiar theme nonetheless. Butting heads is going to be an inherent feature of any government, even if it only has one head of state. What’s going to matter for inter-generational stability is developed protocols for resolving internal disputes, in order to make sure the people served by the government are properly taken care of and able to live their lives with as little disruption as possible from politics.

Licorice: Make one the head of the law-making body, one the head of the supreme court, and one in charge of the day-to-day administration of government. Wherever more than one person is involved in any decision-making process, there will always be disagreement, so you need some kind of official process for resolving disputes amicably, and an ethos where losing gracefully is a valued quality in a leader. You also need to put some kind of apparatus in place to make sure no single one of these three can take control of the state’s army. 

Source: Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Law.’’

Wootzel: Do you want your three heads to be roughly equal in power (insofar as they can be while having different domains)? While I’m no history buff, I’m aware that lots of king & queen monarchies weren’t equal in power in the slightest. Often, the queen was just a public figure and bearer of heirs, who did have SOME power based on having connections to lots of powerful people and/or bending the king’s ear, but her official powers might be limited or zilch. 

A power dynamic that you might want to take some inspiration from is the one between various European kings and the Pope. At various points in history, the head of the church had power rivaling the king’s, because the king was considered to be the ruler by the will of God, and if the head of the main religious body thought the king was acting out of line (or could convince others he was, at any rate), the king’s legitimacy could be threatened. 

[porta-decumana]

A Masterpost of My Gaius and GaiusWoL fanfics

Putting these here because I’ve sensed a spike in GaiusWoL lately (particularly after 6.4!) and I figured I’d do a bit of shameless self-advertising!  Here are all of my GaiusWoL and Gaius-centered fics.

The Last Light of Dawn - Explicit | 379,213 Words | Ongoing -  A Dark AU fanfic that posits the question “What would happen if the Garlean Empire rallied itself in late Shadowbringers and took over Eorzea?” The Warrior of Light is taken captive by Garlean scientists and wakes up to a world that is much unlike the one she knows.  The Eorzean Alliance has fallen.  The Scions have scattered.  Hope now remains in the Wild Rose Rebellion, led by Tataru Taru, Gaius Baelsar, and Estinien Wyrmblood.  

Alea Iacta Est - General | 29,458 Words | Ongoing - A scene collection that takes place during the Sorrow of Werlyt questline.  Most of the scenes take place outside of in-game cutscenes though some chapters features slightly edited scenes.  Features WoL Kaida Asagiri and Gaius pre-relationship and how they ended up starting to fall for each other.

And Love You Shall Find -  Explicit | 82,707 Words | Ongoing/on Hiatus - The sequel to Alea Iacta Est, And Love You Shall Find takes place in the gap between Shadowbringers and Endwalker.  The Warrior of Light is called back to Terncliff to help Cid Garlond do some test pilot work for the G-Savior with Gaius Baelsar as her copilot.  Meanwhile, old phantoms from Gaius’s past start to appear and Kaida must deal with her growing feelings for him.  “And they were copilots!” basically.

Respite -  General | 2,527 Words | Complete - A cutesy oneshot that happens sometime prior to Endwalker.  Sparring and flirting-- a good trope. For your fluffy needs.

Wolves Howl At Night - Teen and Up | 4,428 Words | Complete - A oneshot that takes place prior to 1.0.  Features Gaius and his lover, Cassius.  Angst-driven. Mentions of Gaius/Midas.

Reunited - Explicit | 3,583 Words | Complete - A smutty oneshot that takes place prior to Endwalker.  Features hits such as implied armor kink and praise kink.  Very light on the story, heavy on the action.

Risks Taken - Explicit | 3,777 Words | Complete - Gaius gets injured on the Warrior of Light’s behalf and proves to be an unruly patient as she tries to mend his wounds.  Very light on the story, heavy on the action (smut).

Favorite Scars - General | 2,393 Words | Complete - A fluffy oneshot where the Warrior of Light asks Gaius where he got a certain scar from.  She was not anticipating him telling her that she had given it to him years ago.

Undone - Explicit | 4,300 Words | Complete - may get a sequel though! - OT3 smut between two of my OCs and Gaius Baelsar.  A “we’re stuck in a cabin in a rainstorm and there’s not much else to do” situation.  Takes place after 6.0′s MSQ.

Who Hunts Shadows - General | 4,227 Words | Complete - A oneshot of Alphinaud’s time with the Shadowhunter gang in Stormblood.  Features Alphinaud realizes who Gaius is. 

