#of course people do manage to have adventures without being able to run in their shoes all the time

[airyairyaucontraire]

do you ever stop and assess your outfit based on how easy or difficult it would make things for you if an adventure began today?

[thursdayinspace]

Hi friend! What are your thoughts about Anasazi? 🤣😉

oh god one day i will have to make a real post about this. maybe on my next rewatch. but my immediate thoughts?

love can be expressed in so many ways. like shooting your friend in the shoulder and keeping him unconscious for what must have been a three day road trip across the country. after that friend had accused you of working against him.

honestly, it is such an important episode for them. mulder's father gets killed and he feels sick because someone has drugged the water in his apartment building, and he goes straight to scully. he isn't even thinking straight anymore at that point, but he needs scully, he's gonna be safe there when the whole world is against him. and scully does keep him safe. she knows him. she trusts him absolutely.

mulder believes she betrayed him? no, he doesn't. she knows he doesn't believe that. he's had something done to him. she figures out what it was, shoots him before he can shoot krycek and put that on his conscience and his permanent record, and takes him on that insane road trip -- i really want to know how she even managed that. if that isn't a true act of love, what is? it must have been difficult. they didn't make that trip in a day. and, you know. she had to take care of him. with . . . all sorts of physical stuff. that's friendship.

and he did not expect that. even saying thank you is something he has to figure out how to do. not because he isn't grateful, but because who has ever done something that big for him? who has ever done anything big for him without an ulterior motive? and she keeps doing it. she keeps being there for him. no matter what. it has to be a process for him to figure out why, because she doesn't ever really ask for anything in return and she never uses it as leverage to get anything from him.

he understands what she did for him, but i don't think he fully grasps the entire meaning of it yet, because he can't. friendship and love is conditional, in his experience. not in the way he loves other people. he loves unconditionally and with all his heart. he just doesn't expect to be loved back in the same way. but i think this, the way she takes care of him here? i think he sees for a short moment, before he shuts that part of himself off again, that there is somebody who believes he's worthy of being loved just for who he is.

over the course of their partnership, she gives him more and more moments like that and they accumulate over time. but it takes him a long, long time to be able to take that risk and stand still long enough to be loved. because that is such a risk. so he runs and runs and runs, making himself a moving target so her expressions of love graze him but never wound. but scully is a good shot. she doesn't just put a bullet in his shoulder. she hits him right in the heart with the full force of her trust, loyalty, and love again and again, until he realizes that it doesn't hurt. it doesn't make him bleed. it heals him.

and this episode, what she does for him here, that is one time he cannot dodge the bullet. he walks away from that adventure with a new scar on his shoulder and a little bit of that protective wall around his heart chipped away.

[aylish91]

Do you have any pirate sans x siren reader story ideas that you don't want/ Don't mind being converted into a story?

OOOOOOOOO! Pirate Sans x Siren Reader! You are in luck, my friend. I have had a few ideas I will most likely never fully get around to. If you would like to use any of them, be my guest~ If you do, please make sure to send me a link so I can read!!!

~~~ (1)

Sans is betrayed by someone on his ship resulting in the death of his brother and most of the crew. He manages to escape but is gravely injured. Running from his enemies, he stumbles upon a cave. Inside is a pool with a certain imprisoned siren. It is both lucky but unfortunate in his eyes. 

Sirens/mermaids were stuff of myths and legends said to have the ability to grant those that catch them any wish they so desired. The stronger the siren, the more wishes they could grant. However, if you failed to catch or angered them, they would take your soul or lure you with their song to your death.

Fortunately, neither of them is strong enough to hurt the other, so a deal is made. You are strong enough to grant Sans the “Eye of the Judge” and “Karmic Retribution” in exchange for freedom. However, it is quickly deduced that that alone wasn’t enough. (Everyone was still dead, Sans was still dusting, and you were now weak enough that you wouldn’t be able to save yourself even free.) In conclusion, to save both parties, you propose one last final deal.

If Sans allows you to lure/drown him and take his soul, you would be able to turn back time exactly one year. He would maintain his new abilities to then protect his family and crew from whatever threat had almost dusted him. In return, he would come back and release you from your prison and keep you safe while you recovered. 

Agreements are made with binding magic, soul consumed, and time reversed. (maybe with a side effect of now both souls being slightly bonded to each other) Sans finds you again as soon as he can and wa-la! Adventure time! Revenge against those who harmed Sans’ crew along with those who imprisoned you? Maybe! Simply avoiding danger and keeping everyone safe? absolutely! It could also be how you two slowly come to love each other or form a kind of familial bond.

~~~ (2)

You guide ships of your choosing through Death Pass. You keep other nasties away and show them how to navigate many days inside the perilous rocks and crags. All this for a price of course~ Anyone unwilling to pay can either turn back or inevitably get eaten by you or others. (After sinking of course… ha ha…)

There may be a certain pirate that catches your attention. One that brings you nice things and tells you the most entertaining stories. One that makes you want to go on adventures too… 

