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letmeoutofthebasementt · 6 months ago

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Hyunjin in Relationships Astro pt.1

So, i'm making this into a series in a sense because this is long. AS. FUCK. And only the planets, their house placements, and the asteroids and their house placements. Not even aspects, or just simply what signs fall in certain houses.

So.

Tarot

I’d recommend reading my tarot reading first. So, first off quick disclaimer, Hyunjin's birthtime isn't confirmed, and his is one of those charts where it's important. His Sun and Moon can both be completely different. HOWEVER, I personally think having a Pisces Sun, Virgo Moon, Pisces Mercury, Pisces Venus, and Aries Mars suits him better as a whole lineup and it's pretty much a unanimous agreement on that. I also personally believe he's a Cancer rising, and if he was a Cancer rising born at noon he would have those placements anyways, as that's both the standard reading time and the Cancer rising time, and so I will read for him as if he is one. If he confirms his rising then I'll change it, but for now this is what we have.

So, first off, he has a strong drive to succeed and be recognized for his success. He knows what he wants, he knows he wants to do good at it, and he knows for a fact that he wants people to recognize that. With his sun in the 10th house, he definitely has very close ties with his public persona and even the persona he shows while working. How he outwardly portrays himself at the start is probably very consistent across the board.

Honestly, it would probably be hard to keep this a secret. Because of his sun being in the 10th house, I wouldn't be surprised if his relationship is outed by dispatch or something because he has a hard time keeping his personal life and work life from being so closely tied together. They always bleed together. Kind of like how his personal life is filled with SKZ who are his coworkers, or the bullying scandal that came out a long time ago that (While I genuinely believe was a two-sided conflict) did happen in his personal life when he was young.

He is very practical when it comes to his home life. He wants things to be perfect, and needs order and organization of the home. If his partner isn't neat, that can definitely start an argument. It stresses him out when things aren't perfect and his emotions go haywire. He also is a routine partner. I'm talking, the type of partner that even though they're all different, you're having your dates every Friday at 8:00 PM. He likes helping his partner in a practical way. He'll cook his partner meals, do the chores, and he just generally feels fulfilled helping take care of those he loves, especially his partners.

He likes to make sure his household is very harmonious, and generally his bonds are always very supportive on his end. He cares about his partner's well-being and needs a lot, and with this paired with his pisces stellium, he's very in-tuned with his partner's emotions. I'm talking he can notice slight shifts in your moods from like small details or just sense it. His mother is also probably very important to him, so if she doesn't have a good opinion on you...Time to kick rocks, I dunno what to tell you. Mama Hwang knows best. Now, he can be very very critical though. I'm talking criticizing your every move at least internally.

He's definitely the type who gets the ick extremely easily. Virgo moon AND a Pisces stellium? He creates fantasies and images of you in his mind that are simply impossible to achieve and when you inevitably don't meet them, it majorly puts him off.

He could also very easily not be in love with you at all but be with you for a while and act like he is. He could love the idea of you, or love the simple act of being in a relationship, he could love the love you show him but not you, he could love the image the relationship casts...Etc, etc. Being in a relationship with Hyunjin and being loved by Hyunjin sadly aren't always mutually exclusive.

Especially with him being an idol, I can definitely see him having a partner in Seoul that he sees only when he isn't promoting who doesn't have the time to necessarily shatter that image he so thoughtfully constructed, better yet if they're somewhere like LA where he isn't at often. Someone who can't shatter that image, someone he's still with so he's in a relationship like he always wants to be, someone who he can't be around physically often to scrutinize, someone who can fulfill that emotional need and show him love long-distance but he himself doesn't exactly love. He loves the image. The fact he's in a relationship. The fact that he's loved by someone. The fact that he can tell his group members he's in this relationship with the perfect person of his dreams.

He still doesn't love them.

Though he'll try his best to act like he does.

The people around him can still tell.

Hyunjin is also very particular about his partners going into relationships. He wants his partner to be attractive to him, which is fair. Looks matter to Hyunjin. They don't necessarily have to be conventionally attractive, though I do believe if his partner is perceived as attractive by a lot of people he'd like that (Though it'd also fan the flames of his jealous streak and mildly possessive behavior but that's a whole other section in and of itself). He appreciates beauty and art. He wants his partner to embody a beautiful art piece that'd come to life and chose him.

Now, Hyunjin is the romantic. He's also the hopeless romantic. Love is apart of who he is, and closely tied to his self-identity and life. He definitely believes in soulmates and is constantly trying to find his, and frankly he deludes himself into thinking every partner he has is his soulmate. He sees his partners through rose-tinted glasses to the point his partner could kill a man in broad daylight in front of a huge crowd and he'd try to justify it. (not literally but you get my point). He's the type who practically worships his partners, and elevates them to such high standards. (Probably attracts narcissists or egotistical maniacs because of it.)

He wants a perfect, fairytale type love. He wants to be the knight in shining armor (*Cough* Captain Save-A-Ho *COUGHHH*) but he also wants a mysterious partner who can always keep him on his toes and is constantly showing new sides of themselves, and taking him on new adventures. But in that same breath he wants a partner who's very vulnerable with him and who he can know emotionally very well, and know more things about them than anyone else does.

His wants for partners are probably extremely contradictory, so only someone who in and of themself is very contradictory in character could match it.

His relationships shape him a lot. Like if he was a character in a novel he would either be a Male Lead or Protagonist of a love story because of how much love impacts his life. His relationships shape his character, his worldview, etc.

I could see him being drawn more to foreign partners or partners with different religions since he's curious about different cultures, beliefs, etc. etc. Anything new and unique piques his interest. He also loves travel and wants to experience things outside of the bubble he lived and was raised in. His placements also indicate he meets partners through travel and are from different cultural and religious backgrounds.

But he also has troubles with commitment and for him love is a form of escapism. Maybe even uses relationships to cope with things? I'm not saying he's a fuckboy but if HE WAS, he'd be the type who gives and promises you the world, strings you along and makes you feel perfect and amazing and he truly means it too, and constantly promises you the relationship of your dreams, and maybe you believe you're truly together even if he doesn't ask you out, then he just disappears off the face of the earth and you never see him again. Cold turkey. That's what i'm getting here. AGAIN, not saying this happens but...Well, if he was a fuckboy that's how he'd be and I stand by it.

Also, he's extremely emotionally, mentally, and spiritually dependent on his partners. He will change every aspect of himself to try and fit the partner's wants and needs, and try to take on the colors of the people that his partner is close with or admires to the point he loses himself trying to be one with his partner and be loved by them.

In a relationship, Hyunjin would 100% be the best person to talk to about your problems. He listens quietly, and if you start getting emotional he's comforting and gentle, and truly empathizing with your emotions and being compassionate about it. The type who'll just hold you in your arms while you cry, telling you everything's going to be alright and promising you that things'll get better. (The only downside is he'll probably end up crying with you unless that's a plus for you). You can take as much time as you need and he'll be entirely invested with his heart and soul in what you're saying.

He also communicates in a way that gives you the most hard-hitting quote-worthy statements ever because it's so genuinely poetic. Like i'm talking his words are an art form in and of itself in certain situations.

But the only downside is he always feels like he needs to try and fix things. So if you're sad, he can't just accept that sometimes people just need to be sad, he'll try and find a way to fix it and will even shoulder the blame, even though it's just not something he can fix and not at all his fault.

If he's hurt...He can be very selfish and destructive. Like he's so wholly invested in you and pushes himself aside...Until he isn't. Until it's about him and only him and he goes from being so invested in his partner that he loses himself to only thinking about his wants and desires. If you get in an argument, he stops caring about how much he could hurt you near instantly, because your feelings be damned he needs to protect himself and he will.

He has a fucking temper let me tell you. He has THE temper. And you never expect it or see it coming. He doesn't stay angry for long, sure, but when he's mad he's mad and it's honestly a very scary sort of anger to witness.

Arguments with Hyunjin are bad for anyone's mental health to be honest. At first he'll probably be more hurt than mad and try to be very...Understanding of everything you say, and definitely try to defuse the situation.

Then he realizes you're not stopping and he starts crying either because he's genuinely upset or he wants you to shut the fuck up and it's a manipulation tactic. He starts playing the victim, and even if he isn't hurt he'll sure as hell act like you're attempting to verbally murder him, and if he is it's arguably worse because he plays it up to heaven and back.

And then things escalate. You say something that either really pisses him off or generally hits too close to home and all hell breaks loose.

Suddenly the tears are gone and he's screaming and he's good at it and he hits you with the most poetic, jaw-dropping, artful, creative insults and comebacks known to man to the point you stand there like "Wow."

Honestly, you're lucky you're his partner because if you weren't he'd curse you slap the fuck out. But you're unlucky it's Hwang motherfucking Hyunjin and he doesn't need curse words to make you feel like pure shit. He's way too creative in that aspect.

It's hard to truly get him to this point. Hell, you probably won't even if you cursed him out and called Bangchan a whore. But if you do, all the power to you babes. Anyone who has gotten Hyunjin beyond the point of no return...I was about to say qualifies for financial compensation but honestly if you got him that mad you probably deserve it.

There's no relationship after that point unless you're the pushover though. Because the shit he says would warrant the messiest breakup known to man.

He will criticize everything about you. He will use your emotions that he's so in-tuned with against you. He will scream and shout and break shit.

Granted this is him at his breaking point but still.

But on another note this man is in fact the life of the party. I'm talking the two of you will be the last people at the club because he's still partying and having fun after everyone calls it a night. He's the type of person who has gatherings with friends that're supposed to end at 7:00 but somehow you're all there until midnight and no one minds because they're having fun and he's so infectious.

Dates with Hyunjin will be fun. They'll be romantic but they'll be so outside of the box that you don't know if there was ever even a box in the first place. Dates are definitely planned and initiated by Hyunjin, as are most relationship milestones because he's so hot-headed and impulsive.

Like he meticulously plans out your first kiss, wants it to be something slow and romantic under the stars on a picnic date with candles and good food.

Then the real first kiss is him tonguing you down in the car right after he got gas because you were looking especially kissable and it's definitely hot as hell but not at all what he had planned.

He's very, very protective.

Controversial opinion: There's no way he can't fight. Because let's be so real here, his temper combined with his mouth means on the rare occasions he isn't the one that starts swinging someone will 100% swing on him during arguments. And practice makers perfect.

But yeah, he's a very protective person. Also very territorial, and borderline possessive. Like...I was going to say not in a toxic way, but possibly in a toxic way. Like he doesn't view you as property, and you have your own autonomy, but it's also like he views you as part of himself, so naturally you're his, so naturally there's no boundaries in fucking sight because you're not you're own person you're part of this little unit.

But with that being said, he's a very stable and trustworthy person. He's loyal to those who he loves and cares for to the point where it's a detriment to himself. He's charismatic and funny, and he can unintentionally charm the shit out of you without intending to just from being himself and speaking his mind. Because that's how he is.

He expects those things in return though. He expects trust, and loyalty, and a mutual respect in all of his interpersonal relationships. When he trusts, he trusts. When he's loyal, he's loyal. He's kind of like a dog in that sense? He trusts and he trusts because he's just that loyal, even if you hurt him beyond repair he still never stops fully loving and trusting you. And it never stops him from loving and trusting others. Because he's just that kind of a loving person.

He's also very generous. He'll probably spoil his partners a lot, buying them whatever they want and helping them out with whatever they may need help with.

He works hard in all his interpersonal relationships and is constantly trying to improve himself for the sake of things. He values bonds that last for a long time. His taurus Jupiter + Saturn mixed with his pisces stellium honestly is probably the reason why he has said he likes drawing older couples and why he believes that love should be something long-lasting and eternal, and why he'd prefer being someone's last over their first. And honestly i'm living for that.

In relationships he likes to have that emotional depth and someone who can stimulate him intellectually. He likes his relationships to be free and equal, and he likes to ensure his partners are aware of just how unique they are. He probably doesn't stick to traditional gender roles in relationships, and instead acknowledges that people have personal preferences that shouldn't be dictated just by gender. (Though there are obviously some things he likes doing that are more "masculine" roles, and some things he'd prefer his partner to take up that are more "feminine" roles but it's less about the gender part and more about the personal preference part)

Gives me malewife energy though in the sense that he probably enjoys doing a lot of things people would traditionally expect a wife to do.

He wants someone who he can grow with, but also someone who gives him room to be an individual. He naturally gravitates towards changing himself to please his partner, but will also develop resentment towards them if they're just constantly changing him and changing him, especially if they're not even changing or growing themselves.

He wants to be with someone who's his lover and his friend. Someone he shares ideals, visions, and goals with. He has an issue with learning the balance of giving and taking in relationships though. He just gives, gives, gives, gives and never bothers to take in return. He needs someone who can teach him it's okay to take, to ask his partner to do things for him or this that and the third instead of only acting almost as a personal maid waiting on his partner hand and foot while expecting nothing in turn.

His ideal lover is 100% someone he can finally be Hyunjin with instead of a franken version of himself. Someone that's his comfort zone and can return all that love, care, and affection he pours into his partners so readily.

That's not what he attracts though.

He attracts pushy people who do things he didn't sign up for. I'm talking about three dates in they show up at his door with their bags saying they sold their house to live with him because it's "better for the relationship". People who are overly involved in his every move and breath, and are definitely EXTREMELY toxic levels of possessive. They treat him like an object. He can't do this, he can't do that, he can't talk to this person or interact with that person. He attracts the type of partner that he needs to call just to get permission to order food or has to call and show the entire room he's in and its other occupants using his phone. The type of partner who knows 0 boundaries. The type who after inviting themselves to live with him completely changes the entire space to what they think suits "them" better. They want to be his everything and want to be his "Comfort Zone" that he craves but really has the opposite effect and it's overbearing and suffocating. Wouldn't be surprised if he's had partners who've tried to distance him from the group because they're "too close" (They may or may not have been successful I dunno)

He wants someone who awakens that special spark in him and knows him more than anyone else seems to. He also likes his partners to be very family-oriented. He likes peaceful relationships where he and his partner cherish one another. He likes making his partner feel amazing and likes making them feel like a god/goddess. Very forgiving and wants to do things that's in the best interest of his partner before things that are in his own best interest.

Pt. 2

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cissa-calls · 1 year ago

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Rewatching Crimson Peak & Things of Focus and Notice:

As a child at her mothers funeral, Edith wears butterfly/moth earrings

Is the pen her father gifts her the one she later uses to stab Lucille? He describes the importance of having “The right tool for the job,” is that foreshadowing for gifting her the tool to begin her escape from Crimson Peak?

Is Edith wearing a butterfly hair clip when she dances the waltz with Thomas?

Lucille’s iconic crimson red gown is so detailed, so beautiful. It represents the skeletal ghosts with its spinal column along the back, crimson peak itself in color, the carapace of a bug on the sleeves and structure, and the upper bodice has trim that blooms outward (present similarly in her blue gown) but is bisected by buttons…creating a familiar shape…a moth?

The candle they hold during the waltz is held at the same level Edith holds her iconic candelabra, a subtle parallel

The trim on the collar of Lucille’s black dress references the spikes and trims of gothic architecture - which is very heavily featured in Allerdale Hall

Lucille says that: “At home we only have Black moths, formidable creatures but they lack beauty.” Knowing the parallel between her and moths, it implies that she sees herself as a survivor and powerful, but something no longer beautiful because of it

Lucille places the butterfly she holds directly into the ants, an action that’s brutal but quick. Is it foreshadowing to her execution of Edith’s death? Something quick for such a beautiful thing, done by her hand?