Tension - Explicit | ??? | Being redone - A smutty fic of Gaius’s sexual exploits with multiple partners in the capital city.  Prior to 1.0.  Polyamory and orgies galore.

Purgatorio - General | 11,960 Words | Ongoing/on Hiatus - A fic about the Warrior of Light’s journey from the Aitiascope into the aetherial sea.  Meanwhile, Gaius and Allie struggle to protect the people of Werlyt from the second Final Days using the G-Savior.  

Sunlight in Her Eyes - General | 4,059 Words | Complete - Kaida and Gaius’s reunion in the Burn.  “Oh no, he’s hot” basically as a fic.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Gentile. | Chapter 35

On the Korazim Plateau, Jesus' sermon pierces your heart, and you finally see a chance to speak to Him.

Chapter list

The day of the sermon creeps closer and in turn you become a tad anxious.

Although you do not doubt Atticus’ ability to get you out of the estate on the outskirts of the Roman Quarter, your husband has been on edge in the past days albeit because of different circumstances regarding the performance of several of his subordinates. You fear that he will not let you out of his sight once he finds out the village is in quite the state of agitation. To your relief, no soldiers have deemed it serious enough to report the whispers amongst the townsfolk.

Gathering the courage on the morning of the sermon, you approach Quintus who is penning down a report with his characteristic look of annoyance on his features, alerting you of his current state of mind. Taking a deep breath, you know that not asking him anything will not be an option, and so, you speak your mind.

“Can I go to visit the market today?” you query. “I’ve been craving sugared figs.”

Quintus dips his pen into the inkwell and frowns. “I thought you didn’t like these anymore since you fell pregnant.”

Your throat runs dry at the crumbling of your excuse. “Ah, well, I wanted to try them again. You know that feeling that you’re craving something you don’t actually like? I’ve read about it in my romance stories, there are some people who hate one another yet cannot help but seek each other out, because some kind of force just seems to be bringing them back together—”

“Fine.” Your little reference to a sappy romance novel you once read is working wonders to bring Quintus to clench his jaw and give you a miffed stare. “You can go.” he drawls. “Be back before dinnertime. Oh, and bring Gaius with you as your chaperone.” You aren’t sure why he specifically chooses the Primi to accompany you, but you don’t dare question it. “Tell him that he is to keep an eye on you closely and that he should deliver you back to me personally at the end of the day.”

It could not have turned out better, you delightedly think to yourself, giving your husband a small bow before wishing him a good and productive day. You have to fight the grin that threatens to spread over your face and you seek out the Primi, whom you had seen leaving for his patrol whilst on your way to Quintus’ workroom. As if on cue, he returns from his rounds just as you enter the Roman Quarter, stepping in front of him to have him halt in his tracks. Gaius looks at you a little confused.

“Ma’am?” he queries. There is something strange in his eyes that you cannot put a finger on.

“Quintus requests that you accompany me to the market.” you quip, “As my chaperone.”

The Primi turns to the centurion walking with him, nods into the distance, and the man seems to understand that he is to continue walking. Now alone with him, you slightly smile at Gaius. “Today is the day of the sermon that has been advertised everywhere. Are you planning on going there?”

“Well, I was planning to, but it seems that another task requires my attention instead.”

“Good.” you breathe, planting your hand underneath your tummy. “I wish to join you as well.”

Gaius deeply frowns, shaking his head slightly. “Why?” he questions. 

For a second, you consider playing the distant answer that your interests are none of his business, but you acknowledge being close enough to the Primi to reveal that little bit about yourself, although you leave out the most of your curiosity towards Jesus by using a more general statement: “I’m interested in knowing more, since I witnessed Quintus speak to Him that one day after you and the Cohortes Urbanae arrested him.”

At the mention of Atticus, Gaius gulps and adjusts his stance to appear more confident, and he does not protest your request any further. “Of course, my lady.” he mutters before gesturing towards the direction where the rest of the people seem to be heading. 

Knowing your secret lover, he would be tailing you already, knowing that you’re on your way to the Korazim Plateau without requiring him to get you out of Quintus’ sight. You are relieved that you don’t have to be together with him in the same space as your husband at the moment, because you aren’t certain how you would have taken it.

The village is quickly draining its people towards the location of the sermon, and it seems that people are coming from all directions. With a hand on his sword, Gaius walks at your side, both keeping an eye on you as well as on the citizens. As soon as you arrive on the outskirts of town, Gaius finds his horse, a mare with a dark coat, and mounts it swiftly. Reaching out a hand, he looks at you expectantly. 