It could be how you become fond of him and his crew through work. You could eventually help him through without payment to save him from those giving chase. You could ask for payment to be him taking you with him on his journeys… 

~~~ (3)

Sans rescues you from the black market. Naturally, honor binds you to him now even though he let you go and left. You spend your time following him, getting closer, and sneaking on board.

(You are quite terrible at using legs at first, but you manage somehow. Even if people look at you weird. Customs are also different...)

You may be good at sneaking around and watching/helping. It could also be you only think you are sneaky. haha

[thefakehedgehogaroundhere]

every time i think of dadow i think of the exact same scenario. and yes this will be an ao3 oneshot when i get the time.

nearly two centuries have passed since a memory both unreal and familiar emerged into shadows mind. mephiles telling him that the world will turn against him, including omega. he might kill him, he might return him to GUN to be suspended in animation again. he didn't want to believe it, of course, but here it was.

omega had been reprogrammed, and was searching tirelessly for shadow. he knew he couldn't run forever, that he'd have t fight or surrender, but how could he if that put his son in danger too?

his son, who he recognized from many an adventure. his son, who may be an infant now, but who shadow had seen at fourteen years old when the half-existent memories began. his son, silver, who needed to be safe before anything else.

where was blaze? shadow didn't know much about the cat, but she was silver's friend from this time, despite being from another dimension. somehow she'd gotten to the same place and time shadow and silver were.

shadow had two chaos emeralds with him, enough to travel through time. but he feared that if he did, something there would still be able to harm silver, or even cause a paradox of some sort. if he could get a message to blaze in the past without going there himself... maybe...

cradling his son in his arms, shadow managed to escape to an alleyway. finding the first pencil and paper he could find, he scrawled "blaze the cat- come to future, help silver." he didn't risk signing it, but maybe it would help somehow. he muttered a panicked "chaos control" under his breath, and sent the message on its way.

he can't keep running.

carefully he set silver in one of the cardboard boxes around him. it was disgusting to him to do it, but what else could he do? was anyone else even alive anymore? who could take care of him?

"listen to me. everything is going to be okay. you are going to save so many people and let them live their lives happily. and i cant..." he was almost choking on the words.

"i can't be here to see you do it in the way you think. i might hurt you. you might hurt me. but it's going to be alright. i promise."

omega was going to find him soon. if shadow could find him first, even if it killed him, he could still stop omega and keep his son safe. his heart raced, and he rushed off to find omega, leaving his son to grow on his own until someone found the message.

[thelunarfairy]

The melancholy love of the Yugi twins

I wonder why baby Tsukasa feels so rejected by Amane, hate is such a strong word especially for a child so young to have knowledge about her and believe that she is hated by someone she loves so much.

The love of twins is more intense than the love of ordinary brothers, there is a connection, a bond, born together and sharing the best and worst moments of life, discovering the world little by little, of course each of them in their own way. . It's like you were born with your best friend by your side. (Although unfortunately this is not always the case).

Their love transcends and surpasses death, "I will remember you as long as I breathe, no, beyond when I breathe"

A 4-year-old child who gives up her own life because her older twin will no longer be by her side, even though he tried so hard to give him the best he could, what does Amane like? I'll look for it, I'll give it to him! And the room was slowly filling up with toys, plants, animals and books that talked about the adventures of space, because Amane likes the stars, one day he will look for her and I want him to do it, even if I don't be here to see.

Seeing his brother in agony, always in bed, always so discouraged, he committed himself to changing that, he decided alone. And he did what he could, for such a small boy, his gestures were so tender, it's a shame he didn't realize something

Amane didn't want any of that, he wanted to be with Tsukasa.

Why did Tsukasa think he hated him? Just because Amane was sad and finally managed to say what he felt? That he wanted to be able to run and play around like him?

At what point did he feel so rejected by his brother that he decided it was okay to leave because Amane hated him, he would live happily without me. Why does such a little boy have to feel this way? Amane did her best to be with Tsukasa, whether reading the books he brought together, or being by his side even without having the strength to do so.

He felt that way… And he decided that he wanted to celebrate his birthday for the last time with his brother, he wanted to hear for the last time, even if it was perhaps the first, that his brother loved him. It was the last thing he wanted to hear before leaving, knowing for sure that he wouldn't come back.

How could he be sure that his departure would be more of a relief than a pain? He couldn't, he was just a child who felt rejected and did the best he could to show Amane that he loved him, even if Amane never knew the sacrifice he made for him.

He wouldn't know.

So, after making that choice he believed he had done the best, but then Nene and Kou appear and tell him that his older brother, the one he fought so hard to make happy, killed him and took his own life in followed.

It was there that Tsukasa received the first stab.

How could I? I did everything for him, I gave my life in exchange for his, and he took it from me again? Why?

Why?

Who was Amane truly? Did he really hate me?

Maybe this gave him the certainty of the truth he wanted so badly to escape.. Amane hates me, but does he really hate me? What if I bring him his favorite ball? What if I give you a new book? Will he still hate me? Perhaps these were his thoughts.

Then suddenly

"Amane Yugi died at the age of 13 before killing his younger brother"

He really hates me. You don't kill someone you love, even Tsukasa knows that.

He came back, and he came back to understand Amane, he didn't come back because he believed he needed Tsukasa, or because he loved him, he came back understanding that his sacrifice had been in vain. And by that time, Tsukasa had already been influenced enough by that creature inside the house. A little boy who is discovering the world now, and whoever introduces him to this world is a monster who enjoys the lives of living creatures at his pleasure.

"Let's go back, I want to see how Amane is going to kill me"

This phrase is more melancholic than disturbing, what many people say. A little boy who doesn't cry, but has strong resentments for the brother he fought so hard to have his love, and all he got was more rejection. The thing inside him just pushed him further and further, because maybe he was planning something and he clearly wanted to use the boy for it.

Then he comes back, but he's not the same anymore.

Who is Tsukasa now? He's still here, but why? He needs a reason to stay, to come back. He still wants to understand Amane, he still wants to feel loved by him.

There is no way of knowing what happened between them for a long time as it was not shown to us, but even though Tsukasa is sometimes so cruel, his innocence transcends. Because is it half Tsukasa who lives there, and the other half? Well, he doesn't have a name yet, but that other half is that monster that took him from his brother. He is always happy to meet Amane, hugs him whenever he can, and is still so tender with him sometimes.

But does Amane think about Tsukasa?

I tend to think that the Tsukasa with the seal is just his yorishiro, while the real one is that other one who appears to Nene every now and then, always with such a tender look. It's as if this is really that same little boy, he's there still looking out for his brother even after having gone through all this, still with that melancholy look.

Tsukasa's love transcends, it is visible and palpable, he was not made to be the monster they force us to think he is, he became what he found necessary to be.

Who is the person who cares about Tsukasa?

Maybe, all he needs is just a hug from Amane and the truth he wants to hear

"I love you Tsukasa, I want you to stay because you are the most important person to me, even if everything is destroyed, I want you by my side, as it should be"

Because none of this would have happened if Tsukasa felt loved by Amane

"I can't sacrifice myself, because he will be unhappy without me, because he will sacrifice himself with me, I want Amane to live and be happy, if he is happy with me around , so I stay"

[jammatown919]

Mistakes Were Made (Chapter One)

A Lightcannon fic I've been chipping away at for a while now.

Fic Description: Jinx unintentionally forces Lux to out herself as a mage.

Lux never would have thought so much good could come out of being kidnapped.

Sure, most people would be terrified to have a blue-haired stranger appear in a flash of light and whisk them away to some sort of pocket dimension for a death match with eight more strangers, but honestly... it had been really, really fun.

Once she'd gotten over the initial shock of it all, Lux didn't have as much of a problem playing along as one might think. The stranger, Jinx, had been more than happy to demonstrate to her that no one could really die in this place she called the Rift, via a swift gunshot to her own head. Lux had maybe screamed a little, but it was definitely comforting to have confirmation that a fallen player would simply reappear at one of two ends of the map, no worse for wear.

Really, it was a lot easier than it should have been to get Lux to play, and from there, everything just sort of spiraled.

Free of all consequences and a good amount of her usual inhibitions, Lux was able to really let loose with her magic for the first time. Jinx seemed to appreciate her raw power and how ever so slightly nuts she'd gone at possibly her only opportunity to do literally whatever she wanted with it. The two of them didn't even need their teammates to completely dominate the game, which they did with reckless abandon.

When it was over, Jinx returned Lux safely home as she'd promised, but not without a promise whispered in the seconds before she vanished again: "I am definitely keeping you, Blondie."

For about a month after that, Lux managed to convince herself it had been some crazy, fantastical dream brought on by her repressive environment. In a country like Demacia, with a family like the Crownguards, it was only natural her subconscious mind would invent a reality it preferred. One where she could use her magic freely, go off on an adventure, and buddy up to someone who represented all of her temptations in life, both physical and otherwise.

But then Jinx made good on her promise, and Lux instead convinced herself she'd simply received a gift from some god somewhere out there. The escape she longed for was real, and her new friend had come back for her.

They continued their games whenever they could, typically at one-to-two-month intervals because of how difficult it could be to get ten people from all over the world together. Lux noticed as time went on that there would often be changes to roster of other players, until at one point she and Jinx were the only two left from their first game.

"Ah, sometimes you just gotta swap 'em out for people who are more fun," Jinx said when Lux asked about it. "Not you, though, Blondie. You were always the most fun."

Eventually, after quite a few swaps and trial runs, Jinx managed to put a solid long-term team together. Her and Lux, of course, with the addition of a surprisingly friendly creature made entirely out of green slime, a pink-haired songbird type on an elaborate hoverboard, and a man in a mask with a very different hoverboard who absolutely refused to play until Jinx pulled him aside for a long private conversation.

Zac, Seraphine, and Ekko. All people Jinx claimed were from home. Or almost, in Sera's case. It was these three, particularly Ekko, who gave Lux some much needed insight into Jinx as a person.

Another area in which Lux differed from most people was that most people would probably feel betrayed or disgusted or afraid upon hearing that their friend had blown up a city-state's entire government. But Lux had heard a thing or two about Piltover's old Council, largely from some of the previous players Jinx had brought around, and to be honest, she considered blowing them up to be an act of community service. A little brutal, yes, but a genuine favor to the people suffering under their rule.

What got to her a little more were the personal blows Ekko had taken. The betrayal of his oldest friend, and her subsequent murders of several of his newer friends. Only the fact that she hadn't gone near him in years made it possible for him to look at her now. Only an old, barely surviving desire to see her be better compelled him to play her game. She needed it, he claimed, to get the crazy out somewhere it wouldn't really hurt anyone.

Jinx didn't seem to love being presented with this information later that day, but she engaged with it nonetheless. Admitted to everything. Agreed with Ekko's assessment. The game was fun, yes, but it was primarily an outlet. A form of therapy, almost. Lux had to respect her for that; for recognizing what she needed to keep herself in check and following through with it.

They played on for another year, mostly sticking with Jinx's favorite assortment of allies but consistently switching up the members of the enemy team to keep things interesting. Lux got more and more used to this recreational violence, but she still found it exciting every time.

Strangely, though, the most exciting part to her was always that Jinx had never lost her initial awe of Lux's performance in the games. She was consistently impressed, often staring, and always laying the praise on thick. This all came to a head after a particularly exciting match, in which Lux had stuck with Jinx in the bottom section of the map and completely destroyed their lane with her. That, according to Jinx, had been "super hot", and one thing led to another led to Lux pinned against a tree in the jungle area with Jinx's lips and hands roaming her body.

This quickly became a standard post-game ritual of theirs, and over the course of the next six months, they grew steadily more emotionally invested each other. Neither of them could say exactly when their relationship became "official", but it did at one point or another, and thinking about it got Lux through the time spent between matches with her mental health more or less intact.

Even at times like this, when she was cooped up in the Crowngaurd Estate, awaiting tomorrow's arrival of a suitor she'd been expected to entertain for at least a weekend, she could sit by her window and draw little pictures of her girlfriend. And once the man was gone, rejected at the end of his opportunity to court her like the three that had come before him, she could look forward to the next game.

She did wonder how many more suitors her parents would allow her to cycle through before they really began to insist that she settle down, but she felt safe for the moment. At least for now, her family seemed to perceive her rejection of each and every suitor as pickiness, and that was fine by them. No noble would want their daughter to settle for just anyone, after all. She could turn up her nose at prospective mates all she wanted, and they'd simply keep bringing in more for her consideration.

It would likely get worse as she aged and cut into more of her "childbearing years", as her mother liked to put it, but for now, she was twenty-three and tolerated in her role as the stuck-up young noblewoman who would settle for no less than the perfect husband.

Yeah, right, she chuckled to herself as she outlined the shape of Jinx's shoulders on her page. Like there's such a thing.

For her, at least, there would never be such a man. One day, when it all got to be too much, she would leave this place behind. Jinx would come for her and whisk her away, not for the day but forever. For all the love she held for her family and the better aspects of her country, Lux knew her future did not lie here. She would leave it all behind eventually, when she was ready to say goodbye.

Until then, she would draw and play pretend and dream and be satisfied with her brief escapes.

She smiled at Jinx's sketched face looking up at her, longing to see the real thing again. They were about due for another game, but Jinx tended to show up with absolutely no warning, so Lux could only give her best guess as to when they'd see each other.

Right now, apparently.

The window by Lux's desk flew open despite having definitely been locked a second before, and in climbed the very woman who occupied the majority of Lux's thoughts these days.

"Mornin', Sunshine," Jinx crowed, dropping from the window to her feet.

"It's nighttime," Lux corrected her gently. Jinx squinted out the open window, like she'd only just realized.

"Huh," she said under her breath. "Guess so."

"It's good to see you, but what's with the entrance tonight?" Lux inquired, recapturing Jinx's attention. "You usually just zap right into my room. And... how did you even get up to my window?"

"Ah, y'know, climbed, dodged some guards," Jinx said rather flippantly. "Had a pretty good time, I guess, but that's not the important part. It's game time, Blondie! Got everything all ready to go!"

"Tonight?" Lux asked.

"Yeah, for tonight." Jinx held out her hand, as she often did, to invite Lux into her teleporter's range.

"I'm sorry, Jinx, but I can't tonight." Honestly, it was kind of a miracle they'd gotten this far without ever having some kind of scheduling conflict. "I have to be up at dawn to greet a suitor."

"A what?" Jinx's brow furrow slightly.

"A suitor," Lux echoed. "A man my parents invited here to get to know me. He's going to spend the weekend trying to court me."

"Huh?" In an adorably canine fashion, Jinx tilted her head to the side.

"Trying to impress me so I might want to marry him," Lux explained. "And I won't, of course! I send all my suitors away. But I still have to entertain them for the time they're given."

"Ohhhh." Jinx let out a small chuckle, which was a better reaction than Lux had expected. Knowing her and her past, threatening to simply murder all of Lux's suitors had been a very real possibility. Instead, she said, "just skip it."

"What?" Like it would ever be that easy. It wasn't even an option, really.

"Skip it," Jinx persisted. "You don't wanna do it, right? And it's stopping you from doing something you do wanna do. So just don't do it. Come with me instead."

Lux would be lying if she said the idea wasn't tempting, but she knew better than to think she could accept. It was too easy to lose track of time on the Rift; too easy to have it interfere with the plans that had been made for her. She would never be able to come up with an acceptable excuse if someone came looking for her and she was nowhere to be found on such an important day.

"I'd like to, Jinx, but I really can't," Lux said as gently as she could. "I have to wait until after this weekend."

"Aw, c'mon, Blondie," Jinx pleaded. "Everyone else is ready to go. We need ya."

"Maybe you can find a substitute this time?" The suggestion almost physically pained her, but not as much as it seemed to offend Jinx.

"No way," she said stubbornly. "You're the best part. It won't be any fun without you."

"I'm flattered, but-" Lux stopped dead as someone knocked twice at her bedroom door. Her entire body stiffened, and she stood to grab Jinx as if she were going to shove her back out the window. "Shit. You have to go."

"Why?" There was a distinct whine to Jinx's voice that was entirely too loud for the situation.

"Luxanna? Are you talking to someone?" Garen called from the other side of the door. Lux supposed it was better than her parents, but still not good by any means.

"I can't let anyone see you," Lux hissed. "I can't explain this to my family."

"I ain't scared of 'em," Jinx protested, "and you shouldn't be either. They're just a bunch'a fancy dickheads with sticks up their asses. I don't get why you think you have to listen to them."

"Lux, are you alright?" The knocking grew louder and more insistent. "Who's in there?"

"Jinx, please." But it was too late.

The door wasn't locked. Lux never locked it, because why would she in a place like this, where she was always safe and disturbing her privacy was a punishable offense for anyone but the parents who rarely cared to visit her quarters? Except Garen had probable cause, hearing an unfamiliar voice in Lux's room.

He threw the door right open and walked on in. For a second, nothing happened. They were just three people staring at each other. Then, all Hell broke loose.

Garen quickly took notice of Jinx's weapons and reached for his sword. Why he had it on him right now, Lux didn't know and didn't have time to ask. Jinx, in response, removed the gun she called Zapper from its holster and pressed it to the side of Lux's head.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Lux glanced back at her, bewildered but not afraid. Crazy as she was, Jinx would never pull the trigger. Not on her.

