#pictures that reminds me of perciver

[davidthewlismybeloved]

photos that remind me of perciver pt.3

#pictures that reminds me of perciver #perciver pictures #percy weasley x oliver wood #percy x oliver #percy weasley #perciver #oliver wood #harry potter #hp headcanon #incorrect quotes #icons harry potter #quidditch #i love them so much

[epithet-beloved]

Could we get some parental Percy and Ramsey? If not that’s fine

PARENTAL PERCY + RAMSEY HEADCANONS

synopsis… Percy and Ramsey as your parents

ft. Percival “Percy” King, Ramsey Murdoch, Howie Honeyglow (mentioned), Meryl Lockhart (mentioned), Sergeant Eros (mentioned)

tags… parental imagine, Percy and Ramsey’s relationship is unspecified, goofy family shenanigans, some anime campaign references but no spoilers, relationship study

word count… 702

a/n… I FINALLY GOT MY WRITING SPOONS BACK BAYBEYYYYYY. Apologies for the long hiatus, but I hope you all enjoy these imagines! ✧ 🦄

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Even if Ramsey is your actual father, he still gets treated at least a little bit like a weird uncle that the rest of the family doesn’t want you associating with.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Despite some general banter, Percy trusts Ramsey with your care quite a lot after he helped her in Redwood Run, and is always fair and never presumptuous. She has quite a few ground rules, some of them a bit odd, but never unfair.

“Uhhh….Percy?” Ramsey’s confusion was met by the policewoman’s polite smile.

“Yes? Is there something you’d like to ask me about the rules?”

A nod. “Just one thing.” Despite the fact that she couldn’t see what he was pointing to, the Australian pointed to one of the lines with his index finger. “I think ‘no crayons of debauchery’ is a bit unnecessary.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Your time between the two is divvied up almost perfectly evenly, as expected of Percy’s scheduling. Sometimes, Ramsey can even go somewhere with you as long as an officer (typically Percy) accompanies you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 On occasion, you’ll also get ‘babysat’ by Meryl or Sergeant Eros when both your parents are unavailable. Meryl can be a bit…jumpy, but typically well meaning. And Eros will let you ride shotgun if he takes you to work with him (given that the work is appropriate and something you can tag along for).

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Ramsey makes drawings of your OCs and Percy hangs them on her fridge. It’s kind of comical to see your fursona or the like hung up in her otherwise rather plain kitchen, but it’s also a sweet reminder of how she’s invested in your interests.

“I must admit, I am curious.” You perked your head up at the sound of your mother’s voice, watching as she admired one of the papers hung up with a magnet on her fridge. When she was done examining the drawing like it was some sort of specimen, she’d stand up to her full height and look your way. “Why am I drawn as a beaver in this picture?”

“Oh,” you explained between bites of food, “I always thought if you were an animal, that’s what you’d be, because you make all kinds of buildings when you’re working.”

This answer seemed to leave her pleased, almost glowing in response to your perception of her. With a hand over her heart, she spoke in a calm voice. “Ah, the beaver. Truly an industrious creature. Nature’s architect, presiding over the flowing waters, arbiting their path….”

….Well, that probably meant she was happy about the fursona you came up for her.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 I wouldn’t call Percy overprotective per se, but she is very cautious. Like if you want to ride a bike, she’ll make sure you have a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, shoulder pads….overall, just makes sure to take all possible safety measures in a situation. She’ll never stop you from doing something you want to do within reason, she’ll just make sure she’s there to keep an eye on you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You’ve also likely met Howie once or twice because he’s a good friend (slash business rival) of Percy’s. He gave you a honeyed snack once. It tasted good, but the texture is…..questionable.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Despite Percy being classic lawful good, Ramsey can actually be the more reasonable one, aka having more common sense in a situation. Sometimes, parent-child bonding is just being surrounded by wackiness while both expressing complete and utter exasperation.

“Hey dad, do you know what is happening right now at all?” You loved your mother to death, but her idea of a ‘fun activity’ could often be rather strange. Like now, where she was currently trying to enforce road safety laws to the Mario Kart CPUs. While losing.

All the man could do was shake his head and crack a grin. “Eh, just roll with it, kiddo. You get used to it after a while.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 They both give headpats, but Percy’s are a sort of stiff “pat pat” while Ramsey’s is more of a noogie that messes up your hair. You don’t have the heart to say either one is better than the other, though.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 They’re both wonderful, really. Both a little weird, but that’s part of what makes your family so great.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 request ! #🦄's writings #epithet erased imagines #epithet erased #epithet erased x reader #ramsey murdoch imagines #Ramsey Murdoch #percival king #Percival king imagines #familial imagines

[nextinline-if]

I am not letting myself get distracted. I mean, honestly, this is important! so, here's Grey's Anatomy quotes that are coded for different characters <3

all credit to the people who made these, it was not me but i grabbed them from google images <3

King Percival - </3

[ID: An image of Meredith that has white words that read: "I think it's important to take the time to tell people you love how much you love them while they can hear you./ID]

Lady Margaret - <3

[ID: A photo of Cristina from the show. Yellow words read: "Have some fire. Be unstoppable. Be a force of nature. Be better than anyone here, and don't give a damn what anyone thinks. You're on your own. Be on your own./ID]

Queen Vivian - &lt;3

[ID: Meredith looking upset as hell with text that reads: Do you know, I can't remember the last time we kissed? 'Cause you never think the last time's going to be the last time - you think there will be more. You think you have forever, but you don't./ID]

Felix Faramund - <3

[ID: Photo of Alex from the show with light yellow words that read: I can't lose you, I won't survive and that's your fault. You made me love you, you made me let you in./iD]

F. Faramund - <;/3

[ID: Photo of Meredith in scrubs with white text that reads: I will probably hurt you again. And you'll hurt me. And I'll come right back to you again when you do. I accept the risk. Because you're worth it. Because you matter to me. Because I love you. And I'm not going anywhere./ID]

Constantine <3

[ID: A quote from Cristina on a pastel splattered background with white writing that reads: There comes a point where it all becomes too much. When we get too tired to fight anymore. So we give up, That's when the real work begins. To find hope where there seems to be absolutely none at all./ID]

James <3

Okay, I couldn't get a pic with the quote I needed so here's a pic of Derek lmao and I don't have the energy to make it sorry lol

[ID: An image of Derek with no words on it. He looks stressed or something.]

Quote for this one: I can't tell you about my pain.

Last one - Game Theme Coded or something clever (insert yourself)

[ID: A blurry image with a black background and white text and a picture of Meredith. It reads: They say death is hardest on the living. It's tough to actually say goodbye. Sometimes it's impossible. You never really stop feeling the loss. It's what makes things so bittersweet. We leave little bits of ourselves behind, little reminders. A lifetime of memories, photos, trinkets. Things to remember us by even when we're gone./ID]

#yeah i did the dead king #character coded quotes #I am chaos #devblog tomorrow night #goodnight

[saphirered]

Request: Percy's taking off reader's glasses or vice versa... maybe both? Prelude to something? Cute, sexy, or angsty... it's all fair game.

I recently broke mine and they're all taped up... a constant reminder.

Oh my! I hope you managed to get them fixed. The temporary fix is one I can relate to. I'm usually a mess when it comes to my own glasses and misplacing them all the time. Drew some inspiration from that so I hope you don't mind. Enjoy! 😘

“Percy? Percy! Oh Percival!” Your voice carries through the hallway accompanied by some bangs and clangs and curses. Percy bites his tongue as he hears you approach the workshop. He thinks nothing of it. Not yet at least. Given a second thought, you’re usually decently well balanced, so he wonders why the sounds of a storm being left in your wake? Fuck! He just burned his finger. Fanning his hand to provide some relief and biting his lip to dim the hiss he turns in his seat and rises. You’re approaching that’s for sure. He’s got half the mind to at least tidy up a little bit and so he does, tools cleared from the worktable put back in their proper places, current project neatly disassembled, parts placed in the order he’d taken them apart in the first place as to not get them messed up and screw up his assembly later. No need to turn this into a picture side down jigsaw puzzle. Vials of toxins, acids and other liquids neatly lined up and labelled. He’s ready for your arrival and sits back down in his chair as the door swings open. 

When you enter the workshop you look a tad disheveled. It seems the buttons of your shirt are done wrong, you’ve settled for two differently coloured socks, one shorter than the other, let’s not mention your hair; serious case of bedhead. You look beautifully disheveled but from the frustrated pout gracing your features he feels safe to assume that’s not an intentional look. You make your way over to him, beelining for the workbench, your back arches as you take a closer look at the surface, run your hands over it before you turn around and lift yourself atop of it so you can sit, keeping some distance from his project. You groan. Percy raises his eyebrow at you but you seem a little less focussed as if you don’t look him in the eye, just in the general direction and then it dawns on him; you can’t see properly. You’re not wearing your glasses. That explains a lot but raises one question. 

“Where are your glasses?” Percy questions. 

“Beats me!” You throw your arms up exasperated. “I’ve been looking for them all morning. Searched our room, nothing. Can’t find them. It’s bloody great, isn’t it? Can’t find my glasses without my glasses. You can see that gets a little difficult.” Percy has to admit it is a little funny. You always manage to displace them, panic when you think you’ve lost them but then usually find them first reach. Seems luck finally isn’t on your side anymore. Maybe he’d tell you I told you so if you were anyone else, okay maybe he still does feel that way, just less sarcastically so. 

“Is that why you left chaos in your wake on your way down here?” He snickers, looking at the shattered vase across the hallway, crumpled up carpet, tilted planter and so on. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I can’t see where I’m going unless it’s five bloody feet in front of me! How the hell am I supposed to see that other stuff before I’m tumbling over it? Eyes up front! Not at my feet!” You huff and Percy should be lucky you’re not able to see the smile gracing his features or you might have had his head. You look rather adorable in your frustration. He wipes the amusement from his face, rises and walks to stand in front of you grasping you by the arms. Now your eyes focus on his face and not just the general direction of his form. Now he’s close enough for you to see more than a collective of differently coloured shapes. You reach up clasp his face between your hands and sigh as your finger trails the frame of his own glasses. 

“Perhaps you’ll finally heed my warnings and not leave your glasses lingering around everywhere?” Wrong thing to say Percival. Wrong thing. 

“Oh shush you.” With that you take the glasses from his face and put them on. You squint hard, brow furrowing but at this point Percy can’t see that. He gives you a look. “Sweet gods your sight is atrocious!” You exclaim as he tries to take the delicate frames back from you. You lean backwards out of reach and try to dodge him holding the sides of the frame to your temples.

“It certainly doesn’t help you’re nearsighted and I am most definitely not. May I please have them back now?” Percy relents and raises his hands in surrender yet you still refuse.

“Fine. What do you want?” You walk your fingers up his arm to his shoulder while moving his glasses to the tip of your nose. If you’re honest looking through Percy’s glasses is giving you a bit of a headache and they don’t exactly improve your sight either. 

“Be the amazing, affectionate and caring partner you are and use those uncanny perceptive skills of yours to help your darling find their glasses?” Stroking your knuckles along his shoulder and neck you lace your free hand with his and lean in to kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger just a little longer than necessary. Looking over the glasses perched on your nose you can see Percy contemplate for a bit. You’re unsure wether this is to make you feel the consequences of losing track of the one thing that allows you to see clearly or because he’d like to see where this is going. You’re not entirely surprised but little by little the later might be the case. Your charm never fails you though. 

“You always have such a way with words. Exactly know how to stroke my ego.” The somewhat lewd look you give him at his comment is lost to him with his current lack of view given the close proximity, but that does not mean he cannot feel the smugness radiate off you as you keep your comment to yourself. Percy holds out his hand for the glasses expecting you to hand them over. 

“I’ll be hanging onto these until we find mine. Misery loves company.” You hop off the workbench standing chest to chest and press a kiss to his lips. Not one to deny you such affections Percy indulges you. When you pull away and step around him, you pull him along by your linked hand, this proves a terrible decision as you’ve missed the presence of the moving chair behind Percy. Luckily the gunslinger is quick in his action and catches you before you can land face first on the floor. He gives you an ‘I told you so’ expression.

“Do you want me to actually be useful to you?” Percy deadpans. He knows you can see the hummer in the situation. 

“I suppose you have a good point…” Still you pull him along, this time mindful of the chair and stepping around the thing. So much for stationary chairs without any kind of mechanisms that allow them to be rolled across the floor. Dangerous for people hard of sight. Then again, you suppose Percy’s workshop is not meant to be safe for most people anyway. Maybe you are slightly to blame but you’re feeling adventurous. You pull him towards the exit of the workshop but not a few steps from the door Percy stops you and sighs deeply. You stop after he leads you over to another workbench, equipment still laid out. Once you get closer you see goggles, the kind used when working with bright flames and sparks or whatever instruments might cause and carry such effects whatever they may be used for. You’re not a bloody engineer. Percy grabs something from the table and then turns to face you proper. 

“How about a trade since you’re so adamant on wearing glasses?” With that he presents a familiar frame, familiar design and given the state of them, definitely yours. These are no doubt your glasses. You go to reach for them but Percy tuts. It’s your turn to relent and so you do. You take his glasses, remove them from the bridge of your nose, and turn them in your hands, lifting them towards his face and placing them back where they belong. You adjust them so they’re on straight once more. You pat his cheek before you drop your arms again. 

“May I please have my glasses?” You sass as Percy seems to deliberate and study you. He inspects your glasses, holds them to the light. They’re covered in smudges but nothing a cleaning cloth can’t fix and so he reaches into a drawer of the workbench, pulls the rag he usually uses solely for this purpose and cleans the glass before he lifts the frames to your face and repeat what you just did for him. Though you make it a point to push them further up your nose. You look rather cute and can see you caught on he noticed. 

“Where would I be without you?” You say jokingly as you peck his lips in thanks. 

“Probably lost somewhere given your own atrocious sight.” Your face grows threatening but bitterly sweet so, with a wide smile as you lean close.