The LOOK Lucille gives Thomas when they realize Edith’s father knows their past. THE LOOK (JESSICA CHASTAIN YOUR ACTING)

“You seem the more collected one my dear” Lucille is called this. She always holds the mission undetered in her mind, as opposed to Thomas who seems more easily swayed by emotions

When Thomas breaks Edith’s heart by ripping apart her book. He says: “What do you dream of? A kind man? A pure soul to be redeemed? A wounded bird to be nourished?” He is telling her exactly what he is. None of those things, none of the dreams she has built of him in her mind. Not with a past and life such as his.

The significance of gramophones and wax cylinders: it is what plays when Edith’s father is murdered, it is also what saves her from meeting the same fate

I want to know more about Lucille!! Her character is so rich, so so complex, she needs more screen time!!

Need a prop replica of the ring NOW

[the house] “is a privilege we were born into, one we can never relinquish” METAPHOR ALERT METAPHOR ALERT metaphor for the cycles of abuse and trauma they could not break

HOW THE FRICK did I MISS the fact that Thomas’ workshop is in the attic when that was where him and Lucille were locked up as children. SO MANY IMPORTANT SCENES HAPPEN THERE. So many significant to their past we never see, so many ghosts not visible but are so real and present to have caused this

The trail of smoke like red essence that emanates from the ghosts as they walk, like they are still bleeding

Lucille’s hair looks black in darker lighting, but a dark brunette in others. It’s provides a black, dark shroud when she’s in America, and catches more light when she’s in Allerdale Hall

“I like to think she can see us from up there. I don’t want her to miss a single thing we do.” UM MA’AM

“…in time, everything will be right” LUCILLE QUEEN OF FINAL OMINOUS STATEMENTS IN SCENES

The amount I WISH to explore this set. To pry apart each detail and pick apart each piece, so much of it had to be handcrafted pieces for the movie or vintage pieces sourced for it. LET ME IN

THE LIGHTING MUAH

The ghost in the hallway has a rope dragging behind her…is this a gory detail, or an allusion to how she may have died (if not by poison)?

The ghost in Edith’s dream is pointing, though it is never shown to what. Is it to the exit, her warning to leave as all the other ghosts try to do?

The children’s laughter after the presumed scream of their mother’s ghost as she is stabbed, is it just for creepy effect, or did Lucille and Thomas actually laugh after they murdered her?

The scar on Lucille’s lip? Never noticed it before!

Not the first time I’ve noticed it, but the act of her clutching hot steaming food with her bare hands is chilling every single time

Were the bodies of Thomas’s wives left in the vats of clay? I don’t know HOW I didn’t make that connection before, originally i thought it was merely for creepy effect.

Many people villainize Lucille and try to make Thomas out to be solely a victim. But as stated in the wax cylinder, he was fueled by his desire to pay for and make his machine. Him and Lucille are both complacent in using their victims money for their own gain

We need to bring Chatelaine’s back into fashion. That is all.

The scrape of the spoon over the porcelain cup, it screeches and is a subtle way that shows Lucille act of caring has a harshness to it, an unpleasant sound resulting from an otherwise pleasant action: tending to Edith

Such an interesting camera choice to have the camera focus in a circular inwards and outwards

also also Lucille has a temple scar on her forehead?

The small amount of glee Lucille takes saying Edith “thought [she] was a writer” as she throws the pages to her novel in the fire.

The absolute deadpan, matter-of-fact-ness Lucille has to Edith when she signs the papers “you have nothing to live for” & “mercy killings.” This is a familiar repeated cycle

“Sign your name! Sign your bloody name!” Bloody is not just for emphasis. Edith’s name is soon to be nothing but blood

Lucille’s night gown sleeves as she flies down the stairs in pursuit - like a moths wings fluttering towards its prey

Lucille and Edith fought each other with bare feet on the stone and in the snow

Lucille is the only one of the two who knows how to start Thomas’s machine, because she was the one who witnessed it working

It is only the stab wound on Thomas’ face that bleeds and smokes when he is a ghost, perhaps because it is the wound that bears his betrayal by Lucille, reminiscent of tears of his lingering pain

Edith now has a facial scar, gifted to her by Lucille, who bore ones of her own. It is a passage, a continuing of the cycle, but it is its finale. It is Edith’s souvenir from Lucille, who took her own souvenir (her hair) from the other like a prize

#a very exhaustive list from my most recent rewatch of one of MY FAVORITE MOVIES #crimson peak #many many thoughts #lucille sharpe #edith cushing #thomas sharpe #cissarambles

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rambheem-is-real · 3 months ago

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Karna vs the (Modern) World

prequel to Bujji's Analysis

Karna wakes up in Bhairava's body, and now has a disembodied female voice calling him partner. The holy mother is tied up in the backseat of the strangely autonomous vehicle they're riding in, and Karna has no idea what's going on.

They were on a journey from Shambala. Karna lingered in Bhairava’s mind, watching the guy in charge of their body move a horse-less vehicle with his hands and feet, talking to a disembodied voice. He had no idea what was going on, but he recognized the woman tied up in the car, or rather, her offspring. There was no mistaking that illustrious aura, even if he was currently just a fetus in the woman’s stomach.

For a second Karna was tempted to take over their body, release the woman, and just go with her. He had no idea when or where he was (he assumed it had been a few thousand years, give or take), so he would hope she at least knew how to survive here and follow the woman. Karna had no untoward intentions, he just wanted to be with the woman when the baby was born. Would a fully formed adult Krishna spring out, with golden black skin and that damned peacock feather in his hair? He hoped so, because if anyone would have answers it would be God himself. Why he was here now of all times, why he was in someone else’s body, what happened to the world, he wanted to know.

Karna stopped himself, because what if it was just a baby? Lord Rama wasn’t born like that, right? Then Karna would just be left with a random woman and a random baby, albeit a very powerful baby. He tuned back into the conversation. Bhairava had been saying something to soothe the voice right before Karna got lost in thought.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Bhairava,” the voice said. “What do you mean you don’t remember why you killed Commander Manas? I thought you said we were partners. You can tell me anything.”

Karna mentally shuddered when the voice said they were partners. He had a suspicion the voice was the vehicle itself, and that was terrifying. Unless the fetus had somehow become great friends with Bhairava in the last few days, and also learned to talk with a female voice, but that was unlikely. Karna could tell there was no magic involved here, which made the voice all the more scarier, as otherwise he would assume a god had bewitched the vehicle or something. This was just wrong.

“Sorry, Bujji,” the sound came out of his mouth. The dialect was wrong, and so was the timbre of his usually deep voice, but Karna pushed down the automatic nausea. Then felt sick for a different reason. Bujji? This Bhairava… was flirting with a vehicle?

"Partners", the vehicle’s, or Bujji’s voice, echoed in Karna’s mind.

“Mpfffh!” Karna’s eyes glanced in the rearview mirror to see the woman had managed to get the thin substance off her mouth, some kind of gag, although the rest of her was still tied up. “Please, Bhairava. I haven’t done anything to you. Just please leave me and my child alone,” the woman begged.

“Sorry, labs papa,” Bhairava said. “Would’ve reconsidered if it wasn’t a 5 star bounty. I’m finally gonna be able to pay off my debts with this.”

Money?? Bhairava had kidnapped the mother of the universe for money?

Well, that settled it. Karna had no intention of giving baby Krishna over to whoever was willing to pay what seemed like a large sum of gold to get the woman. Sure, he had faced Keshava many times on the battlefield (technically he had faced Arjuna, but he had suspicions that the charming God had a few tricks up his sleeve), but it was nothing personal. He would be a great ally to have in this time period, and maybe he could finally have a friendly spar with the man. His troubles in his past life were because he had allied himself with the wrong people anyway.

Not his beloved Suyodhana, though, never. Karna had been happy to bleed on the battlefield, and would have given his life ten times over just to see the loving smile on Duryodhana’s face once more. He had been good friends with Ashwa, his brother-in-arms as well. Karna pushed down a pang of loneliness as he thought of both of them. Ashwa was here, anyway. He vaguely remembered seeing him chained down, but it wasn’t like those chains could stop Karna's friend of all people.

Just as the thought hit, so was the vehicle. The impact of something bouncing off of Bhairava’s side made the vehicle flip over several times. Karna gladly gave up full control for a few seconds, retreating deep into Bhairava’s mind until the experience was over. He peeked out when the vehicle stopped moving.

Oh. It was Ashwa.

Karna watched through eyes half-closed with Bhairava’s pain as Ashwa quickly made his way over to the woman (who unsurprisingly had come out unscathed), and made sure she wasn’t hurt. He knew what would happen, but it didn’t make it less disappointing to have Ashwa turn to give Bhairava’s body a glance, sigh, and carry the woman back into the woods where he came from. It was for the best. Ashwa probably assumed Karna was gone again. Besides, this would solve the problem of the woman being hunted down.

With a rumbling noise, the weird white lamps in the vehicle came back on, along with the floating blue ones. Karna bit back a yelp as the voice came back, proving Bujji really was the vehicle. “Bhairava! Are you okay?”

“Okay? I’m okay?” he heard Bhairava breathe, and realized it was coming from within. He quickly ceded control once again. If he had his way, Bhairava would never find out Karna was also there inside him. Bhairava continued talking, oblivious to the fact that Bujji hadn't heard what he said right before. “Just peachy, Bujji. I think our little lab-experiment-gone-wrong has disappeared.”

“It was that angry old man, he’s the last thing my sensors registered before the impact! He must have taken her away.”

Karna didn’t recognize what Bhairava called the woman, the words Bujji used for Ashwa, or exactly what part of her registered the impact, either. He had also missed some of the earlier sentences. Fuck, he would have to learn a new language, because clearly everyone here was multilingual. Besides that, though, he’d have to make sure Ashwa and the woman weren’t followed.

Slowly, making sure Bhairava wasn’t alarmed by his presence (until he was Karna again and clearly Bhairava wasn’t strong enough to stay aware when not in full control), Karna emerged.

“We shall go home,” he told Bujji, which was nerve wracking in a way that felt embarrassing for a war veteran. What if this artificial being could somehow detect lies? What even was this thing capable of? Karna loved to fight, loved knowing he was a well seasoned machine when it came to beating people in battle, but of course that was only when he knew his opponents. Or at least knew they were somewhat human. He didn’t know what the hell this Bujji was.

A pause. “I thought you just said you wanted the reward?”

Karna guessed she was talking about the money. “I will figure something out. Wealth can be obtained through other means. It will be dangerous to keep pursuing such a formidable foe as him.” He hoped it was at least somewhat believable as Bhairava’s voice, although he hadn’t quite figured out the modern speech patterns yet.

Another pause. “Right… maybe we should head back.” She sounded more worried now. “And get you checked out. Plotting coordinates for Kasi, then. You sleep in the meantime, I’ll get you there.”

Karna was grateful he didn’t have to speak more with Bujji. Bhairava would be confused again when he woke up, but would probably write it off as a decision he made with a head injury. An embarrassing part of him wished he’d wake up and be back on the battlefield, holding up that chariot wheel. Maybe this was some hallucination he was having before death, and any second now he'd start smelling the smoke and feeling the old battle wounds again. At least he knew what he faced there.

Or maybe this was Yama’s abode, and this was his personal narakam [hell], designed to punish him for all of the atrocities he committed. Draupadi's beautiful, vengeful face came to mind. Maybe Bujji was a new modern version of Yama's attendants. He shuddered before falling asleep, hoping that the scary thing wouldn’t kill him (he trusted she wouldn't kill Bhairava, at least).

tagging ppl who interacted with the last part

@ahamasmiyodhah @mahi-wayy @vijayasena @celestesinsight @n0tm3g @prettykittytanjiro @lakshana-ke-lakshan @sometimesbrave

#kalki #kalki2898ad #kalki fic #karna #bujji/bhairava

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eliteseven · 9 months ago

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What are your thoughts on Shadowheart in terms of her character? Her feelings towards Tav and her self-esteem?

Shadowheart: Self Esteem & Feelings towards Tav:

Short(er) version:

Shadowheart is complex and so interesting. She can be caustic, witty, dry and seemingly detached- or she can be the most loving person you've ever known. She's confident- we now know much of that was born of her Sharran upbringing, but she's willful because of her parents. She's defiant, playful around those she trusts, and has a great capacity for love. She's a healer at heart- though honed as a weapon, there is no greater joy for her than being able to mend wounds, to take away pain, even though it's all she's known for so long. She's broken, at times, but healing beautifully now.

Her relationship with Tav is founded upon trust (and a LOT of physical attraction, to boot). Tav is the only person who managed to breach her walls while she was still serving Shar. Tav has laid her own life on the line for Shadowheart (and her parents) countless times. Shadowheart plays coy and flirtatious, but there is a deep internal voice that tells her she's lucky Tav considers her worthy of her love. Romantically, Shadowheart is absolutely enamored with Tav. The more she learns about Tav's upbringing, the more protective she becomes. I think she's keenly aware of the fact that she and her parents are Tav's only true family, aside from her mother all the way in Cormyr.

Long (writer's) version lol:

I think Shadowheart is a layered, complex character! We have “Jenevelle”, if you will, at her core. Traits she picked up from her parents, even if she doesn’t inherently remember everything: her kindness, her proclivity to caring for animals and the weak, even her sense of humor (finger guns after the night orchid joke lol). I feel like life in the cloister had her suppressing these traits to an almost painful extent. Her memory may have been wiped, but her instincts do not change so easily. She’s witty, she’s even fun-loving, she’s outspoken. She’s willful, stubborn, and often sees the best in people.

And then we have “Shadowheart”- or the traits she developed as a result of life in the cloister. Some are actually beneficial, some not so much. Life in the cloister makes her cynical, sly, defensive, secretive, even if also incredibly adept at defending herself. It gives her “bite” to her personality, as well as a sense of arrogance.

In the first Acts, we see more of Shadowheart, but Jenevelle bleeds through. It’s clear by Act 2 that she’s developed enough of a rapport/trust with Tav that her true nature begins to show.

I think when she was a practicing Sharran, she lived under the guise of false self-esteem. She ascribed worth to herself based on how well she could heed the Dark Lady’s orders. Now that she’s free, she struggles with reconciling deeds she’s committed in the past. Though it isn’t her fault explicitly, I think she carries much guilt for what she became. Now, living her life in service to her parents, to all their animals, and to her beloved Tav- I think she sees her life as simple, bucolic, but worth so much more. She can be proud of this life, without shame. She can reconcile Jenevelle and Shadowheart, and be the best of both of them.

Her Feelings towards Tav:

Tav is a vital piece to Shadowheart’s overall growth. Initially, she’s attracted to Tav and thinks little of her or that fact- beyond staring when she thinks Tav isn’t looking. Just another pretty girl who's surprisingly good with a blade, in her eyes. In the early weeks, they argue. A lot. Shadowheart is particularly vicious when she gets wind that Tav came from nobility. And then something strange happens- Shadowheart finds herself looking forward to arguing with Tav, just to spend more time with her. She watches Tav give her own food and water to Tiefling refugees- She rolls her eyes at the “weakness” displayed and then goes to hide her smile in her tent and repent in prayer.

