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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 months

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Beneath the Surface

Requesting qpr Merlin, Gwen, Morgana, Arthur :) – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: qpr gwen/morgana/merlin/arthur

Word Count: 3541

When most look at the King and Queen of Camelot, they see Arthur and Guinevere Pendragon, the beloved royals that have somehow managed to defy the odds. The nobles love them, the common people love them, and they embody the notion that they are just as much their people's servants as the people are theirs. Court has become far less the place of awestruck fear and iron will, morphing into a sanctuary of sorts where ills can be shared and conversations made. No more do the folk tremble at the thought of being summoned, no more do guard patrols storm through the lower town. Instead, the streets are filled with the merry sounds of everyday life, of market stalls and children playing and fat men watching from their windows as the oldest folk enjoy a walk with their grandchildren. Camelot's center thrives amidst the bounty of the harvest and not a mouth goes hungry as ale flows like rivers from table to table.

In short, they would see a King and Queen of a happy kingdom, and not think to wonder more.

Some would look a tad further, of course, as eyes are wont to wander, and see instead the Court Sorcerers. A pair of them, one that represents the Old Religion, and one that represents something closer to Magic itself. Morgana Pendragon, sister to Arthur Pendragon, the last High Priestess of the Old Religion. Born amidst secrecy and deception, she now uses her considerable talents both magical and nonmagical to offer a voice for those who would remain voiceless. Do not be fooled by her fine dresses and gleaming jewels; the majority of her finery is bestowed as gifts, from budding young sorcerers who wish to study at her side to the grateful tradesmen who can once more practice their religion without fear of persecution. Rumored for her sharp gaze and sharper tongue, her kind heart persists despite the late King's legacy of terror, a testament to her strength on its own. And the other, Merlin Emrys, the Last of the Dragonlords and the Greatest Sorcerer to Ever Walk the Earth. As with Morgana, you must not be fooled by his plain tunics and neckerchiefs—he has no need for fineries when his worth lies so far beyond what power they could hope to symbolize. Those who study magic speak of him with a hushed awe, the likes of which could be ascribed to a deity. He is Magic, they say, he is the very thing that weaves in and throughout the world itself, the way it is in and around us, always and forever. He needs scarcely a gesture or a word to perform incredible feats, and barely a smile or a laugh to improve even the most dour of situations.

You will see them at the feasts, at the table they sit at not out of pride, but out of ease—so that they may be found at a moment's notice. King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, Merlin to their left, Morgana to their right.

And that is as far as most deign to look, for why would they seek to know more if this is what they have?

What they will not necessarily see is this:

Merlin and Guinevere enjoy spending time in the castle's gardens. Walking amidst the carefully-tended blooms and cultivated bushes, they spend hours roaming and talking about everything, nothing, and absolutely something. The knights who have just finished their training, the farmer whose daughter has just been born, the clever lass at the tavern who's just gotten engaged. Merlin will pick a flower and make it so it would never wilt, weaving their stems deftly to create a flower crown to place upon his Queen's head. Gwen will laugh, saying that she cannot possibly be the only one adorned, and will do the same. They will both shed petals and stories alike as they wander through the gardens,

And perhaps, they will reminisce as to what it was like before.

Gwen still has calluses on her hands from where she used to work in her father's forge, and later in the castle as a servant for the then Lady Morgana and Prince Arthur. She rubs at one of them now, on the curve of her palm where it meets her fingers, thinking of the ropes and the brushes she used to use to draw the water to wash the floors.

"Do you ever miss it?"

Merlin plucks a stray piece of stem from her curls. "Miss what?"

"Being a servant."

He huffs. "You think Arthur's let me stop being his manservant just because I'm Court Sorcerer now?"

She shoves him lightly and they both laugh. "I'm serious. It was—it wasn't fun, per se, but it was…simpler."

He quiets, then, idly tucking stems into place on his own crown. "I don't know about that. I mean—I definitely wasn't worried about everything the way I am now, but it was…it wasn't like I wasn't doing all the things I'm currently doing."

"Ah, yes," she says, a tinge of sorrow entering her voice, "I'd forgotten."

For Merlin had been doing his duties longer than most, under the nose of the tyrant Uther Pendragon, trying to cobble the magic of Albion back together as one man, alone. She tucks her arm through his, looping their elbows together.

"I get what you mean, though," he remarks as they go, "it definitely wasn't like this. Now I actually have to bother to learn some of the courtly procedures that Arthur always went on about."

"I mean, you don't have to."

"No, I'm pretty sure I do."

"Well, I'm the Queen," she says in her artificially haughty voice, "and I say you don't have to."

"Oh, well, if that's the case, then by all means, order me to not learn anything."

"I order you to be yourself, first and foremost, and that means that if you don't want to learn any of the nonsense that we supposedly 'have' to do, then you shan't."

Arthur and Morgana train with the knights. It was a common sight when the two were younger—or rather, when it was declared time for Arthur to begin to know how to use a sword and Morgana threatened to run anyone through who said she couldn't join—and now that it has returned, years later and hearts lighter, there are a few old knights who shed a tear in private. The knights too, have never been more certain of their rulers, not when they can knock their King on his arse and he'll laugh and congratulate them for it, not when Morgana Pendragon can take on three of the newly-minted squires and offer individual corrections for each as she fends off the other two. The Knights of the Round Table, the inner circle to the King, they too have grown and prospered under the Golden Age of Albion.

Percival, the one who only came to Camelot under the invitation of a friend, now a trusted member of a group so closely-knit they are brothers in all but name.

Elyan, the son of a blacksmith who earned his way to the pinnacle of Camelot's knights on his own merit, who now trades smiles with his sister, the Queen, as though they were born for this.

Gwaine, the noble who swore off his nobility, now accepting it back for people who would bestow him their own loyalty to show they are worthy of his.

Lancelot, the man who was never meant to be a knight of Camelot, who now is what most would consider the embodiment of chivalry, of honor, and of the innate goodness that was once thought to only exist in stories.

And Leon, the last of the old knights and the first to stand behind his brothers and sisters and proclaim that yes, this is what a knight should be.

It has become a spectacle, to watch the seven of them train. A tournament not meant for honor or coin, but for fun and comradery. The knights face off against each other, each in a bracket until the last two are left standing. Sometimes it is Gwaine and Leon, the two that are perhaps the farthest apart in their courtliness, who nonetheless trade blows as though they were still children. Sometimes it is Lancelot and Percival, who were friends before this and so fight in a dialogue all their own. And sometimes it is the Pendragon siblings themselves, who were pitted against each other by their childhoods, their father, the world, and who now spar together because they could not be separated, not when they have worked so hard to forge their relationship into something far, far stronger than steel.