“Don’t make me misplace your glasses on accident next time, Percival.” He snorts. You would be the one to cause him to lose his glasses. At least you’d take great pleasure in helping him find his just like he is now. Though he does feel a bit stupid for not remembering your placing of your glasses in his workshop after your little side venture for safekeeping. Perhaps he should have been aware. He’ll make a note but he doubts he’d care to remember should such an occurrence decide to repeat itself. By the look you’re giving him, it might just repeat itself…

#critical role x reader #vox machina x reader #tlovm x reader #percy de rolo x reader #percival de rolo #critrole x reader #critical role #critical role fanfiction #critical role fanfic #critical role imagine #percy x reader #percival x reader #percy de rolo #legend of vox machina #vox machina

[doggirling]

official warrior cats au sir arthur/meadowstar redux... my main problem with his original design was that he didn't look lion-esque enough in my opinion (which is crucial for arthur in starstruck), so i changed up his chest fur a bit to make it much more mane-like! :P

+ realistic fur color alt !!! he is still green in catstruck (we are not aiming for 100% realism here) but i still wanted to make an alt version that'd show what type of normal fur coloring he'd have. i was wracking my brain over what coloring he'd be but my dear oomf rudy gave me a good pointer so he turned out to be a goldish-tan! i like it a lot because it still feels like arthur in a way (being how it matches his golden armor) ^^

other notes below. these are probably just rambly but they're things i didn't write on the actual picture to prevent cluttering. and just to remind or give anybody a heads up, this is a warrior cats au for my kirby story/ocverse. ⬇️

he's a fairly big + broad cat, even if you take away the extra size his thick fur visually adds. he's not as large as some others in this au (ie: dedede, cocoba, mallory, nightmare are all prob the biggest ones), but he's still on the large side of cats.

this was NOT an intentional design aspect i made consciously but thanks to another one of my oomfs attention to detail, i realized i made his tail look a lot like the plume on his helmet!!!

as stated i did not notice i did this the first time i designed him, and i then forgot and literally did not realize i did it AGAIN until that exact same oomf pointed it out like 'wow i love how his tail still looks like his plume 😮'. i have unintentionally made his tail look like his plume twice now without even realizing it.

still not exactly sure what clan he's leader of. i initially considered skyclan but that clan fit floralia so much better, so that got scrapped. i think he's still alive with some of his clanmates, but its a bit of a similar situation as to how shadowclan chased out windclan in the books, just to a VERY extreme and prolonged extent. like how nightmare defeated the gsa/star warriors in krbay, and they went into hiding for a long while before returning to aid in the final battle against him.

he and nightstar are obviously still nemeses/sworn enemies in this au. relations between their respective clans were extremely unfriendly/hostile, which wasn't helped by nightstar's more... vindictive, wrathful, and arrogant tendencies, alongside his dubious schemes. typical hero vs villain stuff.

um. despite all that, i think in catstruck, meadowstar and nightstar are gonna have to. well. break the warrior code a tad bit to have a fleeting secret affair, in order for chavra (ie: mossshade) to exist in this au. i normally wouldn't put arthurnight in here since that's a ship of mine that i only consider actually shippable in certain circumstances/stories, but i really don't think there's any possible way for the whole cloning aspect of chavra's creation to take place in catstruck, even with the fantasy rules already bent quite a bit. so she's just gonna have to get here the 'natural' way. i'll work out what was happening between those two later. but hey at least we're living up to canon warrior cat plot drama.

and before anyone asks, with starstruck story context translated into warrior cats context, nightstar was the one that carried and inevitably gave birth to mossshade. he's already dabbling in literal magic in catstruck, so i guess he might've been able to do some... sex-change stuff...??? IDK

mentored maplethorn (sir percival/falspar) and probably someone else before he became deputy/leader.

ive been sitting here for a fucking hour just writing facts about this guy so im cutting it off here. peace and love but i knew i was yapping

#didnt post anything catstruck art related for a few weeks... but that didn't mean i was done 😏😏😏 #my art #kirby #warrior cats #starstruck #catstruck #sir arthur #long post #EVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR MEADOWSTAR

[eljeebee]

Sidera's Day

Elizabeth set an alarm clock the night before. The small birthday party was set at 10 in the morning the next day (Sunday), and she woke up at six!

Before she heads out to their kitchen, she peeked at Sidera's bedroom. Her little niece was still sleeping. She smiled.

While eating her breakfast, Elizabeth was thinking of what to serve for her little guests. Her thoughts further strayed to Caleb's plan. She shooked her head, finishing her breakfast.

After cleaning her dish, she scanned their cupboards, seeing if they still have enough pantry goods for the month.

Elizabeth stared at the notes on their bulletin board. She cleared the, and placed a new one. "Buy pasta", it said. Crossing her arms, she hung her head low.

It's Sidera's birthday, which means, the girl would turn into a teen, which means she needs to tell her niece everything. Time is ticking, and she's sure Percival's patience is wearing thin. Sooner or later, they'll be discovered by the vampire. He'll get them. The Swansons will be no more.

As she was setting the table, she thought again.

She'll take Sidera to Gilbert Gardens after her party. She'll tell everything — every single thing, today. Sidera will finally learn the truth. Which means her decision becoming a vampire to defend her niece, and avenge her family will be final.

Before this day ends, Sidera will know.

Sidera excitedly drew a picture to contain her excitement while waiting for the clock to turn to 10 am. She almost annoyed her aunt when she kept tailing her while Elizabeth was in the kitchen.

"Oh, you," Elizabeth clicked her tongue. "Why don't you get yourself busy, hm? You won't notice time went by already. Come on."

"Okay!!!"

"M'so excited!" Sid exclaimed, hands on her hips, her drawing pinned on their bulletin board.

Elizabeth glanced at her, shaking her head. "Be patient, they'll come anytime soon." She placed Sidera's cake at the middle of their table.

"Is that pizza you're making?!" Sid tiptoed to her, trying to peek at what Elizabeth was doing.

"Buffalo chicken pizza," Elizabeth replied, nodding.

Just then, they heard a knock. Sid quickly dashed to the door, then stopped.

"Oops! M'not supposed to answer it!" Sid squeezed her cheeks. "Awwwhh!!!"

Elizabeth laughed, "Go on, Sid. Maybe that's Louie and his brother."

Sid silently pumped her fist, then opened the door. It was Louie and Mason Davis!

"Happy birthday!"

"Thanks you guys!" Sid gave them a hug, which the boys reciprocated.

"Happy birthday, Sid," Mason said again.

"Gosh, Mason, you're big now!" Sid said. "I remember Louie was still carrying you with a stinky diaper!"

"Sidera!" Elizabeth shot her a look.

"Sorry."

Mason laughed. "It's fine Miss Swanson! I made Lou stinky anyway!"

"Eeeww!!" Sid grimaced.

"Don't remind me Mace," Louie groaned.

"Your cake looks so yummy!!!!!" Mason exclaimed. "I drank Diatabs for this!"

"Oh god, are you lactose intolerant?" Elizabeth was horrified, hands ready to take away the cake. "You can eat the pizza, the cheese and dough I used is vegan."

"Thank you, but don't worry I can stomach this! It's worth it!" Mason said, hands signalling her to calm down.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Really?"

"Please, Miss Swanson," Mason pleaded.

"Alright, but one slice only," Elizabeth firmly said. "Okay, before we take a slice, let's hear Sid make her wish."

"Go go go!" Louie urged her.

Sid closed her eyes, silently wishing. When she was done, she quickly stood up and situated herself between Louie and Mason.

"Ready?" Elizabeth said, taking out her phone to snap a picture.

"Happy birthday, Sidera!!!"

Sidera blew her cake, and Louie shouted for joy as he watched her! Elizabeth quickly gathered the boys to her side, gently squeezing their shoulders.

They sang to her, Sidera smiling brightly, faced flushed, a little embarassed for the attention.

"Thanks for coming to the party, Lou," Sid said, coming out of her room for an outfit change.

"No problem!" Louie nodded. "You look awesome! Can't wait for me being a teen!"

"I'll wait for you!"

"Oh yeah, since you're a teen now, are you going to Copperdale?" Mason asked, finishing his cake.

"Yep, that's the plan," Sidera nodded. "Are you going to Copperdale too, Louie?"

Louie nodded, "I will! I'll see you there!"

"Can't believe Sid's a teen now!" Mason said, earning a chuckle from Elizabeth.

"Mason, you sound like an adult," Elizabeth laughed.

"Do I?" Mason raised a brow. He faced his brother. "Do I?"

His brother did not answer. Louie was busy staring — gazing at Sid.

Elizabeth shook her head, laughing. "I can see your ears go red, Lou. Are you crushing on her?"

"Sid, you are so pretty," Louie sighed.

Sid laughed. "Why, thank you, Louie."

Elizabeth and Sid bid Louie and Mason good bye, waving at them as they stepped out of their gate.

The former already had a camera set-up. "Ready for another family picture?"

"I am!" Sid said, posing for the camera.

Click!

"Happy birthday, my darling," Elizabeth squeezed her into a tight embrace. "You're all grown now. I'm so proud of you."

Sid let out a laugh. "Thank you, Auntie. Thanks for being there with me. Dad would be so happy."

"I know," Elizabeth caressed her niece's cheek, tucking a stray hair behind Sid's ear.

Sid smiled.

Elizabeth returned the smile. She's ready.

"Sid," she started. "After we clean up, shall we take a walk to Gilbert Gardens?"

"The gardens?"

Her aunt nodded.

"Sure!"

Elizabeth smiled. "Let's tidy up, then."

She's ready.

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 gameplay #simblr #ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 gameplay #ts4 simblr #ts4 stories #The Davis' #Side: Swanson & Harper

[mikegunnill]

111 years since the Titanic sank.

There are many stories about the sinking of the Titanic and the people who sailed on her. This my story; originally published in Bygone Kent magazine issue:37 Number 2, over 8 pages.

The Titanic sank on the 15th April 1912. Of the 2,223 onboard, 1517 were lost.

Many were searching for a new life in the United States. One of these was 36-year-old Kate Buss 1873-1972 from Sittingbourne, Kent. She was making the journey alone to marry her Kent-born fiancé, Samuel Willis in San Diego in California. Kate survived and they married three weeks after the disaster.

Picture: Kate Buss before leaving Kent.

Samuel Willis ran a tailor’s shop in Sittingbourne, first in the High Street and then later at 110 East Street. Kate Buss was born at 37 Shakespeare Road, Sittingbourne. In 1901 her father James Buss was listed as a grocer-postmaster at 68 Shortlands Road, Sittingbourne.

Picture: Kate Buss, birth home in Sittingbourne, Kent.

Samuel Willis sailed to America in 1908 and settled in San Diego and then opened his own grocery store. Saving enough, to send money back to Kent to pay for his wife-to-be voyage. Kate sailed on a second-class ticket for E-Deck, number 27849, which cost £13.

At 11.40pm on the 14th April she heard a crash and went on deck. Meeting a friend, she returned to her cabin and put more clothes on, then returned on deck. Along with a female friend they were escorted to lifeboat Number 9. Kate later wrote to a friend, Elsie Sparkes in Halling, Kent: “ I’d just my nightdress, my dressing gown and a long coat. It was terribly cold by the iceberg.”

“ I’ve lost everything to remind me of home, all my photographs, my letters, everything except my rings and watch.”

Lifeboat Number 9 was lowered at 1.30am and it was picked up by the Carpathia at 6.15am. The ship picked up 712 people from 13 lifeboats. The rescue ship arrived at Pier 54 in New York at 9.25pm on the 18th April.

Picture: The lifeboat arriving off the rescue ship; Carpathia.

Staying in the east side of New York at the home of; Reverend William Dalziel 1855-1935 and his wife, Emma 1856-1921, formally of Greenstreet near Faversham. Kate wrote to her mother in Sittingbourne.

“ I do hope you don’t believe most of the newspaper stories. I am well and want you to know this. I have been preserved from reporters, who have been trying to find me.”

She later left New York and started the journey to San Diego, where she was reunited with Samuel Willis. Kate wrote several letters to friends in Halling, near Rochester. “ They had to haul me up the last few steps of the rescue ladder and then someone wrapped me in a rug. I had hot brandy and water in the saloon.”

The memory of the terrifying climb, she said would stay with her for the rest of her life.

Kate married Samuel Willis as planned on Saturday, 11th May 1912.

Picture: Kate Buss and Samuel Willis.

Kate Willis never spoke in public about the tragedy but did so in private, when she became emotional. She successfully avoided the press and didn’t testify to either, to the American or the British boards of inquiry.

In one of the few public statements she made, Kate said: “ I willingly would have waited, if I had known how few lifeboats there were.”

On the 12th July 1972, Kate Buss Willis died in Independence, Oregon. On her gravestone her daughter added a,  “ Titanic survivor.”

Picture: Kate Buss Willis in 1950.

Passengers from Kent who died during the Titanic disaster were:

William Thomas Bevan,19 of 95 Richmond Road, Gillingham.

Harry Bristow, 39 of Station Parade, Shortlands, Bromley.

Richard Henry Rouse, 50, of 30 New Road, Sittingbourne.

Thomas Leonard Theobald, 34, 8 Cromer Street, Strood.

Alfred Rush,16, a friend of the Theobald family.

Bernard John Boughton, 25, of 12 Hardinge Road, Ashford.

Percival Thorneycroft, 36 of Bearsted.

Frank Goldsmith, 33 of 22 Hone Street, Strood.

A more complete version was published in Bygone Kent magazine. http://bygonekent.org.uk/

Relations of the Buss and Willis families, helped with details used in this article.

(c) Mike Gunnill 2023.

#Kate Buss #Kate Buss Willis #Titanic #Sittingbourne #San Diego #Willis #bygonekent #mikegunnill

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

To Serve a King

Prompt: hey there! i absolutely adore your writing! i have reread them for the 3rd time since i found your fics! if you have time or any desire to do this at all i had a prompt for you! picture this! small moments in which merlin (and the knights obviously) protect arthur! they've seen him at his most vulnerable, merlin more than the others so i thought it would be so interesting and a good read (although everything you write is a good read) -bonk

Read on Ao3

Warnings: panic attacks, anxiety attacks, minor character death but that happens off-screen, uther pendragon being an asshole and arthur dissociating

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 3563

A King is as much a people's servant as the people are his. A King is just as much a person as his people are.

Sometimes he needs to be reminded that, as a person, he is allowed (and expected) to ask for help.

  “I would like,” Arthur declares as the gauntlet falls to the ground for the fifth time, “to talk to the man who invented these and why he designed them to be so bloody difficult to put on with one hand. What, does he imagine I’m supposed to detach my own hand and put it in front of me? At least some of this is made with the understanding that ‘oh, a man’s only going to have one hand when he puts this on. Surely, it would make sense, then, to design it to be easy to do with only one hand?’”

“The compromise,” says the empty tent which should be empty, this is his private tent, which should be private, which means it should be empty, “for ensuring it won’t fall off when you need to stay on.”