Tav is the most selfless person Shadowheart knows. Tav cares more about Emmeline and Arnell than Shadowheart can fathom. She’s constantly looking for ways to make up for lost time, constantly looking for ways to help Shadowheart’s memory. She doesn’t sleep if Shar’s mark is causing Shadowheart pain. Shadowheart has never been the love of anyone’s life-until now.

Shadowheart is madly in love. Tav’s her best friend, her partner. Tav helped speak sense into her, helped her see reason, light, love in the midst of Shar’s scheme for her. Tav saw through her, saw Jenevelle and Shadowheart, and gave herself completely to both of them.

#(Bless you for asking something non death or throuple related 🙏🏼😅)#bg3 #anonymous #ask #Shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #nls series #oc: serena tavyndír #my hcs

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theworldibuilt4you · 4 months ago

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[Addie flinched again at the yelling, releasing a miserable puff of a hiss from the stress.]

I... W-well yes, but...

[They were at a loss, now. All their effort felt like it was for nothing - that they had reached a limit to how much they could reach the broken kid before them. Tears brimmed in their eyes as a familiar helplessness settled in; a final straw in their emotional powder keg.]

God, do you think I wanted to? That I liked growing up in a world that hated me? That told me I was a mistake?? You should know very well what kind of thoughts you have, being treated like that.

[Their blood was running hot and cold at the same time. It was dizzying]

So many times I'd wish people would just finish the job. But they didn't. So many times I wished I would just bleed out on the ground where people left me. But I didn't. Sure, I got to grow up, but I certainly wasn't living.

It wasn't until I came here that I actually began to feel like I was maybe worth something. That I was even capable of being loved.

[They were laughing, now; it was funny, how bad they were at everything. They were bad at being born, at existing, at saving the only friends the universe accidentally allowed them to find.]

And you know, something tells me that even though you claim Kinito is your best friend, he was just a band-aid to cover a gaping wound. A distraction from the pain. You never really let him in because for whatever reason, you don't want to move on from your past.

[They thought about what was at stake - Casey was likely still in danger, along with Jade, too, for harboring them. Owl was definitely in danger, and at this point Sec and themselves were likely at some risk too, despite being outside. Kinito was probably the safest of them all, though if anything happened to Owl it'd no doubt kill him emotionally. And Sonny... They didn't even know if they'd ever see him again.]

You could stop the cycle of suffering, but you won't. You won't and I can't do anything about it and I'll just have to accept the fact that that these past few weeks have been a big cosmic fluke. That I was never meant to be happy.

...That people like us were never meant to be happy.

[Tears were streaming down their face now, their hands knotted in their hair as they sobbed uncontrollably.]

Even when we really, really want us to be...

-Addie

[....SYSTEM REBOOT INITIATED.] [RESTARTING FROZEN ASSETS]

[YOU WANT WHAT LITTLE I HAD?]

[TAKE IT.]

[I DON'T CARE ANYMORE.]

#<All.That.Remains.>

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hauntedhopeghost · 3 months ago

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Yeah...right...

tw: mentions of suicidal ideation, self-harm, imposter syndrome (oh hey look it makes a comeback how nice of you to join), RSD, and just overall brutal self-hatred.

just a vent.

you don’t know when you internalized the fact

that you’ll never be enough.

maybe it was one day. one day of scolding that went too far.

maybe it was slowly taken from you, bit by bit. like a chocolate bar cut in pieces. slowly being chewed away.

maybe it you were just born with it. created with the function coded into your head.

though the last one didn’t make sense. how did people do anything? walking around with their brain saying they didn’t deserve the air they breathed. the space they took up.

or maybe because you had people around you. who cared. but not enough.

they clapped politely, without knowing how much it mattered.

and so as soon as you started to fly, they shot you down. they didn’t want you to fly too close to the sun, after all. we all knew what happens to Icarus.

but they injured you. they poked so many holes in the wax wings that you plummeted. towards the ocean.

and you fell.

so you stopped. you stopped flying for you.

or maybe you never stopped. maybe you’re only here because they wanted you to. you never chose to be here, after all. you’re just here to make other people happy.

what else are you worth? besides that?

but making people happy isn’t working. they got upset at you. they said things that you can’t handle.

how can you handle everyone else when you can’t handle this from the closest people in your life? how can you be yourself when all you were defined as was to make everyone care about you?

you’re selfless. you’re so polite. you’re so mature for your age.

you’re so kind. you’re so hard on yourself.

you’re so lazy. you’re so emotional. you’re such a crybaby.

you can’t handle growing up if this is how you act with a small critique. you can’t sit here and stay in shock and want to hurl yourself out the window and scratch into arms until you bleed.

you have work to do.

but they’ll never understand how much it matters to you. they’ll never understand the spike.

the adrenaline and hop in your step and how the world seemed so much more colorful when someone gave you what you wanted.

but just like the times when you were young. when you learned to suddenly stop laughing and learned to put a hurt expression on your face. because of all the times you were told your laughter was too loud. that the joke wasn’t even funny but it sounded hysterical to you. like those times.

you had to be down-to-earth. or else no one would take you seriously. so with every achievement you didn’t need other people’s help to brush or insult them away. you did it yourself.

you couldn’t take any compliments anymore. any perfect score was taken as luck. people are just complimenting you because they haven’t seen someone better yet. someone replaceable.

or they were just flat-out lying. that’s a possibility.

so you long to impress the people more skilled than you. you were taught to look up to them, after all. you long to impress them the same way they impressed you.

or was it jealousy? were you jealous of them, possibly? you can’t be jealous. you’re supposed to be happy you hypocrite.

you can’t count how many things that’ll never see the light of day again. how many hobbies you truly enjoyed but were ruined by comparing. or because no one cared enough about it. or how many words you’ve written but spoiled by judgment.

and years and years of hating yourself.

you were born to hate yourself; you were born to pretend you had any form of self-love at all.

the only form of self-love came when you were emotionally exhausted. when you’re so tired you can’t think of anything but of how tired you were.

you were selfish. though. selfish for thinking you could be the best. selfish for thinking your ideas had any form of tact at all.

they were stronger than you, that’s for sure.

the people who were told they would never make it, and still made it. they’ll never be you. that’s for sure. you’re too sensitive.

you think you could just get what you want without doing any work? how cute. you think you can make someone happy? when it’s you? when you’re the one trying?

how…cute.

you’re still that eight-year-old who hit themselves until their arms were red. you’re still that little kid who cried because “all the other kids have birthday parties! all the other kids have so many friends who don’t leave me!” you’re still that kid who cried after you didn’t win, waiting for reassurance and instead getting hit with the reality train. because you didn’t train enough. because you were seven fucking years old and you were crying in the car while they yelled at you.

you were nine. you were nine and someone should’ve hugged you afterwards. you were nine and instead people said you weren’t good enough. that you should win first place and that the older kids got almost every single question right and even though you were the best, it was because everyone else was a failure.

even though you made it further than the people almost twice your age. you still cried in the bathroom because you panicked. you froze up and you don’t deserve any of it.

reality hit in: you aren’t that gifted kid anymore. you never were.

so none of your achievements were worth it. huh. that’s a shock.

why don’t you just throw out the few prizes you have? if you had any at all.

if you can’t make yourself happy: make everyone else happy instead. your mother was always telling you to have a goal set. to have a purpose in life so you wouldn’t try and kill yourself again.

why can’t you do it? why can’t you just be like everyone else?

all of the people who said they were impressed, said they liked what you did

and whatnot.

all liars.

big. fat. liars.

all of them.

they’ll discover how much of a fraud you are. you're too unskilled to even be breathing air on this earth.

it’s easy to replace someone terrible. there’s people waiting in line already.

so might as well point out your flaws before anyone bothers to.

stupid. how stupid.

#ghost vents to the void #cw: sui mention #vent post #this was originally supposed to be a green character introspection but then my personal feelings crossed in #so now it's just vent #it's just pure vent.#i think the newest ep did something to me because of how painful and accurate it was #i don't think i can even rant about it. it's basically rubbing salt on an open wound #i almost hate it.#breaking news: local people-pleaser with heavy amounts of negative self-talk and imposter syndrome #realizes they aren't the only one #the title came from the fact that whenever people give me a compliment of any kind irl #i reply with: “yeah... sure.” or something along the lines of that #because i genuinely cannot believe someone would actually think it's true #/srs blame it on childhood trauma lol #or maybe no it's because i am just that bad

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normystical · 2 months ago

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the

moon is full the cave is deep (deep) anybody who is sane is asleep it's deep down here don't creep down here or you might disappear suddenly down here welcome come inside my hole i'm very much obliged my friends call me klsrksk but you may know me as slime (hi) i am the massivest giant gelatinous guy in this cavernous mine my only passion is hiding in passages frightening passing chumps HI i'm in your messages slide in like catheters right in your bladder SURPRISE try to fly and you'll happen to find that you're trapped in a dilemma kafka could write you can try and hit back when i die i just SNAP as if i am elastic incised look at the size of this bastard dividing like matter the kind that'll happen when atoms collide not about to deny it i'm having a fabulous time rapping this rhyme i cram it with multisyllabics and double entendres in patterns that baffle your mind i flip mathematics like a poltergeist because when i divide then i multiply i'm not the sort to die wouldn't resort to violence because the more you try it then the more i riot one on one i'm a one man army come on bruv no one can harm me we aren't going to cause any trouble now are we so turn around and start running for your life calmly the moon is full the cave is deep (deep!) anybody who is sane is asleep it's deep down here don't creep down here or you might disappear suddenly down here i look like a creeper's head if he was dead of being beheaded by guillotine (chop) instead of creeping up on villagers to burst to smithereens (pop) in here your screams don't mean a hill of beans no being can hear a thing no sweet idyllic scenes of village greens you're merely here to bleed amid dirt and in grime you might just bump into slime two for the price of one look i'm providing such a good time i'm the verdant-est slice of turkish delight lurk in the murk of the mines don't you look twice kind word of advice hi my name's slime shady don't know why but scru face jean's on my mind lately my baby come writhe in my gravy twice daily you're right in my lane better drive safely when i'm pullin' you aside it's nothing like a traffic stop on a white lady so you won't survive by bein' a cwybaby you can try vainly or DIE BRAVELY i'm a single father mother call me dad and mommy floutin' the chinese one-child policy started at the bottom now i've got a bloody colony i could be a doctor teaching epidemiology the moon is full (full) the cave is deep anybody who is sane is asleep it's deep down here don't creep down here or you might disappear suddenly down here i might seem green but i'm just jelly putting you in a jam like gooseberries it's very clear i need intervention like when i bukkaked peter venkman see me just skeet without an erection spreadin' my seed in every direction you're gonna need some heavy protection when i release the rest of 'em ha hold up you've hit the sloppiest roadblock you and your crew can run up and get coldcocked we're a chip off of the old block how come a minecraft parody's a whole bop even with no cock no ovulation we're causing overpopulation mobs in a mob self-replicatin' sorry we're late and kept you waitin' under a full moon what would a fool do to win a fortune and will it fall through couldn't afford to but could've fooled you 'cause to a fault you keep getting fooled you are like the fall dew back every morn' new didn't i warn you didn't it dawn on you that when we fall on your sword then we're born anew don't make us keep repeatin' are we boring you though i'd like to stay around alas i can't stick about very long gotta bounce gotta split so put down your stick there's no need to attack if you do or you don't we will keep coming back when the moon is full the cave is deep (deep!) anybody who is sane is asleep it's deep down here don't creep down here or you might disappear suddenly down here

#lyric posting #lyricposting #lyric spam #i love spamming #spamming lyrics #the real slime shady

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firestorm09890 · 2 years ago

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Kingdom Hearts: Nobody Anatomy, Physiology, Psychology, Ontology??? headcanons

saw people talking about more monstrous Nobodies a bit ago (okay it was a long while ago at this point, this has been in drafts for ages) and that reminded me to share some of my thoughts. it spiraled kind of out of control and now this post is ridiculously long. three parts: the physical side, the less physical side, and other thoughts. most of it’s under the cut. enjoy

The physical side

All of these apply to ALL Nobodies, not just the funny squiggly ones.

Alrighty, here’s my proposal: Nobodies don’t have any internal organs. Even the ones that retain their human form. They may look and act like they’ve got regular human body processes, but I like to think that it’s just a hollow imitation. This is why every single Nobody has an absolutely snatched waist

So they’d lack both their metaphysical hearts and their real hearts!

The Organization was founded by a bunch of researchers who got into this mess via unethical human experimentation so you know they tried to pin down the specifics of Nobody biology early on, but every time they tried to use any medical equipment it would come up empty or just straight up not work. And then none of them were willing to get vivisected for the cause lmao

I think the greater Nobodies (human-shaped ones) are made up of the same weird, rubbery flexible stuff that lesser Nobodies are, but just don’t have that flexibility because hey! They’ve got a human form to maintain! They may seem human, but on a biological level, they’re closer to the squiggly guys than an actual human. This is why it’s possible for Xemnas to turn greater Nobodies into Dusks. We never see him do it, but I doubt it’s an empty threat. I don’t think there were any other greater Nobodies in the Organization in the past, but he’s probably transformed one of the specialized Nobodies, like a Dancer or Dragoon, into one of the lowest-ranked ones, like Dusks or Creepers or something.

All Nobodies have the Nobody sigil somewhere on them. For lesser Nobodies it’s easily visible, but for greater Nobodies, it’s on their backs, and since they’re always wearing those coats, no one ever sees it.

If a Nobody is cut, they don’t bleed- instead, little wisps of darkness leak out of the wound, like what happens in the Org’s death animations but on a smaller scale. They can heal faster than regular humans thanks to ✨something something darkness and nothingness✨.

Though Nobodies are supposedly shunned by both light and darkness, they are more aligned with dark than light. Any Nobody can wield light, not just Roxas (as shown by Zexion in Chain of Memories), but it takes great difficulty. However, they can wield darkness with ease.

Nobodies do need to sleep as regularly as humans, but can last much longer without food or water. Rest? Yes! Nutrience? Unimportant

They have no body heat- that’s a corpse, baby!!! That does bring up some questions about thermoregulation. I don’t feel like thinking about it tbh. There’s lots of questions in this vein: can Nobodies get drunk? I think they probably can’t. In 358/2 Days, Demyx says “Wait, training!? That sounds like work, which means sweating. Which is gross.” and that... complicates things! I could chalk it up to how a lot of people in Organization XIII have a tendency to keep acting like they’re humans and nothing’s changed, even though it has.

Nobodies are “born” in any world in the Realm Between. Roxas first appeared in Twilight Town, but some might have shown up by Castle Oblivion, or even the Mysterious Tower (god bless). Showing up in The World That Never Was is probably the most common.

The less physical side

It’s quite an unlikely coincidence that every apprentice of Ansem the Wise had a standout, super strong heart that allowed them to retain their human forms as Nobodies. I think it had something to do with being stabbed by a keyblade, not just their wills alone. That would also align with 9-12 being tied to a keyblade legacy. A strong will is important, yes, but you only get to be human-looking if there was a keyblade involved.

In a Nobody, the most important part of this will is the will to live. Should that ever wane, they Nobody will begin to destabilize, and eventually, they will return to nothingness.