You cheated, Arthur will say with a grin when Morgana knocks him prone.

Please, she laughs back as she pulls him to his feet, you're just not as good as you think you are.

It is a privilege, the knights and squires say alike, to have such people to train amongst, to serve amongst, to be amongst.

Merlin and Morgana go on long horse rides that wind through the forests and the fields. Their horses know them well enough by now that they could be approaching in the dead of night in bare feet, with nary a piece of tack to be seen, and they could ride as well as any horseman. For the convenience of the stable hands and the ease for their loved ones, however, they refrain from such daring nighttime exploits and ride during the daylight, tack and all. This is not the frenzied pace of an excited child, running at full gallop to see what it feels like to fly, nor is it the stately walk of the mounted patrols that see to the security at the borders of Camelot. No, this is the leisurely walk of two people who share a bond that most couldn't hope to aspire to, not when their magic has woven itself so finely that the fabric of it could be cut with a sword and refuse to fray.

Sometimes it is just in the pursuit of fresh air. The castle's walls can only be so flexible, after all, and the need to get out and just be grows to be an unbearable itch under the skin. And so they saddle up and ride through the hills until the sweet smell of blooming flowers and fresh dew washes away the musk of stone and long-dead wood. They bring a picnic with them and settle under the massive trees, enjoying the natural blankets of sunlight and not-quiet as the woods bustle around them.

Sometimes it is for a visit to the Druids. After many years of penance and forgiveness alike, the two of them are a welcome sight amidst their settlements. Children run and frolic about their horses, asking to see their magic, will they tell a story, can they stay for dinner? Merlin smiles and twists golden sparks amidst the leaves to create horses, dragons, beasts without names. Morgana will create dazzling patterns in their campfires and coax the warmth back to those whose bones can no longer hold it so easily. The elders will bow their heads and they will bow theirs in turn, speaking softly and with great import of what else the kingdom can do, what more they could need, how else they can help the people recover from their years of abuse at the hands of those who came before them.

Be here, they receive in turn, return the magic to the lands.

And so they shall.

Sometimes they ride to do just that—to practice their magic among themselves, where they can mess about as though they were children without fear of damaging anything but a few blades of grass. They will playfully hurl spells at each other, trading jinxes and hexes until the sun sets and their grins gleam in the moonlight.

And if they have to shed their tears over the fear, the pain, the ache that it was to have magic when such a thing could get you killed, well, the trees will keep their secrets.

Arthur and Guinevere rule. Perhaps on its own, that does not sound as though that is something that could be considered anything but a duty, but it necessitates spending hours upon hours alone, with only each other's counsel, and conversations that must spread so deep it's a wonder they can emerge again. The two of them could not be more different: the Crown Prince, raised from birth on a slowly rising pedestal with ruling a certainty, if not an inevitability, and a common woman whose highest hope was to one day serve as a maid to a Lady of the castle. Instead, here they sit as equals, each coloring the issues they tackle with their own views and experiences.

It can be a strange thing, to learn something so fundamental about somebody as you are in the middle of an intense conversation. More often than not, statecraft is paused as they discover that Gwen never knew that there could be more than one type of patrol, or Arthur has learned that sewing and embroidery are two different trades whose needs must be met accordingly. Or Arthur has revealed something that never made it past the private doors of the late King, or Gwen has revealed that no, not everyone in the castle understands that a person is a person, regardless of station or title. Conversations such as that end in private words and the softer side of sharing a kingdom, when the doors are closed to any and all who would disturb and they sit on the floor in front of the fireplace, their heads together with soft and murmuring words.

"It's cold tonight," Arthur says softly, reaching for a blanket slung over a nearby chair, "here…"

Gwen hums sleepily as he drapes it over her shoulders, adjusting it so it covers the worst of the chill. "What about you?"

"I've got the fire, I'll be alright."

She frowns, scooting forward instead so she can wrap part of the blanket around him with her arms. "There, is that better?"

He chuckles. "If you wanted a cuddle, my dear, all you had to do was ask."

"Would you give me a cuddle by the fire, then?"

He ducks to press a chaste kiss to her temple. "It would be my honor and my privilege, my Queen."

She laughs into the crook of his shoulder as he carefully frees the blanket from where it has become trapped between them, tucking it over both of their shoulders until they can both be wrapped in its warmth. He sets his chin upon the crown of her head and lets out a sigh. She echoes it, leaning against the strong line of his chest, gazing into the dancing flames.

It is a wonderful thing to be able to rule with someone else, and a greater wonder still to be able to take your crowns off together.

Gwen and Morgana walk through the town. It is their duty to be informed of the goings on, even more so when the market season comes and the traders and sellers travel great distances just to sell to those in Camelot's center. They greet the ones that they know, welcome the ones they don't, and spend their day amongst their people, talking and laughing and learning and sharing. This one's had their trade route intercepted by a flood destroying part of the road, better get on one of the patrols to find a solution. This one's village has become ransacked by bandits, the knights would do well to go and sort them out. This one's just learned a fantastic new dye that yields the most stunning color, does she have enough to satisfy the new demands? This one's apprentice has just begun to make and sell his own wares, best to spend some of the castle's coin on such a worthy venture.

Coin is meant to be spent, after all; it does no one any good to sit in massive vaults and accumulate, it must go to fixing the roads, to tending the fields, and to the skilled people that make the things that we all need to live our everyday lives. It must go to the bakers, when they make little sugar pastries that melt in your mouth. It must go to the potter, who fashions both the jugs and pots that store the basic necessities and the gorgeous works of art that are as admired as they are coveted. It must go to the blacksmith, who forges things that could save your life as much as they do enhance it, be it armor or silverware or a new bit for the horse's bridle. And, of course, it must go to the jeweler, the tailor, the apothecary, the—

"Alright," Gwen laughs as Morgana keeps pointing out different places, "you've made your point, we can go spend some more coin."

"Thank you, My Queen," Morgana lilts, sweeping into a curtsey that would make any noble envious, "for your generosity."

"Oh, stop."

"But My Queen—"

"Morgana!"

And Morgana laughs, sweeping Gwen's arm into hers as they walk down the street. "You make it so easy, my darling, I can't help it."