Arthur freezes, shame and mortification flooding his face to the tips of his ears as he hears Elyan’s voice behind him. He opens his mouth, trying in vain to come up with something to say to save face, make an excuse, blame Merlin—Merlin isn’t here, you idiot, you can’t blame him when he isn’t even here—when Elyan’s hands take the gauntlet from the ground. 

“I remember having the same conversation with my dad,” Elyan says as if he didn’t just stumble into the Crown Prince pouting like a child who couldn’t put his shoes on the right feet, “when he was demonstrating how to put the armor on and he needed someone else to come and help.”

“Why didn’t he let you help,” Percival asks—great, how many people are here to witness his shame?—“if you were supposed to be learning?”

“I was a shrimp of a sprog,” Elyan says wryly, “I’m pretty sure the breastplate was the size of my torso and head and arms.”

Percival snorts as he begins to fix the sloppy buckles at Arthur’s back. Part of him wants to snap that they’re fine, to leave them be, but he had the importance of fixing one’s armor on right drilled into him when he was barely old enough to heft a practice sword. “Did that mean you couldn’t lift it off the ground?”

“Oi! I’ll have you know I was plenty strong as a boy, just ask Gwen.”

“So then what was your excuse?”

“Gwen used to hide behind them when we played hide-and-seek,” Elyan says, slipping Arthur’s wrist between the metal and leather, “I was to make sure she wasn’t hiding and distracting me while Father was teaching us.”

“Did that work?”

“Oh, enough for me to learn what I needed to when I was that old.”

Percival grins. “So not at all, then.”

“We got the basics,” Elyan defends, reaching to fix the other gauntlet, “and then we successfully got my father to start looking for us instead of demonstrating while running around with his armor half fixed on.”

Percival laughs again and Elyan laughs too, shaking his head. 

“It was almost worth the lecture we got, just to see Gwen running around with a breastplate over her shoulder like a turtle and my father chasing after her.” He adjusts the last strap and moves on to making sure the fingers fit right. “After that, he made sure to bring only one piece at a time. That was when I asked about doing it with one hand.”

He looks up at Arthur as he speaks, moving the glove carefully. 

“My father told me a story about a man who bragged that he could put on and take off all of his armor with one hand. He was bragging in front of a group of older knights and one of them stood up and tugged on one of the straps.” 

Arthur swallows. “What happened?”

“Oh, the whole thing fell off of him, all over the floor.” Elyan chuckles. “He made sure to have someone help him every day after that.”

The mental image of an entire set of armor falling off just like that is enough for Arthur to laugh too. He feels Percival tuck one last thing into place over his shoulder and nod. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s our pleasure, sire,” Elyan says as he nods and steps away, “and our duty to ensure you’re safe.”

“Best not tell anyone else about that story, then,” Arthur grins as he picks up his sword, “lest they start getting ideas.”

“Oh, I’m the blacksmith,” Elyan says. “I’m the one with all the ideas.”

“Should I be worried about giving you my armor, then?”

“You? Never, sire, but perhaps some of the other knights should.”

“These wouldn’t happen to be the knights that snuck into the quarters and stole your food, would they?”

“I’d prefer not to answer that question, sire.”

Percival laughs, a loud and booming thing. “And they think that Gwaine’s the one they need to watch out for.”

  Arthur has never realized how much the stench of ale isn’t necessarily the strongest smell in the world, but it gets absolutely everywhere. 

The slosh of the tankards the next table over and the clanging of the tray as the barmaids bring the old ones in and the fresh ones out, the ringing and roaring of the boots as the rowdy customers only get rowdier, and above it all, the lingering persistent stench of ale. 

It doesn’t even have much to do with the tankard in front of him. The tavern owner’s daughter, a sweet young thing who spends most of her time in the kitchen and upstairs and not down on the bar floor, has made apple cider today for the festival. Arthur had gladly accepted a tankard of that instead and paid her personally for it, smiling at the sparkles in her eyes and the way she’d eagerly said he could have as much as he wanted. 

Gwaine had slapped him on the shoulder and called him a charmer. 

But that had been when they’d first arrived, when the night was still young enough to be called the evening and Gwaine was at his shoulder. Now he has no idea where Gwaine is, although the smart coin is on the middle of whatever raucous celebration is happening in the corner over there. 

His hands itch and he flattens one to the tankard and the other to the table, trying to stop the ache. His hand sticks immediately to the table and he grimaces, peeling it off and wiping it on his tunic. His hand slides off the tankard, clammy with sweat. Why is he sweating? It’s not that warm in here and fall is in full swing. There’s a draft coming in from the door, shouldn’t he be cold, if anything?

The draft reaches its fingers down the back of his collar and he sits up more, doing his best to fight it off. There’s something sickly sweet coming from a few tables over. It looks like someone’s had too much ale and promptly brought up their stomach. He takes a sip of the cider to try and distract himself and the flavor rips across his tongue. 

It’s good, but it’s almost too good. Too rich. There’s too much spice in it. 

Another clang as tankards crash together and he ducks, trying to hide his head. A flash of metal in the candlelight and his head jerks up, muscles tense, but there’s nothing. 

There’s nothing. 

He looks back down at the table. 

“Arthur,” a voice says, distant and bubbling, “Arthur, look at me.”

Arthur looks up, amidst the din and chaos of the tavern, and sees Gwaine. When did he get here? 

“Arthur,” he says again, and he sounds urgent, is something wrong? “Arthur, let go of the tankard, you’ll bust it open.”

He looks down. Oh. He’s gripping the metal so tight his knuckles are turning white. He tries to let go. His hand won’t respond. 

“I can’t,” he tries to say, “I can’t let go.”

His mouth doesn’t respond. 

“Right,” he hears Gwaine mutter, “let’s get you home.”

Strong hands, hands stronger than he’d ever admit, pry the tankard from his fingers and leave a set of coins that thud against the inside of his head. An arm loops around his shoulders and ushers him toward the door, dodging the spray of ale and the smell it carries. 

A wave of cold and they’re outside, walking up the path. It still smells like ale. Gwaine is at his shoulder. Does Gwaine smell like ale? He doesn’t know anymore, everything smells like ale. 

“Sorry,” Gwaine says, bubbling distantly again, “didn’t realize. I wouldn’t have left you on your own for so long.”

“Realize what?”

“How much it was.”

“Shouldn’t be,” he manages through a cotton tongue, “shouldn’t be too much. ‘M a prince, should be fine.”

Gwaine is quiet for a moment. When he thinks he’s forgotten, he says: “it’s because you’re a prince that it’s too much.”

“What does that mean?” He would sound much more intimidating and powerful if he weren’t leaning on Gwaine to get him back to the castle. 

“It means that even when there’s one of those incredibly lavish feasts or tournaments or whatever, you’re always in a bubble. Not just anyone can come up to you, you’re…you’re in a world of your own.”

He doesn’t want to be. He wants to serve the people, that makes him just as much their servant as they are his. 

“And it’s great that you think that,” Gwaine says, kinder than he normally sounds for Arthur, “but that doesn’t mean you don’t need moments to adjust to it.”

“Okay.”

Gwaine nods. “Come on. Let’s get the rest of the ale off you, you might be able to rest a bit more.”

Gwaine doesn’t smell like ale. 

  There’s a speck on the corner of Uther’s throne. He should tell someone to clean it off. 

“Let me make myself perfectly clear.”

It’s the servant’s job to notice things like this, not his. But if he’s noticed it, maybe that means they aren’t doing their jobs. 

“If you interrupt me while I’m speaking again, I will have you flogged.”

No, that’s not fair, the servants have so much to do. And normally, no one can see this part of the throne because Uther is sitting in it. 

“If you insist on defying me again, I will have you thrown in the dungeons.”

Maybe he can just scrub the speck away with his tunic. Won’t take more than a moment if he can get away. Then the servants won’t have to worry about it. 

“Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, my lord, perfectly.”

“Good.” Uther turns to him, a thunderstorm barely contained in a mass of creaking leather. “Arthur, anything to add?”

He swallows through a dry throat and shakes his head. “No, Father, nothing.”

Uther nods and turns back to a cowed and quiet council, continuing to read off the decisions he’s made that he expects them to agree to. There’s something wrong with the buckle on his right glove. It’s not straight. It needs to be polished, too, some of the metal has started to corrode right where the leather strap goes. Every time he moves his hand, the stain is exposed. That should be polished too. Maybe he can—

“Sire,” a low and much friendlier voice murmurs, “would you mind terribly explaining this set of maps to me?”

Arthur turns, seeing Lancelot a few paces back, holding a set in his hands. He motions to a quieter spot in the room, away from the main meeting. Arthur glances at Uther, then at Lancelot. He stretches his neck out to see what Lancelot’s holding. He frowns. It’s just a set of hunting maps. 

He glances at Uther and moves back, squinting at them again. “They’re of the regular hunting grounds, what do you need explained?”

“There have been reports of bandits raiding in these areas, claiming they’re out of food.” Lancelot offers the maps again. “Some of the patrol men think it would be worth investigating here.”

Arthur opens his mouth to respond when he sees Uther turn and look for him. He freezes, drawing himself up taller and folding his hands behind his back. 

Uther turns and looks at him. “What are you doing?”

“My apologies, sire,” Lancelot says, swooping in front of Arthur and bowing low, “I finally procured the maps the prince requested for tracking this group of bandits and I asked him to ensure they were the correct ones. My sincere apologies for the interruption.”

Uther looks at the maps, nods, and waves his hand. 

Lancelot turns, still between Arthur and the King, and holds them out again. “You were saying, sire?”

“…we should start looking here,” Arthur says, pointing to a ravine, “that’s the most defendable spot.”

“Very good, sire.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, hidden behind the folds of Lancelot’s cloak.

“Of course,” Lancelot whispers back, “any time.”

  It’s so…small. 

He binds the feet first, tearing off the strips of cloth and tying them carefully around the ankles. Then the knees, to ensure it will be easier to maneuver once he’s done. Then the wrists, tied to the sides of the hips to keep the cloth in place and the weight even when it’s picked up. The elbows, then, across the chest, and finally around the head. 

He steps back, prepared to pick up the wood laid next to him, when he just looks at it again. 

It’s so small. Barely longer than two saddles laid end to end. It’s so small there, on the forest floor, white sheet with little flecks of dirt on one side. He takes the end of one of the last strips of fabric and knots it around the head one more time, just to make sure the cloth will stay in place. 

Whether it is to offer dignity or spare himself, he doesn’t know. 

Another quiet thud and he looks over. Leon stands up, having collected the last of the pyre, and gestures to Arthur’s pile of wood. 

“I’ll take that, if you please?”

Arthur just nods, looking back down at the white figure as Leon hefts the wood. He can hear it being placed, can hear the quiet grunts as Leon makes sure everything is secure. When all is quiet again, he hears footsteps and the cleaning of a throat. 

“Ready for you, sire.”

Right. Now is not the time to lose his nerve. He takes a deep breath and leans down, scooping the figure into his arms and turning. It’s so small. It’s too small. 

He lays it down atop the pyre and steps back. Leon wordlessly holds out the flint and steel and he takes it, stepping forward and setting it alight. 

Together, they watch as the body goes up in flames. 

Leon speaks first. “It wasn’t your fault, Arthur.”

He swallows around the lump in his throat. “It was. I should’ve been more careful.”

“You were fighting for your own life,” Leon corrects gently, “there was only so much you could’ve done.”

“I’m Crown Prince of Camelot,” Arthur spits as the fire crackles, “I should be able to do more.”

A pause, then a firm hand on his shoulder. “Even you can’t stop death, Arthur, no man can.”

Unbidden a snarl rises and he whips around, almost shoving Leon away. “Then why is it that I can order it without anyone to stop me?”

He glares at the fire, daring the smoke to sting his eyes. It does and does so with glee. 

“How can I sentence men to die, make them die for me,” he shouts, “if I can’t command them to live as well? Why is it that I can make people die but I can’t make them stop?”

His voice cracks on the word ‘stop.’ Something in his chest cracks too. 

“Why can’t it stop,” he hears himself saying, “why won’t it stop, why won’t it stop?”

“Come,” he hears quietly amidst his babbling, “shed your tears, sire, it’s alright.”

He buries himself in Leon’s arms as the fire smolders, small, small, so small. 

  He wakes up screaming. 

“Arthur!” Merlin’s hands cover his shoulders, run across his frigid skin. “Arthur, Arthur, it’s me, it’s Merlin, you’re alright, you’re safe.”

His throat aches. His eyes burn in the darkness. He’s crying. He’s crying. 

“Arthur, hey, hey, Arthur,” Merlin keeps calling, trying to coax him to look at him, “hey, it’s alright. It’s just me, just clumsy old Merlin. You’re not scared of me, right?”

Merlin? No, no, he could never be scared of Merlin. Merlin is safe, Merlin is always safe. Merlin is there when he needs him to be. He can be safe with Merlin. 

“That’s right,” Merlin says softly, “you’re safe. You’re with me and you’re safe. We’re in your chambers, in the castle, right here.”

He blinks. His heart is beating like he’s been running for a year. Merlin lifts a goblet to his lips and he drinks. Water. 

“Can you see the moon? It’s really bright tonight.” Merlin coaxes his head to the side, out the window. “See?”

It is very bright. His room is silver. There are breezes that flutter the curtains as the candles burn. He’s still crying. 

“I like looking at the moon,” Merlin says, still talking in that soft and even voice, “because it’s always the same moon. I can look at it here and know that my mother is looking at it too, back in Ealdor.”

Merlin sets the goblet back on the table and crawls onto the bed next to Arthur, offering him a shoulder to lean against as Arthur stares out the window. Merlin is warm and solid against his back. 

“I think I used to tell my mother I looked for faces on the moon. I’d see something that looked like a smile, or an eye, or a nose, and I’d describe it for her. And then she’d describe what she saw for me.”

The moon glows in the night sky, silver and still. He takes a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. 

“One time she told me that we would never see exactly the same face because no two faces were exactly the same.” Merlin shifts behind him. Arthur reaches out blindly and feels Merlin take his hand. He squeezes. “But that’s alright, because we’d still be looking at the same place.”

A pause. Then Merlin leans closer. 

“Can you see a face?”

Arthur squints. “Er…up near that big spot. That looks like a mouth.”

“Mm. Yes, I see it. With the two little spots as eyes?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a good one. It’s smiling at you.”