Nobodies have hearts, and they do not have hearts. They have feelings, and they do not have feelings. It’s like the observer effect in quantum mechanics. Anyone who can sense hearts or feelings or whatever will not be able to sense anything from a Nobody, no matter how far along in development that heart may be, reinforcing the belief that yeah there’s nothing there. But there is... and also there isn’t. Both statements are true. A friend described it as “Schrödinger’s Feelings” and it’s the most accurate “Schrodinger’s ____” joke I’ve ever seen made. Someone else described it as depression which is also accurate (source: i’ve had depression). There are bouts of emotion occasionally, but those emotions are dulled (and usually negative) and most of the time there’s only suffocating apathy.

There is some truth to the statement that Nobodies’ feelings are simply recreations of what they might’ve felt back when they had hearts, but it’s also bogus. Memories are important to the makeup of a Nobody, but that statement is often used as an excuse that covers up the reality that there was a feeling there. It’s very easy to lie to yourself when there’s mostly data supporting your argument and any evidence against is less common and easily disputed by “logic” like this.

The most prominent “feelings” in Nobodies are an intense sense of longing and dissatisfaction. For some, the longing is for a heart, but for others it is aimless. That was the idea behind all the Nobodies having little hobbies like cooking and puzzles and reading magazines in the manga. They’re trying to fill that void with anything they can.

In one of the novels, Demyx, #1 proponent of the idea that Nobodies do have hearts actually, gives us this:

I play and play, but I can’t make a satisfying sound.

In truth, I know I won’t be satisfied in all eternity.

If you don’t have a heart, there’s no such thing as satisfaction.

You don’t even think you want to be satisfied.

And yeah, the novels aren’t canon, but it’s still interesting to see and think about. Nothing you do is good enough to fill that emptiness, but you can barely bring yourself to care about it anyway. Yep, depression!

Nobodies are prone to a high amount of introspection. It’s an inherited trait all Nobodies share- if you manage to survive past humanity in a bizarre fucked up state like this, you’re naturally going to be thinking about it. However, they’re all also incredibly bad at it, and generally do a horrible job at self-reflection. This is just an unfortunate coincidence

A Nobody can regrow a heart if they make connections, and are seen and acknowledged by others. Pretty sure that’s just canon. HOWEVER, Nobodies cannot help each other grow hearts- this is why none of the Organization regrew hearts after 10 years of being around each other, and despite connections within the group. 0+0 is still 0, after all. That’s what makes the policy of going undetected on missions so insidious. They’re never allowed the chance to regrow a heart. I’ve already talked about it somewhere else, but this is why Roxas grows a heart so fast- he ignores that rule, for the most part. Axel’s interactions with Sora are also what kickstarts his heart growth.

Hypothetically, since someone doesn’t have to remember a memory for Castle Oblivion to draw on it, the mechanics with the cards and the rooms could have been used to help Xemnas recall his past- considering how much time he spent talking to Aqua’s armor, I think that’s something he might’ve been interested in. HOWEVER! Since the Twilight Town card came from the memories on the other side of Sora’s heart, I propose that the properties of Castle Oblivion would have no effect on Nobodies. RIP.

Other thoughts

I’m not saying Ansem the Wise and Yensid were right about Nobodies! I do think they’re different from humans on a fundamental level, but demonizing them is Not Cool

On the idea that Nobodies aren’t meant to exist: Well. Just like before it’s total bogus bc the main perpetrators of that idea were either bigoted about it or liars or both but I think it’s a little more complicated than “everyone is flat wrong about this”. Nobodies are essentially naturally-occurring byproducts of Heartless. Most Nobodies (or, at least, the lesser ones, based on that one cutscene in kh2 where hearts rain down on The World That Never Was and we see a bunch of Dusks grasping for them) seem to have a drive to reclaim the heart they’ve lost- if reclaimed, that would mean they wouldn’t be a Nobody anymore. Creatures born in worlds of neither light nor darkness, created only through the destruction of another and only some of the time, who don’t even want to exist like this themselves... that’s what “Nobodies aren’t meant to exist” means to me, I think. BEAR IN MIND “MEANT” IS NOT THE SAME AS “DESERVE”

And then! There’s Nobodies who defy that! Or, uh, Nobody, singular. Roxas goes “bro I don’t care I want to exist as I am” and he does that (Naminé... didn’t really seem to share that opinion, if I’m remembering correctly. Probably because DiZ hammered it into her head that she didn’t deserve to exist). I wish we had seen something like that from one of the regular Nobodies- why should recompletion and/or regaining a heart be the ideal? Why do they have to die again in order to be “right”? It just further perpetuates that idea DiZ and Yensid pushed in kh2: Nobodies are Wrong and shouldn’t be around. Unless you’re special like Roxas or Naminé in which case it’s okay. But for everyone else it’s recomplete or bust... anyway this is a tangent I did not mean to go on with this post-

I think it’s interesting, how they’re made of nothingness and their existence is “nonexistent”. Nothingness is, as an element, something, as opposed to true nothing, which is the absence of anything. Nonexistence implies existence. It’s like how in math, sometimes an answer to a problem will be DNE-- that’s Nobodies, and “nothingness”. “Does not exist”, but in writing the answer, it does exist, as a nonexistent entity. As opposed to just... not having a math problem at all, and therefore not having a place to write a solution. That is true nothingness- all the Nobodies of people whose hearts weren’t strong enough to create Nobodies fall under this category. They don’t exist for real. Nothing as something vs nothing as nothing- ah fuck I just realized this is the second time I’ve used a math analogy for kingdom hearts. shit

in conclusion

that’s all of it. probably. i like nobodies a whole lot. now that i’m thinking about it i should’ve made this multiple posts instead of one huge one. if you read all of this you earn my undying love

#kingdom hearts #kh #organization xiii #nobodies #kh headcanons #me post #i dont expect anyone to reblog this one lmao #but it would be nice if someone read it #i spent a stupid amount of time thinking about this #oh my god wait #0+0=0 is technically also a math analogy #fuck ive done this three times #and with the mention of quantum mechanics this post outs me as a super turbo nerd multiple times

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sadruru · 11 months ago

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A little bit about the events in Barovia: I'll describe a bit of what happened to Light and her company. 1. In the Baron's mansion we had to fight the guards who were looking for Viktor Vallakovich for some reason. We killed them. Nita didn't like it, with low HP she freaked out and decided to lift the couch instead of Ismark. Failed her athleticism test and got a bleed. Light decided to help and angrily healed her.

2.I didn't tell you last time, but this guy's name is Albian. A red-haired guy with green clothes and green eyes. He's a warlock, but he's not an elf. He was originally born human, but Light somehow managed to talk to him separately and found out that his special appearance is due to a pact, just like his hat. Berries and flowers constantly grow on the hat, and he can't take it off for long. Albian didn't say who he made the pact with, and Light didn't insist. But she quickly realized that it seemed to be one of the very powerful fairies. He also talks weird. Like a storyteller from a fairy tale. And he gave everyone nicknames. He calls Light a blackberry. We offered to help him find Victor, his friend (yes, in our game, he is Victor's good friend). We agreed. But he only whispered what he looked like in Light's ear. I was shocked by such an act, blushed and banged my fist on the table for a long time. Yeah, I like watching them as a funny couple.

3. Light ran off in embarrassment with Tyrin, a priestess of Suna, the goddess of love and beauty. Somehow, miraculously, things had devolved into a rather personal conversation. Light told a bit about herself. The half elf tried to convince the fairy that she should try to open her heart again and not remember the past. Light really wants to go home.

Even I myself was amazed by this kind of conversation, even though this is my first time playing DnD. We talk to each other a lot. It brings out our characters more. And it seems like Light really fell in love~

4. …But someone clearly has trust issues, and there are many reasons for that. Because of the Shadow Plan, the fairy has emotional problems. She never feels happy or cheerful. Sveta dislikes people very much… She killed those who betrayed her and felt nothing, no conscience torments her. It scares her. I've noticed that a lot of my characters have trust issues. I need to think about it…

5. We fled the city from an angry mob of peasants. We stopped for the night in the woods on the way to the Abbey of St. Markovia. We even found Victor! Now we have a long rest. Turns out Albian can do different hairstyles (he has 2 younger sisters). Light got brave and asked him to braid her hair. He agreed.

I'm really glad he's being nice to her at all. But I've been told that he and Victor are in this story for a reason and could be very disappointing…

I love the drama and the glass eating. Thanks. I wish I hadn't been told that... 🗿

6. Right now, Light wasn't thrilled with her appearance. But Albian hinted that Victor might be able to tell her something about her problem. I already know what's haunting her. I'm freaked out by that fact. Maybe later I'll drop a hint who exactly.

7. Darcy is our dhampir. The whole group wishes she and Ismark were together. He's really paying attention to her. Albian's finished with her hair. Even added flowers.

Light is cute~ But Albian is blind and can't see that she really likes him 🗿🗿🗿

And me, of course. Some memes!~ I once stayed up all night and day. I turned into the Joker. I told jokes, screamed about crazy ending theories, about Victor, Albian, myself, panicked. The Dungeon Master just silently read my ramblings with interest... and smiled. Shook my hand in messages. I'm really scared now and I'm wondering what's going to happen next. What did I sign up for?!..

#artists on tumblr #oc #original character #art #didgital art #digital drawing #illustration #dnd 5e #curse of strahd

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rou-luxe · 6 months ago

Note

Brainrot about someone who isn't alfons

CW MENTIONS OF CANNIBALISM, FICTIONAL RELIGION, SEXISM, ABLEISM, SOCIETAL EXPECTATIONS, PROBABLY MORE I FORGOT TO MENTION

aww man well this one will be a lot more awkward

and there will be a lot of unexplained blanks 😘

first one that came to mind is this oc

to people who were there during his making (~1 year ago?) he is known as the "precious babygirl the little skrunkly" and I joke that he has a cult

I actually haven't thought about him for a while uh he's just been rotting in my basement

ray has a designated folder in my files it's called "ray lives matter"

he's on my TH (that I have been neglecting)

here is a small outline of the worldbuilding. there is a LOT of worldbuilding

"It has been rumored that a young man, a powerless witch spawn no less, is rebelling against the beliefs of the witches' church. With hands already soiled since long ago, a sinner seeks to slaughter those teachings he used to preach. A young child seeks to help a cannibal to redemption, while that sinner is trying to protect her from the horrors of the world, and guide her to the truth."

there are a few different "factions":

Sanemi and their homunculi

the witches (Five base families: Constantine, Lan, Evans, Innamorati, Infideliter)

the "gods" that the witches worship blindly (Mind, Death, Life, Love, Dream)

a large gang of humans that have a bone to pick with the witches

Constantine has control over the court and the law system. The Lan clan has control over the church and religion. Okay I kind of forgot about the other ones but

The members of Evans House have high amounts of magic, but they are rather solitary. They're usually in hiding.

The Innamorati have no enemies. They are filled with hopeless lovers. They're filled with affection, but their relationships are always destined for tragedy. However... they don't abandon their children like the others do.

No one knows what really happened to Infideliter House. They all died after "divine judgement".

Most of the families tend to abandon their amab children ("less potential magic") or children who are born without magic at all. Children show signs of magic around their seventh birthday. How these children are abandoned, however, is up to the parents.

Young Raymond Lan, upon being abandoned, started to slaughter people for food. His moral system was extremely wounded. Up to this point in his life, he was dogmatic to a fault, and he began to throw it all away.

As an adult, he is hunting down the beasts he used to believe in: the gods.

holy I haven't drawn him in a while 💀💀

this is him and his boyfriend patron 😔😔 unrequitted love

now sanemi here wants to play god. he wants to BE a god. and what do gods do? they make life.

but okay we can't explain how sanemi and his other self are connected that will be too long

but something cannot come from nothing. so he goes down from his castle in the sky and sends ray on a journey to gather "materials" to make homunculi. but ray is extremely touch starved and has a warped sense of love and let's just say that's how he wanted to be paid 🥰

a lot of the homunculi... failed. in fact, one of the "failures" is still alive. but they were kept due to their complete and utter devotion to their maker. that's what sanemi wants. an utterly perfect being.

sanemi raises them... like an asian parent

okay this is where the story actually starts

at some point in time, sanemi keeps ray locked up in his basement... and guess who waltzes in. yes. his most cherished homunculi. after some time, sanemi realized that the perfect being could only be a pure, impressionable child. a being that he could shape however he likes.

so yeah this little homunculus kid accidentally finds a way into the basement and sees a bleeding cannibal with shredded clothing and tells him that even though he might have killed multiple people she thinks he can be redeemed and ray is like "kid the world is not as kind as you believe" and the only thing running through his mind is "I can't unsee the people I killed to make this homunculus alive" and it's all a fucking mess 💀💀

and then we go on a journey to go kill some gods :3 yeah

there's a LOT more but I should shut up

#rouocs #roubrainrot #rouanswers

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magicalsniper · 6 months ago

Text

9,832 words | Mature | One-Shot Author's AO3: MagicalSniper Story Link: An Heir is Borne

Summary: Arthur and Guinevere face a crisis when Arthur is found to be sterile, leaving the kingdom without an heir. Desperate, they turn to Merlin, who agrees to help them conceive a child through magic despite his own unrequited love for Arthur. However, little do they know, Merlin plans on leaving Camelot for good once Gwen falls pregnant.

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

An Heir is Borne

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

Beneath the starry sky of Arthur’s bed chambers that Merlin had placed one day for a prank but kept because Arthur loved it, Arthur’s hand found Gwen’s in a tremulous grasp. Gwen interlocked their fingers and closed her eyes, pressing her lips to his knuckles and letting out a shaky breath.

“Yet another month passes,” Arthur murmured as if the words were heavy on his tongue. His blue eyes, usually clear and sure, were clouded with sadness and self-doubt. “And still, no heir.”

Gwen sighed softly, shaking her head, her dark curls spilling over her shoulders. “Perhaps it is time to seek Merlin’s help,” she suggested gently. She understood her husband’s hesitance in getting their friend involved, but he might be their last hope. “He would never think ill of us.”

Arthur scoffed, rising from the edge of their bed. “Merlin wouldn’t think ill of us if we put him on a pyre to burn.”

“Maybe, but let’s not test that theory,” Merlin chirped as he entered the room with a large tray. He held the door for George, who was holding another large tray, and for Elisabeth, who was holding the water and wine jugs. He dismissed George and Elisabeth and walked up to the bed to lean against the left front bedpost, an eyebrow raised. “Why am I being put on a pyre?”

Arthur gave Gwen an uncertain look before sighing heavily. “Gwen and I have been trying to have a baby. We’ve yet to be successful.”

“Maybe your soldiers are just as stubborn as you,” Merlin quipped. He then grew serious, his face softening with genuine concern. “How long have you been trying?”

“About six seasons,” Gwen admitted, causing Arthur to wince. Merlin’s face mirrored their concern.

“And your monthly bleed is normal? I imagine so because once a month for like a week, Arthur complains and comp—”

“Shut it!” Arthur snapped, throwing a pillow at Merlin’s head.

“There are tests we can try,” Merlin said as he caught the pillow and fluffed it before handing it to Gwen to place back on Arthur’s side of the bed. He tilted his head, shaking it slightly to get the hair out of his eyes. “Spells of fertility, to see what is happening.”

“Are they dangerous?” Gwen asked, worry clouding her features.

“Only to Arthur’s pride,” Merlin said with a grin. He motioned for Gwen to come closer and, in a theatrical whisper, said, “he has to provide a sample for me.”