"Is this payback for all the times I would treat you—"

"Like a Queen?"

"Like a lady should be treated by her maid," Gwen retorts, and Morgana only laughs again, "oh, if I'd have known you'd be like this—"

"You'd never refuse Market Day, don't try to lie."

"I wasn't!"

"Of course you weren't, My Queen."

And if Gwen mutters some decidedly un-queenly things under her breath as they go, Morgana's peal of laughter can only be ascribed to how much she enjoys spending the day with not only her Queen, but her dear Gwen as well.

Arthur and Merlin…well.

If certain old dragons are to be believed, they are two sides of the same coin. Two halves of a story, two halves of a single soul, the story varies from telling to retelling. Of course, none would say this to their faces—sparing a few of the eldest druids and aforementioned old dragon—but the sentiment is the same. The two of them simply fit together.

Does that mean they are without their issues? Heavens no.

"Merlin!"

"You bellowed, sire?"

"Where is my belt?"

Merlin sighs, glancing at the belt hanging on its hook, where it always is, where he saw Arthur put it not two seconds ago, and sighs again. "I don't know, sire, why don't you think about it?"

"What the bloody hell does that mean, 'think about it?'"

"Well, thinking is commonly used to refer to using your brain—"

"Merlin."

"—which is this thing between your ears inside of your head that does this thing called understanding—"

"Merlin!"

"—and then what you do is you use your brain to think, which is this big fancy word for knowing things and understanding how those things affect the world around you—" He raises his hand to stop a flying boot. "See, now, that seems counterproductive."

"I'll show you counterproductive!"

Merlin squawks in surprise as Arthur lunges across the room to wrap him up in his arms, hefting him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and throwing him onto the bed. Merlin bounces, laughing breathlessly, as Arthur puts him in a gentle headlock and scruffs his knuckles over his head.

"Ow! Ow!"

"What was all that about using the thing between your ears? Is that in here? Maybe if I do this hard enough, I'll find the thing you keep professing to use."

"Arthur!" Merlin waves his hand and a pillow flies up and smacks Arthur in the face. "Let me go!"

"I haven't found this thing you're talking about yet!" Merlin succeeds in somewhat squirming away and Arthur just goes after him, wrapping him up in his arms again and pinning him to the bedspread. "You would deny your King such knowledge?"

"I would deny a prat the right to shove me around like a—hey!"

For Arthur had picked up the pillow and smacked Merlin's face lightly. "What was that?"

"Oh, you're in for it now—"

Feathers and dust alike fly across the room as the two swat each other with their brandished pillows, trading insults and laughs as they wrestle on the bed. Merlin manages to get the sheet wrapped around Arthur's main throwing arm but Arthur nearly shoves him off the bed in retaliation, Arthur gets his arms around Merlin again but Merlin throws another pillow to knock him just off balance enough to get away.

By the time Arthur does manage to get Merlin pinned again, the chambers are an absolute mess and his belt has been flung across the room to land on his desk with a loud clunk.

"Ah. There's my belt."

"It was on its hook the whole time."

"What? No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was."

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it—hey!"

Yes, the kingdom is in good hands. Those hands might not always be just for the kingdom, however, for they each have each other to hold onto as well.

#dragonbabbles #fic #merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc

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toastydoll · 4 months

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Since rainbow high is getting extremely worrisome w the new line I’ve coped by making my own wave 6 (drumroll please):

Scarlet, Pumpkin, Mustard, Moss, Cornflower, Royal Purple!

Tbh I was just listing off colors I wished we had gotten in a gc and then realized a) they made a rainbow and b) they were all autumnal themed so I made an inadvertent autumnal wave! All with two outfits bc I’m allowed to dream. I want to make them eventually too bc hello my New Year’s resolution is to make more customs than last year.

Scarlett Connell (scarlet red/orange): a multimedia artist with a passion for eco-friendly graffiti, Scarlett Connell hails from the Pacific Northwest. Growing up on the Oregon coast, Scarlett fell in love with thrifting materials from old logging camps and cargo railroads. Her main outfit is a scarlet beanie, a scarlet plaid scarf, a white tank top, a pair of patchwork scarlet overalls, and graffitied scarlet doc martens. Her second outfit is a scarlet oversized flannel, faded rainbow dream t shirt, torn/cuffed scarlet jeans, and short scarlet rain boots. She keeps her makeup subtle save for a bold detail (scarlet tinged lip, blush, natural brows, graphic scarlet eyeliner) and her scarlet hair straight and chin length. Y’all…she’s the red/orange butch doll we’ve all been waiting for.

Paloma Gordon (pumpkin orange): a sweet-as-can-be baking and pastry major from Salem, Massachusetts. Growing up in such an autumnal region made Paloma fall in love with both the flavors and fashions of the season. Her primary outfit is a pair of cropped ankle pumpkin pants, pumpkin crocs, a white chef coat w pumpkin buttons, and a pumpkin orange neckerchief. Her second outfit is a pair of pumpkin plaid woolen pants, a white cable knit sweater w pumpkin detailing, and pumpkin suede booties. Her makeup is soft and warm yet very, very precise: much like her approach in the kitchen, and she keeps her hair in long curly pumpkin orange ringlets, tied back in a high ponytail. I always wished rh would do a baking major since culinary arts are some of the most impressive art forms in the world (we almost got there w poppy).

Amelie “Frenchie” du Mous (mustard yellow): always on point, Frenchie hones all of her high fashion skills from growing up in Paris into a neatly tailored fashion focus. Her primary outfit is a plaid mustard pinafore over a lace trimmed white blouse with bell sleeves, mustard yellow knee high socks, brown heeled oxfords with mustard laces, and a mustard beret trimmed in white lace. Her second outfit is a pair of knee length mustard plaid shorts w matching suspenders, platform mustard leather loafers, mustard mid calf socks, and a white puffed short sleeved blouse with a mustard plaid bow tie. Her hair is straight and long in two tails. We never got a dark academia girl so here she is to fall in love w scarlet

Ivy Pines (moss green): emerging from the woods for the first time in her life, Ivy is ready to bring her foraging gift to Rainbow High! Her art has always been from the forest around her and her family in Northern California, whether she’s crafting her own dyes or whittling intricate jewelry. Her first outfit is an ombré dip-dyed lace maxi dress (white into moss green) with thin straps, an oversized moss green cardigan, knit to texturally simulate moss (look up moss stitch w this specific rough spin yarn istg it looks just like moss), moss sandals, moss socks, and wooden jewelry with moss jewel accents. Her second outfit is moss green crochet pants, moss flats, and a white peasant top w moss embroidery. Her makeup is natural with mossy green eyeshadow, and her hair is loose beachy waves. She’d come w alt heeled feet but both her shoes would be flat :0. She’s the mori girl we deserved but never actually got.