"Lux!' Garen quickly drew his blade, but the gun to her head stayed his hand. Guns weren't common weapons in Demacia, but Garen knew enough to know he would never cross the room fast enough. If Jinx actually wanted to kill Lux, she could do it in an instant. "Unhand her!"

Jinx took Lux by the arm and dragged her up from her seat. "New game, Blondie."

"What?" Oh, Lux did not like the sound of that.

"If we can't play fight, we'll play keep-away instead." Jinx secured her free arm around Lux's middle and began to back them both up toward the window.

"Jinx, wait-"

Lux didn't have time to finish her objection before Jinx, dragging her along, leaped through the open window. She didn't know which was louder; Garen's horrified cry or Jinx's shriek of delight as they plummeted toward a well-kept garden three stories below.

"Do your thing, Blondie!" she called.

Her thing? What the hell was "her thing" in a situation like this?

"Break our fall!" Jinx clarified when Lux just stared at her incredulously.

Oh! She wanted a hard light barrier, like the ones Lux often used to shield herself and her allies on the Rift. It probably wouldn't work to break a fall in the traditional sense, but Lux was no stranger to getting creative with her magic. She just had to pray nobody saw.

They both collided hard with a barely visible structure that had appeared directly beneath them, then began to slide forward at a sharp decline that gradually eased up. Lux kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the next few feet, then the next, then the next, trying to keep them at a pace that would get them to the ground quickly but not injure them on impact.

It was harder than one might think to keep up with it, even with all the magic practice she got on the Rift, and Jinx hollering excitedly in her ear didn't help.

They landed in a rosebush and seemed to take every single thorn with them as they rolled out in a tangled heap. Jinx ended up on top of Lux, staring down at her with bright eyes and a joyful grin.

"You gotta do that more often!"

"Shhh!" Lux sat up, nearly smacking her forehead against Jinx's with the speed of it, spitting out leaves as she harshly shushed her. "Someone probably heard us land. You have to get out of here."

"Aww, don't worry, Blondie," Jinx replied lightly. "I'm great at keep-away!"

"No," Lux groaned, but she didn't have time to air her frustrations. She could already hear voices and footsteps swiftly approaching.

"And that's our cue." Once more, Jinx grabbed Lux by the arm and hoisted her up, then she took off running. Lux was left with no choice but to stumble after her, mind searching desperately for a way to defuse this situation.

"Jinx, there's nowhere to go!" Lux insisted.

"That's what they think." Jinx casually raised Zapper to remind Lux she still had it, even though by all logic she really should've dropped it in the fall.

"No!" Lux pushed Jinx's arm down. She didn't know what the hell she would do if Jinx shot her guards.

"What's the matter?" Finally, Jinx seemed to realize Lux wasn't having fun.

Unfortunately, it was that exact moment that the guards started to catch up with them. Everywhere Lux looked, a different pair of patrolling guards ran toward them, swords drawn. One of them recognized her in the dark and called out to her by name, spurring the others on. 

"You have to leave!" Lux insisted, yanking her arm out of Jinx's grasp. "Zap away. I-I'll do my best to clean up this mess."

"Lux..." Jinx licked her lips, her brow furrowing as she tried to put the pieces together. She had finally clocked that Lux was upset, but not why. "It's just a game, babe. You love games."

"They're not playing!" Lux gestured with one hand at the swiftly approaching guards and used the other to lightly shove at her girlfriend. 

"The Pilties were never playing either," Jinx said. "That never stopped me. C'mon, lighten up. It'll be fun."

She raised her gun again. The guards were definitely in range, and almost close enough to reach Jinx with their swords. They were out of time. 

"STOP IT!" The scream escaped Lux before she had a chance to think about it, and so did the burst of arcane energy. 

Instantly, everyone but her and Jinx froze in their tracks, caught up in a shimmering wall of mana that she frequently used to immobilize people on the Rift. It was one of her favorite things to do; laughing while her enemies raged about being rendered defenseless. Now, though, it gave her a strong urge to throw up. 

The guards were frozen physically, but they were still aware. They would still know what Lux had done to them. That she was a mage.

She'd just outed herself in probably the worst way possible. 

Part of her expected Jinx to hoot and holler and try to drag her away again, but it seemed the scream had stunned her. Lux had never screamed at her before. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, equal parts gentle and anxiety. "We're just playin', right?"

"No!" Lux snapped, tears burning her eyes. "No one else is playing, Jinx! I'm not playing!"

Jinx shrank back with something of a kicked-puppy expression and said, "ohh, fuck... shit, Blondie, I'm sorry. I'll take ya back upstairs, I-"

"No." Lux stepped away from Jinx's outstretched hand. Upstairs wouldn't help her now. Honestly, at this point, the safest option for her would probably be to just go with Jinx after all. Now that all these people had seen her magic, suitors would be the least of her concerns. The oppressive laws of her homeland would be turned on her in full force. 

And yet... she still wasn't ready to leave. 

"Go home, Jinx," she murmured. 

"B-but you're cryin'." Jinx continued to reach for her, but Lux wouldn't have it. 

"Please." Lux met Jinx's horrified eyes and held her gaze. "Please, go."

"Okay..." Jinx replied, small and sad. "I'll see ya later, yeah?"

"Yeah." Despite the emotional turmoil, the fear and uncertainty for her immediate future, Lux managed a smile. "Yeah. Love you."

"Love you too." In a flash of electric blue light, Jinx was gone, and not a moment too soon. Lux's spell probably wouldn't have lasted much longer. 

Seeing no use in stalling, she released the guards, but refused to look at any of them. She hung her head, tears of fear and grief for the life she'd certainly just lost streaming down her face, and sank to her knees to await judgement. 

------

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[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Protecting the Aspen Witch

Hey, sorry this isn't very specific, but I was rereading Protector earlier and wanted to know if you could maybe write more from that universe? Brain's not braining much rn, so I'm afraid that's the most detailed I can be haha. But any h/c from that universe would make me extremely happy. Maybe they actually have a conversation about Virgil's trauma? – anon

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: panic attack/dissociation

Pairings: DLAMPR

Word Count: 4798   

 Virgil’s got a simple code when he’s not on a hunt. Don’t hurt whatever you don’t absolutely have to, and odds are, it won’t hurt you. Now and then there’s a bit of an, um, incident where that doesn’t quite work out as well as they’d hoped, but by and large they get by.

On another quest to the Aspen Witch, something goes...a little awry.

Truly, going to see the Aspen Witch isn't the worst quest in the world. In another set of circumstances, he would be grateful for such a well-traveled road, or even just to be able to go somewhere that he knows.

In this world, however, he thinks that the next time someone needs something from the Aspen Witch, he'll tell them to go themselves.

(He won't, he knows he won't, but he likes to imagine for one moment that he might consider it.)

In any case, at least this time he's not bartering for something on behalf of someone else. He's making a delivery on behalf of Elise, a sweet girl in the village who accidentally pissed off the wrong warlock. (See, this is why he'd never actually be able to tell someone else to go, because either he's bartering, which means it's for something that'll help a lot of people, or it's for someone who would definitely be in grave danger if they tried to go alone.) The warlock hadn't taken too kindly to Elise's accidental questioning of their source of magic, even though that wasn't what she was intending at all, and bestowed a powerfully cursed amulet into Elise's possession while she slept. The amulet held a potent attraction charm to coerce Elise into putting it on, and once on, induced paranoia so severe the poor girl's screams could be heard all the way from Virgil's home.

Needless to say, he's taking it far, far away to be destroyed.

He accepted nothing more than a small bag of coin—smaller than his pouch of agrimore dust, the family wasn't exactly in the position to spare a lot of money—and promised Elise to see to it that the amulet never touched her again. Truly it was just a matter of keeping it wrapped in skeldor hide until he reached the Aspen Witch to limit the potency and then, well, then the Aspen Witch would have to know what to do.

Part of him wondered if he would see any of the Five—of course there were five of them and of course they were known by some ridiculous name—when he set off, but there weren't any strange things in his garden, nor did any of them decide to appear when he beds down at the boulder, across the bridge, even when he gets into the valley. No, he manages to make it all the way to the Aspen Witch without running into any of them.

If he were still the adventurer he was years ago, he'd take that as good fortune. If he's going off of what he knows now, he knows enough to be a little wary of their absence.

And if he's being truly honest, something he does try to refrain from outside the safety of the walls of his home, he might be a little disappointed.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts as he approaches the Aspen Witch's grounds. He winces when he stumbles right into the brambles of the crimson thornbushes and feels them tear through his cloak. His fingers almost twitch to his dagger, but then he steels himself. These are the grounds of a magic user, after all, and he would treat them with respect even if he suspected these plants to be totally normal if he decided to slice them open.

With the changing of the seasons, night falls much earlier than it had the last time he ventured this far. The sun is already at the tops of the trees as he approaches the door, several candles already flickering through the windows. He takes a deep breath, takes a moment to check that everything is still where it's supposed to be, and knocks on the door.

"Yes?"

"I am the adventurer known as Virgil. I have come to deal with the Aspen Witch."

"Ah, Virgil! Yes, come in."

He feels something in the door shift and he pushes it open. The bell over the top of the door rings. The Aspen Witch smiles at him from behind her table of treasures; a brickleback spine sits under her hands where she is…obtaining something from it. She sets the tool she's using down with a clink and reaches to pick something up from her side.

"I have prepared for you a drink," she says as Virgil sits, "to ease your burdens."

"I would like to know what is inside it."

"Sunflower nectar, moon blossoms, and honey. It is meant to relax you."

"I recall a similar drink being offered the last time I came."

"You are correct, I offered you a similar drink."

"I would like to know if this one is different than the one you offered last time in any meaningful way."

One of her many rings taps against the edge of the cup. "It has less of the added moon blossoms than the last, which renders it less potent."

Less potent? "I have slaked my thirst at the last waterfall."

Something flickers across her face and she smiles, moving the drink aside. "Another time, then. You are still reeking of curse energy, but this one is different. I would like to know why."

"I have brought you a cursed amulet in the hopes that you would relieve the burden of its intended recipient."

"Show me." Virgil extends the amulet, still wrapped in the hide, and she takes it. She sets it on the table and runs her fingers over the leather strap holding it in place. "This is a fine specimen of hide, Virgil. I would like to know where you obtained it."

"On a past contract."

"I would like you to be more specific."

He says nothing. The Aspen Witch looks at him for a moment longer before she laughs and shakes her head.

"Perhaps another time." She undoes the leather strap carefully and withdraws the amulet. It glistens in the candlelight as she turns it back and forth. "This is a vindictive magic. I would like to know how you came into contact with it."

Is it his imagination, or does the Aspen Witch sound…put out? "The village I live near to. The curse befell a child."

"I would like to know the origins of such a curse, if you would share."

"It is my understanding that the child's intentions behind a question were misunderstood and the magic user sought the consequences they saw fit."

The Aspen Witch's fingers twitch on the chain. She examines the amulet anew and toys with the link near its base. Something darkens in her expression and Virgil tries to keep his hands still. "This was bestowed upon a child, you have said."

"I have said that it was bestowed upon a child."

Her mouth tightens. "I would like to tell you why this is unacceptable."

A chill runs through the cabin. "I would like to ask for clarification on your last statement."

"You may ask."

"I would like to know what it is you find unacceptable: that the child was bestowed a cursed object, that the child was bestowed this cursed object, or that I have said that it was a child to whom it was bestowed."

He must be imagining things because it looks like her expression softens, even the slightest bit. "The second of your list. It is unacceptable that a child was bestowed such a curse. I would like to explain why."

Thank fuck. "I would listen to an explanation."

The Aspen Witch lays the amulet back down on the hide and reaches for something else. She takes a long stick from a drawer and snaps it over the amulet. As the pieces of it start to drift down, they take on different colors and hover in the air.

"Curses have three main derivations," she says as she does so, "either they affect the accursed's mind, their body, or their soul. Mind curses are difficult to break as they require some level of consent from the accursed. Body curses are the most varied but are not that difficult to break, especially if they are familiar with the curse itself."

They look down to see the particles have turned a vivid bloody red. The Aspen Witch's nails scrape against the table.

"Soul curses are vile things," she spits with more emotion than Virgil has ever seen or heard from her, "and they can erase a person if they are not done with extreme skill."

Virgil's mouth runs dry. "I…would like to know what you mean by 'erase.'"

"No," the Aspen Witch says lowly, "you do not."

Alright, no, I do not. That's good enough for me.

With a flick of her wrist, she disperses the particles and wraps the amulet back in the hide. She takes a deep breath and steadies herself—what the fuck has Virgil walked into if the Aspen Witch has to steady herself?—before she looks at him again.

"I would like to know what you intend to provide as payment."

"I recall you mentioning the value of curse energy upon our last visit."

"You would offer the energy of this curse as the payment for removing it."

"I would offer the energy of the curse as payment for its removal."

The Aspen Witch looks at him for a moment longer before she nods and stands, retrieving the amulet from within the hide and sliding the hide over for Virgil to take. "I accept this payment."

He takes the hide silently and puts it back in his pack, watching as she walks over to another table. She places the amulet in a pestle and takes various jars down from the shelf above. He watches as she sprinkles things over the amulet and soft motes of light begin to emerge as she murmurs under her breath. When the glow is strong enough to rival one of the candles, she takes the mortar and brings it down.

Three things happen at once.

First, he sees pieces of the amulet shatter, ricocheting hard enough to dig grooves into the walls of the house.

Second, there is an overwhelmingly loud boom.

Third, something crackles outside and the whole building shakes.

The Aspen Witch's head whips around, staring not at Virgil but over his shoulder in the direction of the door. The mortar falls from her hands as she narrows her eyes. Virgil holds his hands up slowly, indicating that he's not about to do shit right now, and he carefully turns to look over his shoulder.

The door is still intact, but something in his instincts prickles along the back of his neck. He looks back.

"I would like to know what that was," he says as quietly as he can.

"Yes," the Aspen Witch says as she begins to walk over, "so would I."

Great, magic stuff happening that the magic user doesn't know. This is just great.

She passes him in the chair and opens the door, leaving it wide enough for Virgil to peer over her shoulder. He stands, very slowly, and tries to angle himself so he can see what's going on.

Another magic user—he's assuming, after what just happened, but he thinks it's a pretty safe guess—stands in the center of the plot of grass in front of the house. A sigil is burned and seared into the ground, and he winces.

This isn't going to go well.

"You are trespassing," the Aspen Witch says with her words full of ice and fuck it, Virgil's ready to run, "you will cease to do so."

"You destroyed something of mine," the warlock says, extending a hand, "that gives me the right to see it reversed."

"You are the foolish one who sought a soul curse upon a child?"

"I sought what was due to me for such a slight," they spit back, "as well should you know that we aren't to be questioned. And how did you hear about this, is it from the thick-headed bull that leers over your shoulder?"

Virgil's just about to edge his way out of this conversation, thank you very much, when the Aspen Witch's hand, the one behind her back, twitches.

"You will not speak of him like that."

What's going on?

"Why not? He's an adventurer, isn't he?" The warlock laughs, high and cruel and Virgil needs to get a hold of himself before something bad happens. "They're all the same, big and dumb and grunting animals that only care about coin and stopping magic users."

The words strike a chord in his chest and he tries not to let the hurt show to obviously on his face.

"Is he your pet?" The warlock's smile turns into lascivious. "Did I interrupt you in the midst of something? You of all people should understand, then, is it any harm that I wanted to make one for myse—"

The warlock doesn't get to finish their sentence as the Aspen Witch's hand flies out and a mass of thorns erupts from the earth, ensnaring them in a tangled web of crawling plant life. Virgil's hand lands on the hilt of his sword and he just as quickly wrests it away. He's not looking to make himself a target in this after all.

"Touchy," the warlock laughs—take a fucking hint, just get out while you still can— "did he tell you about that cute little thing in the village, then? Has the great Aspen Witch gone soft?"

"You are welcome to test that assumption at your earliest convenience."

Don't fucking test it. Get the fuck out. Be smart for twenty consecutive seconds and fucking run, you idiot.

The warlock doesn't. Instead, they start on about some great speech and self-aggrandizing, but Virgil sees one of their hands make a somatic component and he doesn't think.

Truly, it might be him that's gone soft. There was a time where he would already be gone, or tucked away inside out of sight. There was certainly a time where if two magic users starting casting on each other, he would not be anywhere near it.

But, he can only be who he is, no more and no less. So when he sees the component taking shape, he moves on instinct to shove the Aspen Witch out of the way and get his gauntlet up to take the full force of the spell.

The world goes black.

***

    "—il! Virgil!"

Distantly, he registers the sound of a voice. The air crackles.

"Virgil! I would—oh, hells."

Something is dragging him. His head bumps something. He's hauled up and propped against something—a wall?

"Virgil," the voice says again, he knows that voice, "Virgil, open your eyes."

He does, only for blurry things to swim in front of him. He closes them again.

"Virgil." He definitely knows that voice. "Virgil, you must open your eyes."

He tries again, blinking a few times. The first thing to come into focus is the candle on the table closest to him. The second is the hand on his shoulder, laden with rings. Only when he traces the hand to the arm up to the head does he realize who was speaking to him.

"There," the Aspen Witch says in a rush, "there. That is better."

All at once, the memories of what happened flood his brain. The amulet. The warlock. The somatic component. The spell—

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. He interfered with a magic battle. He took a spell meant for the Aspen Witch. He touched the Aspen Witch without permission, he shoved her out of the way, he—he—

"Stay," he hears as two hands land on the sides of his neck, "do not go where I cannot find you, stay here."

He blinks. The Aspen Witch is closer now, her eyes scanning his face. He swallows.

"Don't speak," she says when he opens his mouth, reaching and pressing something warm into his hand, "drink first."

I would like to know what is in it, he tries to say, but all that leaves his throat is a ruined gasp.