“The Korazim Plateau is a fair trek away, ma’am. Given your current physical situation, I’d suggest you sit behind me and hold on tight.”

You nod in agreement and take his hand before grabbing his shoulder, rather ungracefully managing to get yourself onto the back of the horse. Sitting with both of your legs on one side of the mare due to your dress not really allowing you to sit on the steed like one usually would, you grab a firm grip on Gaius, feeling a little awkward as you wrap your arms around his waist. 

“Are you ready to go, ma’am?”

“Yes.” you squeak, a tad nervous. Gaius clicks his tongue and lets his horse take off into a trot. You’re glad you’re holding on tightly.

The ride is a few minutes long. Around you, people flood towards the field where the sermon will take place, with a beautiful look on the Sea of Galilee. You let out a small noise when the horse makes a strange move and Gaius gently apologises, slowing down until it takes a slow step forward, inching through the crowd as people move aside lest they be trampled. 

You peek around Gaius’ form and let out a soft gasp upon seeing the sheer amount of people who have responded to the notices scattered around Capernaum and anywhere beyond, pouring in from all sides you can see. On one end, there is a large stage built from wood and ropes, with a few large off-white sheets blowing in the wind, obscuring what is behind it. You reckon it to be Jesus who is there with a few of his followers, and there are also disciples busying themselves with organising the masses. 

“I had not expected this.” Gaius frankly admits, “So many people…” 

You hum in agreement. “Neither had I.” 

Slowly, the horse steps on through the grass, and a familiar posture catches your eye, your heart leaping inside your chest. Although he is hooded, Atticus is recognisable to you, with his arms crossed, and he is just swallowing a bite of apple as the two of you pull up next to him, Gaius tugging on the reins to halt his steed. 

Atticus lets his gaze go to Gaius almost offendedly, for this blows the cohorte’s cover, but as soon as he sees you, his eyes soften. 

“Hello.” the marshall greets. “You here as well?”

“Mhm.” Gaius hums. “I have to keep an eye on the crowds. Can’t have the same issue we had a few months back, with that stampede.”

Atticus does not respond. Instead, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “Surprising to see that Quintus allowed you to bring the lady along.”

A tad flustered, Gaius sighs. “He is not aware that she is here.”

Chuckling, Atticus uncrosses his arms. “So I reckoned.” He removes his hood and turns to you. “Shall I help you down, ma’am?”

“Please,” you breathe, taking his hand immediately when he puts it forward, standing close enough to support you hopping down the horse. He catches you as you nearly lose your balance, almost standing chest to chest in a public place. Atticus quickly steps back so as to not draw attention to how close the two of you are standing together, but the Primi is already tensely watching everything. 

Atticus feigns neutrality. “What brings you here today, my lady? The Primi being here is understandable, but you, without Quintus’ knowledge?”

Although he grins almost invisibly at you, his voice remains fairly flat, and you let out a small hum before voicing your reply. 

“He is busy and I wanted to visit the market together with a chaperone, however, Gaius was already preoccupied with going here, so I decided to join. Right, Gaius?”

The Primi’s eyes flutter in slight confusion and look from you to Atticus with something that makes your gut unpleasantly drop, and for a split second, you wonder if he suspects something. The feeling soon fades when he gives you a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod. “Yes, my lady. Glad to be of service.”

Turning to the horde of people, you inhale through your nose. “Isn’t this wonderful?” you muse, taking in the view, “So many people, here together, going to listen to this… Intriguing and peculiar Preacher!” 

“We’ll see what He has to say,” Atticus acknowledges, “We should report any discrepancies to Quintus.”

“Of course.” Gaius establishes.

The three of you fall silent and you cradle your stomach gently through your tunic, thumbing at it whilst waiting patiently for Jesus to arrive.

Jesus’ followers usher people into the right directions, where some sit down to claim their spots. You briefly consider doing the same but fear that you’ll miss seeing Him in the process, so you force yourself to smile through the ache that has started to form inside your ankles. 

The sun isn’t too bright today, which prevents you from having to squint, and in silence that is rather awkward, you spend some time focusing on the movements of your baby inside of you, which makes your heart pleasantly flutter, for Atticus is standing so close, and you’re almost tempted to tell him to feel your tummy.

Then, a ripple of brief unrest goes through the horde of people, as if something is about to happen, and indeed, the curtains on the stage part to reveal the very Preacher you had been hoping to see. 