Arthur blanched. “What kind of sample?”

Merlin maintained a serious expression, though his eyes twinkled with mischief. “You need to ejaculate into a beaker for me. It’s the only way to get an accurate test with the spell. I could do it straight to your testicles, but then you risk frying the rest of them.” Arthur winced and moved his legs together. Merlin looked down at Gwen, “You can help him if he needs it, but honestly, if his sheets are anything to go by, he’s a semi-pro.”

“Gwen will not be helping me with that!” Arthur said, his face flushing with embarrassment.

“What, you want me to help you?” Merlin asked, finally allowing a small, reassuring smile to break through.

Arthur was at a loss of words for a moment, his face getting redder and redder as he struggled to form a sentence.

Gwen laughed and slapped Merlin’s shoulder gently, “Stop teasing him. He’s about to pass out.”

Merlin sighed heavily and shook his head at her, his tone light and affectionate. “You always take away my fun.” He straightened and motioned towards the table. “Why don’t we eat and discuss it more? If you are comfortable, we can start the tests tonight.”

“See, told you he could do it,” Merlin joked lightly later that evening as Arthur shoved the beaker with his sample into Merlin’s hands, refusing to meet his eyes.

“We will never speak of this again,” Arthur said through gritted teeth, standing beside Gwen on the other side of Merlin’s table. He squeezed her hand tightly, his heart feeling as if it were about to fall out of his chest.

Merlin’s chambers, which were across the corridor from Arthur and down the corridor from Gwen’s, were dimly lit. Tendrils of incense smoke rose, making the air feel heavy. Merlin drew intricate symbols on the table, his fingers leaving luminescent trails that glowed softly against the wood.

Arthur’s jaw was set firm as Merlin began to enchant, his voice barely above a murmur, yet it resonated through the room. Gwen’s eyes didn’t leave Merlin’s hands as, with careful precision, he dropped herbs into a chalice of water, each submerged with a pulsing ripple. The chalice's contents shimmered, casting an ethereal light that danced across their anxious faces.

Merlin placed the sample in the middle of the chalice, the liquid in the chalice now a vortex of swirling colours, each hue blending into the next. With a swift motion, he upturned the chalice, sending the contents to spread across the drawn circle.

The trio held their breath, watching the liquid stretch along the table, stopping within the confines. Arthur and Gwen looked up to Merlin for guidance, but his frown merely grew the dimmer the concoction got.

Merlin stepped away from the table, sniffled and took a deep, shaky breath before vanishing everything from the table. “I’m so sorry.”

A sharp intake of breath from Gwen pierced the silence that followed. Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back as she looked over at Arthur.

Arthur stood frozen, the colour draining from his face, leaving him ghostly pale. The implications of Merlin's words were a blow more devastating than any enemy's sword. A sterile king—a broken link in the chain of succession—meant uncertainty and chaos for Camelot.

“Are you certain?” Arthur’s voice cracked, his usual confidence shattered.

“There is a minimal chance, if ever, that you will be able to sire a child,” Merlin responded softly. He hesitated before reaching over and rubbing Arthur’s back as Gwen reached for Arthur’s hand, squeezing it.

“Then we must discuss the next steps,” Arthur said, his voice steadying with resolve.

Merlin looked over at him, eyes flooded with curiosity. “Next steps, like assigning an heir?”

“That is one of the options,” Gwen admitted, pushing a strand of hair behind her ears. “I think this is better if we do it sitting down.”

Merlin summoned the chairs from the other side of the room and sat on the table, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees.

“I need a drink,” Arthur muttered, not even flinching when Merlin summoned the goblets and wine from his chambers and handed him and Gwen theirs.

“We’ve discussed that if one of us—”

Arthur took a deep drink from his wine. “Is unable,” Arthur finished for her, his eyes locking into Merlin’s. “That we would seek help.”

"Help?" Merlin queried, his brow knitting in confusion. “Surely not—”

Arthur shook his head hard, “Nothing like my father had done. A surrogate or donor, depending on our needs.”

“A donor,” Merlin said slowly. He licked his lips, “who were you considering?”

“Well, you.”

“Me!?” Merlin’s reaction was immediate and visceral; he almost fell off the table in his shock. “Surely, you can’t mean—”

“The kingdom needs an heir,” Arthur interrupted, his voice edging towards a plea.

“Of course, but consider the ramifications,” Merlin countered, his voice rising in pitch. "If the child does not resemble you, questions will arise. The accusations against Gwen alone..."

"Could weaken Camelot further," Arthur conceded, his expression darkening.

“Beyond the whispers of infidelity, there is the matter of lineage,” Merlin pressed on, his hands gesturing emphatically. "The legitimacy of your rule, the stability of the realm—it all hinges upon the perception of a rightful heir."

“We thought of all that, which is why it has to be you,” Gwen said with finality.

Merlin dropped his hands into his lap, “I don’t follow.”

“We announce that you will be the child’s sire—”

“Are you insane?” Merlin screeched, “That’ll invite chaos and dissent.”

“Or it will be seen as the connection of Camelot to the magical community, something to make it stronger,” Arthur said, folding his arms across his chest. “A child, born to the Camelot throne, a child of Emrys…”

“But, Arthur, they will say you’re weak.”

“No, they will see we’re strong,” Arthur said firmly. “There have been times in Camelot’s history where an heir was not sired or had died early in life. The successful adopted heirs were those announced to the community, not hidden out of the King’s shame of not being able to sire one.” Arthur took a deep breath and looked into his friend’s eyes, a vulnerable smile on his face. “We can’t hide the fact that it will be your child, but we won’t have to.”

“Merlin, everyone loves you. Yes, there will be people against it, likely some of our counsellors, but the vast majority? They’d be proud to call your child a leader one day.” Gwen leaned forward and touched his knee, giving it a light squeeze. “The hope you would give the magical community—showing that you are helping grow Camelot into a haven for them—what better way than to give your child to rule the kingdom?”

“I…” Merlin glared down at his shoes, his fingers playing with his laces. “I don’t know about this…”

Arthur reached forward and took Merlin’s hand, squeezing it lightly before rubbing his thumb against the top. “Merlin, there is no one else in this world whom I trust as I trust you,” he began, his voice laced with an earnestness that Merlin hadn’t ever heard from him before. "You are my most loyal friend, my confidant, and the very soul of Camelot. Your intentions have always been pure, even when faced with the darkest times."

Merlin felt the room spin slightly, the gravity of Arthur's words anchoring him to the spot. He watched Gwen give them a slight, encouraging nod before she rose gracefully from her seat and retreated, leaving the two men alone.

"Arthur," Merlin started but was silenced by a gesture.

“Let me speak,” Arthur implored. "I have never doubted your loyalty nor your love for Camelot—and for us. If there is one man in this kingdom who could fulfil this role, who could help us in our most desperate hour, it is you, Merlin."

Merlin swallowed hard, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around him like a cloak. It was rare for Arthur to expose such vulnerability. "Arthur, this could bring unforeseen consequences upon us all," Merlin murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Perhaps," Arthur conceded, moving closer to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with his friend. "But without an heir, Camelot's future is bleak. You know as well as I that the realm's stability rests upon our lineage. Without it, the kingdom will fall into chaos, and the work we've done, the progress we've made towards uniting the five kingdoms—will be no more."

He knocked his shoulder with Merlin’s before pressing into his side. "I would not ask this of anyone else, Merlin," Arthur continued solemnly. "You are the one person in this world, other than Gwen, whom I can trust with anything—my life, crown, and heart. You have stood by me through trials that would have broken lesser men. You've saved my life more times than I can count."

"Arthur, you are my king, my best friend," Merlin replied, caught in the intensity of Arthur's blue gaze. "Your request is... it's not something I ever imagined."

"Nor I," Arthur admitted. "But here we are, and I find myself asking you to help us in a way that goes beyond anything I have ever asked. I know that you love us, Merlin, and I know that you would never use this as an excuse to seek the crown."

Silence followed, Merlin unable to come up with any reasonable retort.

"Think on it, Merlin," Arthur said finally, his hand dropping away as he stepped back, allowing Merlin the space to process the enormity of the proposition. "This is not just about us—it's about the future of Camelot."

Merlin sighed heavily and licked his lips, his fingers twisting into the bottom of his tunic. His eyes, usually shining with joy, now flickered with an emotion that seemed to wrestle between profound duty and personal turmoil.

"Arthur," Merlin began, his voice steady despite the storm of thoughts raging in his mind. "I will consider your request, but know that this is not a decision I can make lightly or quickly."

Arthur nodded sharply, "I understand. And whatever you decide, know that it will change nothing between us. You are my most trusted friend, and that is not contingent upon the answer you give."

"Thank you, Sire," Merlin replied, the formality of the title feeling suddenly inadequate for the moment. He glanced towards the door, feeling Gwen’s presence just beyond the wood. "I shall give you my answer by the rise of the next moon," he promised.

Arthur clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder before stepping away and leaving Merlin to his thoughts. As he stopped by the door, he glanced back at his friend. Merlin was still sitting upon the table, but now, his face was hidden in his knees, and his hands were running and pulling at the strands of his hair. With a sigh, Arthur opened the door and closed it softly behind him, joining his wife in the corridor. He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin atop her head and kissing her crown.

"What if he says no?" Gwen whispered, her words fragile as glass.

"Then we will face that when it comes," Arthur replied, his voice unwavering even as his heart quaked with uncertainty. "We have overcome much, my love. We will overcome this, too.”

Gwen pulled away and took his hand, “Let’s go to sleep. It’s been a long evening.”

As the night deepened around Camelot, the castle seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the decision that would shape the destiny of a kingdom.

And outside, beneath the veil of stars and the watchful gaze of the heavens, Merlin walked the cobblestone paths, his footsteps echoing softly against stone, the weight of a crown's future pressing upon his shoulders.

~o0o~

Merlin traced the contours of the wooden table with an absent-minded finger, his gaze distant as Gwaine and Lancelot entered his chambers. He greeted them with a melancholy smile and gestured for them to sit. He continued his musing, barely nodding in thanks when Gwaine slid a goblet of wine his way.

“What’s wrong?” Lancelot asked, pushing his hair from his eyes. “Another fight with Arthur?”

“No, it’s not that.” With a sigh, Merlin sat back in his chair, frown deepening. “The harvest moon is near, but the fields are barren.”

“What?” Gwaine leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Someone is struggling to conceive,” Lancelot said softly, his features tightening as he caught the hidden meaning in Merlin’s words. “Arthur and Gwen?”

Gwaine snorted. “Of course, it’s them. Who else would you be this down about?”

Merlin opened his mouth to argue but stopped, knowing it was pointless. “They asked me to help them have a child.”

Gwaine stood up abruptly. “Are they insane!? How could they ask that of you?” His voice was a low growl, his hands clenching into fists. He glared over at Lancelot, who put a calming hand on his shoulder and lightly pushed down to get Gwaine to sit back.

Merlin’s eyes watered, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m their last hope. If I don’t help them, who will?”

Lancelot leaned forward and took Merlin’s hand, squeezing it gently. “My friend, it is noble to consider this, but at what cost to your own heart?”

Merlin smiled sadly. “My love for Arthur will always be unrequited. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do something that will make them immeasurably happy.”

Lancelot and Gwaine shared a look. “It’ll tear you apart to watch Arthur and Gwen raise a child that you helped create,” Gwaine said, his voice softening with concern.

Merlin scoffed. “Even if Arthur returned my affections, we’d never have children. And in either case, what am I to do?” Merlin’s voice became almost lyrical, giving both men pause. He only spoke like that regarding talks of Destiny, the Five Kingdoms, and Albion. It usually meant he had already made his choice, and they couldn’t stop him.

“He wouldn’t hate you, you know,” Lancelot said gently.

“Of course, but I’d hate myself,” Merlin admitted. “If I don’t help Arthur and Gwen when I easily could. I can’t forsake Camelot’s future for selfish reasons.” He paused momentarily, looking unsure about his next sentence. “Should I go through with it, it would mean I leave Camelot.”

Gwaine spat out his wine, and Lancelot patted him on the back as he coughed violently. “Leave Camelot!?” He slammed his goblet on the table, causing a small crack on the surface. “You are the core of this kingdom! There wouldn’t be a Camelot without you.”

Merlin looked down at the table, “Sometimes, even the core must be removed for the whole body to thrive.”

“That is absolute—”

“Gwaine,” Lancelot said forcefully.

“You can’t think this is okay!?” Gwaine turned towards him angrily. “Merlin’s given up everything for Arthur. He is going too far this time, asking him for something like this.”

“I agree, but our job as Merlin’s friends is to support him in what he chooses to do.”

“How is this even going to happen? You have no interest in having sex with a woman,” Gwaine said, turning back to Merlin.

Merlin scrunched up his nose. It was true. There was only one woman he ever had an interest in sleeping with, and she was no longer a viable option. “There’s a spell one can use to transfer sperm into an ovum without the physical touch required of sex. It has to happen minutes after release for it to be effective, which is—”

“Weird,” Gwaine said bluntly. “What are you going to do, pleasure yourself with them in the room watching?” Gwaine scoffed and leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs. “I didn’t know voyeurism was a kink of yours.”

Merlin frowned at Gwaine, “It is not—”

“I’ll go with you,” Gwaine said with a heavy sigh. “When you leave Camelot.” he elaborated at Merlin’s confused look.

“Myself as well,” Lancelot said. “You won’t have to go through this alone, my friend.”

Merlin met with Arthur and Gwen early the following day for breakfast as usual. His mind was a vortex of entropy, and his emotions only held up marginally better. Upon reaching Arthur’s chambers, he paused to gather the last vestiges of composure before he had what was arguably the most important talk they’d ever had.

With a deep breath, he knocked and entered, finding Arthur and Gwen already at their table and having started breakfast. Gwen shot him a brilliant smile and pushed out the chair on the other side of the table. “Merlin, come join us.”

Merlin walked over slowly, each step heavy with the weight of his decision. He sat down gingerly on the edge of the chair, feeling their concerned gazes on him. Gwen frowned and reached over to grab a clean plate, piling on foods she knew he liked to eat before nudging it in front of him.

Arthur’s sharp eyes narrowed as he watched Merlin’s uncharacteristic hesitation. “What’s wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice a mix of worry and frustration.

Merlin bit his lip, then looked up at them, his heart pounding. He forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll do it.”

Gwen gasped, her hand flying to her chest, her lips parting in shock. Arthur faltered, his eyes widening in surprise and something that looked like hope. “You’ll do it?” Arthur’s voice held a tremor that betrayed his usual fortitude.

“Yes,” Merlin confirmed, his gaze unwavering despite the storm inside him.

Gwen quickly got up from the table and circled Merlin, her arms wrapping around him tightly. “Thank you, Merlin. We can never repay you.” Her voice was thick with emotion, tears glistening in her eyes.

Arthur came up beside them and hugged Merlin, the warmth of their embrace both comforting and excruciating. Merlin pressed his face into Arthur’s shoulder, taking a shaky breath as he tried, failing to stop the tears in his eyes. He reached out and held them tightly, the reality of his decision sinking in.

“Think nothing of it,” Merlin said softly, allowing himself a moment to collect himself in their arms. “My only wish is to see you both happy and for Camelot to thrive.”