"It is the same drink I offered you before," she says, as though she could hear him—can she?— "it is unchanged. It is to help you relax. Drink."

He's already risked too much to afford to say no. He raises the drink to his lips and takes the smallest of sips. The warm, sweet liquid is like a balm to his sore throat and he takes another sip right away. The Aspen Witch watches him closely, one hand still on his shoulder.

"I…" He swallows, testing his voice. "I am…grateful for the drink."

"I am relieved to hear it helped." She cups his hand around it. "I will provide more should you wish it."

"Are you—I would like to know if you're—" he coughs— "if you're alright."

Her expression twitches and he knows he doesn't fully suppress his flinch, not with her this close, not with her looking at him like that. "You took a spell that was meant for me. You saved me. You defended me. And you have been hurt because of it."

Her hand moves slowly from his shoulder to his cheek.

"I…do not know what to do," she confesses softly, "we did not agree on payment."

"I do not require payment," he says as quickly as his throat will let him, "I did not—you don't—this is not an act that would require payment. You do not—I would—fuck."

He isn't lucid enough to do this. He can't do the careful and wary conversation that he has to right now, he can't—he can't—

"I will not bind your tongue," the Aspen Witch says, her hand still gentle on his face, "you…if you wish, you can speak."

No, he can't. He can't because he'll fuck it up and then—then—

Her hand leaves his face. "I will call the Five."

"No!"

Everything freezes.

He just told the Aspen Witch what to do. He just told the Aspen Witch no. He just—he just—oh, fuck—

"I mean—I m-mean—"

"I am not angry," she says, "I…you do not need to be so afraid. I will not harm you. I would like to know why you do not want your sweet ones to come and help you."

"I—my what?"

"Your sweet ones. The ones who care for you and whom you care for." She tilts her head, hair falling to one shoulder. "You do not wish for them to come, and I am curious."

"They're a lot," he manages and she laughs.

"Yes, they are. But they know you. They would help you."

"They're—" he takes another drink and feels his tongue relax. "All of this has happened because another magic user intruded on your grounds."

"These would be invited, and they would be to help you. I could bear no ill tidings against them, not when you are in need of assistance I cannot provide." At his face, her smile saddens. "You are afraid, and I cannot help you, for you are afraid of me too."

…well, there's really not much he can say to that.

"I will call them," she says carefully, so carefully it's almost a question, and he nods. She nods as well and stands. "If you would like more drink, I would wish for you to say."

Less than a few moments later, after she's gone to a table out of sight, he hears Roman's voice.

"Aspen Witch," and oh, fuck, he never thought he'd be so relieved to hear one of them, "you have called us."

"Come," she calls, walking toward the door and opening it, "your sweet one is hurting."

He blinks and in an instant, Roman is there, cupping his face, looking all worried and he can't stop the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Roman sees them, because of course he does, and then he's cooing and leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

"Oh, baby," he whispers, "baby, what happened?"

"What happened," he hears Logan ask at the same time, "is he alright?"

"He came to me with a cursed object and asked for its removal. As I destroyed it, the warlock responsible appeared and attempted to wrest it back. He…jumped in the way of the spell."

He hears a flutter of fabric and looks up to see both Janus and Remus at the table where the amulet was destroyed. Remus curses and Janus hits the table and the noise bounces around his head—

"Shh, shh," Roman murmurs, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, "eyes on me, baby, stay with me. There you are, with your pretty eyes, shh, that's it, you're doing very well."

"What sort of spell," he hears Patton ask, "is it still there?"

"I banished it as soon as the warlock was dealt with. He—there should be no lingering effects. I do not understand."

"Mortal minds are fragile," Logan says softly, "and Virgil has been an adventurer for many years. He has encountered a great number of things, magical or otherwise, and it would be unreasonable to assume that they have not left their marks."

"Baby," Roman calls again, and Virgil looks back at him, "hey, there he is. The others are just trying to figure out what's going on, but you and I are gonna take care of you first, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. Now, I just want you to keep looking at me, okay? All I'm gonna do is touch you, okay? No magic, no casting, just touch." His fingers start to card through his hair and Virgil immediately feels his eyes get heavy. "You can close your eyes if you need to, just lean against me, I've got you, I'm right here."

The adrenaline from everything finally starts to wear off and Virgil feels his body decide to give in. He sags forward into Roman's waiting embrace, eyes falling shut as Roman starts to murmur sweet nonsense. After another moment, he hears Patton come over too and another hand scratches lightly between his shoulder blades. He nearly whimpers from sheer relief before he remembers that he's not at home, he's in the Aspen Witch's house, and the Aspen Witch herself is less than a few feet away.

He wrenches himself back awake, looking up at her, and to his surprise, she looks…upset? He glances at Logan, just to her left, and Logan simply smiles.

"Hello," he says softly, "are you alright?"

"I think so."

"Good, that's very good. You jumped in front of a spell and you didn't know what it was?"

"Wait," Roman says, "you did what?"

He sets his jaw and looks at the ground. Patton shoots a look at the two of them. "Don't scold him, can't you see he's already upset? Don't make it worse."

"Sorry, baby," Roman murmurs, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "I'm not mad."

"Neither am I," Logan says, "but I am…confused."

"You shouldn't be," Janus says, finally moving away from the table, "he's Virgil, of course he jumped in front of the spell."

Well, that's not helping anything either. He feels his face start to burn and tries to pull away from Roman, but he's held fast. He swallows the instinctive wave of panic and buries his face in the crook of his shoulder.

"Aww, are you embarrassed?"

"You are making things worse," the Aspen Witch says, a bite to her tone, "I called you to help, not to hurt."

"We won't tease," Roman promises, both to her and to Virgil, "we're finished, you have my word."

Did…did the Aspen Witch just defend him? What in the fuck is going on? He risks a look at her and their eyes meet and something…something feels wrong.

"Virgil?" Patton's hand stills on his back. "What's wrong?"

"I am…also confused."

"What about?"

There's no polite way to say this and no, he isn't going to risk it right now, so he just looks from Patton back to the Aspen Witch and hopes that somehow, they'll get the gist of what he's trying to say. Sure enough, it takes Patton one look between the two of them before he's smiling.

"Oh, she's just jealous."

"What?"

"I would ask that you don't speak for me," she hisses but she sounds far more like Elise than the Aspen Witch.

"Tell him yourself, then."

The Aspen Witch scowls at him for a moment before she sighs and looks at Virgil. Her mouth twists around as if searching for the words before she sighs again.

"Your etiquette for magic users is exemplary," she says, "and you…for all that we have interacted, I do not know much about you."

She gestures around.

"The Five have your trust, they have your words. They…have not known you for as long as I have."

Oh.

Oh.

"I can't help you," she continues, "I…am upset by this. I would—I—"

She closes her eyes for a long moment and then opens them once more.

"I want to help you, Virgil, I want you to let me help you."

He likes to think that on a normal day, perhaps he wouldn't be doing something like this, but this isn't a normal day, and he's already broken that glass. So he reaches out a hand to the Aspen Witch, and when she takes it, he uses it to pull her a little bit closer.

She comes and crouches next to Patton, holding his hand as though it were the most precious thing in the house. He's not quite sure what to do with that.

"Are you alright?"

She nods. "I am alright."

"I liked the drink."

"I am glad. I will offer it to you again."

"I will accept it."

"Listen to you both," Remus snorts, and Janus whacks him upside the head. "Ow!"

"Ignore him, you're both doing wonderfully. Carry on, pretend we aren't here."

And you know, that's a bit too much for him to deal with right now. So when he feels the tug in his gut to start feeling things again, he closes his eyes and goes limp in Roman's hold, letting tears spill from his face. The Aspen Witch jerks in alarm but Patton must be saying something to the effect of this is normal, he's just overwhelmed, you gotta let him be a crybaby sometimes, but he's not paying attention because he's too goddamn tired.

Distantly, he registers Roman stroking his hair again, Patton's hand on his back, and the Aspen Witch beginning to squeeze his hand every few seconds, but with the apprehension of someone who's never pet a horse before trying to interact in a way that won't upset either of them. It's quite a surreal experience, really, and he thinks he can be forgiven for not wholly understanding what's going on.

A lot's happened today, and it's late. He should be asleep.

"He is hurt," the Aspen Witch says and everybody wakes up a bit at that, "let me help him."

"What's wrong?"

"The thorns have hurt him on his way through. I have a salve for them."

"Virgil," Logan asks, "is that okay? Can we help?"

He mumbles a vague agreement and he hears Janus laugh. "Poor thing's all sleepy. He needs a rest, is there somewhere we can tend to him?"

"Upstairs, there is a bed."

"Can I carry you, baby?" Virgil nods and Roman lifts him up almost effortlessly. "There, come on, upstairs, now."

As they pass the table, he forces himself to rouse and look to find the Aspen Witch. "The amulet—the child—"

"The child will suffer no more, the curse is gone." She puts her hand on his shoulder. "Now rest. Mortals are fragile, you must allow yourself to be cared for."

"He's not very good at that," Remus stage-whispers and Janus hits him again. "Hey! Stop it!"

"Stop being an insufferable ham sack, then."

"He's right," Virgil mumbles as he's put down on a bed, "I'm really not great at it."

"You're getting better," Logan says, sitting near his head, "now, you can try and sleep. No harm will come to you, you're safe here."

He looks over at the Aspen Witch, holding a tin of salve and a soft towel. She smiles and nods. "No harm will ever come to you under my roof, Virgil. I will see to it that you are safe."

"I…am grateful for that."

"As am I."

Not how he saw the quest ending, of course, but indeed, far from the worst quest in the world.

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[ideas-on-paper]

Real Boy ending, Golden Lie & NG+ death counter

(Nothing special, just a few final comments on my NG+ playthrough)

[MAJOR Spoilers for Lies of P]

When Geppetto calls Pino a puppet after you give him the heart:

It was at this moment that Pino knew: He fucked up.

(It does confirm that Geppetto sees P merely as a puppet though - when he is talking to "his son", he is really talking to Carlo's heart.)

But hey! I finished my second Lies of P playthrough! Wohooo!!!

It's a bit of a bummer that I wasn't able to get the Golden Lie in this playthrough either though, despite technically having more humanity points than the last time. (Also, if I ever do a third run, I'm gonna go for the Free from the Puppet String ending, so I won't get it then either.)

However, I think I may have an idea what the reason for this is: As far as I can tell, the pop-up message "Your heart is pounding" only is displayed after you gave Sophia peace. I only got it two times in my first playthrough, after listening to the last two records, which wasn't quite enough to unlock the Golden Lie. However, even at the point when I long should've exceeded the humanity points necessary for it, I only got "You feel warmth" in my second playthrough. This is because I chose to let Sophia live the second time around, for roleplaying reasons. I was playing a Pinocchio who lied on every possible occasion, but who didn't have the heart to kill any person he was close to. (The cruel irony being, due to his inability to see any evil in his beloved father, he ultimately ended up killing all the people he cared about.)

So, if you want to get the Golden Lie, you have to give Sophia peace. I thought the choice with Sophia only affected the ending, but apparently not.

As a result, I had never seen the description of the Golden Lie before, so I googled it. And, as with so many items, it actually contains lore-relevant information:

"There are two kinds of lies. Yours is the lie that makes your nose long." The boy loved the fairy tale about the wooden puppet's adventure. At least the wooden puppet's father was kind.

Since I wasn't aware of this, I had assumed the fairy tale of Pinocchio being Carlo's favorite book was just a really good fan theory, but this pretty much confirms it. Also, judging by the wistful remark "at least the wooden puppet's father was kind", I think Carlo's heartfelt wish was just that Geppetto would love and appreciate him, deep down.

Last but not least, I'm pretty proud of myself that I finished the game with just 16 deaths in total, 9 of which were from boss fights - discounting the Nameless Puppet of course, since I didn't fight it in my second run. (Once again, I did the boss fights without Specter for my own fun, since they're a bit too easy for my taste otherwise.)

I'm actually sort of curious: Has anyone else managed to beat the game with less than 20 deaths? (I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if there are pro gamers who can finish the game with below 10 deaths, but just out of curiosity. ^^)

[captainsophiestark]

The Dread Pirate Roberts

Westley x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​ which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out if you haven’t already!

Also, this fic wasn’t a request, but I’m dedicating it to @auroracalisto​ who is my fellow Princess Bride fangirl searching desperately for fic with me

Fandom: The Princess Bride

Prompt: Poseidon; Sea, Water, Storms

Summary: Prince Humperdinck has set his sights on Y/N to marry, but she can't simply forget the love of her life, Westley, and give that up for a life with the prince. So, she decides to run, taking a boat and setting sail for new horizons like her farm boy did so long ago.

Word Count: 3,192

Category: Angst and fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I glanced back over my shoulder one last time as I undid the last of the lines holding my boat to the dock. In the dead of night, I couldn't see much, but in the far distance the lights of the capital city of Florin stared back at me. This would likely be the last time I saw this place.

A few weeks ago, I'd been in town to do some shopping for my family, taking a bit of a rare adventure away from our farm. While I'd been walking through the market, a procession had ridden through on horseback. Among the group of young soldiers and officials was none other than Prince Humperdinck, apparently in the city to visit his subjects before going back behind the walls of his massive palace. By some strange stroke of luck, he'd seen me, and apparently decided I was someone he wanted to get to know.

We'd spent the rest of the day walking around the market, surrounded by his guards, talking and taking in the day. At first, I hadn't minded. What other opportunity would I get to speak with a prince, after all? I told him of the troubles I faced in the countryside, and about things I thought might help or fix them. He listened closely, and I thought I might actually be making a difference. He even invited me to return to the capital city and the palace in a few days' time to continue our conversations. Of course I'd said yes, excited that the prince had listened to me and wanted to hear more of what I had to say.

And then, when I arrived at the castle, he proposed to me. To make matters worse, it was clear from the minute I set foot in that place his proposal came out of a place of attraction to me physically, and absolutely nothing else.

I immediately knew I wanted nothing to do with him, especially not in that way. I'd already met the love of my life, and although I'd lost him when he went off to sea and left my family farm, my love for him had never faded. Perhaps, someday, I'd be willing to love someone else, but that day was not today, and no matter what I knew it wouldn't be love for Prince Humperdinck. However, there was no saying no to the Crown Prince. So, to escape the fate of the loveless life I surely faced if I agreed to marry him, I'd decided to leave this land once and for all.

I'd had very little time to make plans or preparations, since my window to escape Humperdinck was incredibly small. I'd managed to pull together some provisions and to secure a small boat, that hopefully I'd be able to sail on my own. I was no expert sailor, but I could get by well enough to leave the country. I'd had no time to tell my family or anyone else I cared about, but eventually, I'd decided that might be for the best. This way, they'd have deniability when people eventually came asking about where I'd gone or why I'd left.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then chucked the final tether ashore and away from me. I ran around, adjusting the rigging and sails on my small boat as I drifted out of the harbor. There was a light wind tonight, perfect for helping me make my escape. The gods of the sea were watching out for me, or else my darling Westley, the love I'd lost to the sea, now acting as my guardian angel.

It was fitting, I supposed, that I'd eventually follow him out here. I hoped to find a new place to call home, somewhere no one knew me or my connections to the Prince of Florin, but nothing was guaranteed. This may well be the place I perished, to finally join Westley after he lost his life to the Dread Pirate Roberts.

I sat up all night, manning the lines and making sure my sails were always adjusted to catch the winds. I made good progress, leaving Florin in my wake, and eventually got comfortable enough that I could sleep for short periods of time in between making sure everything went smoothly. I'd actually managed to gather a decent amount of provisions, and I started to feel more hopeful about my prospects on this ship to find a new land.

At least, until a storm hit.

I woke up just after twilight on the third night since I'd left, being almost rocked out of my seat by the waves tossing my boat about. I shook my head, trying to clear it of the remaining sleep fog as the waves continued to grow around me. I swore as I looked to the horizon, only to find darker clouds and bigger waves. I was headed straight into the center of what appeared to be a very big storm.

I ran to the rigging, trying to change course. I wrestled the ship into a sharp right turn, thinking I could run along the edge of the storm until, hopefully, I past it. I'd never be able to outrun it by going back the way I came, and the odds of me finding the eye of the storm before I capsized were fairly low. I had no other way out.

I wrestled the rigging until my arms burned, and then found a way to keep going. Despite my best efforts, however, the storm only got worse around me. I clung to the ship, praying for a miracle or some way out of this, and then suddenly, I was underwater.

A massive wave must've finally managed to swamp my boat. I floated for a moment, letting my natural buoyancy show me which way was up so I didn't accidently swim further from the surface before I at last made my push upwards. I gasped once my head broke the surface, searching frantically for something to help keep me afloat.

I found a piece of my now-smashed ship not too far from me and swam towards it wildly, clinging onto it for dear life once I reached it. I frantically tried to come up with an idea to save myself, but I kept drawing a blank.

I was going to die here, tossed among the waves, resigned to a similar fate as my dear Westley. There was a certain poetry to that, I supposed, even as I fought back tears at the hopeless feeling now welling in my stomach.

Then, out of a break in the waves, I saw the mast of a ship coming closer to me. My heart leapt, and I started shouting and waving, doing my best to catch its attention. It was a far bigger ship than mine had been, meaning it hadn't lost its struggle with the massive waves around us. Maybe I had a hope of making it out of this after all.

That hope immediately died when I caught sight of the flag flying over the mast as the ship got closer to me and the wind changed. They were flying the Jolly Roger.

I stopped waving, debating mentally whether it was better to stay in the water or be caught by pirates, but apparently a decision had been made for me. They'd already seen me, and I could hear shouting and see people pointing to me as the ship came even closer. I braced myself, trying to be as ready as possible for whatever this new challenge brought. I had been the one who'd decided to run, after all, and I knew in my heart I didn't regret that decision one bit, no matter what this new hell might bring me.