He appears on the stage and you feel your breath hitch. Jesus’ gaze goes through the crowd as the chatter dies down, people taking a seat on the grass below if they hadn’t done so already. You still remain in your standing position, however, with Atticus beside you and Gaius a little away yet close enough to keep an eye on you. 

Even though you’re a fair bit away, you are taken aback by the sheer allure that hangs around Jesus. He is wearing a royal blue sash that sits around His right shoulder paired with a beige tunic, not a lot unlike the one He had been wearing when speaking to Quintus a few days prior. You’ve never heard a mass of people fall this silent before and you grab a hold onto Atticus’ arm as if to tell him to pay attention, feigning having to regain your balance. You don’t need to do this, for the cohorte’s eyes are equally as curious as they settle on the Preacher, Who opens His mouth to speak. Gaius’ prying gaze goes unnoticed.

“It is good to see you all here today. Being here in such large numbers, well, I insist you to listen to what you hear from Me today and spread this word to the ends of the Earth.”

Jesus takes a deep breath until finally, He starts the sermon everyone had been waiting to hear.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the Earth.” 

As the words drift through the air, you can’t do anything else but listen on in awe. The sentences fall from His lips like water, everyone focused on Him.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.” For a second, your mind goes to John, who sits imprisoned back in Machaerus, and a mixture of pity and guilt forms inside your gut. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.”

You barely forget to breathe as you take in Jesus’ sermon, wondering for a moment if it is meant for you at all. The Kingdom of Heaven – John had mentioned it before when he stormed into the palace – was still a mystery to you. What could Jesus ever mean with this?

“Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on My account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in Heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” 

You feel almost ashamed at the pang of disappointment shunting through you, for you know yourself to not be Jewish and thus are not part of the target audience for these otherwise relieving words. You tilt your head slightly, drinking in His words regardless, wondering if your own Roman gods would ever preach a similar message.

Atticus puts a hand on your lower back, giving you a concerned look. “Are you alright?” he whispers, but soon lets his gaze go up to Gaius, who is eyeing you suspiciously. He clears his throat and steps away at a respectful distance, repeating his question: “Are you alright, my lady? Do you need to sit down?”

You shake your head meekly, cradling your stomach. “I’m fine.” you breathe. 

Focusing on the sermon again, you tilt your head slightly, taking in everything He says.

Gaius’ horse snorts next to you and the Primi pushes his heels into its sides to have it stomp on the ground to let go of some energy, its bridle slightly chiming at the disturbance.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on.” Jesus calls out over the crowd. “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” He gestures at His tunic, and then up at the air. “Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” 

He briefly pauses, a solemn look on His features before He carries on.

“And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your Heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” 

Jesus’ gaze crosses yours again, and an inexplicable warmth courses through you. Who is He, to speak with such authority when it comes to something divine? Who is this God He speaks of, the God of the Jews, Who seems to care so much more than any of the Roman gods you’re familiar with ever appear to do?

“So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them. for this is the Law and the Prophets. Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgement you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye?”

Hypocrisy was not something called out within your own culture, especially of men. You want to grab Atticus but are suddenly aware of Gaius’ scrutiny, turning yourself away from the cohorte.

Jesus raises His voice, increasing the volume. “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you: Do not resist the one who is evil. And if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn and give him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you.” 

Although you had not expected Jesus to call for violence, this kind of approach towards one’s enemies was different altogether. “What is this message?” you murmur in amazement, “That He calls for His followers to not resist, to refrain from brutal acts even if one gets assaulted?” 

“He seems to not be out for blood, then.” Atticus hums, before adding: “Yet…” 

You give a small shake of your head. “He does not seem to strike me as the kind of Person to want this regardless. The way He speaks… Have you ever heard anything like this, Atticus?”

The cohorte lets out a noise. “Not even close.”

Suppressing your smile, you revert your gaze back to Jesus.

“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” Your eyes widen at the familiarity of the name you had read in the scroll on Jewish history you had purchased from Rome the other day, “But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, o you of little faith?”

For a moment, your mind drifts off as you mull over His words, wondering whether they are a rebuke, wondering if you’re even allowed to be here in the first place, for you are not at all familiar with Jewish culture nor their prophets, and you let your gaze flicker to Atticus, who is still invested in the sermon. With slightly parted lips and a deep frown, he takes in everything Jesus is telling the crowd, clearly unsure what to make of it.