He gently extricated himself from their embrace, his heart aching with the loss he was about to face. “I’ll need a few days,” he said, keeping his voice steady despite the tempest brewing in his heart. “The specifics of the process require some preparation. It’ll take a bit to gather what is necessary and ensure everything is done correctly.”

“Take all the time you need, Merlin. We trust you completely,” Arthur said, his tone warm and filled with gratitude. It was subtle, but Merlin could hear the anticipation in his voice.

Gwen reached over, her touch light on Merlin’s forearm. “Is there anything we should do to prepare or be concerned about?”

Merlin shook his head. “It’s fairly simple, nothing like the one that ensured Arthur’s birth.” He paused for a moment, biting his lip. “You should use the time to come to terms with the fact that your child will likely have magic and be a dragonlord. My mother told me I was moving things before I was born—books flying, dancing vials, things like that.”

Gwen and Arthur were silent, causing Merlin to stutter out the following words. “I-I could bind the child’s powers. It isn’t dangerous if you do it before they are born, and it takes hold.” He offered, but the thought pained him more than he dared to admit.

“Absolutely not,” Arthur said firmly. “If our child has magic, especially magic inherited from you, Merlin, then it is meant to be nurtured. Any child with your gift... it could be nothing but pure and good.”

Gwen nodded her agreement, her eyes shining with determination. “They will know nothing but love and acceptance.”

Warmth bloomed in Merlin’s chest, a bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow. “Thank you,” he managed to say, his throat tight with emotion. “I’ll begin the preparations at once.”

With that, Merlin excused himself to his chambers. Once there, he began to methodically gather the items he wanted to take, laying them out on his desk with a sense of finality. He separated his magic books from his personal effects, each item a memory of his time in Camelot. With a flick of his hand, he expanded the inside of his bag, the enchantment echoing the depth of his resolve. He carefully placed the books first, including the first book of magic he had received from Gaius. Next, he added his clothes and the small souvenirs he had collected over the years, each from various patrols, battles, feasts and festivals he joined.

At the top of the pile, he placed Arthur’s mother’s sigil, nestling it safely between the folds of his garments. The sigil was more than a token; it symbolised his bond with Arthur and the promise he had made to protect him. The last item he packed was a beautiful sapphire cloak with the Pendragon crest embroidered in gold thread on the front. It was a gift from Arthur and Gwen when he was made Court Sorcerer, a cherished reminder of their friendship and trust in him.

As the quiet hours of the night wore on, Merlin sat at his desk and wrote goodbye letters to his closest friends. Each letter was a labour of love, gratitude, and sorrow, the words flowing from his heart like a bittersweet melody. He poured his soul into each stroke of the pen, knowing that these letters would be the last pieces of himself he could leave behind.

With the first light of dawn cresting over the horizon, Merlin placed the notes in the top drawer of his desk. He had arranged for them to be delivered a day after he left Camelot, ensuring that there would be enough distance to prevent his friends from finding him too soon. Deep down, he knew they would come looking for him, driven by the same love and loyalty that bound them together.

The following day, Merlin steeled himself to fulfil his promise as the castle stirred to life. He would catalyse a future for Camelot that shimmered with hope, even if it meant walking away from the life he had known. His heart ached with the weight of his decision, but Merlin knew this act of deep loyalty and love would shape the destiny of the kingdom he cherished. As he took his final steps away from the castle he had called home, he felt the bittersweet pang of a new path unfolding before him, one marked by sacrifice and the unyielding strength of his heart.

~o0o~

The moonlight streamed through the stained glass window, casting a kaleidoscope of colours across Arthur’s chamber. The room, usually a sanctuary of comfort for Merlin, now felt suffocating with tension.

Merlin closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, hoping the warmth of the fire would ease his tension. He panted, his tongue circling two fingers before pressing them into his mouth. His left hand trailed down to his hip, rubbing slow circles. But nothing worked. Frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair and growled, leaping up from Arthur’s bed. The weight of Arthur and Gwen’s stares was unbearable.

"I can't do this with you both staring at me," Merlin snapped, his cheeks flushing crimson.

“You can go into the antechamber. I had George clean it out this morning,” Gwen suggested encouragingly.

Merlin nodded stiffly and walked to the antechamber, closing the door firmly behind him. He began to pace, anxiety mounting. If he didn’t do something soon, he wouldn’t be able to help Arthur and Gwen.

Two knocks on the door preceded Arthur’s entrance. Merlin stiffened, turning slowly, barely meeting Arthur’s eyes.

“I can’t do it with just you watching me either,” Merlin snarked, rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants.

Arthur raised his hands placatingly. “I was thinking… well, maybe I could…” A blush crept up his cheeks, and Merlin raised a brow. “I could help you.”

“Unless you can vanish on command,” Merlin retorted, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “I fear not.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur scoffed. “What is a little help between us? The knights do it all the time.”

“I’m not a knight,” Merlin pointed out. “And you can’t—”

Arthur waved his hand dismissively. “Nonsense, it wouldn’t be a hardship.” His eyes glinted mischievously but held sincerity. “I assure you.”

Merlin bit his bottom lip, torn between his desire and the potential consequences. This might be his one chance to be with Arthur the way he wanted, but Arthur didn’t know of his feelings. Still, Arthur had offered...

His heart stuttered in his chest as he nodded slowly.

Arthur closed the distance between them, his steps unhurried as he lightly pressed a hand to Merlin’s chest and pushed him backwards until his knees met the bed. Merlin toppled over and reached out to grab Arthur in his shock.

He took a shuddery breath and let go of Arthur’s tunic. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He was suddenly reminded of the power and pain of loving someone out of reach and how this would likely only damage him more. Merlin swallowed thickly and shakily undid his pants before pushing his shirt up his chest before he could back out.

The room was chilly, causing him to suck in his stomach at the sudden temperature change, but he forced himself to relax, take deep breaths and block out everything else other than what was happening.

Arthur made to slide down to his knees when Merlin grabbed his tunic and pulled up until their faces were mere centimetres apart. “What’s wrong?” Arthur asked softly, his breath warming Merlin’s face.

“Kings should never be on their knees,” Merlin said firmly, ignoring the pleasure that shot through him at the very thought.

Arthur chuckled and rolled his eyes, placing a gentle hand on Merlin’s thigh as his other slowly freed his hardening cock. Merlin’s breath hitched as Arthur’s hand, calloused from years of wielding a sword, closed around him with unexpected gentleness. “For you, Merlin, I’d gladly walk on my knees.”

A violent shiver coursed down Merlin’s spine at the words, and he couldn’t help but lean into the sensations Arthur’s skilled hands evoked. It had been too long since he had felt this close to another, and the moment's intimacy was overwhelming.

Arthur leaned forward and nuzzled against the top of Merlin’s thigh, his breath ghosting over his cock, causing him to shiver as it rushed across the wet head. Merlin couldn’t help the strangled noise that escaped his lips as he pushed Arthur’s head off of his thigh before his hands flew up to cover his face as he felt tears begin to well in his eyes.

He grabbed a pillow and hid his face in it, covering the rest of it with his arm. With his other, he reached down and started to run his fingers up and down his chest, sharp nails catching on a nipple, leaving him to buck into Arthur’s hand with a groan.

Arthur squeezed and twisted his hand over the head of Merlin’s cock, causing a drop of pre-cum to weep from the tip. He gently took a finger and rubbed against the slit. Merlin’s breathing hitched, and Merlin knew he couldn’t take much more. “Keep doing that,” he gasped, his voice thick with need.

Arthur slightly altered his touch to firmly rub from base to tip, collecting the precum as it dropped and massaging it into the head and shaft. “You’re so wet for me,” Arthur leaned up and whispered in his ear. Merlin’s toes curled in his boots, and he bit back a moan. It was too much, yet not enough, as his body yearned for more.

“I-I’m close,” he managed to ground out, his fingers pulling at his hair.

“Come for me, Merlin,” Arthur whispered in his ear, and it was that, the tender way Arthur spoke his name, that sent him over the edge.

Merlin’s climax crashed through him like a tidal wave, and he arched his back, crying out as pleasure surged through every fibre of his being. The world seemed to momentarily swirl around him as white-hot ecstasy coursed through his veins, and he barely registered the vial pressed against the tip of his cock.

The room fell silent as he panted for air. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it did nothing to hold back the tears that began to fall from his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Arthur was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place.

As his breath steadied, his chest rising and galling with a pace that slowly returned to its usual rhythm, he righted himself, feeling the familiar pull of his protective facades snapping back into place as he sniffled and wiped his face one last time. Avoiding Arthur’s gaze, he forced a cheerful tone. “We should get back to Gwen.”

Arthur’s concern still lingered in his eyes, the intensity of the moment they shared hanging between them, but Merlin deftly manoeuvred past it. He wasn't about to let Arthur see how profoundly the act had affected him— not when this was to give him and Gwen the thing they wanted most in the world.

"Merlin," Arthur started, but Merlin raised a hand, halting any words that might further strip away the layers he hastily rebuilt.

"Really, Arthur. Gwen needs us," Merlin insisted, the smile plastered on his face, not quite reaching his troubled eyes. With an unsteady step, he grabbed the vial from Arthur’s hand and moved towards the door, eager to distance himself from the intimacy of the antechamber.

Gwen awaited them on Arthur’s bed. She sat cross-legged, embroidering something into a thick leather band resembling what Arthur sometimes wore around his wrist. She looked up and smiled at him softly, gently putting what she was working on to the side to give him her full attention.

“Feeling relaxed?” He asked lightly, coming up beside her and sitting on the bed.

“Of course,” Gwen replied. “I trust you, Merlin.”

He nodded and rolled the vial in his hand before he began, taking one more silent moment before things changed forever.

Merlin began the incantation with practised movements, his fingers weaving through the air as ancient words flowed from his lips. A warm glow emanated from the vial, casting dancing shadows upon the stone walls.

Arthur had gone to sit on Gwen’s other side and grabbed her hand, watching Merlin carefully as he completed the ritual. The magic swirled around them, and the trio fell silent as they waited, the seconds stretching into an eternity. The vial suddenly shone with a brilliant burst of light, marking the success of their endeavour.

Arthur and Gwen laughed, unbelievable huffs as they stared at her womb that was confirmed to now be with child. Merlin couldn’t help but mirror their reaction, although he much felt like sobbing in relief. Thanking any deity, he could say that he didn’t have to go through the routine again, and he didn’t think he would be able to do it a second time.

“Do they have magic?” Gwen asked softly, holding her hand protectively over her womb.

Merlin closed his eyes and listened, feeling the pulse of magic around him. It was faint, but he felt a slight tug of magic coming from Gwen that he never had before.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “It is hard to tell how much they’ll have right now.” He smiled tightly, “Although, even a small amount of magic will keep you on your feet.”

“I’ve had good practice,” Arthur smirked before reaching down and pulling Merlin to his feet. Merlin stood uncertainly when suddenly he found himself enveloped in a tight embrace, first from Gwen, whose gratitude was palpable in every line of her body, and then Arthur, who wrapped strong arms around them.

"Merlin," Gwen began, her voice thick with emotion, "I don't know how we can ever repay you for this gift."

"Your happiness is payment enough," Merlin replied, the words barely above a whisper. His face was still partially concealed behind his hands as he fought to master the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Still, we owe you more than words can say. You've given us hope, Merlin—hope for a future that seemed out of reach."

Merlin buried his face in Arthur’s neck, trying to hide the tears he was trying and failing to keep from falling. “We owe you everything,” Arthur whispered in his ear as he pressed his forehead to Merlin’s temple.

“Anything for you,” Merlin said lightly, subtly rubbing his face against the cloth on Arthur’s shoulder before pulling away. “I’m going to go to bed; this took a lot out of me.”

"Of course, Merlin," Arthur said, concern lacing his tone as he observed the sorcerer's sudden, weary posture. "We will see you in the morning."

“Good night, Merlin,” Gwen said with a wide smile.

“Goodbye,” he managed to say, his voice steady despite the fatigue that dragged at his limbs like chains. He offered them a smile that was more tired than joy, unable to give them anymore. He only hoped Arthur was too distracted to read through him.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned back one last time to look at them. Arthur and Gwen were huddled together on the edge of Arthur’s bed, their hands pressed to her stomach and their smiles bright.

With a deep breath, he nodded to himself and stepped out into the corridor, the click of the door closing behind him echoing like a final note in a long and arduous symphony.

Merlin made his way through Camelot's dimly lit stone corridors, his steps slow and reflective. The torches flickered on the walls as he passed, casting shadows that matched his tumultuous emotions. With his possessions over his shoulder, he allowed his feet to take him to his final destination before he left Camelot for good.

Gaius’ chambers were as familiar to Merlin as his own heartbeat, a sanctuary within the vastness of the castle, second only to Arthur’s chambers. Pushing open the door, he saw Gaius bent over a scroll, his brow furrowed in concentration. The old man looked up, his gaze sharpening upon seeing the weariness in Merlin’s features.

"Merlin, what is it?" Gaius asked, concern instantly flooding his voice.

"The ritual... was successful," Merlin began his voice a low murmur that carried the weight of his relief and exhaustion. Gwen is with the child."

Gaius rose from his seat, a smile blooming on his face. "That's wonderful news, truly," he said, clasping Merlin's shoulder affectionately. "And the magic?"

Merlin hesitated for a fraction of a moment. "They have at least a small portion of magic. I was able to feel it already. This means I need you to guide them, Gaius. Teach them to harness their power, to use it wisely."

"Of course," Gaius nodded, his eyes narrowed slightly, reading something unspoken in Merlin's stance. "But you speak as if you won't be here to see it yourself."

Merlin's gaze dropped to the floor, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. When he lifted his eyes again, an implacable resolve was within them. "I am leaving Camelot," he declared, the words resolute yet thick with emotion. My path... it lies elsewhere now."

"Merlin, you can't mean this," Gaius protested, the distress evident in his voice. "After everything, you would turn your back on Camelot? On Arthur?"

"It's not a matter of turning my back," Merlin's response was swift, tinged with sorrow. "It's about being needed elsewhere. There are rumours that Cenred’s up to his tricks again, taking young sorcerers from their parents and turning them into slaves. I must put a stop to it, and I cannot stay tethered to Camelot’s gates if I want any chance of doing so."

"Reconsider this," Gaius implored, reaching out as if trying to anchor Merlin to the present physically. "You can’t go off to fight a war alone, and you are needed here in Camelot with Arthur."

"Arthur has his queen and, soon, an heir," Merlin countered, his tone gentle yet unyielding. "He is no longer the young prince who needed guidance at every step. And you, Gaius, you are more than capable of guiding him in my steed. Should the need arise, seek help from the Druids. They will help if they know I sent you."

"Merlin—"

"Promise me, Gaius," Merlin interjected, his eyes locking onto those of his mentor. "Promise me you'll look after them."

"I promise," Gaius acquiesced, the fight draining from him as he recognised the finality in Merlin's decision. "But my worry is not who will look after them but who will look after you."

Merlin scoffed, “I don’t need looking after.” He paused and sighed heavily, “I thank you for everything. I wouldn’t be where I am today without you.” Merlin said, his voice barely above a whisper, imbued with a lifetime of gratitude and unshed tears. With a last lingering look, he turned and strode from the room, leaving behind the flickering torchlight and the man who had been his teacher and anchor.