Before I knew it, I'd been fished out of the water and hauled on deck. I quickly backed away from the men who'd gotten me on board, and although most of them didn't pay me any attention in the chaos of trying to keep the boat afloat, two followed me as my back came up against the main mast, halting me in my tracks.

The men stared at me as they stalked closer, and every muscle in my body went into fight or flight mode. The man a bit further back from me seemed to be taking cues from the other man, his eyes darting between me and who I assumed must be the leader. The leader, the one closest to me, was dressed in all black with a mask on his face, his ice blue eyes tracking my every movement. My heart stopped dead in my chest. I'd never seen him before, but I'd heard enough legends and stories to know beyond a shadow of a doubt who this man was.

Before me stood the Dread Pirate Roberts.

A fury like none I'd ever felt raged through me, replacing the panic and fear that came before. This man was responsible for the death of my Westley. I glared at him, putting the full force of my hate into the look, then glanced around for a sword or something else to attack him with. I'd most likely die on this ship anyway, so I might as well go out attempting to get some justice for my lost love.

"You! What were you doing out in this storm?" yelled the pirate over the waves. I glared back at him and ignored his question.

He waited a few long moments for my response, then huffed in irritation. He looked around at his crew and the storm still raging on all sides, then back at his first mate.

"Keep us from sinking! I'll be back!" he roared at the man behind him before turning back to me. The man rushed off to fulfill his orders, leaving me more or less alone with Westley's murderer.

Before I could even attempt to make a move for revenge, the pirate surged forward and grabbed me by the arm. His grip was like iron, and although I fought against him, I couldn't break away. He dragged me across the deck of the ship with surprising strength, up the stairs to the ship's wheel where a navigator wrestled against the wind and waves, and then through a door to what I assumed must be his private quarters. He shoved me into a chair as soon as we were through the door, slamming it behind us before turning back to me.

I moved to stand from the chair, but before I could, he had his sword at my throat. I glowered up at him as he spoke again, a deadly calm to his voice.

"Now, I'll ask you again–and I expect an answer this time. What were you doing out in that storm?"

I clenched and unclenched my fists, debating whether it would be worth it to answer or if I should just let him slit my throat. After a moment's hesitation, however, I decided I didn't really want to die if I could avoid it, especially not before I found some way to get even the slightest justice for Westley.

"I was escaping the hell of being married to a man I don't love, a monster second only to yourself," I hissed. The pirate stared back at me for a few moments, seemingly considering my words, then spoke.

"Explain."

I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying to get my temper under some kind of control.

"I caught the eye of Prince Humperdinck," I finally managed. "I had no desire to marry him, but he's not a prince who takes well to the word 'no'. Running was my only option, so I secured a boat and set sail as soon as possible."

"On your own?"

I nodded once, not bothering with a verbal answer.

"And being a princess was such a horrifying fate that you risked death in its stead?"

I sneered. "Being wed to someone I don't love after knowing what true love feels like is a fate worse than death, yes. And thanks to you I will never have my happy ending with my love, for he died at your sword while he was out attempting to gain enough fortunes for us to finally marry."

"...And what was this man's name?"

"Westley," I replied without hesitation. Up until now I'd been staring back at the Dread Pirate in rage, but my tone softened and my focus shifted to the distance as I got lost in memories of my beloved farm boy. "He was good and kind, something you'd know nothing about. He loved me, and despite the simple life we led together, we were happy. We could've lived long, wonderful lives together, but now that will never happen. So threaten me with your sword and whatever else you want. Nothing you say or do will ever match what I've already had to endure."

I faced the pirate again as I delivered the end of my speech, only to find him staring back at me with slightly wide eyes. When I'd finished speaking, he stared at me for a moment longer, before finally dropping his sword to his side. Another beat, and then he'd dropped to his knees before me, staring up at me like I was the sun. I leaned back a bit, confused, until he tore off the black mask covering so much of his face and looked up at me again.

Westley. Somehow, by some miracle, I was staring into the face of Westley, the love of my life.

"I... How... What kind of trick is this?" I demanded, trying to get my head straight. Had I been drugged somehow?

"No trick, my love," he replied, staring at me dreamily. He scooted a bit closer to me, but didn't touch me, instead letting me work through my thoughts.

"Tell me what's going on," I demanded, sounding a bit more desperate than I wanted to.

"As you wish."

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but I didn't bother listening. That was enough to satisfy any lingering doubts I had. I didn't understand it, but I could also say with complete certainty that this was, in fact, my Westley.

I slid out of my seat, joining him on the floor on my knees. We were face to face, and he smiled softly at me, but I didn't give him a chance to do much more before I pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

After a few seconds of shock, he kissed me back, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tighter to him. I ran my hands through his hair, over his arms, across his shoulders–anywhere I could reach. I'd gone years without Westley, my darling farm boy, the love of my life, and I needed every bit of confirmation I could get that he was here, and this was real.

We stayed like that for long minutes, only pausing our kiss once or twice to come up for air. When we finally broke apart, I laid my head on his shoulder, holding him tight to me as he likewise held onto me, a few tears finally starting to fall.

"Westley..." I breathed, relief flooding through my system as I felt his strong arms around me and heard the steady beat of his heart. "How is this possible?"

"When the Dread Pirate Roberts raided my ship, he didn't kill me," Westley breathed, speaking softly against my ear as he ran his hands up and down my back. "I begged him for my life, and I told him about you. My love, who I needed to return to. I told him I couldn't die because I couldn't leave you.

"He ended up sparing me that day. He kept me prisoner, and told me each day he'd most likely kill me in the morning. Over the course of time, he trained me, and I learned everything to do with being the Dread Pirate Roberts. Eventually, he told me his secret. He was not the Dread Pirate Roberts. He was a man called Ryan, who had inherited the position from someone else who was not the Dread Pirate Roberts. The title carries more weight than anything else, and so the name has been passed down every few years, the previous Dread Pirate Roberts retiring with their fortune after choosing and training their successor. He'd chosen me to be his, and a few days after he told me as much, we docked at a small island port. We hired a completely new crew, and then he left. I've been the Dread Pirate Roberts ever since."

"I... I can hardly believe it."

"Imagine how I felt when I found you bobbing in the water just as I was finally on my way back to you," he chuckled. I huffed a laugh with him, then at last pulled back to look him in the eyes again.

"So... what now? What do we do next?"

"Well, we can't stay on the ship. It's not the best place to start a life together, to say nothing of the questions it would raise that I left you alive."

"Of course."

"And you can't return to Florin or, truly, any country near it, lest the 'prince' find you and throw a wrench into our newfound happiness."

"Agreed."

"Then that really only leaves one option, doesn't it?"

"And what might that be?" I asked, smiling and leaning into Westley as he stared at me, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"To find a completely new place and start over, of course. I've already picked my successor–I was planning to promote him once I reached the shores of Florin, but now I'll wait until we find our new home."

"My love, I can't think of a plan I'd more like to initiate," I said, beaming happily back at him. He leaned down and kissed me again, then pulled away to stare at me with love in his eyes.

"So, where shall we go?"

"I'd say you know the lands far from Florin's reach far better than I. You choose. But... pick someplace with green fields, and perhaps a gorgeous lake we can swim in on hot days. With land enough for us and any future children to roam and have adventures, and room for a home for us to curl up in on cold winter nights."

"Well, that's not much to ask for," he teased, leaning into me a bit. "Anything else you'd like to add to the list, my love?"

"Yes. I want our new home to be some place we can live happily together, without anything to ever separate us again so long as we both shall live. I want it to be a place where we can be by each other's sides for the rest of time, where we finally get our happy ever after."

He smiled at me warmly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my lips before pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes.

"As you wish."

[starry-blue-echoes]

BeastStars AU whump concept where one of them gets injured in monster form and due to whatever circumstances, panicky monster form doesn't feel safe shapeshifting back into the far more vulnerable, defenseless human form, and so the allies with them have to get the monster form calm enough to let them treat their injuries in that form, or feel safe enough to shift back so they can treat it properly in human form, or some combo thereof.

I don't have any definite ideas for who/when/where, though it seems like a cool concept -

Maybe a turning point moment for Giorno being able to feel safe and protected around the gang on a deeper level? A more comedic tone with Rohan being the only one around to deal with Angry Wounded Peacock/Cat? Something with Joseph and Caesar maybe trying to hide something from Lisa Lisa? Part 6 gang trying to treat injured Jolyne without revealing her monster form to the guards? Idk.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO YESSSSSSSSSS

I love this possibility, and if I may also bring another thing to add to it: if they get too injured in their Human form, they shift to their Beast form as well, sort of for more protection. Sort of a double protection, the body to protect them physically and then putting them in Full Beast Brain mode to protect their minds and stop any overthinking

and while I'm not too sure about the others, I do have a really fun idea for Giorno's side of things

what if when Giorno first met Bucciarati/Narancia, he had previously been confronted by Luca, only this time he actually got hit with the shovel, maybe in the head. Giorno slightly panics, transforms, and then kills Luca somehow (I'll admit I'm tempted to throw in a bit of bumblebee for some more Floof, but if not he just tears the guy's throat out)

he flies away, but because of his injuries he doesn't manage to get very far. The head injury combined with the panic has essentially locked him in Beast form, at which he's found by Narancia :D

it takes a bit of coaxing, but eventually Narancia is able to get him out of whatever corner he's wedged himself in and sneaks him into the Gang shared house where he is inevitably found. Maybe there's a slight scuffle and argument which Really Doesn't Vibe With Giorno because usually people being very loud is really bad, but eventually things calm down and Narancia convinces Bucciarati to keep Giorno

I'm not fully sure how to get the plot going, but given the fact the Bucci Gang are a bodyguard group I don't think it would be that out there to have Polpo assign them to guard Trish

and just. As the adventure goes on, Giorno slowly gets attached. Sure they're under the impression he's just an animal, but their kindess, how they don't shout at him for existing, how they like him...... he can't help but love them back. Slowly the fog around his brain clears and he could shift back whenever he wanted but...... but he's scared. Scared if he reveals himself they'll be angry and hate him and he'll be alone again

Giorno honestly hadn't realized how lonely he'd been until he felt what a family was actually like

things only get more complicated when they're on the run. Luckily he'd been stubborn enough to stay with Trish when they were going to meet her father and was able to intervene

and then of course the soul swap happens :)

it's....... very very weird to say the least. Being in a human body is both familiar and easy but also confusing and difficult. After all, Giorno's still in the Beast Form mentality, and he can't exactly shift right now

but when he does? When the arrow goes flying his way and he has a chance to save them all?

he takes it without hesitation

[forgedroyalseal]

My Reputation’s Never Been Worse

Chapter 17:

The ride home from Eisel was slower than the ride there. After all, they had several prisoners trailing behind them, hands and feet bound in chains. The corrupt knights and Baron put up quite the fight, but they were given no sympathy. Will let Gilan set the pace back to Castle Araluen, content to ride at the back of the party, keeping an eye on the prisoners. Halfway through the steady journey, Horace pulled Kicker around and rode up besides Will.

“You must be glad that this is all over.”

“I’m glad that justice will be delivered. I’m glad that the people of Eisel will have the chance to heal and to move forward from the darkness they’ve been living in for so many years.”

“But not that’s it’s over?”

“Of course I’m happy it’s over. I just,” Will sighs heavily. “I just don’t know what to do next. I didn’t have a plan for what I’d do once Eisel was taken care of. And now I suddenly have to make the decisions I’ve been running from for years.”

“Hm, well, I can’t tell you what the rest of your life will bring, but I do know with utter certainty what the next 6 months will hold. “

Will tilted his head so far to the side that the top of his hair flopped over like a puppy’s ears that haven’t quiet managed to stand upright yet. It reminded Horace so much of the Will he had grown up with that his breath momentarily caught in his throat. “What are you talking about?” Will asked.

“You’ll be busy helping with all the wedding preparations. Not to mention the dance lessons Cassie is going to force us both into.” He said casually.

“Horace, what wedding?”

Horace grinned, “Did I forget to tell you? Cassie and I are engaged. And don’t you dare try to get out of being my best man. Five years past or not, you’re my best friend, and if I have to get all dressed up and stand in front of the country, you sure as hell are going to be right there besides me.”

“You’re engaged?” Will pulled Tug to a stop and just stared wide eyed at Horace.

“Keep up Will! Have you really slowed down this much with age?” Horace teased, stopping Kicker besides Will and Tug.

“When did this happened?”

“Just before you wrote to Cassandra. It was convenient timing truth be told. Saved me the trouble of having to search the entire country for my best man.”

“Horace.” The name was watery and Horace turned his head to see his friend fighting back tears.

“Oh Will, don’t be dramatic.” Horace tries to play it off in a joking manner, but he felt the telltale prick of tears behind his own eyes. “Do you seriously think I’d be able to get married without you? You’ve been by my side for all of my best adventures. Why would I let you miss the start of the biggest one yet?”

Will shook his head. “You two should have been celebrating, not worrying over me.”

“Will,” Horace leans over the horses and takes a firm hold of Will’s arm, “I have worried about you since we were 16. Nothing is going to break that habit. Anyway, now we have even more reason to celebrate. You’re home. What could be a better?”

“Horace, I haven’t figured out-“

Horace waves his hands and starts riding again to catch up with the group. “The wedding is in six months Will, and you aren’t going anywhere until then. Cassandra simply won’t allow it!”

They arrived to Castle Araluen with little fanfare. Gilan broke away to lead the knights and baron to the dungeons and Alyss and Cassandra left to catch Crowley and the king up on the events that had transpired. Horace and Will walked down an empty corridor towards George’s office.

“I’ll meet you there,” Horace said, “I just need to change out of this chain mail.”

“That’s the nice thing about being a ranger, our uniforms are much lighter.” Will said absentmindedly. It had always been a joke between the two men, and Will hadn’t even realized what he said. But it rung in Horace’s ears, even after he had turned down another hallway that lead to his room. For the first time since Will’s been back, he had referred to himself as a ranger.

_______

Will knocked softly on George’s door, and at his word, entered. George was sitting at his desk, parchments and books covering every available inch of the space. He had an ink-wet quill hovering above a document, but when he saw Will, he dropped it and leapt to his feet.

“Welcome back!” George greeted with a warm smile, which Will returned. Since he first arrived at Castle Araluen, Will has felt guilty over the lack of time he’s spent with George, not that he’s had much free time, but still. George had been the one to risk his career, and frankly, his life, to defend Will. He never questioned Will’s innocence. And he had also been the only one able to track Will down while he was away.

“How did it go?”George asked, leaning against the front of the desk. Will filled his friend in on what had happened on the trip. He tried to skim over his interaction with Thomas the best he could, but George could tell he was only being give half the truth and demanded the whole story. At his request, Will began to tell more about what happened and the surrounding details that lead to the comments and threats. He hadn’t intended to reveal so much, but once he had started, he couldn’t stop. The words flooded out of him, finally free after being locked away for so long. Once he was finished and his breathing had returned back to normal Will realized that George had gone silent, his face an expressionless mask. A chill ran down Will’s spine and he was struck with fear. What if it was too much information for George? What if it had completely changed the way George felt about him? What if-

“You never told me how bad it was.” George said quietly. “In your letters you always said you were safe. Now it seems like you haven’t been safe since you left Seacliff, that every word was a lie.” His words held no anger or pity, just resigned grief with a touch of guilt.

“I didn’t want you to worry. There’s nothing you could have done, so why tell you all the gory details?”

George let out an exasperated sigh, “Will, you have known me almost all my life. I am in a constant state of worry. If I’m not stressed about you, I’m worrying about Jenny breaking Gilan’s heart. I’m worried about whatever mission Alyss is going off on. I’m worried about Horace being in a legitimate position of power, god help us all. I will always worry about all of you. Because I love you, and apparently my love language is anxiety.”

Will cocked an eyebrow. “Love language?”

“I may have spent a little too much time with Nyah.” George blushed.

“Speaking of, how were Miles and Nyah? Not too much trouble I hope.”

George laughed, “You talk about them as if they’re your kids.”

“I guess I just feel responsible for them. I brought them here after all. Plus I know that Nyah can cause a bit of chaos when she gets bored.”

“Hey!” A voice called from the doorway, “That’s not fair!”

Will grinned as Nyah approached and hugged him tightly. Horace made his way over to George and greeted him with an arm around his shoulders. Miles lingered back, closing the door behind the three of them softly. “It is absolutely fair and you know it.” Will laughed at Nyah’s offense.

“Well, I hate to disagree with you Will, but Miles and Nyah were on their best behavior, even though I am certain they were bored out of their minds.” George smiled.

“I wasn’t.” Miles muttered. He was absentmindedly running his fingers over the worn spines of the books nearest to him, mouthing the tiles to himself.

“I was!” Nyah countered with a teasing smile, “But I was still on my best behavior.”

Will hummed doubtfully.

“It’s true, I’d be happy to have them back anytime.” George offered.

Miles’ face lit up at the suggestion, but Nyah scrunched her nose. “Thanks, but I’d go crazy with boredom.”

George deflated slightly but tries his best to not look too disappointed.

“However,” Nyah continued with a smirk, “I’d love to spend another afternoon with you. Maybe just one not surrounded with dusty old shelves. I’m thinking a tavern. Or a picnic?”A bright red blush dyed George’s face as he stammered out an affirmative reply.

Horace leaned over to Will who was watching the interaction with wide eyes and a loose jaw. “Did she just ask George out on a date?”