Suddenly, Jesus’ words pierce right through you as your attention is almost forced back to the sermon. With your eyes fixated upon Atticus, you hear the words loud and clear: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you, everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” 

Dumbfounded, your gaze snaps to the Preacher. Jesus happens to look your way, be it by coincidence, be it on purpose. Even more, what He says pierces your heart like a hot iron, and your gut swivels unpleasantly.

“If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell.”

You must have paled, for Atticus frowns at you. “(Y/n)?”

Flushing red with shame, you let your eyes flutter shut before nodding. “Y-Yes, I’m fine.” you tell him, “I’m just… Not sure what to think. What to make of all this.”

“Do you want me to bring you home?” Atticus whispers.

You let out a soft sound of disagreement and shake your head. “No, no, I want to stay.”

With a spinning head, you look back up at Jesus, Who is still going on with his sermon. Your heart slams against your chest, worry and guilt making you feel thoroughly uneasy, as if you’re a fraud, not even allowed to even be in His proximity. You are suddenly overcome by the conflicting desire to both run from Him to avoid confrontation and to speak to Him, to ask what He means, how these philosophies hold up when it comes to Gentiles like yourself, and how it should be interpreted in case of a forced, arranged marriage to an abusive husband you had never consented to in the first place.

“–Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him. Pray then like this: Our Father in Heaven, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For if you forgive others their trespasses, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” 

Estranged by this kind of prayer, your heart hammers against your chest. Within the kind of religion you were familiar with, sin wasn’t at all discussed in this way. A few sacrifices to the right gods could make a lot right regarding your conscience, although you personally never felt like you owed them anything. 

You had read about sin in the scroll you had bought, about a holy and solemn day where the High Priest would ask forgiveness for all Jews – at least, if you recalled correctly – but the kind of forgiveness this Teacher preaches seems to involve no priests at all. The position of sin within Jesus’ teaching is altogether different, and you yearn to ask Him more about it, for the words about your adultery towards Quintus seem to have struck something within you, and it coils deep inside your core.

“Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it. And everyone then who hears these words of Mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the Rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the Rock.”

Astonished, you watch with a racing heart how He concludes the sermon, withdrawing Himself behind the curtains again. People start muttering amongst each other, the followers of Jesus positioning themselves in such a way that they block them from following after Him, asking to keep their distance for the Teacher is tired.

Suddenly dismayed at the thought you might not yet get to speak to Him, you turn to Atticus slowly. He gives you an expectant look. “And, what do you think?”

“That was… Intriguing.” you breathe. Atticus hums in acknowledgement.

“It’s clear that it has touched you, and I understand, these are words that are quite unique. You must be tired, too.”

Although you’d rather stay for a while longer, your ankles have started to ache beyond your ability to ignore it. You meekly nod, letting your eyes go to Gaius, who is staring at the two of you a tad strangely, then focuses his gaze upon the distance. 

“Do you want me to escort you back home, my lady?” There is a teasing edge to Atticus’ voice at the mention of the title he publicly addresses you with, and you have to fight a smile. 

“I wouldn’t mind staying for a few more minutes,” you breathe. 

Gaius clears his throat. Turning to him, you give him an expectant look, but when he doesn’t speak up, you focus your attention on the crowd again. “Look at them,” you murmur, “They are with so many, coming from so far away to see this Preacher.” Swallowing thickly, you look at Atticus. “Can you get me close to Him? Please, cohorte. I’d love to meet Him face to face this time and ask about some things.”

The investigator hums and rubs through his stubble, giving a small shake of his head. “I fear that it wouldn’t be the best of ideas, my lady. After all, you must remain under the Primi’s supervision.”

Atticus’ tone alerts you that he only says this to keep up appearances for Gaius, whose eyes are still drilling into you. Feigning distance from the man you so desperately love is proving more difficult with the minute, and you fear that you might slip up one of these days.

“Alright.” you sigh with faux defeat in your voice, and Atticus gives you an apologetic look before brushing past you towards Gaius to exchange a few words. 

The Primi is oddly quiet and seems to be sunken away in deep thought, as if he is mulling over the words Jesus had said.

“Well?”

Gaius simply grunts.

Atticus lets out a huff. “My thoughts exactly. I’ll see you in the morning then, for our report to Quintus.” 

“Mhm.” Gaius hums. 

Chuckling, Atticus nods. “Good chat.” he amusedly mutters, “Tell you what. Why don’t you stay here to keep an eye on the crowd, make sure that nobody steps out of line. I’ll escort lady (Y/n) back home, for she should get off her feet soon.”