Corinne St. Germaine (cornflower blue): traveling all the way from Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska, Rainbow High is Corinne’s first interaction outside of her hometown’s sixty people. She’s not totally ignorant of the world though—she’s actually huge on the internet! Her fashion style has been dubbed Lolita Americana: gold rush pioneer outfits through a cute girly lens. Her first outfit is a cornflower blue pioneer dress with a knee length hem, high neck collar, long slightly puffed sleeves, and white apron, as well as lace knee high cornflower stockings, cornflower leather ankle boots, and a cornflower bonnet trimmed in white lace. Her second outfit is a cornflower wool coat, long cornflower wool skirt, and knee high cornflower riding boots. Her hair would have a soft wave and probably be in a half up style, and her makeup would be soft. In a perfect world she’s also got a parasol >:3

Leanna Royale (royal purple): Known for clothing real life royals and only the most fashionable celebrities, the prestigious House Royale has unveiled its latest stride into the fashion world: a daughter named Leanna. Raised from birth on fine art and livery, Leanna is a princess in all but political power. Her first outfit is a polished royal purple velvet pantsuit with a royal satin shirt and purple velvet heeled pumps. Her second outfit is a silk bejeweled minidress, royal purple bejeweled strap heels, and a royal purple fur stole. Her makeup is elegant and refined, complete with a royal purple lip. Her hair is long royal purple locs in an elegant updo, and yes: she has a tiara. She’s every bit of posh violet wishes she could be (/hj)

I’m gonna try and make these! Bases would probably be whatever I can find that’s cheap, though a good visualization I’m going on rn is based on the color create dolls (scarlet and mustard for green eyes, pumpkin and royal for purple eyes, cornflower and moss for blue eyes). Maybe I won’t go so far to do two outfits but I’ll try and at least make one for each :)

#rainbow high #rh

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mostshipshape · 2 years

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The Sailors of the HMS Pickle (Player Characters)

Ladies, Jewels and Gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present the sailors who will be sailing with us on this voyage!

Second Lieutenant David Price (He/They) From a respectable family with many naval heroes in its ranks, David hopes that he can acquit himself honourably. He is the second son of a retired Commander (who served in a minor role in a famous naval battle). On his mother's side he has Bharatan ancestry, and some of his family have also migrated to The Land Upon The Shell. A capable seaman, he longs to travel to exotic places, and he always has novels in his standing bed-place or sea-chest.

Midshipman Lena Wright (She/They) Lena is a no nonsense midshipman in her mid 30s who has little interest in gaining promotion, for she is far too attached to her fellow lower officers. She has been known to help out in the infimary, especially with the movement of the injured, on account of her being a large woman with impressive strength, making carrying sailors an easy task. Despite her lack of ambition, she is well respected as a leader amongst her fellows, and is often seen as something of a mentor to the younger midshipmen. She is particularly close to the surgeon, Susan Ibbot, especially with her her habit of scooping up injured sailors, but nothing has happened between them…. yet.

Chaplain James Tillbury (He/Him) Son of a book printer and a composer, Reverend Tillbury is well-versed in classical texts and has a love of music. He spent ten years taking care of his home parish and his parents, before moving to the coast after their death. He sailed for two years aboard the HMS Guard where he had very good relations with the crew, both those religious and otherwise. On his next voyage, too, he hopes to help and inspire, rather than evangelize.

Gunner Bryn Morgan (They/Them) Raised as part of a middle class merchant family with a significant amount of trade in arms, powder and ammunition, it was always anticipated that Brynn would take over the family business. However, the experience of being trained in mercantile ways in their adolescence was so soul-destroyingly dull that they became desperate to escape to a career that offered more danger and adventure. Now a Gunner on the HMS Pickle, they have once again crossed paths with First Lieutenant Lawrence Davies, once a midshipman whose clandestine romance with a rating lead to a brutal flogging for a young Bryn and a kind transferral for the poor, seduced Davies. Now, Davies does seem quite fond of Bryn's talented cooking, but is that all there is? In Bryn's spare time, their favourite hobby is drawing but they aren't very good at it. They also enjoy cooking, for which they seem to have a special talent. They are very professional in relation to their role, but have a furtive, secretive nature that leads other to think of them as dependable but a bit shifty. They are strongly driven by emotion and a desire to assuage the loneliness they have always felt at sea.

Carpenter Minna Peggram (She/They) Minna hails from a lineage of carpenters - there is always at least one Peggram fixing a hole or building a coffin in every single one of the world's seas. She was the carpenter's apprentice to her mother on the HMS Fidelity before and plans to take her own successor under her wing, be it her natural child or some scrappy rascal picked up along the way (rumor has it that Peggrams are not born, but made, though the former is true for Minna). Still, all Peggrams have an aura of wirey strength and unruly hair to them - Minna, a red mop of curls, is no exception.

Carpenter's Mate Gwilym Parry (He/Him) Gwilym Parry is following in his father's footsteps by serving in the Navy, and he's proud to continue the tradition (no matter that one could learn to Be A Man on land with a lot less chance of dying). He is his family's third child and first son. He's a kind fellow of 24 with a penchant for spotted neckerchiefs and reading as much poetry as he can get his hands on. Gwilym is always ready with a smile to lift up his crewmates when the seas are rough or the brass gets too big for their britches. Don't underestimate Mr Parry! That unassuming face hides a true moral character--though perhaps let's not discuss the particular politics behind those morals on board, eh?

Cook Jacques "Jack" René Anne Laplace (He/Him) A committed Gallian revolutionary, Jacques reluctantly defected--much to his patriotic sister's disapproval--after Empress Josephine Bonaparte's rise to power. (Prior to the Revolution, he had been a pastry chef--skills which, though perhaps a bit refined for shipboard fare, ensure that he at least knows his way around a kitchen.) Although he now serves Gallia's enemy, he hopes to one day return to a restored Gallian Republic. His Gallian background made him unpopular on his previous ship, HMS Amphitrite, so this ship is an opportunity for a fresh start.