Arthur smiles back. 

+1. 

Uther’s not even the king anymore, Arthur thinks as he dodges another rock, why can’t these sorcerers at least attack me because of something I’ve done?

The sorcerer in question, however, seems to not be interested in the fact that Uther is dead—which, alright, fair enough—and hurls another boulder at them, despite Arthur refusing to fight back when he realized what’s going on. 

“You royals think you’re so brave,” the sorcerer sneers, “cowering behind the bodies of men you throw at your problems so you don’t have to risk anything yourselves.”

I’m not my father, Arthur thinks as he sees his men still running to catch up with him. 

“Do you know what it feels like to be scared?” The sorcerer steps closer. “To fear for every second of your life? As if it could be your last?”

“I do,” Arthur calls, trying to inject as much sincerity into his voice as he can, “perhaps not in the same way you do, but yes, I know what that’s like.”

The sorcerer scoffs. “I don’t think you do. Which is why I’m going to make you understand!”

Don’t like the sound of that. 

Arthur opens his mouth to try and plead one last time when a bolt of energy hits him square in the chest. 

He can hear the sounds of his men yelling out for him but the blood rushes in his ears and he can’t make out anything else. Panic grips his chest and squeezes his heart until it’s about to burst. He doubles over, shoving himself against the rocks and scrambling back. 

This is fear, a voice whispers inside his head, this is true fear. What will you do now, little prince, when you have to be afraid and only afraid? Who will protect a frightened and panicked King who can do nothing for himself?

Memories. 

Memories of kind hands and careful words and clever stories. 

Memories of protective holds and promised favors and practiced comfort. 

Memories of his knights, his brothers, his family. 

Memories of his Merlin, his chosen, his safety. 

My people will help me, he thinks amidst the panic, my people will help me as they trust I will help them. 

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

[davidthewlismybeloved]

photos that remind me of perciver pt.1

#I just think they are very cute and I love them #perciver #percy x oliver #percy weasley x oliver wood #percy weasley #oliver wood #harry potter #hp headcanon #incorrect quotes #the weasleys #pictures #perciver pictures #pictures that reminds me of perciver

[homeinchaldea]

FGO 2022 Recap

Huh, it’s the end of 2022, isn’t it?

There are indeed ups and downs in most servers, and while there are bright spots, the JP server’s direction didn’t inspire much hope. I’m most likely to keep the attention low until further notice.

But I digress.

TW Server

I did get all of the target servants in the main account!

Not pictured: Muramasa, Kagekiyo, all the Gudaguda 5 servants + GSSR servants

Honestly it felt great to have them (especially Voyager and QSH), but hooo boy. People were not kidding when they said how broken Castoria is. With her around, there’s no need ti fear CQs any longer.

While main account is lucky in rolls, alt account, not so much. I end up losing too many SQs in the Hijikata banner ( can got only a Sanzang spook + NP5 Siegfried)

At least it serves as a reminder that one should have restraint in rolling, and I did get Muramasa from a ticket so it’s not entirely bad.

Now with pity dropping by the TW server starting Jan 1, my rolling goals shall be more focused than before:

Koyanskaya + Oberon (of course)

Ever since I got both of them in the JP account, my life has never been the same. No more worries of non 3-3-3 quests. Buster farming will wipe everything clean.

Unga Bunga Buster is truly the best, and my Buster servants would appreciate them greatly.

And that’s not to mention the sheer value Oberon brings in the LB6 story.

Percival

One of the best KOTR period. 

A likable yet human knight, paired with a decent looking design and a excellent gameplay, Percival is the one knight I wish to get as soon as possible.

Other servants I like to get is Miss Crane ( one of the prettiest designed servants of all time, want to have her alongside with Habetrot as fellow fashion designers), Bazett (can’t say no to lady in suit who also counters attacks like a champ), Taigong Wang (pretty design, useful gameplay, another Chinese servant), Lancer Ryouma (Gudaguda themes for alt acc). But overall, I would prioritise the ones above over them if it’s necessary.

JP Server

Would I call it a bad year? Not entirely, there are at least 3 servants that are free to get and also fairly decent in gameplay (Taisui and Xu Fu comes in mind). Some of the most anticipated servants are released that year, and one of the main story (Traum) is fairly decent, giving spotlight for each characters and making them likeable (except Constantine. I don’t think I can forgive his writing choices there.)

Also, in terms of rolls, I did get some of the SSRs from a ticket, and most of them seem fairly decent in gameplay. I also got some of my fav SR servants (eg. Yamanami + Huang Feihu), so it’s overall alright.

But between the mediocre collab (and the last 2 SSRs), the messed up schedule and also me not getting Tametomo / Don Quixote / Castoria?

I dunno, I’m seriously tempted to jump ship once LB7 ended, because the future is not worth it.

Maybe not entirely since part of me wonders if Moses / whatever servant I want would be playable in mobile, but expect me to just log in and farm blue apples from now on.

NA Server

After neglecting it for over a year, I finally managed to return to the NA Account (thank you Castoria for coming home and giving me motivation).

I also rushed from Babylonia to LB2 (thank you Van Gogh for giving me the motivation to do so).

Due to the negligence, I’m pretty lacking in mats, meaning I cannot just willy nilly ascend servants even though I want to.

Nevertheless, the rolls I get are fairly decent. There are misses (like Voyager *sniff*), but I did get a decent amount of SSRs. Some of the servants I got included: NP2 Gilgamesh (cool), Amakusa + QSH (both are great), Douman (also cool) and Van Gogh (FINALLY!)

Honestly on next year, I would like to get a copy of Voyager on CBC and maybe the buster duo + Muramasa. But overall I think it would be more realistic to just focus on the main quests / interludes / SQs / levelling up servants.

Overall

With the JP falling, I may consider redirect my attention to other servers, since they seem more worth my time. But if I end up quiting next year halfway through, this cannot be helped. But we shall see.

#fate grand order #fate/grand order #fate go #fgo #koala plays fgo #recap #fgo jp #fgo na #fgo main #fgo alt

[teamxdark]

He’s Not Here

More masquerade content but what’s this at the end???

In the grand castle ballroom, surrounded by soft golden light and the countless nobles clad in shimmering fabric, King Arthur was so bored he could cry.

This wasn’t what this night should have been; it was a masquerade party, an opportunity to hide away his identity and mingle among the people 一 okay, the nobility, but he would take what he could get 一 like he was a person instead of a king. Finally he had a chance to dance around until his legs ached, to eat food without worrying about the repercussions to his image should he dare speak with his mouth full or use the wrong spoon, to hold conversations that weren’t about politics or finances or how he was doing the best-or-worst job looking after an entire kingdom with a myriad of people with different needs and opinions. 

So how was it that, out of everyone in that room, he was stuck listening to some dull-voiced stag drone on and on about the rising price of grain?

“This is why pricing is tricky, you have to account for the pests before you ship it out and…”

Arthur fought the urge to dash away, but the instant he tried, he knew he would give himself away. His speed was renowned throughout the land, alongside his golden armor and brilliant blue spines. Those, at least, he had taken care of; Merlina had spent the better part of an hour adjusting his coloring to a warm orange and growing out his spines to disguise him beyond the limits of a simple mask. She had tried so hard to give him a chance to have a night off without people instantly worrying for his favor or trying to get something from him… only for him to be trapped all over again.

Arthur would have happily made an excuse to leave, if the stag would only let him get a single word in. His conversation “partner” seemed not to need to breathe, droning on and on in an endless monotone, offset by the cheerful music and bright lights and flashy costumes.

I’ll never be free of this.

“And now that the price is rising, it leaves me in a strange spot, you see. On the one hand, I sympathize with the people who cannot afford my wares, but on the other hand, it means more profit for myself and my own family.”

Chaos above, Arthur wished he hadn’t bumped into this man. His fingers tapped restlessly against his leg, mildly quelling the urge he had to just flee, to drop everything and everyone he had ever known and flee into the night and into the unknown.

“Not to mention, the cost of labor--”

“Mind if I cut in?”

Arthur’s head snapped over to the new voice, endlessly relieved at the interruption, though the stag continued to drone on, the odious voice still grating his ears even as the king faced the bold newcomer.

It was a tiger clad in elegant black clothing with silver accents, extending a hand out to him, and even though Arthur was eager to take it and be whisked away from this living nightmare, something about him made him take pause. His eyes took in the white fur streaked with blue, the slowly flicking tail that reminded him of Sir Percival 一 was it common among all cats? 一 and the eyes looking gently back at him.

He trusted those eyes. It was the look that they held, a look that reminded him of… 

Arthur mentally slapped himself. He’s not here, he reminded himself as he finally took the hand offered to him.

“Yes, please.”

The tiger seemed to brighten just a fraction at his approval, and he led him away from the trappings of boring conversation to the dancefloor, and Arthur had to try hard not to think about how this felt like being rescued by a knight. Especially not…

He’s not here.

The king was jostled from his thoughts as his new partner started to fit him into a hold, and a brand new anxiety washed down upon him as he tried to remember how to reciprocate the hold. Dancing lessons had never been high on the list of priorities when it came to running a kingdom, and yet somehow Arthur was expected to be able to social dance like a pro when his days were filled from dawn to dusk with meetings and drafting decrees and submitting notices of approval until he passed out on his bed. Arthur swallowed, trying to remind himself that stumbling during a dance was still preferable to listening to that one-sided conversation…

...but his partner didn’t dance like a professional. Well… he did, there was no denying his grace and timing, but he didn’t dance like he expected Arthur to be one as well. The steps were simple, the turns basic, and Arthur’s mind swam in relief as he realized that, somehow, this stranger was leading him through steps that he had managed to pick up on through trial and error.

This chance encounter was proving to be everything he needed.

The stranger led him carefully around the floor, maneuvering slowly around other people rather than weaving expertly between them like so many other couples did. If Arthur closed his eyes, he could easily pretend that he was practicing his basic steps with his brother, or his friends, or his--

He’s not here.

And yet…

Yet it was so easy to picture it, even as the peals of laughter surrounded him and washed into his subconsciousness like a spark of delight for him to enjoy. The strong hold, the careful footwork, the calculated rhythm…

Lancelot…

Arthur’s eyes opened, and though he saw stripes they were the wrong ones, and the bittersweet feeling of missing someone dear to him almost caused him to heave a sigh.

He had it bad, and he knew it. His greatest knight and closest ally and dear friend… Sir Lancelot was beyond compare. From questing as youths to his coronation, and in every disaster thereafter, Lancelot had been there, his pillar of strength in a tumultuous world, always standing nearby to passionately defend him or to spare him a quiet gesture of support. Lancelot had protected him from danger, defended his honor, strived to keep his spirits up for years and years…

Arthur had never considered himself one for romance, but as years went by, Lancelot had claimed more and more of his thoughts, attention and affection until the knight unknowingly held the king’s heart firmly in his hands. Too many times to count had Arthur been struck by the urge to grasp his hands, to sing out the words in his heart to him, to draw him close and see if he could make such a powerful knight’s knees buckle below him with a kiss alone…

One song changed into the next, and Arthur, too swept up in his fantasy, didn’t let go of the stranger, didn’t notice the slight lull in their dance, and so the dream kept going.

Lancelot wasn’t there, but Arthur could lean into this stranger’s hold on him, follow his dance, focus on his attire, concentrate on the energy he exuded, energy that reminded him so strongly of his Lancelot, and Arthur’s mind could so easily turn his dream into something more substantial. An illusion for him to drown in, just like this masquerade offered.

The music kept swelling, the sweet notes tickling his ears and driving him even deeper into his dream like he was in a trance. He kept dancing with the man that reminded him so much of his beloved that a second dance turned into a third, and Arthur clung on to his dream, not even registering that it might seem strange until--

“I mean no offense, but surely there are others who would want to dance with you?”

Arthur blinked, and the dream shattered as the man in his arms shifted back into a stranger. The king’s feet stilled, his gaze dropping to his feet. Arthur had to fight back waves of embarrassment and disgust at himself before he could answer.

“Forgive me, but the way you dance…”

HE’S NOT HERE!

“...it reminds me of someone dear to me.”

“O-Oh.”

His companion seemed at a loss, and Arthur held back another sigh, counting the beats in his head before pulling him along for the next dance, leading him in a very basic, repetitive step around the floor.

“I apologize,” Arthur murmured, knowing that there wasn’t much he could do to salvage the situation. At this point, he could only offer his apologies and an explanation. “I know it’s not fair on you, to imagine you are someone else, but…”

A look of hurt passed over his dance partner’s face, and goodness, even that reminded him painfully of Lancelot.

“...but you remind me so much of him.”

Arthur’s eyes swept over his partner, taking in the paradoxical way that he looked completely unfamiliar and yet he still somehow managed to feel so much like his dear knight. Perhaps the dream hadn’t fled from him quite yet, because now Arthur’s yearning mind was searching for any and every chance to convince himself that this was, somehow, Lancelot whom he was dancing with.

“You dance like he does,” Arthur thought aloud, as his partner remained silent. “Careful and precise.”

Your movements… I know them like I know my own.

“Pardon my asking,” the stranger returned, “but why do you not dance with him tonight?”

Like a weight to his soul that would never truly leave, Arthur’s melancholy came back to embrace him. “Ah… he isn’t here.”

He’s not here he’s not here he’s not here--

“Or at least…”

Arthur looked into the stranger’s eyes, his desperation to go back to his dream nearly choking him with emotion as the tiger’s eyes widened at the sudden look directed at him.

“...I haven’t recognized him, yet.”

Arthur knew it was terrible to put such a fantasy on a stranger at a party, but he wanted so badly to believe that this man was Lancelot. Arthur wanted to believe the ludicrous ideas his mind was supplying him with, that somehow this was Lancelot in front of him, disguised beyond all normal means. The tiger in front of him appeared to fluster, his mouth parting as though wishing to speak, though no words came forth.

“You have stripes like he does, too,” Arthur murmured softly, thoughtfully, and yes, he truly was reaching for every last detail in his pathetic attempt to turn what he had in front of him into what he wanted to see.

“If it pleases you,” the tiger finally said as the third song changed into a fourth one, “I… am not opposed to you pretending that I am he.”

Arthur smiled at that, feeling suddenly hesitant at the idea, now that the stranger, as kind and helpful as he had been, had given him his consent to mentally transform him into someone else, to be a player in this dream of his. It was sad, and unfair, but Arthur knew sadness and injustice. He tried to battle it every day, slowly changing and updating laws as they became outdated, but everything went so slowly and people only kept crying out in pain and Arthur wanted just one day, just one, to take ahold of something that he wanted and to cherish it.