“I think so?”

Horace let out a low whistle, “Damn, get it George.”

Will shoved Horace, “We should let them be. Come on, let’s go find the girls.”

“You don’t care about their privacy, you just want to gossip with Cass and Alyss.” Horace laughed but followed his friend out of the office.

[cross-armageddon]

guess who

back with the pjo x prsk

i only managed to figure out An and Haruka + beginnings of Tsukasa and Ena, so uhhh

STALLING TIME, NO VBS TODAY

Prima Vista (1/2)

I was thinking which ones I should start with to be fair. I have powers for all of Prima, but I didn't knoe whether to split them for camps, or do mixed pairs or whether to start with Hayato/Kaii or Ranmaru/Ikuo, but I decided for Hayato and Kaii in the end, since you've seen them before in the pjo au posts

Hayato

He was the last one to be admitted to the camp, out of everyone (including the normal characters), but he's known there was "something wrong" with him already. Only after learning about demigods, he realized all those things he's seen over the years are simply because of his godparent, which was obvious to him that it was Apollo. He has no control over his powers and that gives him trouble most of the time.

His side power is that art thing - what's that mean is basically that he can pick up any art form and have it easy. Of course he won't be perfect in anything, unless he practices, but he will have an easier time learning. If you had read the Prima stories earlier, you know that Hayato knows how to play multiple instruments, violin being his most beloved.

His main power is connected to his dreams and that is the ability to see into the future in dreams. Now, it's actually kind of natural for demigods to sometimes have visions inside dreams, but the issue with Hayato is that he sees them every night and they show how the next day will play out. It won't show anything directly, instead it will look like a scene from an anime or a game (personally imagining it like Genshin gameplay and cutscenes). Nothing is fully clear in those dreams - he can't see how he looks like, because a mirror never appears. The people inside the dream only share some features with the real people in his life. The actions are very vivid and at times blurry or simply too fast. It's never clear, so Hayato has to decipher what could possibly happen, but since fate is unpredictable, his judgments end up being partially or completely wrong.

He avoids everything to do with the future-seeing powers - tries not to get claimed by Apollo, wants to escape the fate that he sees and at times he tries going days without sleeping (which actually ends up being worse, because then he sees prophetic hallucinations instead of dreams. He will still not sleep.)

(i swear he is so fun to draw, his hair is so fucking satisfying to draw, so simple yet fun)

Oh yeah. He has never told anyone he knows his godparent. Toya is blissfully unaware that suddenly his new classmate is also his half-brother.

Hayato also hid himself away from the camp when he saw a claim sign in his dream, fearing it would be him. It was Kaii's Neptunus claim and Kaii was pretty bummed out that Hayato was nowhere to be seen at that time. Once Hayato heard though, he was very relieved (that it wasn't him) and tried to make it up to him.

Speaking of Kaii

I don't know which Poseidon/Neptunus quirks I vould give him to not make him too OP. As one of the big three, he probably should have something more, but on the other hand - manipulating the water tension is already OP in itself. It all actually comes down to how he uses it and how creative he gets to be with the ideas. At first he finds this unnecessary, since he wasn't able to control it freely, but once he actually started training, he started thinking differently. Here are a few ideas I have for how he could be using his powers:

The most useful one is definitely the ones relating to mobility. He definitely had a LOT of troubles trying to walk on water, because it was as slippery as ice, due to the surface not having traction. In the end he came up with the idea to slide/skate on it like ice and yep, that sure fixed it.

The "walking on rain" idea came from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, specifically Steel Ball Run. The Stand Catch The Rainbow had the stand user standing on raindrops. I am pretty confident that with some natural water bending and Kaii's tension manipulation, he could freely run on raindrops, but it would most likely be difficult and require TONS of training.

If we're talking about other inspirations for the powers, I like to think that water not breaking tension on him is so funny... He's like a duck if he wants to stay dry... 🦆

As for the not letting enemies outside of the depths, it was inspired by that one twitter comment being like "What if the water just doesn't let you out one day"

I mean, fuck, what IF it doesn't let you out

It would definitely be brutal coming from Kaii, since he can just not let the water break tension around him like if he was in a bubble, but... Well, he is capable of drowning something in self defense. He's pretty desensitized to most physical things and if it's against a monster, he would do it no questions asked. If it was against another (enemy) demigod and he'd let them stay down there for a bit too long... Yeah, he'd have to process this with himself. You can expect him using the water trap very sparringly, last resort even.

If you have any MORE ideas for how he can use these powers... You can share ofc 👀

(bringing this gem back)

Also, one more relating to Ichika and Kaii - in the Prima canon I did make them cousins. Kaii's mom is one of Ichika's parents older sister. I have no clue which one, so... If someone claims a godparent for her, they would still work out as cousins.

I guess even if they ended up not being related in the end, their relationship would still stay as cousins, just... different blood.

As an additional fun fact, in my Prima add-in, Ichika and Kaii entered the camp together. Both of them found it a bit crazy that the other cousin also had the same issues with dyslexia and the "demigod specific" type of neurodivergency and it was incredibly awkward. They have each other's backs tho.

As a bonus: The Big Three of each camp

Getting sneak peaks for others early woa woa woa

although the Nene/Saki designs might change according to their powers when I do in fact figure them out

you cant tell me Tsukasa wouldnt wear the wreath all the time btw, he got it fair and square and he WILL wear it ‼️‼️

[mewintheflesh-2]

MORE HEADCANNONS FOR NIKEY AND WINONA (AND OTHER RELATED THINGS)

(This posts a little shorter than the last two!)

Nikey has patrols all over the world to make sure nobody is trying to secretly clear up the thick smog in areas he doesn’t have eyes on 24/7

Winona managed to acquire a decent sample of the dark smog for studying, though it was quite the risky heist! (It might as well been a heist at least.)

She, and the scientists she’s hired, are trying to figure out ways to dispel the small sample of the smog in hopes they’ll find a solution capable of doing so. Once they do that, they hope to produce the solution en masse, hopefully it’s not too resource-heavy to create it.

Ex-Team Sky members do not only use flying types anymore. In fact only-flying-type-teams are seen as a symbol of Nightsky and are highly frowned upon by The Sun’s Children.

Winona has an Umbreon and Espeon <3

Pokemon with night vision are highly sought after and owned by The Sun’s Children. It’s a lot of cat-Pokémon, cave dwelling Pokémon, and also Pokémon who don’t have eyes and rely on other senses (I.E. Zubat, deino, zweilous)

Lizard Pokémon and other reptilian Pokémon have difficulty keeping their blood warm due to lack of sun and as a result lack of places to bask in the sunlight. The same can be said for grass type Pokémon, and also fairy type Pokémon aswell.

Ground, rock, poison, ghost, and dark type Pokémon are thriving under the smog, since most of them can live decent lives without sunlight.

Winona has put out orders and parties of people to search for Pokémon in need of help and bring them to one of the places she or her colleagues can help them from.

As you can imagine most ecosystems who don’t rely on sunlight have been mostly uneffected by the smog. Of course like I mentioned in my last headcanon post, the same cannot be said for ecosystems such as forests, rainforests, oceans, deserts, ect.

I can’t help but draw slight parallels between Winona and Nikey, and Toriel and Asgore. It’s only slight! But the parallels are still kind of there.

It would be incorrect of me to say Nikey does not miss Winona, but the difference in how they miss eachother is that, like I said in my last headcanon post, Winona misses how Nikey was before Paldea, Nikey, though, just misses her in general.

I also think Winona also is kind of like Asgore in the sense he just wants to keep the underground hopeful and wants them to have some sort of future to look forward to. Winona holds sort of the same position

A lot of buildings and regions across the world have fallen to ruin due to most people flocking to places that have the limited (but not small) amount of places Winona and her colleagues/supporters can help support and create sustainable life to the best of their abilities.

A lot of people have taken for granted the joys of the world before. Amusement parks, sweets shops, tourist attractions, travelling the world, going on big grand adventures with your Pokémon, and especially being out and connecting with the world/nature.

Winona and her team/supporters have been able to slowly start to bring simpler things that aren’t exactly necessary for survival. Tv stations have finally been able to broadcast more lighthearted and easily consumed content instead of constant news nonstop, restaurants have begun to reopen across the areas Winona has reach in, and there have been parks commissioned all across those areas aswell.

She is absolutely putting effort into keeping children educated and entertained. Most young kids don’t really understand what’s happening, though some children are getting very cynical about these things. She understands where they’re coming from, and it’s difficult to try to atleast keep them a little happy and give them something to look forward to, but by Arceus is she going to try with all her heart and soul.

She is trying her damn hardest to keep people happy, hopeful, and fulfilled in any way she can all while running an entire rebellion. Of course she still has help, a lot of it, and she’s so, so grateful for it. It’s really admirable.

[honorable-guardian]

!!!!!!!!

AAA I’m so glad someone sent me this… Grim my everything. My confidant… my best friend… my silly rabbit 😏 But for real, where do I even begin with him?

(Long post under the cut!)

He started off as a character I made specifically to be able to RP when I was at my lowest, mentally and energy-wise. He’s grown, as I have, and he changed me, honestly. For the better. 

At his conception he was a gruff, depressed, duty-bound and anxious mess that saw himself as nothing but a burden on all he interacted with. He was also cishet (lol) and my first OC I ever really RP’ed out in the world in WoW rather than with a friend, so I didn’t really know what I was allowed to do, or how to interact with folks, so, neither did he. Autism runs deep, as usual.

His past is… more than troubled, in every way I could think up at the time. When I made him, I made him to suffer, as I had been in my mental health pit for years with no hope of getting out. And I wanted to be able to relate. So I gave him aggressive, pushy parents, a line of failures, and a desolate disposition. And yet, seemingly on his own, he developed this will. This desire to improve, to be better than he was the day before, and to help people. He wanted to be better. So, I did too.

He talks little of his past, save for those who he’s close to and have the courage to ask. His plethora of scars aren’t for show, so to speak. He recalls each one’s origin, the one crossing his eye coming to his memory only in flashes. Only in nightmares, buried in his memory.

As a teen he roamed Darkshore, a ghost of a person shrouded in grief and rage. He was found, eventually, by a special someone that allowed him to call her Maggie. She led him to Moonglade where, after months of much struggle in trying to communicate without being able to form words in his worgenistic mouth, began training there under one Katrena Elswith, a disgraced druidic teacher who was the only one who agreed to be his Shan’do.

All of this happened in backstory however, and much more happened beyond this too. He eventually completed his training and joined the effort in the Tanaan Jungle, intending to meet death there, but managing to find a small glimmer of purpose, instead.

Early on in his RP days, he was asked to join a guild as one of the officers (little did they know he was nineteen. His troubles aged him beyond what others thought), and at a guild function he met someone special: Alythae Wildsong.

Where would he even be without Aly? Their relationship progressed quickly, possibly quicker than he wanted, but it was real. She taught him that he could be loved. That he deserved love. He was more than what he could give others. And he taught her, too. An exchange, entirely coincidental at first, and then fully voluntary. 

They went on adventures after adventures together. Some dangerous, some relaxed, some downright ridiculous. But they worked through them together, hands locked together in a bond as they discovered things about each other, and things about themselves that they did not know. Deception. And blood magic. Oh, the blood magic.

He nearly lost himself to it, during the Fourth War. The blight in Darkshore was destroying his body, despite his attempted protections, and he was nearly killed by it. A necessary evil, he thought. His fur gone, his skin blight-pocced, he delved into it. It felt… natural, for reasons he could not yet explain why. 

And yet, it was consuming him.

Aly brought him back. Cleansed him enough for him to make a recovery. But he found the magic…innate, somehow. He learned why, eventually, but that’s not something he likes to share pretty much ever. Regardless, he and Aly finally  got married in December after several long years of engagement, and now happily live together in Feralas! Along with their many animals, and Grim’s animal scouts, and of course their dog Pippin. 

This has already gone on WAY longer than I intended but this feels just like the tip of the iceberg lol. I know this is cheesy but having Grim, knowing what he’s gone through and still he continues on… it gives me reason to be better, too. If he can go through all that and still be a good person, I can too. Without Aly he wouldn’t be half the character he is today, so thank you so much to @tyranduh you mean so much 2 me.

Here's a few more of my favorite pieces of him <3

Thank you so so much for the ask and for the opportunity to infodump on my favorite guy <3

[crossfire-essays-collected]

Collected Essays from Crossfire by Mark Evanier

Back in the mid-1980s, there was a comic called Crossfire, written by Mark Evanier, published by Eclipse Comics. (It was a spinoff from another Eclipse title written by Evanier, The DNAgents.) The comic itself was about a bail bondsman who discovered that a man he encountered in the course of business, who had been killed, was the secret identity of a famous masked thief-for-hire with the pseudonym Crossfire; the bail bondsman, Jay Endicott, decided to take over the identity in order to snoop around in the cause of truth and justice, and adventure (and on a few occasions hilarity) ensued. This blog (which is just a sideblog on my account) will not be concerned with the plots of the comic, and will not reproduce any artwork — not even the covers. Instead, it’s a place for me to repost the essays which appeared in place of a letters column in the majority of the issues, in which Evanier talked about writing and show business and comics. All of them were at least somewhat interesting — you don’t have a long-term career in writing like he has without being able to hold people’s interest — and some of them were highly entertaining. (In fact, I think the essays were mostly more interesting than the comic — sorry, Mark, if you ever read this!)

The comic stopped running in 1988, and Eclipse went out of business in 1994; in 2004 there was a single volume reprint collection of the first five issues of the comic, but it did not include the essays (I bought a copy hoping for them), so — short of buying the comics used from a dealer — this is the only place you can read them now.

There were 26 issues, of which I am missing only the first, plus a 4-issue crossover with the original DNAgents title, Crossfire and Rainbow, of which I am missing issue 3. (As I recall, The DNAgents and its other spinoff, Surge, did not have essays, although I never had as many of those issues and gave away the ones I had so if they did those won’t appear here.) I will be scanning the essays, then converting them to text using OCR, and finally doing some basic proofreading and editing to make sure the result matches the original as closely as I can manage. Any truly obvious errors in the original text will be reproduced with a “[sic]” notation. All posts will have comments turned off. Nothing else will appear on this blog.

Enjoy… or don’t, if this isn’t your sort of thing.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

5 times Merlin noticed Arthur’s odd reactions to things,

 +1 time he could start on the road to helping.

TW: Graphic descriptions of child abuse, claustrophobia, panic attacks/flashbacks/disassociating.

1)

Merlin notices things. He always has done, ever since he was a child. Maybe it was the magic, maybe it was the ingrained fear of being snuck up on (as a Bastard child, as a citizen of Essetir, and as someone with magic) or maybe it was just some odd, innate skill. It doesn’t really matter: Merlin is observant, he has keen eyes, which is why he notices Arthur’s sudden change in disposition.

It was a normal afternoon, Arthur and Merlin had just gotten back from the first hunt of the spring and were filling The King in on how it had gone. Well... Arthur was, Merlin was just sort of stood there. 

The servant was annoyed that Arthur had dragged him along, both to the hunt and to the meeting, but The Prince had been so excited (not that he showed it too much) at the prospect of telling his father how well everything went, he conceded easily. It was rare that Arthur got his father’s approval; Merlin had only been serving him for a few months, so maybe it was stupid of him to want to see Arthur happy, but oh well. He may be a prat, but he meant well and he loved his people, he deserved a little happiness occasionally.

Uther was in fact proud, and Merlin had better luck than Arthur at holding his grin in, though that changed quickly. 

Arthur was looking out of the window and making casual comments on when he planned on going out next, and Uther, stepping quietly without even realising it, manages to move to the space just behind him without Arthur noticing. He claps a firm, but proud hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and if Merlin hadn’t known that Arthur would deny it later, he would accuse him of jumping a foot in the air. He turns around quickly, eyes wide and barely focusing as Uther gives his son another congratulations, as well as a terse “Make sure you keep it up.”

The sudden tightness in Arthur’s shoulders and his clear discomfort at having Uther so close do not go unnoticed by Merlin and he frowns, making a split second decision that could very well get him put in the stocks:

“Sorry to interrupt, My Lords, but The Prince mentioned wanting to join the evening patrol. Sir Leon and his partner will be leaving shortly.”

Uther whips his head around disapprovingly, and his anger at Merlin for interrupting whatever it was he was about to say translates to a tightened grip on Arthur’s shoulder. The Prince flinches slightly, but carefully steps away from The King, speaking before he can order the servant punished:

“Right you are, Merlin. If you’re happy for me to take my leave, father?”

Uther looks back to his son, confused, but approving of Arthur’s sudden eagerness to join extra patrols:

“Very well. I expect you to keep up the hard work, Arthur, I shall be disappointed if you start slacking again.”

Arthur nods and bows, but doesn’t say anything, his jittery demeanour getting worse with The King’s vaguely threatening tone. He walks stiffly from the room, and Merlin follows with a confused frown, making sure to keep his distance and step loudly on the stone floor; apparently Arthur was feeling jumpy today.

Arthur, still in his armour, leads them down to the courtyard where Sir Leon and another knight were indeed preparing to leave. The Prince doesn’t say anything to Merlin, simply nods in his direction before joining the others, and Merlin thinks he must have done the right thing if Arthur wasn’t shouting at him for giving him extra work that he hadn’t intended to do.

He stores this new, odd information in his mind for future reference, reminding himself to stay away from The Prince’s back and warn him of anyone approaching.

2)

The next thing Merlin notices doesn’t come from a specific incident, more from a series of odd happenings over time.

When Arthur had been released from the dungeons after Merlin’s miraculous survival from being poisoned, he was a mess. At the time, Merlin had smugly suggested that it was because Arthur was worried about him; his hair was similar to a bird’s nest, as if The Prince had been running his hands through it and pulling it on a near constant basis, and the shirt he was wearing frankly stunk of sweat.