Landsman Jean-Heron Toussaint (He/Him) Suspected of harbouring Royalist sympathies, Jean-Heron left Gallia to avoid being caught by Agents of the Revolution. A gambler at heart, he has staked everything on his plan of volunteering for the Loegrian Navy, in the hopes that he will gain some recognition upon the return of the proper Queen.

#shipshape game

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saffyscloset · 2 years

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Corciova Floral Silk Scarf 35x35” in Vibrant Jewel Tones.

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larme-vierge · 4 years

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“Bat” scarf ring (1897)

Blue enamel, gold, and a sapphire.

#jewellery #jewelry #neckerchief jewel #scarf jewelry #foulard #neckerchief #René Lalique #René Jules Lalique #jewels #glass designer #Art Nouveau #Art Deco #art

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zombeesknees · 2 years

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Hi, I've never seen any Cary Grant movies. Do you have any recommendations on where to start? <3

OH BOY, DO I EVER!

So Cary is, at his core, a Very Handsome Clown.

That first bit is obvious right from the get go, while the second sometimes surprises people -- but the man came from a family of acrobats and vaudeville performers, and he was NEVER afraid to go Full Buffoon in something, thank God.

Which means most of his film career can be boiled down into two primary genres: Screwball Comedy and Handsome Asshole.

In the first, you’ve got (and here’s where my recommendations kick in)

Bringing Up Baby -- Cary is a paleontologist who JUST WANTS AN INTERCOSTAL CLAVICLE FOR HIS BRONTOSAURUS, GOT DAMMIT and yet has to deal with a ROGUE LEOPARD because of ditzy socialite Katharine Hepburn.

The Philadelphia Story -- Cary is a rich dude named C. K. Dexter Haven who’s trying to re-woo his ex-wife, Katharine Hepburn, on the eve of her second wedding, but then reporter Jimmy Stewart’s also there and romantic, drunken shenanigans ensue. (Note: Cary and Katharine did a TON of movies together, all of which were great, and his influence at the studio helped save her movie career when she was deemed “too much trouble/box office poison” by shitty men in Hollywood. For that reason alone he has my undying love and respect.)

Arsenic and Old Lace -- Cary just wants to go on his Halloween honeymoon with his new bride, but it turns out his sweet dear old aunties have been KILLING LONELY OLD MEN as a public service and he’s just found a body in the window seat. Awkward.

His Girl Friday -- Newspaperman Cary tries to convince hotshot reporter (and ex-wife) Rosalind Russell to cover the Execution Story of the Year -- and also to not marry her bland new beau. Things get wild when the condemned man escapes and the whole city goes wild. (Note: This film is extra notable because it’s arguably the first movie to have realistic dialogue where characters frequently speak over and interrupt each other. The patter is FANTASTIC.)

People Will Talk -- World’s Greatest Doctor Cary falls in love with a patient who’s in dire straits due to an out-of-wedlock pregnancy, and also has to face down a committee seeking to destroy his career. (This one’s a bit more melodramatic than screwball, and isn’t talked about near as often as his other films, but it holds a special place in my heart.)

As for the second, you can largely thank Hitchcock because there’s

To Catch A Thief -- Retired Jewel Thief Cary is forced to get back into the game/clear his name when he’s suspected of making off with ladies’ necklaces again. This one co-stars the ever-goddessly Grace Kelly and a really cute red neckerchief.

Notorious -- Cold-as-Ice Spy Cary recruits innocent Ingrid Bergman, the daughter of a Nazi, to infiltrate a group of her father’s old friends who fled to Brazil (one of whom is The Invisible Man himself, Claude Rains). Things get rough in a hurry.

North By Northwest -- Ad Exec (think Mad Men) Cary is mistaken for a spy and goes on the lam. Featuring that infamous crop duster chase across the field, and a fight literally on the face of Mount Rushmore.

Charade -- Widow Audrey Hepburn is pursued by several mysterious men who’re after a fortune her thief husband stole just before he was murdered. Can she trust Cary, or is he just after the money?

Houseboat -- Stoic Widower Cary hires the vivacious Sophia Loren to nanny his three unruly children, and hijinks ensue when the family moves onto a rickety houseboat. (This one is more of a Screwball, but he DOES play a Handsome Asshole/Straight Man in this one.)

So yeah. Any one of these movies would be a good place to start, though I most recommend diving into his screwball comedies first. They’re just so fun and zany and silly, with really superb dialogue and goofy characters.

#goodshowoldsport #asks #cary grant #movie recs #the golden age of hollywood #alfred hitchcock

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veliseraptor · 2 years

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Started transfering you say? Puts on a cartonish neckerchief as a bib.

before anyone gets too excited you should know that the selection of fandoms this transfer is going to involve is a mix of:

Supernatural (god so much fucking Supernatural I forgot how much Supernatural fic I wrote)

Death Note

Black Jewels Trilogy

Doctrine of Labyrinths

The Silmarillion

A Song of Ice and Fire

Avatar: the Last Airbender

Wheel of Time

so...nothing new from current or recent fandoms, really, except I guess counting the fact that Wheel of Time is back and small book fandoms are forever. and also that we're talking stuff that I wrote when I was between the ages of thirteen and seventeen. so like. quality may vary! significantly!

I just want to temper expectations here.

#conversating #Anonymous

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wintersongstress · 2 years

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🌹🌹🌹 please please PLEASE bless me with your amazing writing, darling 😩

At the water's edge you greeted the win with an upturned face when it came, sending all the softly golden leaves in the aspens dancing, departing and sailing along the sea of the sky as pebbles crunched underfoot. Rocks jutted from the lake, offering resting places for butterflies to flex their wings while the sunlight scattered its radiance along the water like jewels shining beneath the surface.

The weft of your shawl warms your fingers as you pull it close, catching a glimpse of Arthur over your shoulder. In the sunshine he sits on the porch steps, a cup of coffee steaming beside him while he scribbles in his journal. His coat is opened to the morning wind, and a wine-colored neckerchief hangs from his throat loosely. Deep in thought, he does not notice your silent observation of him, and you were content for it to remain so. Moments like these were as rare and unrepeatable as snowflakes, and melted just as soon.

for every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence of a random WIP i'm currently writing

#in-darker-dreams #ask games #idk about AMAZING #but ty <3 #arthur morgan x reader

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gremlinbehaviour · 3 years

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Mithril

Written for day 5: gifts of Mini @mercelotweek

Read on ao3 or below

"Hey, I saw this in the market and thought of you," had become one of the most common phrases Lancelot's vocabulary. He'd never had a steady stream of income before, so after a small adjustment period where he still hoarded food, money, and weapons to be prepared for a rainy day, he started spending almost all of his knightly paycheck on gifts. His first gift was for Merlin, a beautiful butterfly necklace inlaid with jewels that used up most of the money he'd saved. The next paycheck, though, was mostly spent on Gwaine, who had surprisingly been the one to teach him budgeting. The other traveler's monetary style leaned more towards "spend everything you got the second you get it so you can't get robbed," but that turned out to be exactly the approach Lancelot needed. He bought the knight new boots, since his old ones were wearing out from being worn for so long, and paid for many rounds at the tavern. All of his friends received gifts as well, from a custom made gambeson for Percival to journals for Leon to carving knives for Elyan to a set of beautiful silverware for Gwen and a new herb drying rack and more glass bottles for Gaius.