“Thank you,” Arthur whispered as he stepped further into the stranger’s hold, feeling warmth overtake him as he confessed his truth. “I have loved him for a great long time and… perhaps this is the closest I shall get to what I dream of.”

Because that was all this would ever be: a dream.

He’s not here.

Arthur’s eyes closed as his head dipped down to rest on the tiger’s shoulder, a soft smile spreading over his muzzle as he noticed that he was of a similar height to Lancelot, and the dream came back in full swing. Arthur’s arms wrapped around his partner, blocking out any consideration to the lack of spines on his back, and the king focused on his heartbeat as it hammered in and out of sync with the other’s.

“I understand the sentiment,” his partner whispered in response, and Arthur had to hold back what was either a laugh or a sob, morphing it into a hum on its way out.

You speak like him, too.

And so the king held his partner as tightly and tenderly as he would a lover, humming along to the song as the masquerade around him faded into nothing. There was nothing, nothing in his dream, but himself and his Lancelot as they spun around slowly.

He’s here. He’s here, I can feel it.

Arthur’s dream permeated his mind, overtaking his consciousness, and as the fourth song faded into oblivion, he finally let out the sigh he had been carrying all night.

“Lancelot…”

Two pairs of feet stilled as both parties realized what had just been said, and one final word jolted the king from his dream.

“A… Arthur?”

He was here all along.

#Smash speaks. #Arthurlot. #satbk #I DID IT I WROTE SOMETHING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. #No editing we write and post and pass out.

[thesleepy1]

All In Endearment, Dear

A/N: My friend really liked that last fic and they wanted another one. I am so glad they liked it. One of the only positive things that happened in a while, hahaha. To anyone who comes across this, commenting, anything, even if it's just a smile makes my day. I finally get to feel that little surge of happiness when my fics are being read. It's a nice feeling, not going to lie. And to top off all of that, @queenofchaos7 requested that I continue this fic. So here we are.

Pairings: Merlin x Arthur

Summary: In an attempt to be more direct with Arthur, he takes Merlin out hunting with his knights. Something so intimate and a clear show of his loyalty, that Merlin could not mistake it as anything else. And in the middle of the forest, Arthur would not be able to chicken out like a coward, lest Merlin gets lost in the forest.

Word count: 3,824

Part 1

Part 3

Warnings: language, suggestive language, crude jokes, violence, blood,

Merlin was ignoring him. The man just had to be. Sure, Merlin came when called, was present in the council meetings, and everytime Arthur “accidently” injured himself Merlin would be there to nurse his wounds. It was just that Merlin rarely ever made eye contact with him anymore unless absolutely necessary. Merlin rarely ever lingered when called anymore, quickly leaving Arthur’s side to do who knows what.

Everyone already knew that Merlin was a wizard. Arthur was in full support of Merlin’s power and his ability to be useful among the court. For once in the brunette’s life that is.

There was no reason why Merlin should be avoiding him like this. Had he done something to make the man upset? Was it the rain comment from the week prior? Whatever it was, it was making him lose sleep. Arthur had long admitted that he was infatuated with Merlin, in love even. Though that was a big word. But obsessed to the point of losing sleep? That was where he drew the line.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled in that way of his. So distinctive that Merlin subconsciously curled up deeper into his nest of blankets. “Merlin!” Arthur yelled again, banging on Merlin’s door in Gaius’ quarters. “I know you aren’t at the tavern. I checked already. Wake up and come out here or I’m going in!”

Begrudgingly, Merlin rolled out of his straw stuffed bed and unlatched the door for Arthur. The king immediately stepped in before Merlin could close him out. “Do you realize how late it is?” Merlin asked in a sleep filled voice, not expecting Arthur to reply.

“Early actually, Merlin. The sun will be up in an hour or so,” Arthur replied, trying to hide the effects that Merlin’s sleep filled voice had on him. The king was so glad that the room was too dark to properly see.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my room, you twat,” Merlin groaned, trying to make Arthur out without magic. If he didn’t know any better, it looked like Arthur was in his hunting outfit.

“Would it be absurd to say I just wanted to see you?” Arthur asked in mock jest, watching Merlin’s face in the dark of the room. Even without light, he was shining.

“You see me everyday, remember? I work for you,” Merlin countered, turning on his heel to beeline for his bed.

“But you’ve been ignoring me.”

Merlin ignored him in favor for getting back into his bed.

“Merlin,” Arthur tired again. “I’m here for a reason, you know.” When Merlin didn’t reply Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m taking you hunting.”

That got the wizard right out of his bed. “What?” he exclaimed in confusion, his hair stuck up on one side. Arthur was tempted to fix it back into place.

“What do you mean, what? We’re going hunting in the forest.” Arthur approached the bedside slowly, as if coming up to a sleeping lion in its den.

“Is that an order?” Merlin mumbled against the bed, pressing his sagging pillow against his head to hide away from Arthur. His shirt was riding up his chest from the movement and Arthur had to quickly look away.

“I-it is,” Arthur stuttered, suddenly very interested in Merlin’s walls. The wizard had a little parchment picture of a bird nailed to his wall. The sketch was quite accurate, though Arthur could not remember for the life of him what kind of bird it was. “We’re going hunting with the knights.”

“Couldn’t this wait until morning?”

“It is morning, Merlin,” Arthur inched toward the door, suddenly very aware that Merlin had gotten up from his bed and was currently undressing behind him. “J-just hurry or else we’re leaving you behind.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Merlin snarked, shrugging into a new tunic. “You might stab yourself with your own sword if I’m not around.”

Arthur turned around, offended that Merlin would say such a thing, “Well I would have you know-” Merlin had yet to put on a new pair of trousers. Arthur ran from the door without saying another word, scarred for life at what he had seen. Merlin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until he heard a distant shout. “I still expect you to be there, Merlin!” Groaning at the unfairness of life, Merlin stepped into his trousers and made his way to the courtyard.

Arthur and the knights were there waiting for him, everyone disregarding, Arthur looked just as exhausted as he was. One of them was barely holding onto his mount. “Dear god, Arthur, what are you doing?” Merlin asked with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Take the lot of you hunting for a great beast or something the kitchen staff could roast for us!”

Merlin was ready to leap off a cliff. “At this ungodly hour?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

“Of course, Merlin. Do you really expect us to hunt at night?” Arthur answered with a smirk on his lips. The knights of the round table all looked as if they were ready to kill their king as well. Gwaine was half asleep on his stallion. Lancelot was sleeping with his eyes open, the lucky bastard.

“I expect you to hunt without me,” Merlin shook his head, turning his back on Arthur to saddle his own horse. The mare was purposely stronger than the others, a more reliant breed that had the best sense of home. If anything were to happen while they were hunting, Arthur wanted Merlin safe.

“Come on, Merlin. It won’t be that bad,” Arthur sounded, ordering his knights to flank him as they rode off into the forest. “Really, it could be worse.”

“It really couldn’t.” Merlin rode to his left, Percival to his right. For knights of his court, none of them except Leon seemed to be properly awake. Even Elyan who used to get up before the break of dawn to help his father was trying to not doze off. Arthur was frankly disappointed in them.

“It could be fun, Merlin,” Leon gave him a reassuring grin, reminding Arthur of a golden retriever. “If anything happens out here, we’ll be here to protect you.”

“It's more likely that Merlin would get himself into a spout of trouble. He’s a magnet for that sort of thing,” Arthur butted in, suddenly aware of how close Leon was to Merlin despite their protective formation. His knight looked bright and cheerful even when the sun barely broke the horizon. “Don’t worry, Merlin. We’ll be sure to save you from yourself,” Arthur added, playfully punched Merlin on the shoulder.

“Ouch, that hurt,” Merlin groaned, rubbing against the spot Arthur had hit.

“You’ll live,” Arthur hid the guilt that ran through his system well. “If you can’t take a punch then you won’t survive out here, you clotpole.”

“First you take my sleep then you take my insults, what next, my breakfast? Oh, wait,” Merlin snarked, holding the reins to his mare tightly. Arthur had made Merlin carry all of their supplies, his horse being the strongest and all. But the wizard didn’t know that. He just saw Arthur as dead from the head up inconsiderate.

“You haven’t had breakfast, Merlin?” Elyan asked in a concerned tone. When Merlin shook his head, Elyan quickly glared at the back of Arthur’s head. “We should catch something for you then. The rest of us had bread and cheese before departing,” Elyan informed, grabbing the box strapped to his back to notch an arrow and be on the lookout.

“He’ll be fine. Missing one meal won’t kill him,” Arthur brushed off Elyan’s concern. His knight was a much more skilled archer than he was. If he was to impress Merlin then he would need all the chances he could get. Perhaps taking his most skilled knights into the forest to hunt for sport was not the most brilliant idea.

But if it were only him and Merlin, then the wizard might have suspected something amiss. Arthur rarely went outside of the city outskirts unless it were for a diplomatic meeting. And he never hunted before day break. It was unsafe to do so alone. However, Arthur wanted all the time he needed to confess to Merlin. So, really, bringing the knights was the only smart choice.

Arthur was beginning to regret his intelligent decision.

The sun finally rose to signal that morning had truly arrived. And with it brought disappointment. They had spent the entirety of the morning running around like cocks with their heads chopped off. Not a single one of them could catch even the smallest of blue jays. No one had any luck.

Arthur even begged Merlin to cast a spell to make something fall at their feet but the wizard had refused because he found it too cruel. The king agreed but at the same time, they would be killing the creature for supper either way. Did it really matter, how?

According to Merlin, yes.

And that was how they ended up here at the river. Noon had just passed its peak and the soft morning sun was blistering with heat. Everyone was sweating in their armor and gear. Practically begging Arthur to stop for a dip. Pleading that they’ll try to catch some fish while they were at it.

Only Merlin sat fine as can be in his faded blue tunic and red handkerchief. The fabric so worn and loved, Arthur could only imagine how soft they were. Though, those two items seemed to be the only things in Merlin’s wardrobe. That and the inverted of the two, faded red tunics and blue handkerchiefs. The wizard’s sense of style was lacking to say the least.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Besides arrogance? Not that I know of,” Arthur answered defensively, turning his back on Merlin for the second time that day. All the knights had piled their armour and clothes on the ground, running head first into the river. The wizard clearly didn’t want to be left out.

Arthur may join them in the water but there was no possible way he could compete with them. They were soldiers, training from morning till evening and then some more. Their bodies were muscular, hair greased and unruly, their scars gleamed in the sun. Arthur couldn’t help but stare at them, watching as droplets fell from their rippling chest. His face grew bright red, heat making him dizzy as he resisted the urge to look lower.

Merlin was having no such complications.

The wizard had just taken off his drawstring trousers. His boots laid next to the knight’s pile of clothes. The horses were tied to a nearby tree and happily grazing. Arthur noticed these simple things so as to not stare at Merlin’s figure. As much as he would like to make fun of Merlin, there was nothing to make a mockery of. For a simple servant, Merlin was quite fit.

“Come on, Arthur! The water is great,” Gwaine yelled from the river, splashing on shore where Arthur was still standing with his gear on. His back was to the group, but his knights knew damn well why he was not looking their way. They had found out about his little crush on Merlin after he had one too many tankards. And since then, they had not ceased in their teasing.

“There could be leeches in there for all you know,” Arthur replied, watching a family of birds high up on the tree branches.

“Leeches are harmless,” Merlin said in a cheerful tone. He could hear the man swimming and splashing behind him. “If you’re worried about the leeches’ well-being, Arthur, they’ll be fine. Missing one meal won’t kill them,” Merlin laughed in a way that made butterflies flutter in Arthur’s stomach.

“Ha, ha, very funny, Merlin.”

“The river feels wonderful,” Leon added as well, looking like a glowing greek god come alive. Sure, all of his knights were good looking, but he saw the way the soldier looked at Merlin. Just because Leon knew about his crush, doesn’t mean the man wasn’t willing to steal Merlin. The knight was so clearly flaunting his muscles, tousling his bright blonde hair with his veiny hand. “Why don’t you join us?”

“Please, Arthur?” Merlin pleaded, the sound going straight to Arthur’s heart and perhaps somewhere lower. “It will probably fix your sour mood.”

“I don’t think anything can fix that,” Percival said with a grin that took up the entirety of his face.

“I think only one thing could.” Arthur could feel Gwaine’s wink against the back of his head. He resisted the urge to gag in the back of his throat. If he loses to Gwaine, he’ll never forgive himself. Leon was worthy at the very least, Gwaine drank too much. To lose to a pig was an under disgrace.

“Fine!” Arthur yelled to his hunting party. He tugged off his gear, his tunic, and then eventually his trousers. It was all a very frantic dance to rid himself of layers, he felt like an utter git. “Are you happy now?” he turned to ask his party, preparing himself to jump into the river.

“No pants, my lord?” Elyan asked in what could pass as a concerned tone, but Arthur could hear the snicker in his voice.

“Well- Aren’t you all naked as well?” Arthur stuttered, flushed as red as the day he was born.

“Even I have my pants on,” Gwaine grinned widely, floating on his back to prove his point. The man was wearing white cotton pants with pink sewn hearts. It was quite comedic if not for the fact that Arthur was standing butt naked in front of the man of his affections.

Arthur quickly grabbed his pants and stepped into them before struggling to jump into the river. He failed to properly jump due to searing eyes on him and belly flopped into the water instead. “Gah!” Arthur cursed under his breath, surfacing with a grimace. “The water’s so cold.”

“There’s no need to feel ashamed, my lord. Performance issues are normal for someone your age.”

“Stress and lack of usage I hear are big factors in the issue,” Merlin added, grinning at Arthur playfully.

“Shut it, Merlin.”

“I think you might be scaring all the fish away, Arthur. You would think that little shrimp of yours would attract more of them.”

Having enough of their rude jests, Arthur pushed his hand through the water and splashed the nearest men. That only awarded him with six grown men thrown into a water battle. It wasn’t fair that Percival was large enough to create a tidal wave of a splash or that Merlin could use his magic to protect himself and attack the others. So when he had ran for his own horse to wade through the water, it was all within the rules.

“Cheater!”

“Traitor!”

Arthur only laughed out loud, “The horses want to be a part of the fun as well!” He had quickly grabbed ahold of his clothes and putting them on with one hand was proving to be more difficult than it seemed. “Catch me if you can-” A strong gust of wind appeared out of the blue and knocked Arthur right back into the water, his horse swimming to the other side.