Gaius’ brow furrows. “Ah, that is kind of you, but Praetor Quintus has given me the task to look after her personally. I don’t want to get in trouble. Plus, you don’t have a horse and she cannot walk that far.” 

Atticus gestures towards the village. “My horse is hitched just a bit over there, she doesn’t have to walk far at all, I’ll make sure of that. And although your loyalty to Quintus is applaudable, you know that I, too, take my job very seriously and will make sure that nothing will happen to the lady.”

The Primi pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, knowing that he cannot let on too much of what he knows – yet – and hesitantly agrees to let you go with the cohorte he had witnessed to be having an affair with the very wife of the man who he has sworn his loyalty to. Conflicted, Gaius mutters his response. 

“Alright, then.” he states, “But I don’t really like the fact that I might be getting in trou–”

“You won’t, I’ll make sure of that.” you interrupt him. 

Tight-lipped, Gaius gives you a nod. “Much obliged, my lady. Have a safe trip home.” 

“You stay safe, too, Primi.”

Atticus pulls over his hood and instructs you to do the same with your cloak, and follow this command to shield yourself from any unwanted onlookers. After all, now that you’re not sitting on a horse, you’re much more vulnerable to the crowd, who aren’t necessarily keen on Romans like yourself. 

“This way,” states your lover, and you veer left, nearing the back-stage area where Jesus and His followers sit. Your heartbeat picks up speed rapidly and you crane your neck in the hopes of catching a glimpse. 

“What did you think?” Atticus muses, not revealing his thoughts just yet.

Your eyes momentarily go to him as the two of you halt just far enough to stay out of Gaius’ field of view. “It was very emotionally moving. I… I still have to process the words, really. What did you think?”

Scratching through his beard, Atticus smiles. “Hm… Perhaps the same thing, I still need to reflect on it, too. So, darling, what would you like to do? Are we just going to stand here, or shall I instead bring you home?”

You lean closer to him with raised brows and flushed cheeks. 

“Be careful with your nicknames in public, please… Somebody could hear us! And… The house that I live in with Quintus is not much of a home. Rather, it’s you I consider to be my home.”

Pleasantly surprised by these words, Atticus gives you a charming glance. “Hm, that’s very poetic of you, my love.” Putting emphasis on the sweet name, he manages to turn the compliment back to you.

Upon opening your mouth to speak, your words get stuck in your throat when your eye falls on Jesus, Whose followers are packing up their belongings. His blue sash has been removed and He seems about to be leaving as well. 

A tad taken aback by how casual He appears to be in this very moment, you suddenly see a sliver of red, alongside the sound of chiming jewellery. You sharply turn towards the source of the noise, and a familiar scent fills your nostrils – her perfume. 

“Joanna!” you breathe, and she freezes in her tracks, seemingly just on her way to do something else altogether as she takes notice of you. Over her arm is draped a crimson scarf of fine shahtoosh that you remember from the outfit she had been wearing during the banquet.

“(Y/n)!”

“You made it!” you quip.

Joanna grins and puts a hand on her chest, grinning widely at you. “You, too!” Atticus does not intervene when she wraps her arms around you tightly, trusting the situation. Embracing her firmly, you momentarily forget that you’ve got company. 

Upon pulling back, you look at her whilst smiling from ear to ear, still in disbelief of seeing her here. She mirrors it, holding your hands in hers, and she cannot stop beaming. “Oh, (Y/n), that was incredible, wasn’t it? So eye-opening! I… I must speak to Him!”

“How? We will never get close to them!” 

The two of you turn towards the area where Jesus and His Disciples are hanging out, and just now she seems to realise that Atticus is standing there, albeit shielded by the hood of his cloak. She does, however, not question it right now, preoccupied with matters way more important. 

“We should mention that we know John the Baptiser. After all, I’ve got a message for Jesus that I must deliver to Him personally.” 

With widened eyes, you let out a yelp when she grabs your hand and pulls you along. You immediately sense Atticus’ presence behind you, shadowing you enough to stay out of focus yet close enough to spring into action should things turn sour. 

You approach three women, one of whom you instantly recognise to be Tamar, but you have no chance to greet her when Joanna speaks up already. 

“Excuse me,” she catches their attention, “You’re followers of the Teacher, yes?”

“Yes, shalom,” a woman with a pink scarf over her hair greets you. She is familiar and you suddenly realise she is the woman who had been present when the friend of Tamar was healed, but you cannot remember her name. 

“Yes, may I speak with Him?”