"Merlin, wait up a minute, I have something for you," he said the morning after one payday. Merlin was already out of bed, getting dressed to go wake up Arthur. His butterfly necklace was concealed beneath his neckerchief. Still in bed, Lancelot rolled over to grab the package he'd concealed beneath the bed. Normally he didn't bother with wrapping them nicely, but today he'd wanted to see Merlin's face as he realized what it was.

He handed the package over, smiling when the servant almost dropped it due to its weight, which was much greater than would be expected of a parcel its size but overall not too much. Merlin gave him a quizzical look as he started to unwrap it, before his mouth dropped open in shock.

"It's made with magic," Lancelot explained as the servant lifted up the fine chainmail shirt. It glimmered oddly in the light, making it obvious that it was made from something other than common steel. "Elyan's old partner at his smithy outside of Camelot is a sorcerer, and he enchanted the metal to be able to make it so fine, but stronger than plate armor." Each ring of the chainmail was no wider than a blade of grass, and the metal itself was as thin as cloth. It was tailor made to fit Merlin snuggly with just a thin silk undershirt beneath to keep it from pinching instead of a heavy gambeson. Gwen had sewn that part, along with providing the measurements for the garment. Instead of slipping on over one's head, it was to be laced up in the back so it wouldn't be as baggy. The point of all these deviations from the standard way chainmail was constructed was so that it wouldn't be heavy or obtrusive and Merlin could wear it every day beneath his clothes.

"It's… Lancelot, it's beautiful!" The metal had a blue sheen for most of it, with hues of every color of the rainbow for some rings. "You had this made for me? How much did it cost?"

"It doesn't matter. I would pay any price to keep you safe." Lancelot stood up from the bed, stepping close to Merlin and giving him a kiss on the cheek. The warlock was getting choked up, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, but he was smiling.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," he murmured, pulling him into a tight hug and then pushing him back so he could kiss him. "Will you help me put it on? I want to wear it today, and every day."

"Of course," Lancelot agreed, already lifting the bottom of Merlin's shirt up. He took absolute care in lacing his partner into the silk undershirt and chainmail. It took time, and would probably make the servant late to go wake Arthur, but he didn't care. Protecting Merlin was more important. Merlin was more important. Before he left, Lancelot pulled him in close and told him he loved him. The gift may have said it already, but the knight wasn't going to risk letting him go without telling him anyway.

#minimercelotweek2021 #gift giving #mercelot #fanfic #bbc merlin #merlin #lancelot

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min-sugar-7 · 3 years

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DAY 7: Free Day + Magic Reveal

Arthur should have known.

Years of calling Merlin the idiot, it turns out it is him that is the idiot. Not just any idiot. An absolute buffoon. An useless, oblivious, tunic. Heck, even a tunic is more observant than he is.

There is only one question running through his mind: how the hell did he miss this?

To answer the question, no, he did not miss this. To some level, he knew there was something off about Merlin. Convenient hearing loss when Merlin yelled out gibberish is one of them. Temporary convenient blindness when bandits go flinging around is also one of them.

While Arthur knew that there was something different about Merlin, he refused to acknowledge what. But now he can’t.

Because Merlin’s giving him a nervous smile while there are at least half a dozen arrows frozen around them. Thank God it’s only them in the forest. If, by some stupid decision, he had agreed to bring some Knights today…

Arthur does not want to think of that either.

Arthur crossed his arms and faced Merlin. Another wave of arrows descended upon them. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold again, and there was no denying it. Arthur only hoped that he could wake up from this nightmare. Some time soon would be preferable.

“Do you have-” Arthur stalked forward, jabbing his finger at Merlin. “Any idea-” Merlin stumbled backward, eyes flashing gold to stop another wave of arrows. Arthur had to pause for a second because, damn Merlin’s eyes are exceptionally beautiful. Especially up this close.

Arthur shook his head because if he concentrates hard enough, he can shake those thoughts away, too.

“-any fucking idea, how hard you’ve made both our lives?” Arthur finished. Arthur heard the bushes ruffle behind him, and Merlin’s eyes once again flared gold. Arthur still had not moved. This meant that his mind just compared Merlin’s eyes to sunsets and stars. Which then deemed it more beautiful than all of Camelot’s jewels combined.

“I’m sorry these bandits decided to shower a bunch of arrows on us!” Merlin protested. Being up this close also meant that Arthur could easily read Merlin. His eyes were wide, mouth set in a defiant line, but Arthur could see the smidgen of fear tainting his features.

Arthur jerked back, startled. Did Merlin really believe that Arthur would h-hurt him. The mere thought of that sent Arthur’s stomach hurling.

Arthur saw a bandit emerge from the bushes behind Merlin, silently aiming his arrow. Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed Merlin aside. He shot a glare at the supposed sneaky bastard, who disappeared back into the bushes.

“You should be grateful we are alone,” Arthur mumbled. Soon enough, bandits gave up on attacking from a distance. Arthur cut down one that sneaked up behind him and blocked another attack. Merlin sent them all flying away, two at a time.

“We-” Arthur began, thrusting his sword into a bandit, “- are not done with this conversation.”

“Whatever you say-” Merlin sent another flying, his head banging into a tree painfully, “- your pratishness.”

“I heard that!” Arthur shoved a bandit back into another, sending them both toppling down.

“Great, your ears are working then,” Merlin smiled over his shoulder. Arthur got distracted for a bit and didn’t notice the bandit sneaking up. Thankfully, Merlin had him covered. His magic only served to distract him more.

Arthur shook his head, willing those traitorous though away. Now was not the time and place.