“What were you saying about fun, Arthur?” Merlin looked down at him, those blue grey eyes staring right at his heart. “Are you willing to play fair, now?” Merlin said in a whisper of a voice.

Arthur parted his mouth to speak, but Merlin took his breath away. This was the moment to tell him. To confess how much he needed Merlin in his life, wanted the man without hesitation. He would never give away his kingdom, but for Merlin…. For Merlin he would consider it. A kingdom was not one without its kings.

He could not place the exact moment he fell in love with Merlin, but he had always loved the fool. “I l-”

His horse on the other side of the river nighed in warning, the steed whining in fear. Bucking up on high legs, Arthur had to hold onto Merlin’s arm to steady himself. There on the shore was a beast he had never seen before. A bear as large as a house stood on four reptilian feet, the fur of the thing made from pure glistening metal. The creature had three sets of violet eyes and radiated heat like a furnace.

Before any of them could react the bear opened its maw to reveal dozens of rows upon rows of teeth. They were sharpened to a point, serrated edges that tore through the horse with a rigid form of fiery. In the blink of an eye, the horse was gone.

“Get back on your horses!” Arthur ordered his men, back stroking onto shore for his sword. “Prepare yourself!” A breeze brushed against his back, goosebumps littering his pale skin. His men were behind him, but Merlin, the bastard that he was, was in front of him. “Merlin, get your ass back here!” he yelled, gripping his sword in hand, chest and clothes soaked through.

“He’s starving!” Merlin shouted back as if that explained everything. The brunette’s lips were tinted blue, his pale skin a purple bruise from their earlier rough water fight. He looked so small then.

“Get back here before I drag you by your ear. You are not to engage!” Arthur threatened, quickly looking out of the corner of his eye to make sure the rest of his knights were alright. They all stood prepared to give their lives for the block headed wizard. Swords at the ready, amour and gear laid askew on the floor, chest bare. Their lives for the thief that stole Arthur’s heart.

“Don’t attack!” Merlin yelled back, wading towards the bear with vigor. His chest heaved with each breath labored by fear. “The poor thing is starving,” Merlin repeated, holding his hands out in a reassuring gesture.

“Merlin,” Arthur warned in a hushed voice, afraid that if he spoke any louder the creature would feel threatened. “Get back here, it's not safe you, utter git,” he hissed between his teeth, eyes darting between the two beasts

“I’ll live,” Merlin called back, eyes glowing light amber and gold.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Lancelot muttered under his breath.

Merlin’s lips twitched upwards at the comment, “Make sure Arthur behaves if I’m gone.”

The mere implication of such a thing had the king of Camelot rushing forward. Arthur would die before having to live a day without Merlin. He was seeing red as he waded through the water, pulling the wizard behind him. “Never!” Arthur yelled louder than intended, the creature whipping its head at them.

“You bloody-” Merlin’s curse was shortened by the blood curdling roar that erupted like a volcano from the beast. It reeled back onto its two high legs, claws as long as Arthur’s arms slashing forward. The underbelly of the thing was made from thick places interwoven, almost as if it knew that was where Arthur was planning to strike.

“Bold of you to assume death could get you out of this relationship,” Arthur quipped before diving underwater.

“Relationship? If you think you could confess to me and then go off to get yourself killed, then I’ll kill you myself.”

“Hey, lovebirds! Have your lover’s quarrel after you’re not in immediate danger,” Gwaine shouted, joining Arthur underwater.

“All of you are going on a fool’s errand,” Merlin said exasperated, climbing onto shore. Leon and Elyan pulled him up with their free hands, pushing him behind them the moment he was on his feet. He rolled his eyes at this, absolutely done with his hunting party. Turning on his heel, he found his horse with all of their supplies. “The bear hasn’t eaten in days, have you seen the state of this forest?” Merlin pulled out a small sack of fruits and bread he had nabbed from the kitchen before running to meet Arthur.

The remaining knights looked onto him in concern, none of them completely used to the words and voice Merlin used when practicing magic. It was a low hiss of words, his eyes illuminated by liquid sunlight. If he weren't on their side, they would be slightly fearful of the wizard. Especially when he made the small sack fly through the air like a canon smelling of freshly baked yeast.

The bear whined low in its throat, the sound like gravel being thrown by the handful at glass windows. It caught the flying sack in between its rows of teeth, tearing through the thing thread by thread like it had the horse. Arthur was within attacking distance when the beast unhinged its maw and let put the most rancid burp.

Arthur and Gwaine fainted where they once stood. The creature lumbered away like it hadn’t just killed a member of their cavalry and scared them lifeless. Merlin swam across the river without hindrance, slapping both Arthur and Gwaine across the face the moment he touched shore. “You two better have a pulse or I’m feeding you to the bear,” Merlin threatened, feeling at their necks and wrists.

“Please, mercy,” Gwaine groaned, “The thing smells like my grandfather’s cooking.”

Merlin chuckled despite himself, the sound causing Arthur to stir. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” the king murmured more to himself than to the rest of the party.

“Really? I would have never guessed. I assumed you had planned this all out, being killed by a beastly bear included. Was that not a part of your little list of Hells for Merlin?”

“This was supposed to be a date,” Arthur said instead, struggling to sit up properly. The smell of the beast lingered and Arthur could have thrown up. “I was supposed to impress you and confess.”

“Well call me impressed,” Merlin brushed Arthur’s hair out of his hair. It was soft to the touch, even riding in a forest for the whole day couldn’t ruin it. “But I’m planning the next date.”

“Next date?”

“Oh no, no, no, a concussion isn’t getting you out of this relationship,” Merlin shook his head with a grin and a gleam in his eyes.

“I don’t have a con- Ow!” Merlin smacked him over the head. “That hurt!”

“Really? It felt like I was just hitting rocks.”

“You can’t say that to me, Merlin. I’m your boyfriend.”

Merlin couldn’t hide the blush on his face and to be honest, he didn’t want to. “I say that because you’re my boyfriend. It's said with endearment, dear.” Arthur grinned at the pet name, Merlin returning the smile as he pulled the king close. Pressing their lips together should have been done ages ago, it was breathtaking. Merlin tasted of faint crisp apples, Arthur of something utterly his own.

Arthur tasted of something delicious, Merlin decided. And he was starving.

#merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #gwaine #lancelot #emrys #bbc merlin #merlin x arthur #arthur x merlin #bbc arthur #king arthur #percival #sir elyan #elyan #bbc elyan #leon #merlin emrys #knights of camelot #knights of the round table #pervical #fanfic #fanfiction #ficlet #fiction #fic writing #ao3 #writing #langauge #crude language #suggestive language

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 1

part one: an insight into how microwaving tea should be a capital crime (fem! reader) 

song for this chapter - ldn by lily allen

summary: you’re Percival; reigning queen of the Kingsman, certified bad-ass and one of the most self-sufficient women to have ever graced the City of London. A mission with the Statesmen is a chance to further your career and tighten your grip on international success - it’s a shame that Jack Daniels already has his eyes on the throne. He also has his eyes on you, and it proves to be a problem for you both. {series masterlist}

this has all the kingsman characters but doesn’t follow the canon of golden circle. eggsy, tequila, champ, merlin etc all crop up throughout the series as well! if u want to be tagged, gimme a shout 

- jazz

You didn’t usually answer the door when someone knocked after 11PM. 

It was just common sense, really. Only serial killers, creeps and people who had the wrong address would knock that late. You could have taken on any of those three regardless - you were a bad-ass after all - but you were also busy. You’d been tirelessly working all day at the office, and the grind didn’t stop just because you’d got home. The stack of paperwork beside your computer felt like it was never ending and you simply didn’t have the time to answer the door. Working as Kingsman was more of a lifestyle than it was a job.

‘Oi!’

You almost jumped out your seat when the banging moved to the window beside your desk. It overlooked your front lawn and the quiet street you lived on - well, as quiet as a street in central London could be. Classic to the city, rain was lashing down on the glass, obscuring your view of whoever your visitor was. 

Right, you could add Eggsy Unwin to the list of people who knocked this late. 

‘What the hell, Eggsy?!’ You sighed, opening the front door. Your colleague quickly rushed from where he was standing by the window, elbowing past you and into the dry warmth of your house. ‘It’s almost midnight-’

‘- I’ve been calling you for hours!’ The agent exclaimed. 

‘I’ve been working all day.’ You replied. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d turned up at your doorstep at a stupid hour. Eggsy was your colleague, but first and foremost, he was your best friend. He had a tendency to drive you up the fucking wall and right back down again, and had done since you were in your school years, but he’d always been a little dependent on you. Whether it had been letting him crash on your sofa when his stepfather became too much, or giving him a lift home from the police station at 2AM after he’d been arrested, you always had his back. He had yours too, but you rarely needed it. Even after becoming a member of the Kingsman and essentially saving the world, you were still the first person he came too. 

After wrapping Eggsy up in a towel and escorting him to the kitchen, you placed a mug of warm tea on the table and sat beside him. Work could wait - for an hour or so at least. Chasing an internationally-reclaimed terrorist certainly took precedence over whatever your friend’s problems were, but if he needed you, he needed you. Bros before hoes might not have been the perfect saying for the situation, but the sentiment was definitely there. 

‘What’s happened now?’ You quirked an eyebrow. ‘I know it ain’t an arrest because you would have called from the station otherwise.’

Eggsy thinned his eyes at you. ‘I haven’t been arrested in two years.’

‘So what was it?’

‘I had a fight with Tilde.’ He admitted. ‘I don’t know what happened, but she’s mad at me.’

‘Were you talking before she got mad?’

‘Yeah.’

You raised your mug in the air. ‘That’s probably it then.’

‘Y/N!’ He swatted your hand away, causing tea to spill out onto the table. 

You sighed. ‘D’you wanna talk about it?’

‘No, I just need a place to crash.’

You stood up, leaning over the table to give his shoulder a squeeze. ‘You know where the spare room is, right?’

‘That’s it?’ He pouted. ‘Tea and a squeeze on the shoulder? My life is falling apart!’

‘Don’t be a drama queen.’ You replied. ‘I have to work - and you should be too. We’re close to getting Calahan.’

Calahan was the codename for the terrorist you’d been tracking - at least his current one. The man had worked under several aliases, jumping from country to country before finally falling under the jurisdiction of the British secret services. The MI5 and Scotland Yard were too well known to work such a sensitive case; the location of their offices were publicly known, making it easier for Calahan to slip in double agents. The civilians, however, had no knowledge on the Kingsmen. A tailor’s shop was a perfectly good front for a place to set up base and track the man down. 

Thanks to your success on your previous missions, Arthur had put you in charge of finding him, with Eggsy assigned as your partner. He was just as good an agent as you, but you had little sympathy for his domestic issues. 

‘I was working on it all day.’ Eggsy held his hands up in surrender. ‘But with all due respect, Percival, I don’t work into the late hours of the night. I know how to switch off.’

‘That’s because you’re a man, Eggsy.’ You reminded him. ‘I am one of three women at Kingsman.’

‘That’s still three more than there used to be.’ 

‘You’ve already pissed off one extremely patient woman tonight.’ You warned him, referring to Tilde. ‘Do you want to go two for two?’

‘No.’ He huffed. ‘Women are just complicated.’

‘Or maybe men are just dumb.’ You smiled sweetly, before brushing a hand through his hair. ‘You should get some rest.’

‘So should you.’

‘I’m fine.’ You shook your head. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Merlin in the morning. We’ll have to leave at eight.’

‘Do I have to go? Merlin hasn’t said anything to me-’

‘- yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I said so.’

He couldn’t argue with that. 

--

The following morning, you were headed for the Kingsman headquarters by 9AM. Having filled Eggsy with some coffee and half a bacon-sandwich, he had cheered up considerably. You did feel for him - he had been right when he said that women were confusing - but your attention was still very much on work. That was the norm, really. You lived and breathed for your job. It wasn’t your whole identity but it was certainly your whole life. You were recruited at eighteen and now, it was all you knew. The other agents were your family. 

‘C’mon, Eggsy!’ You demanded, practically leaping out your car. Your arms were piled high with files, keys dangling from your fingers as you kicked the door to the Mustang shut. It had been a present from Kingsmen for a particularly successful mission. 

‘There’s no rush.’ Eggsy chided from behind you. ‘You should enjoy a little leisurely stroll once in a while. It might do that vein on your forehead some good.’ 

Whilst you were decked out in a blazer and black jeans, Eggsy was in his usual snapback and sports jacket. He trailed beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets as you both slipped inside the shop. It was quiet inside, the only sounds coming from the bell on the door and the sound of your heels on the polished wooden floors. You didn’t just wear them because they made your legs look endless - they doubled up as weapons too. Merlin hadn’t done anything special to them, it was just that anything was a blade if you tried hard enough. Your five inch Christian Louboutins were no different. The fact the bottoms were already red was purely a convenient coincidence. 

‘She still hasn’t called me.’ Eggsy murmured. 

‘I’m sure she will.’ You gave his arm a light squeeze. ‘Tilde loves you, Egghead.’ 

‘Fucking ‘ell.’ He let out a snort. ‘You haven’t called me that in years.’

The two of you made your way down the hall and towards the meeting room. Merlin was already sitting at the table, pens and notepads laid out in front of him. Considering that you’d worked together for years, you hardly knew the man. He was always working, always building new gadgets or arranging missions. Did he ever sleep? You wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out that he’d been a droid this whole time. Someone had mentioned his name being Hamish once, but he didn’t seem like a Hamish. You always pegged him as more of a...Simon. Or a Mark. 

‘You two are late.’ He greeted you. 

‘It’s nine o’clock.’ You shot back, dropping into the seat opposite him. 

‘Early is on time.’ Merlin folded his arms across his chest. ‘On time is late.’

You rolled your eyes at the agent. ‘You know how London traffic can be.’

Choosing to ignore your comment, the Scotsman hit a few buttons on the table in front of him. The whiteboard in front of you jumped to life, lighting up with a picture of New York City - specifically, Midtown. You’d been to the city several times for work, usually to do recon or on protection details for British politicians before diplomatic visits. Outside of that, any missions in North America were outside of the Kingmen’s authority. That was when it fell to the USA’s secret services - a bunch of people you weren’t particularly fond of working with. 

‘Calahan slipped out of the country.’ Merlin stated. ‘He’s been spotted in Manhattan by several of our contacts at the Bureau.’ 