Arthur had rolled his eyes at that and slunk off to sulk in his chambers—once Gaius had assured him Merlin would be fine—and the young servant had taken that as confirmation.

The first time Merlin actually witnesses Arthur’s quick, shallow breath and wide panicked eyes, they’re rushing through the narrow servant corridors. The Prince’s grip on his sword looks uncomfortably tight and the sweat on his brow seems a little odd: they weren’t running that fast. Merlin figures that Arthur is just stressed out from trying to catch the sneaky arsehole assassin who was trying to do in as many councilmen as he could before getting away. 

Which is an understandable thing to be stressed about.

Merlin only takes actual note of it when, after the assassin had gotten away, The King had demanded Arthur retrace his footsteps back through the castle to see if the criminal had dropped anything or hidden anywhere. Arthur practically freezes up at that, his wide eyes and pale skin making Merlin frown in confusion, only for his frown to deepen when Arthur stutters through his suggestion of having another knight lead the internal search whilst Arthur heads out into the city.

The relief on Arthur’s face when Uther agrees is, though brief and immediately hidden, immense. 

Merlin thinks back on the state Arthur had been in after he’d quested for Merlin’s cure. Perhaps... perhaps Arthur had been such a mess because he had spent a night in the dungeons, and not because he had been worried about Merlin.

As much as Arthur might like to think Merlin’s an idiot, the servant makes quick connections, pieces things together easily, like a children’s puzzle. At least when it comes to Arthur.

The servant is also reminded of the way Arthur insists that Merlin leave a few candles lit in the evening. At first, Merlin thought it was because Arthur was sneaking out of bed to get more paperwork done (Uther may rarely see it, but Arthur works ridiculously hard), but he checked the paperwork one morning and nothing had been added or altered. Then he though that it was maybe so Arthur could see any attackers coming in the night, because he was paranoid like that, but the candles always burnt out after a couple hours anyway, so it wasn’t like they were lasting through the night.

Merlin figures he was probably just reading into things too much (plus, he knows that accusing Arthur of being afraid of the dark or tight spaces would get him nothing but a slap up the head and, depending on The Prince’s mood, a visit to the stocks), though Arthur refusing to stay in Merlin’s tiny bedroom for any longer than necessary, and insisting on multiple torches being lit whenever they ventured into caves, forces Merlin to reconsider.

It was after one such adventure in one such cave that Merlin took advantage of the castle’s funds being available to him, and heads down to the market to buy some larger candles (and if he cast a spell to make them last longer... well... no one needed to know). Arthur gives him an odd look when he walks into The Prince’s chambers that evening and begins setting up and lighting them without acknowledgement; Merlin answers his questioning hum without looking at him:

“I know you like to be able to see just in case attackers make it into your chambers: these ones should last all the way until the morning. I set up a standing order with a merchant in the lower town.”

Arthur frowns confusedly, knowing that no one had managed to sneak into his chambers in months; it was definitely odd that Merlin had suddenly decided that this was a good idea. Still, Merlin doesn’t look back at him as he casually moves around the room, lighting the new candles and hoping that Arthur wouldn’t notice him leaving the curtains open by about an inch. He notices, though he doesn’t mention it in his response:

“Hmm. It seems you’re finally putting that brain of yours to use, Merlin.”

Merlin finally turns to look at him, glaring half-heartedly as he sarcastically laughs. Arthur just grins at him, glancing at the strip of moonlight on the floor for only a moment before climbing into his bed, muttering for Merlin to go ahead and get an early night.

From then on, Merlin packs extra torches in his pack when they go adventuring, and if he has room, a candle, in case they end up in an inn. If Arthur notices any of that, or the fact that Merlin always opens the window whenever they’re in the tiny Physician’s chambers for more than five minutes and always keeps him company on the now-rare nights Uther is angry enough to lock Arthur in the dungeons... well... neither of them point it out.

3)

The next odd reaction doesn’t happen until years later.

Of course Merlin keeps noticing Arthur’s aversion to surprise touch (especially from knights and his father) and general dislike of the dark/closed spaces, but dealing with it and adjusting to make things easier just sort of becomes part of their routine, without either of them really realising.

Arthur has been King for a few weeks when it happens. It's warm, too warm for armour, so the roundtable knights are practicing their hand to hand instead of using swords and shields. Arthur usually sits out for these lessons, teaching and observing from the side-lines as opposed to taking part in spars. Merlin had always thought it was odd, but the one and only time he had brought it up, years ago, Arthur had forced him to join in on the lessons. He had a lot of bruises that day.

But today was not a usual day apparently; Arthur joined in. He seemed reluctant at first, like he was unsure if he actually wanted to, but his first weeks as King had been going well and he’d had a successful meeting with some of his Lords the previous day, so he’s in a good mood. He finally caves when Lancelot offers to spar with him; there was something about the gentle man that just makes everyone in his vicinity feel a little more at ease.

The sun was shining, but heavy rain the previous week means the grass was bright and soft; all in all, it was a lovely day, but Merlin’s focus was still on Arthur and the way he and Lance dance around each other. All the knights were holding their strength back a little, the purpose of sparring is rarely to go all out, but practicing form and technique and footwork is always a good idea.

Arthur falls into the rhythm of the spar, dodging and side-stepping and blocking with ease, neither he nor Lance were eager to speed things up in the heat. He was moving automatically, running on instincts and just a little bit of adrenaline, which is probably why he freezes up when confronted with something so terrifyingly familiar.

A glint of sunlight off something metallic caches his eye, and his gaze moves away from the fight for barely a split-second, but when he looks back all he can see is shortly cropped brown hair, a bright red tunic, and a fist swinging for his face.

Lancelot yelps when Arthur doesn’t block like he had expected him to, and Merlin is sprinting over before The King’s head has even finished rocking to the side. The other knights go to crowd closer, worried for their leader, but Merlin waves them off harshly and they keep their distance, trusting him. Lancelot looks horrified, but dutifully steps back as Merlin puts one hand on Arthur’s shoulder and uses the other to tilt his chin from side to side. 

Merlin’s frown deepens when Arthur just lets himself be manhandled. Even in his worst injuries he was reluctant to let people check him over; Merlin quickly notices his wide eyes staring vacantly and the breathing that was far deeper than it really should be. He tries to get The King to look at him as he speaks lowly, so the others can’t hear him:

“Arthur? You with me?”

Arthur gulps, blinking rapidly and meeting his gaze, though Merlin can tell that he still isn’t really seeing:

“I... I’m sorry, I... I didn’t mean... I wasn’t...”

Merlin can only just hear Arthur’s whispers, and he’s grateful for the fact that the others definitely can’t hear them. He moves the hand on Arthur’s shoulder down to grip the other man’s hand and squeezes, and uses the other to shield his eyes from the sun as he mutters:

“Arthur, it’s Merlin, you’re out on the training field with members of the Roundtable, it’s late Spring, and you were crowned King three weeks ago. Arthur?”

It’s only then that Arthur’s eyes come into focus. 

Merlin has never been grateful to have the bones in his hands almost break, and he doubts he’ll ever be grateful for it again. Merlin’s squeezes back, digging his nails in just a little as a subtle “please don’t break my hand”. Arthur loosens his grip and Merlin raises his eyebrow slightly in question; the blonde groans slightly and lifts a shaking hand to rub his eyes:

“What happened?”

Merlin glances at the huddle of knights behind him and gives them a reassuring smile before he looks back to Arthur, speaking so everyone can hear:

“You took quite the well placed hit from Lance, got a mild concussion and lost yourself for a minute. You’ll probably be fine by this evening, but I want to get you in the shade just in case, ok?”

Arthur seems surprised at the explanation, but nods wordlessly, letting Merlin guide him up towards the castle without a fuss. That just worries Merlin more, and he speeds up slightly as he yells over his shoulder:

“Leon’s in charge!”

Leon just chuckles, knowing that Merlin wouldn’t be paying them the slightest bit of attention if Arthur was even close to being seriously injured, but Gwaine just tilts his head and frowns:

“I love the guy but since when does Merlin decide who’s in charge? If he had said Elyan was in charge would we have just... gone with it?”

Leon shoves him playfully and tells him to get back to work, giving Lancelot a comforting pat on the shoulder as they all look away from the servant-King duo.

Merlin doesn’t take Arthur to the physician’s chambers, but goes to The King’s bedchamber instead; Arthur wasn’t actually concussed, but his mind had been elsewhere for a moment, so much so that he hadn’t recognised Merlin and spoke to him as if he were someone else. He sits The King down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of him, hands on his knees as he frowns:

“Arthur? Still with me, or gone again?”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath, making eye contact with Merlin again as he straightens his back and answers confidently, his voice wavering only slightly:

“Yeah, yes, I’m with you. Sorry, lost in thought. I don’t feel concussed, are you sure?”

Merlin nods and stands up, leaving Arthur on the bed as he moves to open the window and get him a goblet of water:

“Hmm, I lied, I don’t think you are either, you weren’t hit that hard to be honest, but you weren’t really... with it, thought it best to get you away from the others.-”

He turns around the see Arthur tense and angry-looking, though Merlin gets the distinct impression that it’s not aimed at him:

“-You probably just got dazed by the hit, that and you’re overtired, you’ve been staying up late the last few nights. Drink this, maybe have a nap, or at least stay out of the sunlight for a few hours, you’ll definitely be getting a headache at some point soon and I don’t want you to make it worse.”

He hands over the goblet of water, holding it slightly out of Arthur’s reach so the other man has to stand for it. He manages to stand on his own two feet with no issue, and the shaking in his hands is lesser than it was before, though not gone entirely, so Merlin makes a mental list of all the chores that he could finish here, in Arthur’s presence. The King drinks the water absent-mindedly, leaving the goblet on the side table as he mutters:

“Overtired... yeah, probably.”

He wanders towards his desk, collapsing in the seat and staring half-heartedly at the paperwork spread all over the place. Merlin relaxes slightly, deciding that maybe there was a reason Arthur never joined in on hand-to-hand.

4)

Merlin wasn’t fond of Arthur’s current visitor, Lord Algere, but he was pleased to note that Arthur didn’t seem all that fond of him either. He was an old supporter of Uther’s, which meant the occasional snide remark about how Uther would’ve handled certain situations differently, followed by deferential admissions of being “a close friend and advisor to the former King.”.

He was just friendly and kiss-ass enough that he couldn’t be kicked from court, that Arthur still had to be polite to him, but he rubbed pretty much everyone up the wrong way and Merlin couldn’t wait until he left to go back to his estate, thankfully situated on the furthest edge of the Kingdom. 

It's the day before he’s due to leave when he says it:

“You remind me of your father a great deal, you know, you’re very similar.”

Arthur freezes up at the so-called compliment, but recovers quickly, giving the Lord a tight smile before excusing himself so he wouldn’t be late for the city border patrol he was undertaking. Normally Merlin didn’t go with him on these patrols, he’d only be gone for a couple hours at most and he was joined by a partner; it gave Merlin time to finish up some chores, but the servant felt the need to be there today.

The King is silent the entire time, which is unusual considering he's riding alongside Sir Leon today, and those two always have something official to talk about. He doesn’t even spare Merlin an annoyed glance when the servant drops his bag and has to dismount to pick it up, only halts and waits for him to catch up again. Though he's sure The King had relaxed slightly at the beginning of the patrol, when Merlin mentioned that he fancied tagging along, and if Merlin weren’t so worried he’d be immensely proud at his apparent ability to put Arthur at ease.

Leon gives Merlin a worried grimace as they ride back into the citadel, but Merlin shakes his head and smiles, his meaning of “I’ll deal with it, I’m sure he’s fine” obvious in the action. The two of them have gotten quite good at silently communicating over the years, God forbid Arthur find out that they were trying to look after him.

They made the journey up to Arthur’s chambers in continued silence, though Merlin really starts to really worry when Arthur just wanders over to the window and stares down into the courtyard. He only does that when he’s feeling particularly pensive. Merlin lays out the work he knows Arthur had wanted to get done this afternoon and perches on the edge of the desk, facing Arthur’s back with his arms crossed:

“Arthur, you alright? You’ve been quiet.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t turn away from the window, staying silent. Merlin purses his lips, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out what he thinks might be wrong. He moves across the room and sits himself down at the dining table, casually starting on the polishing he had left there earlier as he speaks, trying to keep his tone as neutral and absent-minded as possible:

“I’ve no clue what Algere was talking about earlier, he either knows nothing about you, or didn’t know your father nearly as much as he says he did.”

Arthur finally turns from the window, fixing a curious frown on Merlin, who forces himself to keep his gaze down:

“What makes you say that?”

Merlin still doesn’t look up, but knows that he’s on the right track. Arthur has been able to admit, especially recently with his changing opinions on magic, that his father was not a good man, though he still struggles to admit that he wasn’t a good father:

“Well, from what I’ve seen, you look way more like your mother than you do Uther, and you don’t act like him at all, you haven’t picked up on any of his mannerisms or anything.-”

The servant finally looks up at Arthur, his words true but his nonchalance false as he continues with a confused frown:

“-To be honest, I’ve always thought you act more like an odd mix of Leon and Morgana. You’ve definitely got Leon’s sense of chivalry and respect and his knightly traits, but your... how do I say... fiery attitude when it comes to your sense of right and wrong, that’s definitely Morgana. Uther was quick to anger, you’ve got fairly good control of your anger nowadays. Uther was set in his ways and refused to change no matter the consequences, you bend traditions all the time, improve things in ways that Uther would never have dreamed of doing.-”

The servant shrugs and looks back down to his polishing:

“-I just don’t see the similarities, and I certainly know you better than Algere. I’ve a feeling I knew Uther better than Algere as well.”

Arthur hums non-committedly, but sits down at his desk instead of turning back to the window. Merlin feels the tension leave his shoulders, but doesn’t relax fully when he notices Arthur staring at his folded hands instead of working. Apparently it had only partially worked:

“Arthur?”

He doesn’t look up, just shuffles slightly in his eat as he lowly answers:

“Do you think I might... turn out like him? In the end? People say he was kind and gentle when he was young. If... if I ever have children...”

The question goes unasked, but the fear in his voice is palpable, and Merlin has to stop himself from sprinting from the room to burn every painting of Uther he can find. Instead, he puts the armour down on the table softly and stands, making sure to step loudly and clear his throat as he leans against the edge of Arthur’s desk again:

“Arthur, you’re a wonderful King, a wonderful knight, a wonderful man, and I guarantee that one day you’ll be a wonderful father. Don’t stress, you’ve out done your father in every other aspect of your life, I’m sure you’ll continue to do so.”

Arthur looks up at Merlin with a slight frown on his face, though it’s more thoughtful than anything. Merlin holds his gaze with a soft smile for a few moments, content to wait for Arthur to give him some sort of cue; Arthur just rolls his eyes and shoves him from the table, picking up a quill and finally beginning to actually work:

“Try not to insult the former King too much in one sitting, Merlin. And that armour won’t polish itself.”

Merlin just laughs quietly and moves back to the table, understanding and accepting that that was probably the best he was going to get. He makes a mental note to mention Arthur’s similarities to Leon next time the three of them are together; Arthur will be relieved, though he won’t show it, and Leon will be flattered beyond words. 

He dares not do it with Morgana. Both of them would be secretly be pleased, though they’d kick up one hell of a fuss trying to deny it.

5)

Thankfully, the two of them are in Arthur’s chambers when it happens.

Merlin’s not entirely sure he could use the “concussion” excuse like he did last time, not with the length of time it lasted.

It’s late, the curtains are drawn—with the traditional inch wide gap allowing a strip of moonlight to fall across the floor and over Arthur’s bed—and Arthur’s special candles have been lit. He’d been made aware of the spell Merlin had cast on them a few months ago, and though he was annoyed that Merlin had put himself at such risk, he hadn’t asked him to remove the spell, which the servant took as a good sign (both that Arthur wasn’t too mad about the magic, and that it had been a good idea).

The King sits at his desk, doing his normal pile of evening paperwork and trying to fit in as much as he can before Merlin snatches it away and manhandles him into bed, Merlin who is generally pottering around the room tidying. Arthur thinks of it more as just... moving the mess around, but he let’s him be; Merlin’s quiet company is much appreciated, especially with all the difficulties Arthur is having with repealing the ban on magic.

The King lets out a deep sigh, sitting back in his chair and tiredly rubbing his eyes. Merlin notices, because of course he does, and wanders over, a concerned frown on his face as he sits in the chair opposite him:

“You alright? Hit a snag?”

Arthur hums but shakes his head, opening his eyes but staying slumped in his seat; Merlin makes plans to get him to bed at some point in the next half candle mark at least:

“Hmm. No, just tired. This whole thing is draining, I wish I could just force them to see sense.”

Merlin knew that the them Arthur speaks of is the council. Currently, The King has about half of them on side, not including Leon, Morgana, and Gaius, but they need a majority by a significant margin before they can move forward, and Arthur refuses to act in any way that isn’t democratic.

Merlin nods, smiling softly at his lap as Arthur closes his eyes again:

“This is what it means to be King, Arthur,-”

At first, Merlin doesn’t notice the way Arthur’s eyes fly open, nor the way he slowly sits up straight, nor the way his shoulders tighten and his skin grows pale and his eyes go vacant.

“-but I think you’re doing great, don’t be too hard on... Arthur? Are you alright?”

Merlin frowns when he finally looks up to see The King sitting ramrod straight and staring into the middle distance, his breathing ragged and his blue eyes glassy and unseeing. He stands slowly, moving around to Arthur’s side to crouch there and wave a hand in front of his face.

He doesn’t react.

Merlin shakes his shoulder slightly, hesitating only momentarily before touching him, but even then, Arthur doesn’t respond. The servant gulps, glancing over his shoulder at the door to make sure it was locked before touching a hand to Arthur’s forehead and muttering a spell; he normally uses this spell to wake up unconscious people, but it has no effect on The King other than sending a slight shiver through his body.