Tamar gives the two of you an apologetic look. “He’s about to leave.” she states, “We all are. It’s been a very long day.” When her gaze settles upon you, something flashes behind it, as if she is attempting to remember who you are.

Joanna takes the shahtoosh scarf from her arm. “I want to give you this.” 

“Uh, I-I don’t… Uh… Thank you, what for?” the woman with the pink veil stutters, clearly taken aback by the offer. 

“It’s an offering.” Joanna clarifies matter-of-factly, “There was no collection taken?”

The woman in the middle who is wearing a red scarf on her head shakes her head slightly. “He didn’t ask for that.” she states, “This isn’t a way to get to speak to Him.” 

Tamar reaches out before Joanna can respond to it, touching the delicate fabric. “Is that shahtoosh?” she murmurs incredulously. 

“Yes, from Nepal.” Joanna breathes, handing it over to her. 

“And you’re donating this to His ministry?” 

Joanna nods in agreement. “Yes, and there will be more.”

The woman in the middle narrows her eyes slightly. “And who are you?”

“My name is Joanna,” she says, “And this is my friend, (Y/n). I bring greetings to Jesus from someone, so if I could just only have a moment…?”

“From who?” the woman with the red headscarf suspiciously asks. 

For a second, Joanna pauses, swallowing thickly. “I come from Machaerus. I’ve spoken with John… The Baptiser.” 

The woman with the pink veil turns over her shoulder, all three of them clearly bewildered with this sudden statement. “Andrew? Come over here.” 

A man with dark curls trots towards the group and you realise you have seen him before, when you were at Matthew’s booth a long time ago, when he and his brother had claimed to have business with your husband. 

“She says she’s spoken with John in Machaerus.”

“Both of us, actually,” Joanna clarifies, gesturing towards you. 

Andrew’s face twists into shock. “When?! How?! You’ve–You’ve seen him?”

“Yes, my husband works in Herod’s court, so I’ve had the opportunity to speak with John since he’s been… Since he’s been brought in.” she explains, and momentarily looks at you. “With my friend, (Y/n), too. We were intrigued by his words, and…”

Andrew stumbles over his words. “You’ve talked— Is he okay– What-What did he say?”

A soft smile graces Joanna’s lips. “You’re Andrew.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.” she whispers. “He mentioned you. You were a follower of his?”

Andrew nods firmly. “Yes, is he… Is he hurt?” 

Joanna sighs. “No…Well, uh, yes, I… It’s not a great place for him to be. He’s upset some important people. But he wanted you especially, Andrew, to know that he is in good spirits.”

Relieved by this message, Andrew firmly nods. “Can I see him?” he queries.

However, Someone behind the fisherman interrupts the conversation. “This is Jesus,” the woman with the pink veil states, and both you and Joanna are momentarily dumbfounded.

“Yes, of course!” Joanna whispers as He steps forward to stand in front of the two of you. 

Your heart is beating rapidly inside your chest as nerves course through your entire system, with a throat that runs dry as you look at Him, finally face to face with the Preacher you had been so intrigued to speak with. 

“I saw your teaching.” Joanna states. 

Jesus smiles, looks at her, “Hello Joanna,” then lets His gaze go to you. 

Once He catches it, you feel your breath hitch inside your lungs. Preventing yourself from gawking at Him, you run your sweaty palms down your dress, hoping you will not faint.

“And shalom, (Y/n),” He says your name. It sounds kind and gentle, void of any accusation of why you are here in the first place.

A beat of silence as he kindly observes you before opening His mouth to add something:

“It is an honour that I finally get to speak to you.”

Next chapter Chapter list

[coralhoneyrose]

for the questions meme! 4, also pick one you wanna answer, and unrelated question: who are your favorite shepherds?

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Technically already answered (5-ish), but no reason I can’t share another one! I think I’ve alluded to it in very vague terms, but I've done some work on a sort of ‘prequel’ to Half Orange. Since H.O. picks up pretty close to where Chrom starts to realize his feelings, I thought it would be fun to go further back and imagine some of the earlier stages of his friendship with Robin that led up to that. The plan is for it to be alternating POV and I have a few of the scenes for it partially drafted. Not sure if it’s something I’ll ever wind-up finishing or posting, but it’s fun to return to when I have an itch for writing the two of them in really early-stage pining.