As he walked through the corridors and out the castle entrance, he thought of the countless mornings awoken by the bustle of servants, the late nights spent pouring over ancient texts with Gaius, and the stolen moments of quiet conversation with Arthur under the stars. He couldn’t help but stop once he was at the castle gates and stare up at the castle, unable to hold back the tears that fell. He laughed wetly, with how many times he’d cried that evening. He could hear Arthur’s voice in his mind calling him a girl.

"Goodbye, my friend," he murmured, not sure if he addressed the castle, its people, or the memories they held. With a finality that resonated in his core, Merlin stopped before the gate when he caught sight of the two shadows waiting for him.

“Are you ready to go, Merlin?” Lancelot asked softly, and Merlin turned back towards the castle one last time, strengthening his resolve.

“Yes… let’s go.” And with that, he strode through the gates of Camelot with his two close friends at his side, his silhouette melting into the misty dawn, ready to embrace whatever trials awaited him beyond the safety of the kingdom's walls.

~o0o~

It was rainy that morning; the firelight from the fireplace spilling across the stone floor of Arthur’s chambers did nothing to warm his chambers. There was a knock at the door before it slid open, revealing George, his footsteps confident as he strode into the room with Arthur’s breakfast.

“George?” Arthur’s brow furrowed in surprise as he peeked out from behind the changing partition, his blue eyes searching for Merlin’s absent figure. “Where is Merlin?” he stepped out from behind it, straightening his shirt and approaching the table.

“I am not certain about Merlin’s whereabouts, Sire,” George said, setting the tray down with a clatter that still disrupted the morning. “I received word this morning that I was to attend to you until further notice.”

Arthur’s hand paused mid-reach for a piece of honeyed bread, a flicker of concern passing over his face before he dismissed it with practised ease. “Very well,” he conceded, but he certainly wasn’t happy about it. Merlin was wont to the occasional and unexplained absence. He picked up the bread and bit into it without further comment, barely glancing at the sealed parchment lying innocently beside his plate.

He would never admit it, but he jumped when Gwen burst through the doors, her breath coming out in short, urgent gasps. Her distress sent a jolt of alarm through Arthur, causing him to drop his bread.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Merlin,” Gwen said, her voice barely above a whisper, his brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“What’s happened to Merlin!?” Arthur asked frantically.

“He’s gone.”

“Gone, what do you mean he’s gone?” Then, he noticed the note clenched in Gwen’s shaky hands.

His fingers closed around the crumpled parchment and pulled it towards himself. His eyes quickly scanned the familiar script that scrawled across the page, each word etching itself into his mind.

“I write to you with a heavy heart,” he read aloud, incredulity colouring his tone. “I realise that notice of my absence during this profound moment in your lives will likely cause you disappointment and perhaps some sorrow.” Arthur coughed, feeling his throat tighten, and thought it best to continue reading silently.

Should you find yourself in need of guidance regarding your child’s gifts, I Implore you to seek the wisdom of the Druids. Tell them Emrys sent you. I cannot express how deeply I regret not being there to offer guidance myself, especially knowing the weight of responsibility that rests upon your shoulders now. Please believe me when I say I have the utmost faith in both of you as parents. The love and dedication you have shown me, not to mention countless others and yourselves, will undoubtedly shape your child into a beacon of hope and strength that will carry forth the noble legacy of Camelot that you and Arthur have courageously upheld. I apologise that I will not be there for the birth of your child nor to watch them grow. Please know that though I am not physically there with you, my thoughts will remain with you, Arthur and your child. With heartfelt apologies and sincerest wishes for your happiness and prosperity, Merlin

Arthur breathes out a shaky breath and goes to sit at the table. His arm reaches out to grab his water goblet when his wrist brushes against the parchment by his plate. He frowns and opens the letter. It contains only two simple sentences.

I can’t stay. I’m sorry. Merlin

Arthur’s fingers trembled as they crumpled the edges of the parchment, his heart stuttering in his chest. The short message, stark against the creamy background, blurred before his eyes as a maelstrom of emotions surged within him—betrayal, confusion, and an aching sorrow clawed at his throat.

“Merlin,” he whispered, the name a plea and a curse all at once.

He rose abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. With swift strides, he made for the council chambers, snapping at the guards there that they were to gather the Knights of the Round Table immediately. The Round Table loomed as he entered, its polished surface reflecting the flickering torchlights— what was once a beacon of unity was now shadowed by absence.

As the others filed in, he noticed two notable absences. “Where are Sirs Lancelot and Gwaine?” he demanded, his voice ringing through the room.

Sir Leon stepped forward, solemnity etched in his features. In his outstretched hands were two sealed parchments, their wax seals broken. “They sent these this morning,” he said, his tone laced with regret.

Arthur snatched the parchments from Leon’s grasp, eyes scanning the words. “Resignations, they’ve gone with Merlin.” On the one hand, he was devastated to lose not only one but three of his closest friends, but on the other, he was grateful to Lancelot and Gwaine for not allowing Merlin to leave Camelot on his own. But despite the gratefulness, he still couldn’t help but wonder why. What had caused the three of them to leave Camelot?

“Prepare the horses,” Arthur commanded, his resolve hardening. “We ride at once.”

“Arthur,” Leon began cautiously, “Should we not consider—”

“No!” Arthur cut him off sharply. “We will find them all and bring them home. Camelot needs them.” I need them.

He turned his heel, the cape behind him whispering across the stone floor as he strode from the table to prepare for the journey.

“Sire, if Merlin wishes to remain hidden, even the combined forces of Camelot will not be able to find him.”

Arthur stopped abruptly, his back to Leon. The muscles in his jaw clenched visibly. “I know Merlin’s heart, and it is one that beats in tandem with Camelot’s,” he said, his voice low but laced with intensity. It beats in tandem with mine.

“Perhaps it would be kinder to let him go,” Percy ventured, joining them with Elyan at his side. His voice was gentle. Understanding, yet it grated against Arthur’s resolve like a whetstone.

“Kinder?”Arthur spun around, his blue eyes ablaze. “Merlin is more than just our court sorcerer— he’s my… confidant, my closest ally.” He took a shaky breath, steadying himself against the emotions threatening to spill forth. “I can’t— I won’t— do this without him.”

The journey to Ealdor was undertaken with haste, leaving no room for doubt. The gallop of hooves, which pounded against the earth and stirred clouds of dust that rose like spectators in their make, could be heard for miles before they were at the treeline of the small village. Arthur rode at the forefront, his golden hair gleaming beneath the brim of his helmet, eyes fixed on the path ahead with steely determination.

Upon arriving, the familiar sight of Hunith’s cottage emerged from the soft mists of early dawn. She stood there as if she had been awaiting their presence, her face tight with worry.

“Arthur,” Hunith greeted, pulling him into a hug. She lifted herself on her tiptoes and kissed his forehead before moving away. Her voice was strained, her muscles tense with evident fear. “Merlin came through here last night.”

“Where did he go, Hunith?”

“Essitir.”

Arthur’s heart sunk links a stone in the depths of the ocean. “He’s gone to Cenrad’s castle?”

“To stop the war,” Hunith said with a grave nod. “As you’ve likely heard, the war between the castle and the magical beings of Essitir has taken a dire turn. He’s enslaving children from druid camps, erasing their memories and making it so they know nothing but of war.”

Of course, he had heard. It’s one of the only things Merlin had taken to talking about. Arthur knew he had been in talks with druid leaders about what their next move would be. Arthur had offered refuge to those who needed it, but they had to get into Camelot territory for it to come into effect. From what they had heard, Cenred had been making sure that none of them made it into the territory.

“Merlin believes it’s his duty— as Emrys— to intervene.”

“That idiot,” Arthur breathed, his pulse quickening at the thought of his friend amidst the chaos of a magical battle with only Lancelot and Gwaine at his side. His hands clenched at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking with the force of his grip. “And you let him go?” he demanded.

“What choice did I have?” Hunith says painfully. She glared up into his eyes, determination in her gaze. “You bring my son home safe, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Upon my honour,” Arthur vowed. “I will not rest until Merlin is safe and sound at home.

He turned on his heel, his cape swirling behind him as he returned to his knights. The brisk air bit at his cheeks as he steered them, racing towards Essetir Castle.

The castle loomed ahead several candle marks later, its foreboding silhouette a stark contrast against the twilight canvas.

“Prepare yourselves,” Arthur called, his voice cutting through the evening hair like a blade. He steeled himself, unaware of what would await them once they crossed the castle walls.

~o0o~

“Secure the perimeter,” Arthur commanded, watching as his knights dispersed. Their movements were methodical as they examined each still form that littered the ground, searching for survivors among Essetir’s fallen knights.

Arthur’s heart pounded against his breastplate, a relentless drum that spurred him onward. With each step, he felt the oppressive weight of dread squeezing tighter at the possibility that Merlin might be found among the fallen.

“Please don’t let him be here,” he whispered to himself as his eyes scanned the sea of bodies, seeking the sorcerer's familiar dark hair and bright eyes.

"Sire!" Sir Kay called, his tone laced with urgency but not despair—a sign that gave Arthur a sliver of hope. He strode toward the knight, feeling every echo of his plated boots resonate within the hollow chambers of his chest.

"Report," Arthur demanded.

"No sign of Merlin, Sire," Sir Kay responded, his face alight with relief. "He is not among the casualties. Nor are Sirs Gwaine and Lancelot,” he tacked on at the end.

A silent exhale escaped Arthur’s lips, the tension in his shoulders ebbing away. “Then we continue our search,” Arthur declared his words, a clarion call that rallied his knights once more. "Merlin and the others are here, somewhere. And we shall find them.”

They swept across the castle’s shadowed corridors, and the pungent scent of blood and smoke permeated the air, but when they listened closely, they could hear a murmur of voices that drew them toward the counselling chambers.

Arthur signalled his men to pause, his hand raised for silence. They edged closer, the murmuring growing clearer until they stood before the imposing oak doors of the chamber. With a nod from Arthur, he and Leon gently pushed open the doors.

The sight before them gave them pause. Merlin sat at the head of the table, surrounded by druid leaders whose faces Arthur remembered from treaty meetings the past couple of years. A dragon circlet rested upon Merlin’s brow, starkly contrasting his simple clothes. Merlin grimaced and shifted it as he spoke, obviously uncomfortable with it on him. Lancelot and Gwaine sat at either side of him, sharp eyes observing the meeting.

It wasn’t until Gwaine had leaned down that Arthur noticed the small girl cradled in Merlin’s arms. Her hair, as dark as a raven’s wing, stood in stark contrast to the white swaddling he had her in. Even from a distance, Arthur could see how her tiny fingers grasped at the air, unknowing of the chaos around her.

“What do you plan on doing with her?” Gwaine asked, brushing his fingers across the baby’s forehead.

“I’ll adopt her,” Merlin said softly, each word deliberate, “since I killed her mother.” He looked up then, his blue eyes locking with Arthur’s. “Hello, Sire.” The words were tinged with a melancholy that only served to deepen the furrows on Arthur's brow. His heart hammered against his chest as he stepped forward.

"That is all you have to say to me?“ Arthur's voice came out sharper than he intended, a byproduct of the worry gnawing at him. “You up and leave Camelot, and when I find you, it’s amid a war with a baby." The confusion and betrayal bled into his words, mingling with an anger he couldn't wholly suppress.

Merlin's snark was immediate, a defence mechanism honed through years of banter. "Technically, you found me on the successful side of a war." He tilted his head, a wry twist to his lips that failed to reach his eyes.

"Merlin," Arthur started, his tone brooking no argument, "don't play the semantic game with me. You need to come home."

The room held its breath, waiting for Merlin's retort. Yet what came was not a quip or a jest but the calm, measured tone that Arthur knew presaged gravity. Merlin glanced down at the babe, whose dark eyes had fluttered open. He cooed softly, a gentle hushing sound, before lifting his gaze to meet Arthur's once more.

"There's nothing for me in Camelot anymore," Merlin began, his voice clear and steady. "We have to rebuild Essiter. It can't be without a king for long. As I am Emrys, I offered to take over at least temporarily." He cradled the child closer to his chest, protective and resolute. "We will build it into the magical kingdom it is supposed to be."

Arthur felt a piercing pang in his chest—was it loss, fear, or something else entirely? Merlin's words echoed in the chamber, a haunting melody of finality that threatened to sever the bond they had forged. The future of Camelot, the weight of his crown, it all paled beside the realization that the man before him, the one he trusted above all others, the keeper of his secrets and his unspoken desires, might just slip away like mist at the break of dawn.

"Merlin," Arthur's voice cracked slightly, betraying his desperation. "You've always been the one to guide me, to stand with me against whatever darkness threatened Camelot. I have needed you before, but I need you by my side now more than ever." His plea lay bare, stripped of the regal veneer that usually cloaked his words.

The knights around them shifted uneasily, the weight of their king's vulnerability as palpable as the tension that thickened the air. Merlin regarded Arthur with a poignant stillness in his eyes.

Rising from his seat, Merlin gently placed the baby into Gwaine’s arms. The knight's usual playful demeanour was subdued; his brow furrowed with concern at the drama between his king and friend unfolding.

Merlin walked over to Arthur, his movements deliberate, each step seemingly heavier than the last. He stood before the king, close enough to touch, reassure, and mend what was broken. Instead, he reached out with tender precision, straightened Arthur's rumpled chainmail, smoothed down the fabric of his cape with a careful hand, and finally adjusted the disarray of golden locks that crowned the brow furrowed with worry.

"You don't need me anymore," Merlin said softly, his voice laced with a quiet strength. In his eyes, there flickered the merest hint of power, the depth and wisdom of a sorcerer who had seen too much, felt too much, sacrificed too much.

Arthur's heart clenched at those words, at the resignation they carried. But he could not—would not—accept this decree. Not from Merlin. His hands itched to grip Merlin's shoulders, shake him, awaken the bond that surely couldn't have faded like the embers of a dying fire.

"Merlin," he began, the name a prayer, a command, a plea. But the words that would follow remained unspoken, trapped within the confines of a throat tight with emotion. Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, stood face to face with the man who had shaped his reign, who had saved his life time and again, who had become the very essence of what he fought for—and found himself at a loss for how to keep him.

"Merlin," Arthur repeated, his voice cracking with the strain of unshed tears. "That's not true!" The words burst from him like a clarion call, a desperate bid to hold onto something that was slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Merlin leaned forward, and for a moment, Arthur wondered if he would be granted reprieve, a sign that his plea had reached the enigmatic heart before him.

Merlin's lips brushed Arthur's forehead, a whisper of contact that sent a shiver down Arthur's spine. A faint glow emanated from the touch, magic seeping into the gesture—a final gift or perhaps a silent apology.

"I'm sorry," Merlin murmured as he pulled away, leaving a lingering warmth on Arthur's skin. His voice was barely above a breath, yet it carried the gravity of an unchangeable verdict. "I love you, but it's for the best."

The simple words, spoken with such a gentle finality, shattered the last vestiges of Arthur's composure. To hear the confession of love intertwined with the thread of goodbye wove a tapestry of pain too complex to unravel. He watched, feeling hollowed out and bereft, as Merlin stepped back, the distance between them expanding more than just the physical space—it was the chasm of their diverging destinies.