The bandits, realizing that they didn’t stand a chance, scattered away at once. That left Arthur and Merlin, standing in the middle of the woods, staring at each other. Neither knew where to begin.

One thing is for sure. Merlin cannot remain in Camelot as long as his father is on the throne. Arthur didn’t understand what possessed Merlin to come to Camelot in the first place. Also, judging by how Merlin didn’t utter a single word, he is more than just your average sorcerer. He shuddered at the thought.

But hell, this is Merlin.

“Alright. Here is what is going to happen-”

“-We are going to pretend this never happened and live our lives peacefully?” Merlin interrupted, looking and sounding hopeful. Arthur gave him an unamused look.

“No. You are going to leave Camelot and not return until I am King-”

“-Bullshit-”

“No-” Arthur placed his hands on Merlin’s shoulders, giving him a hard shake, “- you will, for once, listen to-”

Merlin stumbled, grabbing onto Arthur’s arms for support. “You are an absolute clot pole if you think you can banish me. Do your worst, Pendragon.”

Merlin’s grip on Arthur’s arms tightened, his face set in a hard line. His jaw was clenched, eyes glaring.

Arthur, on the other hand, was stunned into silence. Merlin didn’t seem to notice one bit.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You will shut up and either forget this ever happened or accept this for what it is.”

Merlin’s voice started off hard, but it wavered at the end. Merlin took one shaky breath, his eyes glossing over. Arthur did not know what to say. He just continued to stare, his hands still resting on Merlin’s shoulders.

He settled for a small, “why.” It was Merlin’s turn to be silent. “Why would you do this? If it is for protection- you know I will protect you. Or is it because I call you weak? You should know I do not mean anything by it.”

Arthur hated the silence, but he did not want to blabber on in fear of revealing something stupid. But hell, Merlin looked like he didn’t understand what Arthur was saying. Like that was the last thing he expected Arthur to say.

“No,” Merlin breathed out but didn’t say anything else. He crooked his head to the side, eyes searching for something.

“No? No what?” Arthur asked.

“No I don’t do it for that,” Merlin chuckled. Chuckled. Arthur didn’t understand what was so funny about this. “I was born with it- and I use it for you.”

Arthur took a few seconds to process the words. Of course, Merlin would be born with it. It was impossible, and it was something only Merlin would do. But using it for him? For Arthur? “For… me?”

Merlin nodded, the corners of his lips tugging up. Arthur suddenly realized that they were still holding on to each other in a weird way. He did not want to move or let go of Merlin. Oh, God, Arthur was stupid. How was he supposed to survive without Merlin until he’s King? Impossible. He would go mad with boredom in a day.

“You have no clue how many times I’ve had to save your royal backside,” Merlin teased.

“Nonsense,” Arthur immediately stated. Merlin’s smile grew.

“You’d be dead a few thousand times over if not for me.”

“I- what?” Arthur stumbled over his words. That didn’t sound like something Merlin would do. He is the one who needs protection-

“The fact that you’re still alive is enough proof.” Merlin's smile immediately dropped. “Which is why you can’t send me away.”

Against his explicit wishes, Arthur felt his heart melt. Because, of course, Merlin’s going to confuse him even more. “Just when I thought I had you figured out, Merlin,” Arthur sighed, “you go ahead and confuse me even more.”

“Yeah, well, you’d get bored of me if I were normal.” Merlin smiled cheekily. It was easy to pretend that everything was back to normal, that they were still Merlin and Arthur. In a way, things might have changed, but not by much.

“I don’t want you to change,” Arthur replied, shocked by his own honesty. Merlin’s smile dimmed, only by a bit. In a moment of courage, Arthur shifted his hand until it was cradling Merlin’s neck. “I want you, to always, be you,” Arthur whispered.

“Arthur,” Merlin swallowed, throat constricting. Arthur realized that Merlin wasn’t wearing his neckerchief. It only served as a distraction. He had something to say… but can’t remember anymore.

After that, it was simple to just give in. It was simple to lean forward, pull Merlin closer, pressing his lips against his, and lose himself in them. Merlin groaned, hands slipping from his arms to Arthur’s hair, tugging his strands. And God, it was perfect. Like Merlin’s lips were made for him, and his for Merlin.

When they pulled back, Arthur probably had a dopey look, and Merlin wasn’t any better.

“I’m not going away,” Merlin said, resting his forehead against Arthur’s.

Arthur could feel his breath on his skin, his presence the only thing he could focus on. “Bold of you to assume I am letting you after that.”

“Should have realized a kiss is all it would take for you to listen,” Merlin mumbled, pulling away. Arthur immediately missed the contact. “Come on, let’s head back.”

Hiding Merlin’s magic from his father will be a near-impossible task. But Merlin’s been able to do it for so long, so maybe there is a chance they will succeed. They definitely have a lot to talk about. Merlin might get around and answer them, only if Arthur could stop obsessing over his kisses. They have plenty of time, anyway.

#merthurweek2020 #day7 #prompt fill #fic #bbc merlin #merthur #magic reveal #crack #fluff #first kiss #smitten arthur pendragon #bamf merlin #protective arthur

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fashionista4ever · 3 years

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13 Fashion Tips and Tricks From Pro Stylists

1. Find out if a pair of jeans fits without a trip to the dressing room. Ready for a mind-blowing fashion hack? According to Lauren Edelstein, Style Director at Shopbop, all you need to do to determine whether or not a pair of jeans will fit is to wrap the waist around your neck — if the ends meet without overlapping (or stretching), they'll fit your waist. "The neck trick is one I was skeptical about, but it really works!"

2. Make any outfit look great with just three key pieces. Hate complicated fashion trends that only seem accessible to models and actors? It takes just three items to make literally any outfit look great, according to The Ambitionista's Heidi Nazarudin. "A face-flattering pair of classic sunglasses (preferably black), a gorgeous everyday leather handbag, and a smart pair of shoes you can easily walk in."

3. Test the waters of a bright color via lipstick or accessories first. Anyone can wear patterns and bright colors — but if you're afraid of them, Nazarudin recommends wearing them as an accessory before you invest in a clothing item: Instead of trying on a bright citron-colored blouse, you can go for a cuff or bracelet, or even a lipstick."

4. A cowboy accessory can take the place of traditional jewelry. Neckerchiefs can take the place of a statement necklace if you want a warmer alternative to jewelry accessories for fall and winter. "They're bold, bright, and eye catching, too, but feel a little more special," says Edelstein. "And bonus points if you pick a vintage one!"