Merlin calls his name a few times, but it expectedly has no effect. He tries to test Arthur’s pain awareness by pinching the underside of his arm, and whilst he flinches away slightly, he doesn’t come to, still stares blankly at the opposite wall. Merlin thinks of calling for the guards and asking for Gaius, but somehow he doesn’t think the elderly physician will be able to help; there was no magic at play here, and he certainly hadn’t been poisoned. In all honestly he just looked a little zoned out, like the time Merlin had lied about the concussion, except it was clearly lasting longer this time.

Merlin frowns but tries his best to keep the panic at bay, it had only been a few minutes now, but other than breathing Arthur hadn’t moved an inch.

The servant takes a deep, relaxing breath, or at least what he hoped would be a relaxing breath. It’s not. He uses magic to slide Arthur’s chair away from the desk slightly, and moves into the space it leaves, shuffling all of the paperwork away and leaning on the edge. Once again, he puts one hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and takes his hand with the other, squeezing slightly.

He waits.

After another ten minutes or so, Arthur’s breathing gets slightly more frantic, and he begins squeezing Merlin’s hand back. Merlin moves closer, crouching in between Arthur’s legs and shaking his shoulder again, but he stops when Arthur begins muttering:

“Didn’t... I... I’m sorry. Not my.... didn’t... didn’t mean to... sorry... disappointment...”

Merlin’s frown deepens at the barely audible whispers, especially when he notices the tears gathering in Arthur’s eyes. He shakes his shoulder again and forces himself to speak, just about managing to keep the waiver from his voice:

“Arthur, there’s no one else here, it’s just you and me, it’s just us, just Arthur and Merlin. It’s the evening in late Autumn, it’s almost time for bed, you sparred with Percival this morning and had a long, annoying council meeting this afternoon. You’re sat at your desk in your chambers with me, no one else.”

Arthur’s eyes come into focus, slowly at first and then all at once. He blinks and stands suddenly, almost tipping his chair backwards in his haste as he reaches a hand to his sword-less hip. Merlin moves back quickly, grimacing as he bumps harshly into the desk. Arthur’s gaze whips around the room desperately, as if searching for a danger that he was certain was there, before his eyes finally land on Merlin. The servant holds his hands out placatingly, not relaxing even as Arthur takes a deep breath and seems to calm down.

The King slumps back in his seat, rubbing the tears from his eyes with shaking hands; Merlin crouches down again, but doesn’t dare touch him, not quite yet:

“Arthur?”

His head whips up, but he relaxes again when he sees Merlin sat in front of him:

“Yes, sorry, I... must of dozed off or something.”

Merlin frowns, but nods one, speaking slowly, his tone low and even:

“Hmm. Must’ve, you looked like you were having a nightmare or something so I woke you. Time for bed, I think.”

For once, Arthur actually agrees with him, not bothering to argue like normal as he stands on shaking legs and heads to where Merlin has neatly laid his sleeping clothes on the bed. Merlin’s concerned gaze follows him, but he doesn’t move too far from the desk, deciding that he and Gaius definitely need to have a chat about... whatever the hell that was.

Half a candle mark later, Arthur is quietly wishing his manservant a good night and dismissing him. He was obviously distracted, Merlin normally can’t be frowning for more than thirty seconds before The King is hounding him about what’s wrong, but thirty minutes pass with not a question from Arthur, and Merlin makes his way to the Physician’s Chambers hoping that Gaius is still awake.

Thankfully, the elderly physician is still pottering around, tidying away various bits and pieces and generally preparing the room for a new day tomorrow. He immediately notices Merlin’s peculiar mood and gestures for the younger man to sit opposite him at the table:

“What’s bothering you, my boy?”

Merlin sits slowly, biting his lip and trying to decide just how honest to be:

“What does it mean if someone... zones out, completely, for extended periods of time?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow:

“I’m going to need a little more than that, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs but nods, shuffling in his seat slightly but responding:

“I was with someone earlier today. We were just chatting whilst we worked and suddenly they just... weren’t there anymore. Stiff, eyes glazed over, ragged breathing. They responded slightly to pain but it didn’t snap them out of it and they just... sat there, utterly blankly, for about twenty minutes. Eventually they started muttering to themselves, but it didn’t make any sense, then they... woke up, I guess, and thought they had fallen asleep. They definitely weren’t asleep, but they weren’t... I don’t know, conscious?”

Gaius frowns but nods, clutching his hands tightly on the table as he explains, his voice grave:

“Hmm. Sounds like an extended disassociation episode. I gather that I’m not to be told who this was?-”

Merlin shakes his head slightly, and though he looks slightly annoyed, Gaius nods and continues:

“-This happens mostly to people who experience something extremely traumatic, though it also happens in victims of extended abuse, especially if the abuse was in childhood, the younger the victim, the worse the reaction. Occasionally it can happen randomly, though it’s mostly triggered by something in their surrounding environment.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, and Gaius would easily hazard a guess at saying he looks angry. He doesn’t point it out though, just waits for his ward to continue:

“What can trigger it? And what other symptoms will child abuse victims display?”

Gaius takes another deep breath, but slowly responds:

“Anything can be a trigger really, something they see or smell or hear, something someone else does or says.-”

(”This is what it means to be King, Arthur,-” pops into Merlin’s head.)

“-As for other symptoms, aversion to touch, occasionally fear of being alone, OR fear of being in another’s presence. Some experience trouble with regulating strong emotions, difficulty in regulating long term relationships, platonic or otherwise, trouble with self-esteem. It varies from person to person, there is no strict list of obvious signs. Might I ask... why?”

Merlin shakes his head and stands, moving towards his bedroom with clenched hands and tight shoulders. Just before he shuts the door behind him, he turns to look at Gaius over his shoulder, brow furrowed and voice low:

“What... what was Uther like? When Arthur was a child?”

Gaius closes his eyes briefly, letting out a weary sigh and trying his best to hold in his grief:

“Strict, extremely difficult to please. He never... he never hit Arthur, not in public anyway, though it wouldn’t surprise me if he was violent privately. As a child, The Prince was terrified of the dark, and the dungeons. I got the impression that Uther forced him down there on more than one occasion. Arthur is... the one your concerned about?”

Gaius knows the answer, but it doesn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes when Merlin wordlessly nods before shutting the door behind him.

+1)

A few weeks have passed since Merlin had figured it all out.

He didn’t dare bring it up to Arthur, and shuts the conversation down any time Gaius mentions it. The conversation is for Arthur, and Arthur only, and Merlin wasn’t going to force it. 

Besides, they’ve been extremely busy with the transitions; The Kingdom was going from anti-magic to pro-magic, and Merlin was going from servant to a member of court. Arthur had tried to force nobility onto him as well as his position as Court Sorcerer, but Merlin had put his foot down at that, insisting that he wouldn’t become some stuck up wealthy arsehole, not even if his life was on the line.

Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, Gwen, and Morgana had grinned at that, Arthur and Lancelot rolled their eyes, Mordred continued to insist on calling him “My Lord” anyway, and Leon had looked marginally affronted as he mumbled something along the lines of “I’m a Lord you know, technically.”.

They aren’t lucky this time around, and it all comes to an explosive head in a quiet, though still habited corridor in the middle of the afternoon.

Afterwards, Merlin absent-mindedly considers the fact that they could’ve been in the courtyard or the throne room or somewhere equally busy, and thanks the Gods for just this little bit of luck; only two servants, one guard, and the... the noble and his son were in the corridor at the time.

Arthur and Merlin are making their way to the council room, preparing themselves for a busy meeting: it was the first since magic was officially legalised, and the first that Merlin (and Gwen, though that was another matter entirely) would officially be sitting in on. Though, in all honesty, pretty much the whole Kingdom knew that Merlin had been advising Arthur privately for years.

Merlin frowns and Arthur stiffens slightly as they spot the noble gripping his young son’s collar and aggressively whispering at him. The boy can’t be more than ten summers old, but the tears in his eyes display his utter terror clearly enough; no child should ever have to be that scared, especially not of their parents. Merlin resigns himself to just magicking the pig’s trousers down when no one was looking his way, but barely a second after he makes that decision the man raises his hand, and slaps the boy across the face.

Everyone in the corridor freezes as the boy cries out, and the noble doesn’t seem to notice the way the guard looks frantically between him and The King, waiting for instruction, or the way the servants and Merlin were staring, horrified. Arthur breaks out of his shocked stupor first, striding towards him with his fist already raised and his eyes blazing:

“How fucking DARE you?!”

His knuckles make violent contact with the man’s mouth, and the spray of blood from a busted lip and loosened teeth is what spurs Merlin into action. He runs forward, scooping the distraught boy up in his arms and quickly handing him over to one of the servants:

“Take him to Gaius, swear that you will not utter a word of this to anyone bar the Court Physician?”

His eyes flash golden as the servants’ both nod, and they rush off in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. Merlin, satisfied that they will be unable to break their promise, turns next to the guard, momentarily ignoring the way Arthur has shoved the bleeding noble against the stone wall:

“Fetch the Lady Morgana and Guinevere and tell them to go to Gaius and the boy, stay with them, swear that you will inform no one bar those three what has happened?”

The guard nods, understanding the magic implicitly as Merlin’s eyes flash gold again. He spares The King and his deserving victim one last glance before running towards Morgana’s chambers.

Merlin turns, finally, to Arthur, almost-but-not-quite recoiling at the tears on his cheeks as he lands another punch to the noble’s jaw. His face is black and blue at this point, and Merlin pulls Arthur back just as he raises his fist again; he thrashes in his grip, but quickly sags as his breathing deepens. The noble falls to the floor, unconscious in all likelihood, and Merlin clicks his fingers, banishing him to the dungeons with nothing but a shower of golden sparks.

Arthur breathes deeply, leaning all of his weight on Merlin as he clamps his un-bruised hand over his mouth, his wide eyes staring intensely at where the boy had been stood moments before. He doesn’t respond to Merlin’s calls, and with another flash of gold, they disappear, reappearing in Arthur’s bed chamber.

Merlin shoots Mordred a quick message over their mental link as he lowers Arthur to the floor, leaning him against the edge of the bed and moving around to be crouched in front of him. The King’s breathing has gotten dangerously deep and dangerously fast, the tears streaming down his face as his hands clench and unclench around nothing. Merlin quickly intertwines their fingers in an effort to stop Arthur hurting himself, but that just freaks the other man out even more as he desperately scrambles to get away from the contact.

Merlin lets go and moves back, eyes wide and desperate as he watches Arthur bring his knees up to his chest, burying his head in his arms and rocking slightly. His cries are muffled, but Merlin can still hear the heart wrenching sound; the Warlock takes a moment to breath before he stealthily moves around the room, lighting candles, locking the door, and shutting the curtains (bar an inch), before moving back to sit beside Arthur, a foot or so of space between them.

After a few minutes of no change, Merlin starts humming. He can’t remember any of the words, but it’s an old lullaby his mum used to sing when he couldn’t sleep, when he was scared of his own magic and his own friends and every shadow that moved in the dark. Arthur’s breathing slows, though he still hiccups occasionally, and Merlin rests his hand on the stone floor between them: an offer, not a demand.

Arthur doesn’t take it, instead shuffling over to lean his head on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin freezes, not daring to put his arm around the other man as he continues to hum; he must’ve circled back and restarted the same song six, seven, eight times before Arthur nuzzles in further and sniffs before muttering:

“You’ve a good voice, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs a gentle laugh, leaning his head on top of Arthur’s softly as he quietly replies:

“Runs in the family, my mother used to sing to me, though I don’t really know any other tunes I’m afraid.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t reply, turning into Merlin’s chest slightly as the Warlock hesitatingly wraps his arms around the other man; he stops being so hesitant when he notices Arthur’s eagerness. Merlin pulls him close, sighing but letting Arthur settle in before he says anything. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of the pain shooting up his spine at being sat on the stone floor for so long, but he decides he doesn’t really care, if this is what Arthur needs.

After a few more minutes, he rubs his cheek into Arthur’s soft hair and speaks, his voice gentle and loving:

“Feeling better?”

Arthur stiffens slightly, but quickly relaxes, nodding into Merlin’s chest and mumbling:

“The boy?”

Merlin smiles at Arthur’s worry:

“Safe. He’s with Gaius, Morgana, and Gwen, under protective guard.”

Arthur nods again, tightening his hold on Merlin’s tunic:

“And his... father?”

“Bloodied up and locked in the dungeons, far away from his son. Mordred let the guards know that he is not to leave under any circumstances, told the council that the meeting had been postponed until further notice, and then went to relieve the guard in the Physician’s chambers.”

The King relaxes, and so does Merlin, though only slightly, he knows that this is where that terrifying conversation has opportunity to rear it’s ugly head:

“Arthur, are we going to talk about this?-”

He rushes to carry on when Arthur’s breath hitches and his hands pull on Merlin’s tunic slightly:

“-You can say no, Arthur. I swear, I will never, ever ask, not if you don’t want me to.”

Arthur doesn’t relax, but he shakes his head, gulping before replying, his voice thick:

“No, it’s fine, I should probably... talk about it, right? Morgana is always on my arse about being less repressed or whatever.-”

Merlin nods, but doesn’t say anything, stroking his fingers through Arthur’s hair rhythmically. Arthur lets out a deep breath, humming contentedly at the gesture and leaning even more into it:

“-My father was... difficult to please. His default was anger, no matter what, and it was... rare, for him to be anything but furious. He never... not in public, and never left marks where anyone could see.-”

Merlin struggles against the urge to hit someone (preferably Uther, though unfortunately he was dead. He supposes Uther’s old supporters would do in a pinch), but he makes do with taking a deep breath:

“-When he was especially furious he would lock me in a storage closet, or the dungeons. He... he would order that all the lights be put out, and all the windows covered, so I couldn’t see. Merlin I couldn’t see anything. I still... I can’t stand the dark, but I’m guess you figured that out?-”

Merlin knows that he’s referring to the candles and the perpetually open curtains and nods, humming in agreement:

“-How pathetic is that? A grown man, a King, afraid of the dark.”

Merlin tightens his grip on Arthur and shakes his head:

“It’s not pathetic, Arthur. It’s an automatic response, a defence mechanism that your brain puts in place to try and protect you from being re-traumatised. To this day, I’m terrified of fire, even though I have no reason to be anymore, even though it can’t hurt me as a Dragon Lord.”

Arthur gulps, but relaxes slightly, though his voice is quiet, almost ashamed as he continues:

“I can’t look at Lancelot’s turned back, I struggle to spar with him as well. He... he doesn’t even look anything like my father, he just... he always wears red and has the same hair as my father when he was younger and they’re the same height. Sometimes I feel like I’m a child again, everything around me just disappears and I’m back in that dungeon, or my father is stood over me screaming. How am I meant to be a good King when I’m scared of my own shadow?”

Merlin sighs, staying silent for a few minutes as he attempts to put an answer together in his mind. Arthur sniffles again, and Merlin is suddenly made aware of the wet patch where Arthur’s head rests on his tunic:

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, as many times as you want: you are a wonderful King. You’ve delivered a Golden Age upon this Kingdom, your friends love you, your people adore you. You’ve never just been a good King, Arthur, you’ve been the best this Kingdom, and this world, has ever seen.”

Arthur loosens his grip again but huffs a quiet laugh against Merlin’s chest, which the Warlock definitely counts as a win:

“Kiss-ass.”

Merlin laughs this time, though he doesn’t stop carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair:

“Nah, when have you ever known me to kiss ass? I speak only the truth, My Lord.”

They both fall silent again, and Arthur pulls away from Merlin’s chest. Merlin drops his arms immediately, not wanting to make the other man uncomfortable, but Arthur just takes one of his hands and goes back to sitting by his side, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder. The silence is long, but comfortable, and it’s dark outside by the time Arthur speaks again:

“Merlin?-”

The Warlock doesn’t make a sound, but squeezes Arthur’s hand in acknowledgement:

“-I thanked you for all the big stuff: saving my life, and saving the Kingdom, and all that. But I never thanked you for the small stuff. The candles and the endless support and the excuses.”

Merlin frowns slightly in confusion, not that Arthur can see:

“Excuses?”

“You didn’t think I didn’t notice, did you? You started years and years ago. You always seemed to notice when being with... with my father, or the knights, or anyone really, was getting too much, you always had some excuse ready. Sometimes you outright lied, even if it would get you in trouble, just to get me away from people. I don’t know how you knew... no one else ever realised. Saying I had paperwork when I didn’t, or a patrol when I wasn’t scheduled for one, or a concussion just to give me some privacy. Thank you.”

Merlin smiles slightly, squeezing Arthur’s hand again:

“You were too busy looking after everyone else, someone had to look after you. I’m grateful it was me, Arthur, I-”

He pauses and sits up slightly straighter, though it doesn’t jostle Arthur too much. He lifts his head anyway, staring at Merlin in concern with tired eyes:

“Merlin?”

Merlin looks to him suddenly, but smiles:

“Hmm, sorry, just Mordred. Updating me on the kid and asking if you’re alright.-”

Arthur’s cheeks flush slightly, but Merlin’s smile grows as he shakes his head:

“-Don’t worry, no one knows about... this, just that you went berserk when you saw a Noble beating his kid, and punched his teeth out.”

Arthur relaxes and nods, humming thoughtfully as he looks to the floor. He stands up, wobbling only slightly after being curled up in the same position on a cold stone floor for several hours, and Merlin follows him confusedly:

“Do... do you want to go check in on them? The kid’s been asking after you apparently, wants to thank you.-”

Arthur looks conflicted, almost as if he were worrying that he wouldn’t actually be welcomed, so Merlin puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles, waiting until Arthur looks at him before continuing:

“-We can leave it until morning, if you like, but you saved that boy, Arthur, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Arthur nods, but doesn’t move until Merlin wipes his face clean with his sleeve and smooths out his clothes. If he uses a little magic to make the two of them more presentable, then neither of them mention it as they walk purposefully to the door.

Merlin looks to Arthur stood next to him, his hand hovering over the door handle:

“Ready?”

Arthur smiles at him, taking his hand and squeezing it, but not dropping it as he opens the door and steps into the corridor:

“Ready.”

~

THE END!!!

As angsty as it was, I really enjoyed writing that😅. I couldn’t help myself though, I had to give it a happy ending :D

I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!! I love y’all!!

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