Free Choice - 17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Picked this one because my answer to it is kind of a mess LOL. I do not write the scenes in order, though for long fics, I do put a limit on how far ahead I am allowed to work where I can only put concentrated effort into scenes planned for some point within the same chapter. I think weirder than that though is that most of the time I don’t even write the scene itself from start to finish. My drafts tend to be just like chaotic clumps of a few sentences for a bunch of disjointed ideas from all over the scene that I then have to go back and re-order and string together with connective tissue.

I have actually been making an attempt lately to change this and not jump around quite so much, but it’s definitely not what comes most naturally to my brain or how most of my stuff has been written.

Unrelated Question - Who are your favorite shepherds?

Oh boy. Excluding Chrom and Robin (because otherwise it would obviously be them LOL) and assuming ‘Shepherds’ is referring to only gen 1 units, I would probably say (in no particular order) Frederick, Lissa, Gaius, Sumia and Cherche. The first three are probably not surprising at all given the frequency I include them in fics, and Sumia gets featured a fair amount as well. Since my writing is almost always set pre-Valm arc, I have not yet found an excuse to include Cherche, but she was actually the character I married on my first play-through of the game! Crazy to think how normal I was about Awakening back then :’)

There's a lot of others I contemplated listing too, but those are probably my stand-outs! The Shepherds are such a fun and dynamic group of personalities and one of the rare cases where I'm sincerely fond of pretty much all of them <3

Thank you so much for sending this in! It was a lot of fun answering them :D

[breakaway71]

Monthly Fic Recs - January 2024

As well as my participation with Fic Feature Friday for older favorites, I promised myself this year that I would take a page out of my good friend @miyamorana's book this year and try to do a monthly rec post of new things I've loved. I am very very behind on keeping up with new stories right now, since I got caught up with Bookmarking Project of Doom, but I do at least have a few recent reads to share! :D

Please keep in mind, my tastes vary and fluctuate with the tide. I read across a wide variety of fandoms and ships. Hopefully if you decide to keep up with my rec posts (assuming I keep up with them, and I'm going to try really hard!), you will find something to your taste!

STRANGER THINGS love my baby like the finest wine by glorious_spoon, ~6,000 words, Steve/Eddie "Where the hell did you learn to bake?" Eddie asks, fascinated, as Steve leans down to peer into the oven, curses under his breath, and fumbles a pair of oven mitts on. "Oh, you know, here and there," he says breezily. "He ruined three batches before you got here," Robin says, ducking her head in. "Hey, Eddie." - Or: Eddie spends Christmas with Steve and Robin, and maybe it's the start of something new. A Festive Mix for a Friend by entangled_now, ~2,300 words, Steve/Eddie Steve learns that the ingredients don't have to be exactly right, it really is the thought that counts. they're going to send us to prison for jerks by greatunironic, ~16,000 words, Steve/Eddie GARETH 11.46am it’s been like five hours should we do a welfare check on him?

JEFF 11.47 am why? you think it’s possible to die from jerking it too much?

GARETH 11.47am ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah

In which Eddie is TikTok famous, and his personal favorite creator just had an unexpected face reveal. THE SANDMAN Cottagecore 'verse by apocryphal, ~23,000 words, Dream/Hob The love story of a fae prince and a hedgewitch in the middle ages. <3 MERLIN like there's hope in this story by queerofthedagger, ~10,000 words, Merlin/Arthur

“Calm yourself,” Gaius finally says. “You’re alright. Gwaine is alright. Do you remember what happened?” Merlin’s brows furrow and his gaze flickers through the chambers until it lands on Arthur. He tilts his head, the confusion on his face only growing. He asks, “I’m sorry, have we met?” and Arthur’s world not only stops, but crumbles.

Things have finally been going well in Camelot; Arthur knew about Merlin's magic, their relationship had been changing, and their plans for Albion—even if for now only shared with a trusted group—were almost too good to be true.

Then an attack leaves Merlin without his memories since Uther's death and, strangely enough, of Arthur specifically, and Arthur's world threatens to come crashing down once more. SUITS many times, many ways by spqr, ~15,000 words, Harvey/Mike

The only reason he’s even in the damn registry is because it’s required when you pass the bar, like a background check, fingerprinting; he literally hasn’t spared it a single thought since he bared his forearm for the NYSSR representative and looked away while they took the scan. Soulmates are something that other people worry about, normal people, the masses, like marriage and kids and mortgages in the suburbs, and besides, Harvey’s not the sort of person who wants a life partner. 

Which doesn’t explain why he’s rushing across town right now, but – he can’t leave his own soulmate rotting in Rikers three days before Christmas. It’s a point of professional pride.