5. Weigh down a light scarf with earrings. Secure a pair of gold vintage clip-on earrings to weigh the ends of a lightweight scarf down. "It creates a really rich and wearable accessory," says Yraola.

6. Maximize your shoe collection. Want a pair of shoes you can wear all year round, no matter the occasion? A pair of pointed-toe black pumps are essential, says Edelstein — they're seasonless, crazy flattering, and you can where them with absolutely anything.

7. Pop a belt on for a put-together look. Adding a textured, embellished, or a great colored belt is the fastest way to pull together the most basic pieces or quickly elevate a casual outfit, says Yraola.

8. Make the most of your bag. If you want to change the look of a bag you love but feel a little bored with, fashion stylist Genevieve Yraola recommends tying a scarf to it — especially if it's a structured piece with top handles.

9. The key to making online shopping work for you: a tape measure. You need to know your measurements — not just your size. "I'm a big fan of online shopping," says Nazarudin. "But I find that sizes vary across brands and even cuts, so memorize your shoulder, bust, waist, hip, and inseam measurements."

10. Make a basic hairstyle look way more impressive. Accomplishing a Pinterest-worthy hairstyle isn't impossible, even if your skills are super basic! "Cool and modern trends like weaving silk into your braids can fancy up your hair and make it look like you tried a lot harder than you did," advises Combs.

11. When trying prints, use the rule of 2. If you're stressed about pairing patterns, stick by Yraola's guideline: "Two is the max amount of prints or brights to mismatch, like stripes with florals or lavenders with greys," she says. "Don't add a third."

12. You don't need a massive wardrobe of designer clothes to be a great dresser. "Every woman really only needs 20 core items in her closet," advises Nazarudin. "A black pair of pants, a blue blazer, a cashmere V-neck sweater in a jewel tone, and so on." Outside of these 20, you can experiment with more inexpensive items — if you don't like them, it's not nearly as bad as if you dropped $300 on a trendy piece you only wore once. If you need tips on how to maximize your basics, check out Good Housekeeping Style Director Lori Bergamotto's weeklong experiment in wearing the same thing every day.

13. Add accessories to instantly look polished. You can get away with wearing a pair of nice jeans and a T-shirt nearly anywhere (yep, even work!) if you amp up to the look with accessories. "Try throwing on a statement necklace, an intricate bracelet, or even some standout earrings," recommends stylist and Invoice2Go brand ambassador Michelle Combs.

Source https://www.goodhousekeeping.com/beauty/fashion/a34935/fashion-stylist-tips/

#high fashion #women's fashion #fashionista #fashiontips #womenclothing #clothing hacks #fashion hacks #dresstoimpress #bebeautiful

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little-ligi · 3 years

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Whumptober - No. 17

No. 17 - Blackmail | Dirty Secret Fandom - BBC Merlin Wordcount - 583

“Hey! Who are you?” Merlin shouted, dropping the basket of fresh bed linens he had just brought up from the laundry.

The man backed away from Arthur’s desk, tucking a jangling purse into his jacket. Merlin recognised him; he was manservant to one of the visiting knights.

He didn’t answer Merlin’s question, but his hand slid back out of his jacket, this time with a small knife. He flipped it between his fingers, eyeing Merlin with a smirk.

“You won’t tell his majesty I was here, will you?”

“Not if you put that purse back where you found it,” Merlin said, putting his hands on his hips.

“I don’t think I shall.” He shook his head and ran a hand over Arthur’s desk again, selecting the rings Arthur had flung among the paperwork. He slipped the small jewel encrusted one that Arthur didn’t like onto his finger and held his hand up to admire it.

“I’ll call the guards…” Merlin edged back towards the door.

Quick as a flash, the man crossed the room. Merlin cried out as his back was slammed into the wall. The man’s hand was curled in Merlin’s neckerchief, the other holding the short knife to his neck.

“You won’t call the guards. You won’t tell the king.”

“What’s going to stop me,” Merlin challenged, squirming in the man’s grip. He leant in close, pressing Merlin back into the wall with his weight.

“I know your secret,” he hissed in Merlin’s ear. He grabbed a handful of Merlin’s hair, yanking his head backwards and putting pressure on the knife at his throat. Merlin stopped struggling.

“No… you don’t know anything,” he stammered, trying not to swallow as the blade caught under his Adam’s apple.

“How do you think his majesty would take it? Finding out his stupid manservant is actually…” He made a show of looking around to check for eavesdroppers, his grin growing, “… a sorcerer?”

“You’re wrong,” Merlin lied, trying to keep his voice level.

“Am I?” he purred, one eyebrow quirking.

Merlin’s eyes darted as his mind whirred. How had this man found that out? Had Merlin been careless? Gaius was always telling him to be more aware of his surroundings before using his magic. Merlin cursed himself. At least he was fairly certain of one thing.

“He’d never believe you.”

“You think?” He laughed. “Let’s go and find out shall we?” He gave a fierce tug of Merlin’s neckerchief, jerking him towards the door.

“No!”

He smirked, slowly pulling the knife down Merlin’s neck, pressing just hard enough to nick the skin. Merlin felt the warm blood trickle into the hollow of his throat.

“Then don’t breathe a word,” the man whispered, his breath hot on Merlin’s ear.

Merlin closed his eyes. His secret was worth far more than a purse full of gold and a ring Arthur didn’t even like. He nodded.

“Good little sorcerer.”

He loosened his hold on the neckerchief and Merlin wrenched away from him, one hand rising to press against the cut on his neck, the other balling into a fist.

“I’ll be back next time I’m short on gold.” He patted the front of his jacket, it jingled and he smirked. “And there’s nothing you can do about it unless you want your king to know your dirty little secret.”

He slid out of the door, waving merrily to Merlin. Merlin sagged back against the wall, letting his head thunk back into it. Gaius was going to kill him.

#whumptober2020 #no. 17 #blackmail #dirty secret #bbc merlin #fanfiction #fic #merlin #ligi writes

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windmillcrusader · 5 years

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live show discussion below the cut! not so much a play-by-play as a bucketful of things i can recall now that my brain isn’t just one big exclamation mark. even so, spoilers abound, so proceed w caution if you don’t want to be spoiled!

first of all, apologies - all quotes below are approximate. if any of them sound wonky, that’s prob my fault, not kevin’s!

one of the ruby 7 sound effects played by accident while kevin vibert was introducing the show and he waited a beat and said “excuse me.” delightful