‘What?!’ You guffawed. ‘I thought we had tabs on him. You told me we had tabs on him-’

‘- let me finish, Percival.’ He cut you off. ‘We let him.’

‘You…’ you scoffed in disbelief. ‘You let a known terrorist escape the borders?! You know that I’ve had tabs on him for months! Are you trying to waste my time?’

‘Calm down, agent!’ Merlin repeated, this time in a more firm tone. It was easy to let your temper get the best of you - but at the same time, it was the very thing that had allowed you to force your colleagues into submission. ‘He has more charges on his back in American jurisdiction. We have a better chance of convicting him over there.’

‘You could have told me that before I spent six months tailing him.’ You dropped back in your chair, folding your arms tightly across your chest. 

‘Your mission isn’t over.’ Merlin replied. ‘You know more about Calahan than any men here or across the pond. I want you posted in New York for a few months.’

‘Oh?’ You sat up, interest peaked. 

Working internationally was usually the first step to becoming a senior agent. It was one thing to commandeer the respect of your colleagues but to throw your name into the ring on a global scale? That was how you made it big time - and big time meant big time. Your work would go from being based in London, to taking you all over the world. Kingsman who worked on an international level could be in Moscow one day and Bogota the next. Once they retired, they were legends. It was the kind of success you’d dreamed of your whole life.

And New York was the first stepping stone. 

‘It’s only if you want it, of course.’ Merlin pulled you from your thoughts. ‘The Statesman have agreed to accommodate you, should you choose to accept.’

‘Statesmen?’ You tried to hide the displeasement in your face. ‘Like...the cowboys?’

‘Is there a problem, Percival?’

‘No!’ You quickly replied. ‘It’s just...I worked with one of them once. It wasn’t great.’

‘Here we go.’ Eggsy murmured from beside you. ‘She witnessed Agent Tequila make tea in the microwave.’

‘And I swore never to work with them again.’ You hissed under your breath, fists clenching.

‘I can see how that would be disturbing.’ Merlin agreed. ‘Though I’m not entirely sure it’s enough reason to turn down a potentially career changing mission.’

‘No, you’re right.’ You nodded. ‘But I can bring my own kettle, right?’

--

‘I can’t believe you brought your own fucking kettle.’

‘And I can’t believe that Merlin is making me drag you along-’

‘- it’s only for a week.’ Eggsy held his hands up in defense.

Eggsy, who had momentarily forgotten his relationship woes, had been posted out in the city with you for the first five or six days. Merlin and Arthur had been pretty insistent on him joining you - something about making sure you didn’t blow your lid at a cowboy. It was funny, because you were usually the one babysitting him. That being said, deep down you were glad to have him there with you. It would have made settling in a little easier. 

You were moving faster than him, the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors of the Statesman headquarters as you floated towards the front desk. The building was right in central Manhattan, bang in the middle of all the beautiful things New York had to offer. Not that you were going to experience many of them - you were here to work, after all. 

‘Percival!’ Agent Tequila was posted by the front desk, a grin spread across his face as your eyes met. ‘And...I know they told me your name, but I’ve forgotten.’

‘He’s Galahad 2.0.’ You stuck your hand out to Tequila, offering him the kettle. ‘This is for you.’

‘A...a kettle?’ The agent gave you an odd look. 

‘If I’m going to be working with you for the next few months, I cannot witness you making tea in a microwave.’ You explained. ‘I may murder you in your sleep otherwise.’

‘Jeez, lady.’ He muttered. He would have argued, but if there was one thing he’d learnt from your last collaboration, it was that nobody entered into a fight with you and won. ‘But it’s okay, you’re not with me this time.’

‘Oh?’ You quirked an eyebrow. Tequila began to make his way to the lift, signalling for you and Eggsy to follow. 

‘No, you’re with Whiskey this time.’ He explained, pressing the button for the top floor. ‘He’s a little more senior than me.’

‘Whiskey and Tequila?’ Eggsy muttered in your ear. ‘What’s their boss called? Pale ale?’

‘Champagne.’ You replied. 

‘Good one.’ He snorted.

‘No, Eggsy.’ You whispered back. ‘He’s actually called Champagne.’

‘Fucking hell.’ 

Yeah, you thought, that kinda sums it up.

The three of you stepped out the lift and onto the top floor. The views from the windows were almost breath-taking; it wasn’t often that you got to see 360 degree views of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The skyscrapers stretched out further than the eye could see, eventually melting together in the distance where the sky met the land. It was almost breath-taking just to think about - the people, the opportunities, the magic that New York had to offer. London was your home, and you couldn’t even begin to dream of leaving, but your mind did wander off a little. 

‘Whiskey! I got your girl!’ Tequila yelled, pressing a button on an intercom outside one of the offices. He gave Eggsy a quick glance. . ‘And...the other one.’

‘Sweet Jesus, Tequila!’ A strong Southern accent came back. ‘You don’t gotta yell every time you use the fucking thing! I’m gonna be deaf as a goddamn doornail before I’m fifty.’

A moment later, the door to the office opened and Agent Whiskey stepped out. He was about the same height as Tequila, but a little older. He was wearing a cow-boy hat and there was a...was it a swagger? A spring in his step? Either way, the temptation to stick your foot out and stop him in his tracks was overwhelming. 

‘Well hello, pretty lady.’ Whiskey greeted you with a shit-eating grin. ‘I hear that you’re the little birdy who’s gonna give me Calahan?’

‘I prefer Percival.’ You monotonously replied. ‘And if I’m the little birdy that’s gonna give you Calahan, then you must be the yankee who stole him from me.’

‘Girl’s gotta bite.’ He gave your hand a shake. ‘I like that.’

‘This is Galahad.’ You pointed to Eggsy, who was inwardly holding his breath at the whole exchange. He was mentally counting down the minutes before you smacked off Whiskey’s cowboy hat. ‘Let’s see if you can acknowledge his gender three times in one breath-’

‘- okay, that’ll do!’ Your best friend pulled you back, taking Whiskey’s hand in place of yours. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Whiskey.’

‘Please, call me Jack.’ The cowboy replied. 

‘Whiskey. Jack.’ Eggsy murmured under his breath. ‘Oh my days! Imagine if your surname was Daniels.’

After a brief conversation with Jack about his surname - during which you had seen Eggsy Unwin more entertained than ever before - you were taken down the hall to the agent’s office. Meanwhile, Eggsy and Tequila were escorted off to exchange some files that you’d both gathered. 

Whiskey’s office was exactly as you could have predicted; a mixture of dark wood furniture and red tones. The air smelt of his aftershave, with a hint of brandy and earth.

‘Your desk is that one there.’ Whiskey gestured to a slightly smaller set-up in the corner. 

‘I don’t get my own office?’

‘Since we’re gonna be working in close proximity, Champ figured it was best we double up.’ He explained. ‘Saves us doing a whole revolving door movement when we gotta talk to one another.’

‘Makes sense.’ You placed your bag on the desk, admiring the view for a moment. All of your files on Calahan had been uploaded to the Statesmen’s online cloud, whilst your other belongings had been delivered to the apartment you were staying in. ‘Nice view.’

‘It ain’t bad.’ Whiskey nodded. ‘You been to this neck of the woods before?’ 

‘Only when British diplomats need a babysitter.’ You replied.

‘Babysitting?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s what you Kingsmen do? You babysit?’

‘Why d’you think Eggsy is here?’ You shot back. ‘To babysit me.’

‘Now why would a well-mannered redcoat such as yourself need a babysitter?’ He could barely hide the grin in his voice, leaning back against the window as he peered at you over his glasses.

‘How would I put it in your terms?’ You pondered for a moment, offering Whiskey a sweet smile. ‘Is there a Southern term for I eat cowboys alive?’ 

He gulped. ‘I...I don’t think we got one for that yet.’ 

You nodded, turning your attention back to staring at the view in front of you. ‘You should come up with one. It might be useful.’ 

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey fluff #jack daniels fluff #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #kingsman imagine #kingsman x reader #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy unwin imagine

[madamebaggio]

Snowed in + Huddling for warmth combo

Sansa Stark (Game of Thrones) x Merlin (Kingsman)

as requested by @laughinirishlass​

This got soooo long!

***

“Don’t drink that.” Sansa pulled the bottle from Merlin’s hands. “Drinking alcohol doesn’t help with the cold.”

“I’m quite aware.” Merlin glared at her. “But I don’t want to spend this night sober.”

“Well, I want you to spend it alive.” She walked up to the sink and emptied the shitty vodka in it.

Merlin sighed, but decided not to say anything. He knew he was being a prick, but he couldn’t help himself.

He’d been captured. Sure, there was some torture in there as well, but that was not the point. He’d been trained to whiststand torture, but his pride hadn’t taken well to being caught.

The Russians had slapped him around quite a bit, and he’d been to worse prisons. But again, the thing was being captured. He wasn’t a green agent; he felt ridiculous right now.

And to make things worse? Sansa had been the one to save him.

His problem wasn’t that he’d been rescued by a female colleague -like she’d accused earlier -it was that he needed to be rescued at all. That he hadn’t managed to escape on his own.

Was he that old? Old enough he couldn’t take care of himself?

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and take off your shirt.” Sansa said as she got back to him.

“Excuse you?” Merlin asked dryly.

“You heard me.” Sansa said firmly, but she wasn’t actually unkind. “I know exactly what you’re thinking. You’re upset you needed help.”

“I was more concerned about you making me undress in this cold.” He narrowed his eyes.

She rolled her eyes. “I want to check your injuries. I’ll be fast, I promise.”

The house they were hiding in wasn’t ideal. It was old and practically abandoned -it was clear nobody had been there in months-, but at least they weren’t exposed to the elements. They had to find shelter there, because they weren’t able to carry on at night with the snow. So… Yeah… It was a situation.

Merlin sighed, but took off his clothes until his upper body was exposed. Sansa passed him one blanket she’d found so he could be at least partially protected from the cold.

She checked his ribs carefully and Merlin tried not to think about her hands on his skin. He knew she was just being a good agent, a good teammate, but... 

“It’s not broken.” She sighed in relief. “I was worried about it.”

“I know. I said I was just winded.” He reminded her.

“Yes, whatever.” She rolled her eyes, then checked a cut he had on his pec. “It’s not infected, but we’ll need to give it proper attention as soon as possible. I don’t have a first aid kit.”

It was obvious she was frustrated by that, feeling bad. They weren’t supposed to still be in Russia. However, they had a problem with their transport and were delayed in leaving the country; so they were stranded and with not enough resources.

“It is fine.” Merlin assured her. “We’ll be home before you notice it.”

“Only if we survive the night.” Sansa sighed. “We need to huddle for warmth.”

Yes… Merlin knew that. He was just avoiding saying it, like it’d change their situation. And he could be mature about it, it was about survival, and yet…

Sansa made him stay on the tiny bed while she organized the few things they had and grabbed the few blankets that were left around the house. Merlin offered help twice and was ignored both times.

Eventually, Sansa had prepared a corner for them and Merlin sat with his back against the headboard of the small bed -with two blankets at his back -before Sansa took off her shirt and followed him.

She sat with her back to his chest, between his legs. Merlin was left staring at the back of her head, until she relaxed against his chest, the crown of her head tucked under his chin.

Great.

“Here.” Sansa grabbed his arms and put them around her body. “I’m cold too.”

This should be fine. Merlin had once cuddled in way less clothes with Percival to keep warm, inside a sleeping bag.

But Percival wasn’t Sansa. And Sansa was...

“This is cozy.” She commented, a bit sarcastically.

Merlin snorted. “Downright romantic.”

She moved her head so she could look at him. “Not what I’d expect from you.”

Merlin frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged and moved back to a more comfortable position. “I don’t picture you as a romantic.”

Merlin licked his lips. “How do you picture me?”

“Grumpy.” She teased. “Focused. Loyal.”

“But not romantic?” He asked.

She was quiet for a minute. “I wouldn’t know, would I?”

His arms reflexively squeezed around her. “I guess not.” She hummed. “Unless…”

“Yes?” Sansa pushed when he got quiet.

“Unless you wanted to know.”

#madame baggio #crackship #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #gifs not mine #request #huddling for warmth #snowed in #au #game of thrones #Kingsman #Sansa Stark #merlin #sansa x merlin

[madou-dilou]

I love how Harrow and Viren are totally king Arthur and lord Lancelot from Kaamelott.

On the left : Lancelot. Right : Arthur.

Harrow and Arthur are haunted by the trace they will leave in history.

Harrow: Soon you'll learn the great lie of History.

Arthur : I am King Arthur. I never despair. Children look up to me.

(Arthur also has a personal chronicler who writes down every great deeds : "Between your sick horses and your dead horses, I would remind you that I have a legend to write !")

Both are anxious about the fact that they may not deserve their place :

Harrow : Ezran is a lucky little boy, but many little boys of the kingdom were born with much less. What have I done to deserve all of this ?

Arthur's mentor : You don't become a chief because you deserve it, you dumbass ! A chief is made by the circumstances, and only afterwards he deserves it !

Arthur himself, to the Lady of the Lake : What about Excalibur ? You want Excalibur back ?! Take it ! Eff with it ! Give it to someone else ! Give it to Percival, if his destiny is so much greater than mine !

Both are guided by a vision of equality.

Harrow : Real justice is a fair system. This fair system should be fair no matter the accident of my birth.

Arthur : Yeah, sure, one by one, it’s easy to be worthy. But the real difficulty is to put everyone to the same level.

Lancelot : *snorts* You still believe this nonsense ?

Arthur : Yes, I do. Salvation, light are for everyone. If it’s just for me, I don’t see why. For the Grail, I built a fortress. It's called Kaamelott. I went through all the kingdom to find knights. I built a table. I wanted it to be round, so no one would be stuck in a corner or at the end of the table. So everyone could take a chance. Even the morons. Even the weak.

Both are trying to be progressist.

Harrow : I want things to change, Sarai.

Arthur : Yeah, about that... I thought we should abolish slavery. And death penalty, while we're at it. Imagine : the first country in the whole world which doesn’t sentence people to death !  In five and ten years, only barbarians will still do those.

Both hate the idea of people sacrificing themselves to save theirs lives :

Harrow : I won't hide myself in an innocent's body while he gives his life to pay for my mistakes.

Percival : That's legit. Priority to the one whose life is more important.

Arthur : WHAT ?! Who told you so ?