Arthur was left standing amidst the echoes of what had been and what might never be, devastated and unsure of what the future held without the man who had become his compass in a world that demanded so much of a king. Merlin, his sorcerer, confidant, and cornerstone, had decided upon a path Arthur could not follow. And the crown upon his head felt heavier than ever before, a symbol of power that could not command the human heart.

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bugbyte · 1 year ago

Text

Can’t sleep, time to write. Health stuff, but in the good way, mostly! I got fitted for my wheelchair! My genetic test is sequencing! It’s exciting and I’m trying to distract myself from the rest of everything in my life!!

So, wheelchair appointment. More complex than I thought; several guys from the company that orders and services them, a physical therapist, and me.

They had me try out two chairs - one that’s more of a scooter thing which I did not love and a lightweight manual one with this really cool thing called a SmartDrive that optionally makes it powered, which I absolutely loved. Main guy from the equipment co. was insistent I would do better in the scooter type chair, and got a little ‘splainy with me in ways I didn’t really like, but in the end I tested both and I’m going with the lightweight one.

The scooter thing did break down into a couple pieces so it can fit in the car, but the problem is I could never lift any of them on my own. The motor portion is like 30 pounds by itself. I just want the option to be able to manage alone if I end up in that kind of situation - which could happen if I’m visiting my parents or something, because they’re old and couldn’t do it either. Or if I just want to go out somewhere, heck, I don’t have to justify why I want to go places. That was sort of a strange argument to have to make.

There definitely was a learning curve to the smartdrive, but it felt delightful to use. Basically the motor is only ever on or off, with a dial for speed, and then you have to use hand grip on the manual wheels to turn. More complicated than the joystick on the other one but I weirdly felt like I had better control. It felt like going for a walk, normally. Delade and I took a lap of the building and it was just this swell of joy because we haven’t been able to do that in a really long time. I could have cried. I cannot wait to go places again and be able to do things for more than 10 minutes before my legs are on fire and all my blood is in my feet.

Anyway I got to pick a color and it’s gonna be Ferrari Red™️ (did they license that? Prob not) and I’m gonna get flame stickers to put on it. Needs a name, haven’t thought of one, yet.

So! Genetic test! My health insurance has been jerking us around so long that the university hospital I’ve been going to just got disgusted and said they would pay for it themselves. I still have to try and fight them to get the uni paid back, but if I fail I still won’t get billed for it. They should get paid though, they’re amazing people doing incredible work.

So I swabbed out my cheeks and put it in tubes and mailed it out as a Biohazard (I’m a biohazard!!) all of which was not terribly exciting but also very exciting. The collection bits looked like cotton swabs but weren’t. Left my cheeks feeling scuffed, but not like bleeding or anything. Just a strange feeling and it’s basically already gone.

The test is out, and I got access to a tracking portal with info on its status and it’s sequencing right now. The portal had a list of all the genes they’re testing for and I just had this wild moment of humbling. So the first human genome was fully sequenced in 2000. I took biology in college around 2005, and so much of it still was kind of new-ish, but we learned a bunch about it. I figured out now I can grab the individual gene names and plug them into a search on GeneCards and it really is just…humbling. I’m far from very knowledgeable about this stuff but I know enough to sort of piece it together and see what does what, what they’re looking for. I just have this sense of awe that this is even possible, like if I had been born just handful of years sooner we wouldn’t have this yet. Anyway I’m probably going down a genetics rabbit hole for a while. It’s human legos. I’m fascinated. Or maybe I’m just having an emotional week.

Anyway we decided to play a friendly game of Gene Roulette and I know where I’m putting my money, however unlikely it might actually be. I just have a gut feeling about one of them, but I’m going to sit on it and see.

Anyway that’s the exciting good news, amid all the sadness around here. Grief continues. I have no idea when I’ll be able to afford something like this, but I decided I’m getting my cat’s paw prints tattooed on my leg in the spot where he would always put them when he came to just sit with me while I was in pain. Always just a little above my right knee, slightly to the outer part of my thigh. Then he’ll still be sitting there with me, always.

We keep talking about getting another cat, but someday. Not yet. We’re not in a situation that could handle an emergency, should something bad happen, and honestly I think I’m just going to have to grit it out for a while while the hole in my heart tries to fill in. Do I ever want a little snuggle creature to pet and hold, though.

#blog #healthposting #hypermobility #mobility aid #wheelchair #genetics #dealing with grief #grief

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redgyl · 2 years ago

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I'm happy that y'all like my story. Thank you all so much! You are so kind.

Chapter 4

The Boatem Knights did not go as far that day as they would have liked. It took ages to round up the scattered horses, and it took a while for Mumbo and Impulse to construct a litter to transport Grian in. Grian didn’t wake up — the serious brain-bashing, whiplash, shattered bones, and internal bleeding combined was a little too much for even Pearl’s skills to completely mend so quickly — and Scar uselessly ‘kept watch,�� keeping his distance from everyone and looking everywhere except at them. When they finally moved on, Scar stayed far ahead of them, though keeping himself clearly in their sight. Grian rode in the litter, a sheet of fabric stretched between 2 poles cut from trees, the space between made with two sticks holding the end on the ground apart, and the other end of he poles lashed to either side of Grian’s horse. In this carrier, Grian was carefully dragged, suspended behind his horse as Pearl led it by the reins.

They finally made it out of the forest early afternoon. A couple of hours later, they paused for supper. They didn’t build a fire, only pulling out bread, salted meat, and cheese to make sandwiches, which they could have done without having to stop and dismount, but there was another purpose.

“Come and eat, Scar,” Mumbo invited from where he sat in the circle of friends. Only Scar stood outside that circle, pretending to fuss over his horse while Jellie sat on his shoulder.

“No, thank you, not hungry,” Scar answered, his voice higher pitched than normal and quaking through a fake smile. He still wouldn’t look at them.

“Oh, but I made a sandwich for you, specifically.” Mumbo held it up as proof.

“Thanks, but you go on ahead. Enjoy yourselves. I’m really not hungry.”

Impulse, Pearl, and Mumbo exchanged looks. Impulse stood. “Scar,” he said, stepping towards him. “Come and join us. We need to talk.”

“That’s kinda what I’m scared of,” he admitted weakly, his shaking worse and his smiling more fierce.

He jumped as Impulse laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. He involuntarily spun to see not only Impulse standing there, but Mumbo and Pearl walking over to join them. He never felt more exposed than he did then, with those six eyes fastened on him.

“None of us,” Impulse said gently, “blame you for what happened.”

Scar stared at them. “Whoa, whoa, hold on,” he said as walked through them to get away, his suppressed despair rising to the surface. “What do you mean, not blame me?” He rounded on them. “I nearly killed Grian!” he shouted in horror, pacing. “And I enjoyed it! It was fun! And I was going to kill you, Impulse!” he yelled, pointing. “I only didn’t because I wanted to toy with you! And killing Grian seemed more important. Wasn’t I supposed to be kicked out of the order if I turn on any of you in a feral fit?” he reminded them, almost accusingly.

They were silent for a moment. Scar was the newest member of the Boatem Order, and have only been with them a few months. They recalled how, at the first, when none of them knew him very well except as an ex-thief who may or may not have enjoyed his vex-born powers a little too much, they had placed that probationary condition down.

“We didn’t think about that,” Mumbo confessed. “But …”

But before he could continue, Scar continued his guilt-stricken rant, saying all the things he had been brooding on throughout the day as he paced. “If I was a decent human being, I would have left already, but I … you know, I should just go ahead and put my head on a chopping block and let you all take turns whacking, except Grian’s not awake yet, and he ought to have the first swing, and…”

“Okay, stop right there,” Pearl said sternly, getting in Scar’s way. Her imposing look down on him somehow stopped his rambling. “It wasn’t your fault, and we are not kicking you out, and we are definitely not going to execute you, so stop.”

“What … h-how is it not my fault?” he stammered, “I remember it all … I lost control … you weren’t there …”

Mumbo put an arm around Scar’s shoulders and led him toward where they had been eating. “First, sit down and eat,” he said, placing the sandwich in Scar’s numb hands. “We’ll explain everything in a minute.”

Scar let himself be pulled down to sit, and he dumbly watched as Impulse and Pearl both sat down comfortably with him. She picked up her sandwich, and he his plate of plain meat, cheese, and bread, and they continued eating, themselves.

Numbly, Scar raised the sandwich and took a bite, and slowly started to chew.

None of the nightmares he had anticipated happened. He had been dreading talking to them, his friends. He had imagined, over and over and over, all of the horrible things they should say to him. He had tormented himself with thoughts of being alone again, this time permanently, with no hope for redemption. Hadn’t he already known that would have to happen when he first decided to claim Vex powers? The feel of the shuddering impact up his arm as crimson mist and wooden shards sprayed from the side of Grian’s head, and the easy weight of the avian’s limp body slapping the ground, and the euphoric glee he felt, and the brave desperation in Impulse’s eyes; these haunted him. He deserved to be beaten and banished, at the very least. He had been trying so hard to get ready for that fate.

He swallowed his bite. His friends were sitting with him, — comfortably, peacefully — sharing food with him, with no hint of condemnation.

The relief and mercy was too much. The sobs rose unbidden from the depths of his soul. His throat was painfully tight as the fear and the tension and despair forced its way out. He cried and cried, unable to eat, curling himself around his cuddling kitty, his eyes shut tight as he let it all out. Impulse and Mumbo each wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Pearl came over to lay a hand on his trembling head. “We’re here for you,” Pearl said tenderly. “We’ll pull through this together. It’ll be okay.”

When Scar was done, he wiped his face. “You guys are too nice,” he said, wolfing down the sandwich. “Is there any more?”

Mumbo offered him his own half-eaten sandwich, and Scar devoured that, too. Then he took a deep, trembling breath and slowly let it out, calming. “Okay, so .. why don’t you guys blame me? I most definitely lost control out of the blue there. It … caught me by surprise, actually.”

Pearl nodded. “We’ll get to that, but first, I want got know something. Do you remember what happened just before … it happened?”

Scar tried to recall, and the guilt welled up again. “Is Grian okay?” he asked, needing to have this cleared up. Then he noticed Pearl’s bruised cheek. “Hey, what happened to your face?”

She nodded again. “I’m getting to that, too. Yes, Grian’s okay; another healing session or two and he’ll be back to normal. But was there anything unusual that happened just before you went feral?”

“Just a whistle,” said Scar. “It was pretty loud. I thought you or Impulse were calling us. Then Jellie left …”

Impulse shook his head. “We didn’t whistle for you two. I didn’t hear a whistle, either.”

Pearl snapped her fingers. “He had one!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright. She looked over to Impulse and Mumbo. “The man in green, he had a whistle on him. He was blowing it when I first spotted him.”

Mumbo raised his eyebrows like an idea had just popped into his head. “Brilliant! That’ll be easy to handle.”

“What man in green?” Scar asked, clearly lost.

“When you went feral, I went after Jellie. I knew returning her would be the only way to wake you back up, you see, so I had to go get her. Well, I found a man in green watching you, blowing a whistle. I had a fight with him,” she said, pointing to her cheek, “and he was pretty good. He had a weapon — or armor, I can’t tell what it was, originally — that changed shaped instantly, so it was kinda tough. But at the end, he suddenly looked at you all, got scared about something, pulled a blue box out of his pocket and broke it, and Jellie popped out! That was when he sicced a creeper on me (of all things!), and…”

“A creeper?!”

She nodded. “Yes, then he got away.”

“So you see,” Impulse said, “it wasn’t your fault at all. That man somehow triggered your transformation and kept you transformed until he let Jellie go.”

Scar stared incredulously at Impulse. “You mean, that guy … used me … as a weapon?” Scar questioned, terrified. “He used me to try to kill you all?”

“‘Fraid so,” he continued. “So now we need to figure out a way to keep him from doing that again. We don’t know why he attacked or why he stopped, but we’re pretty positive that he’ll be back.”

Scar was barely listening, his easily-read face full of dread. “I’d better go,” he said. “If that guy can make me attack you all again … yeah, I’d better just go.” He started to rise, but both Mumbo and Impulse tightened their grips around his shoulders. He struggled to get loose, feeling a panic rising up inside. “What are you guys doing? I’m too dangerous to keep around, idiots!”

“We figured you’d react this way,” Mumbo said, struggling a bit to keep his grip on Scar, “and we already wondered about what we can do if he comes back, but knowing about the whistle is a big help. If you hear a whistle that none of us can, you hold on to Jellie while the rest of us get away like normal.”

“That works,” Impulse said approvingly, holding on relatively easily.

“Why?” Scar yelled at them. “Why are you keeping me around? I’m too dangerous!”

“You’re our friend, Scar,” Pearl said. “And, for all we know, maybe the man in green is after you. No way we’ll split up if we can help it.”

“We now have a better idea of what we’re dealing with, and, against my better judgement, I trust you,” Impulse added impishly. “We are almost at Cub’s house, too. With him having Vex powers, too, maybe he can help us.”

“You leave, and we’ll chase you down,” Mumbo promised.

Scar gave up. “You’re all fools,” he observed, smiling. “Every last one of you.”

Impulse grinned. “And you fit right in.”

The rest of supper was kept lighthearted. The friends exchanged jokes, shared stories, and Scar almost felt okay again, except for the hole that Grian left behind. In spite of Pearl’s assurances, Scar felt uneasy. He looked once over at where Grian slept — secured in the carrier behind his horse, his head heavily bandaged — and he felt sick.

They all decided that they weren’t going to camp for another night out in the open — the possibility of another attack was too great — and instead push on through the night until they reached their friend Cub’s home. Pearl sent a moth ahead let Cub know to leave a lantern on for them. This time as they rode along, Scar guided Grian’s horse while Pearl took the front, Mumbo followed her, and Impulse took up the rear.

They didn’t get far before Scar heard it: another whistle. It was shrill, coming from right behind him.

“AHHH!” Scar screamed, letting go of the reins and grabbing ahold of his blue cat. “I hear the whistle, guys! Stay with me, Jellie!” He closed his eyes and braced himself, squishing his cat.

Grian’s horse kept walking. Jellie meowed in protest. Up ahead, Scar heard Mumbo call back, “I heard the whistle, too.”

Then Scar heard laughter right beside him. It was very weak, broken, pathetic laughter, coming from the carrier, punctuated with little “ow”s.

“Grian!” Scar yelled, his face turning red. “You … you … you …”

“You … screamed … so loud,” Grian wheezed, smiling, his eyes staying shut. “Ow … Laughing … hurts.”

“Serves you right! How long have you been awake?”

“You were alll … so loud. … It hurt … my head.”

Impulse smiled down as he rode up and Mumbo and Pearl circled back. “Good evening, Grian.”

“Evening?”

“I actually didn’t expect you to wake up at all today.”

“Bumpy … road … hurts.”

Pearl whispered a spell into her hand, and a pale moth appeared there. The moth settled down onto Grian’s face. “Go back to sleep,” she said gently, in her soft, sultry voice, “you naughty stinker.” A moment later, soft snores rose up from the litter.

Feeling so much better than they thought possible, considering the circumstances, they all rode on, feeling hopeful again.

#soft #sultry voice #I cringed so hard writing this. So much sap.#Daughter helped me by adding for me #applestruda #boatem knights au #grian hermitcraft #impulse hermittcraft #mumbo hermitcraft #pearl hermitcraft #impulsesv #mumbo jumbo #pearlecentmoon #hermitcraft #was he too easily forgiven?#is the emotional damaged actually fixed?

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