Percival : The other knights. They say if we get ambushed, if you are in danger, we must sacrifice ourselves.

Arthur : What ? No no no no no no no no no ! NEVER do that. Never, is this clear ?!

Percival : But, your Grace...

Arthur : No ! If I'm in danger, you run the fuck away !

Both are suicidal.

Harrow : I need to pay the price for my mistakes.

Arthur, after failing his suicide attempt : What is someone who spills his own blood so everyone is guilty ? Everyone who committed suicide is the Christ. Every bathtub is the Grail.

Meanwhile, Lord Viren shares many similarities with Lord Lancelot.

Both are the king's best friend and closest advisor :

Viren : He insisted so I would stand by him for the picture, because he knew I would stand by him through anything.

Lancelot, his hand over Arthur's shoulder : Fear not, your Grace ! I shall protect the Queen from the ferocity of night beasts ! (Arthur, rolling his eyes : Oh, won't you ever chill for like, one minute ?)

Both are surrounded by idiots :

Viren : Yes. History is... Like a see-saw.

Lancelot : I've been saying this from the very start. The Grail quest is for the elite ! (Arthur rolls his eyes). We must put the dumbass aside, or else we just struggle !

Both have a close but tense relationship to their kings :

Viren, to Harrow : And where exactly is that place ?!

Lancelot, to Arthur : So work on acting less like an asshole ! I'm bloody sick of advising a ten year old pissant who can't even find a Grail or get his wife up the duff ! So, yes, I did sit on your throne because I am the one who does half of your job. And fuck you !

Both want to help :

Viren : I wish for humanity to flourish.

Lancelot : That's what I live for. To save people.

Both don't feel worthy of existence if they don't concretely help people :

Viren : Oh, you are powerless, useless ! I thought you would be something special, something important !

Lancelot : A village attacked by thieves, a woman getting beaten up, a limping chicken, there are plenty of oppressed out there ! At least this way I'll feel like I'm useful !

Both relinquish their family...

Viren, to Claudia : Choose the dragon egg.

Lancelot, to Bohort : Get the hell out ! A wandering knight has no cousins !

Both are arrogant :

Viren : I am the law.

Lancelot, to Arthur : You are not worthy of the Grail quest. You don't have what it takes. Even hopping stripped-naked, I'll still go faster than you and your stupid bunch of morons !

Both are saved from suicide by a pact with the devil :

Viren : I have nothing left to lose.

Meleagant, laughing, to Lancelot : I wonder how you were able to wait for so long before cutting your own throat !

Both are frustrated by their devils :

Viren, to Aaravos : What game are you playing at ?

Lancelot, to Meleagant : It doesn't make any sense ! Who are you ? Who sends you ? For how long do I have to deal with your mysteries ? Oh, it doesn't matter, right ? I'm not asking the right questions, right ? For God's sake, it's not complicated to tell one's own name ...

Both are manipulated by the said-devil who stroke their broken ego :

Aaravos, to Viren : How may I serve you ?

Meleagant, to Lancelot : Passion. Perseverance, courage. Ah... If you only had just one single drop of humour within you... You'd be reigning over the world.

Both are pushed to extreme by their devils :

Aaravos : They deserve to be motivated by fear.

Meleagant : A traveller is coming down this way. I want you to kill him.

Both refuse to completely forsake their moral boundaries :

Viren : No, I want for humanity to flourish. (Aaravos : And to fullfil such noble aims, mustn't we... conquer Xadia ?)

Lancelot : I don't kill my cousin. I still have something left from my former values ! (Meleagant : You'll be soon committed to get rid of those as soon as possible.)

I love intertextuality

#lord viren #king harrow #arthur #lancelot #kaamelott #the dragon prince #tdp #upthebaguette #tdp viren #viren #harrow #tdp harrow #Lancelot Kaamelott #arthur Kaamelott #we used to be friends

[hiimsociallyawkward]

the darkest hour pt 2

i'm back with my bs. this is for my bestie @lady-ofmagic-andstars. basically, all of my dumb thoughts while i watched 'darkest hour pt 2', 04.02 of merlin. in case you weren't aware.. ✨spoilers✨

right off the bat i'm sad

ok when i first watched this i was really confused. i mean, you see others when they interact with the dorocha have that perpetual frost on their face right? all of them, every single one. so imagine my surprise when merlin has no frost on his face, and he's miserable yea- but he's not dead??

like tbh, watching this again, ik why but when i first watched this, i was SO confused.

arthur looks so worried slkdjfalskfsd

him being willing to abandon the mission to get merlin back to camelot to be treated 😔🤪😎🤤🤩 lots of emotions

LANCELOT. of course it's lancelot. santiago is perfect. actually.

merlin looks so SICKLY. it physically pains me to see him like that

okok hahaa. the scene where percival is carrying merlin. i have several notes on that.

1) ik it's supposed to be all 'noble' looking. yk? them walking in slow mo, percival carrying merlin like he's been slained in battle. knights looking knightly

ALL I CAN FOCUS ON IS THE LACK OF PROPER NECK SUPPORT FOR MERLIN. PLS TELL ME I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE.

like pls

second note, idk why this remind me of hagrid carrying harry back

idk maybe that's just me but it feels oddly reminiscent

colin is SO pale my heart is actually hurting for him what the heck

asf;lsdjfa;lsdfj 'take me with you' stop.

dude they ACTUALLY care about each other. i just love them. arthur is so worried rn and while i'm like 'alsjfalsdj i don't want arthur to be sad and worried' we can see just how MUCH arthur cares about merlin.

like yea, we KNOW that they care about each other. but arthur is the prince and merlin's a servant so arthur can't have friends, but they're friends, and they care, and it makes me happy

ok it's sad and everything that merlin's basically dying but is it bad of me that i chuckle at merlin SLUMPED over on his horse?? probably.

but i mean, merlin is already raising himself up so he can sit more comfortably on the horse. ik that doesn't mean that he's in the clear yet, but he's doing a LOT better than the other people who ran into the dorocha. idk where i'm going with this

to quote the destiny and chicken podcast (who i love btw, if you want an awesome merlin podcast, check them out), they stay on arthur's face for SO long after merlin and lancelot leave.

i feel EVERYTHING that arthur is feeling in this moment. he's so pretty

there's another beautiful landscape. i'm not even sorry i'm gonna attach them ALL.

tell me that's not gorgeous

LMAO WHAT IS GWAINE DOING IN THAT TREE.

gwaine is the EMBODIMENT of 'boys will be boys' when he sticks his hand into that tree and gets swarmed by bees.

he's adorable and i love him

ok but also, someone tell me why capes are so hot. someone TELL me.

separate from the episode but on the note of capes being hot, i want a cloak SO BADLY. like the whole gist. floor length, big hooded cloak. why?? it's not like i'm sneaking anywhere but still. ✨cloak✨

ok the line where leon goes 'if anyone can get merlin back to camelot, it's lancelot' and arthur's face?? idk what to make of it. someone help me pls.

ok actually this probably isn't the best reaction shot but someone please help

the only thing i can think of is that arthur momentarily forgot and was reminded that merlin was in danger bc of him?

another thought is that he thinks he should take merlin back instead of lancelot?

ik for a fact you guys are better at analysising this stuff than i am so pls, thoughts?

i love lancelot so much. first time i watched this, i was CRUSHED

him carrying merlin to the lake(?) pond(?) area and then covering him with his cape? i love it

ok idk why but i love the idea of merlin instinctively going towards the water

it makes me think back to how he's made of magic and basically everywhere, espeically nature, has magic and instinctively- he wants to connect with nature as much as he can so his body just puts his hand in the water

a dumber thought i had, his hand is ✨sparkly✨in the water HAHAH

omg when the water called lancelot i deadass thought it was freya. i'm actually dumb i have WATCHED this before and i STILL thought it was freya

'a future that has been written since the dawn of time' makes me so proud but also so sad at the same time

it's like, yes, merlin is going to 'save the world' but it's like he's there just to do that. anyways, i just want him to be happy

MORE SPARKLY

these water spirts are op but also MORE SPARKLY. hehe i thin kthat's so funny

also, i'm literally only like 7 mins in. buckle yourself in

l;askdjflskdjf arthur going into the tunnels with the wilderons?? i miss merlin ouch. AND THE GAJA BERRIES. arthur misses merlin.

ok percival tackling gwaine?? cuties ;))

heheheeh gwaine kicking a skull and then running directly behind arthur for protection?? pls stop. i already love you

HAHA OK. THEM WEARING THE GAJA BERRIES ON THEIR FACE REMINDS ME OF THIS FACE MASK . THAT'S LITERALLY HOW I LOOK WITH THAT THIS FACE MASK ON HAHAA

yes im dumb, but the 5 of them slowly peeking over the rock and then ducking back down?? i love that so much they're so cute

omg what's wrong with me. not these knights literally FEARING their lives and me going 'they're so cute'

ANYWAYS

gwaine you absolute dumbass. smh merlin just took it but you just HAD to stab it. #cancelled

FRICK. YOU. AGRAVAINE.

YES. i have a love hate relationship with gaius, but BUST into the council room. king energy right there

smh gaius you pUSH over.

I LOVE GWEN RIGHT HERE

YES

FIGHT FOR WHAT IS RIGHT

DON'T LET ALL THOSE SMELLY OLD COUNCILMEN PUSH YOU AROUND

THIS IS ACTUALLY QUEEN SH!T RIGHT HERE EVERYONE ELSE CAN LEAVE

stfu agravaine 'gueniviere'. ST F UP

ok gwen. pop OFF

you KNOW that arthur would've fought agravaine on this. GO GWEN for speaking her mind

oh look at me with anotehr fic rec. sort of, not really. ok but this scene with gwen talking about all the villagers remind of this fic called To Love, Honor, and Piss Off by @thenerdyindividual .

ok so it's basically a fic where basically merlin and arthur have this 'arranged marriage' type thing for 3 years, and merlin is arthur's 'common consort'. what that means is that arthur marries merlin as a show of good faith and to learn more about what it means to be a commoner- merlin giving arthur the tea about commoner life

anywAYS. check that our if you want, but i loved it

stfu 'i feel the pain as much as you' agravaine. hop off my dick

YES. GWEN. PLANT THAT SEED OF DOUBT THAT AGRAVAINE MIGHT NOT BE ALL THAT HE SEEMS. i love gwen :,)

wow when she's intellegent with her speaking so everyone HAS to side with her but also respectful so NO ONE can get mad at her?? i stan. i ACTUALLY stan

santiago is so pretty

the PANIC in his voice. i stan.

HAHA AND MERLIN'S SNARKY 'SHH'

merlin is ready to GO. he's like, sorry for almost dying. that was ill advised of me.

i'm actually soft for any displays of friendship ever. what does that mean about me 💀 KIDDING. anyways..

i love the *swing* *duck* 'yea, not as quick as arthur

sa;kfs;akdfj lancelot insisting that merlin go back to camelot and merlin just nOt

LADS

stop rn. lancelot's face when merlin turns away. i am in pAin. I AM SO SAD OVER LANCELOT. PLS LANCELOT.

this isn't exactly, but morgana's paleness from here on out reminded me of merlin when he was literally DYING.

anyways, that's my note on that

like, yes- i get it- morgana is evil now. but idk should i feel bad for her? she looks so pale and ghasty and just :(

aksfhaskdjfas;ldf morgana

HAHA MORGANA IS SO EDGY IN THIS MOMENT. 'I'D RATHER DROWN IN MY OWN BLOOD THAN SEE THAT DAY' SO DRAMATIC. WHY IS SHE SO EMO/GOTH. LIKE IK I SHOULD BE SCARED FOR WHAT THAT MEANS BUT I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING

stfu don't kill gwen i'll KiLl you

agravaine literally needs to die

stop. i am literally SCREAMING when agravaine is asking gwen to meet him in his chambers. PLS. STOP. STOP STOP STOP. I NEED A WHISLTE. I BITE MY THUMB AT AGRAVAINE. HE NEEDS TO SACK THE HATEFUL MANSION. BETTER YET I'LL BURN HIS MANSION

again, someone tell me why capes are so hot. especially these red ones?? i'm in love with them.

ok see this guy?? he just died with the forst on his face. not merlin?? he started getting better. surly that should've tipped them off that merlin was different

merlin's little head quirk when he does magic. ALSFJASLDFJAS MERLIN. NO ONE SAID YOU WERE USELESS. AND IF THEY DID I WOULD BEAT. THEM. UP. GIVE ME ADDRESS RN.

wow. seriously. i'm gonna attach all the pretty landscape pictures

morgana's like 'i'll cut a b!tch'. ok ik morgana's evil and everything, but morgana flinging that guard against the wall is bad ass

oh this is weird but gwen telling agravaine to 'show courage' but the whole room tinted green? ik this isn't harry potter or anything but idk i thought that was interesting. i'm not abt to go into if i think agravaine is a slytherin or what but still

STOP. GET. YOUR. HANDS. AWAY. FROM. HER. I ACTULALY HATE HIM. SHE'S SO UNCOMFORTABLE. BACK THE FRICK UP AGARAVINE.

morgana :( smh you can't deny that morgana and gwen carried for each other and morgana flinging gwen away is making me sad. don't touch me

asldjfasldasd 'you're never alone' elyan i love you

lancelot and merlins being lads. omg no them talking about gwen

lancelot is SO noble. stop this reminds me of Die for you in secret by @emrysofmagic so much right now. not gonna lie. your fic LITERALLY lives in my head rent free and sometimes i think of it and my heart just HURTS in those last few chapeters. PHYSICALLy. i am in pain. anyways.

stop the trope where it's like "i love them, but i just want them to be happy. it doesn't matter if they're with me or not. i just want them to be happy"

I WAS LITERALLY SCREECHING AS MERLIN WAS CALLING KILGHARRAH i'm not even capping

ok so it's been like a month ish since i've watched merlin bc i was waiting for @//f-f-podcast 's destiny and chicken podcast, so i don't exactly what terms kilgharrah and merlin are at right now

still i think it's very sweet of merlin to bow slightly when kilgharrah looks at him

'the bravest and most noble of them all' 🥺

aw. merlin is really saying good bye right now

ok this scene is weird bc like i said, i don't rlly remember how merlin and kilgharrah are right now but it still makes me sad

asldjfslakdjfasd merlin and kilgharrah are old friends now. that makes me happy but sad at the same time

ok the 'it will be an empty world without you, young warlock' kills me.

obviously, we know that even though they butt heads, kilgharrah and merlin both care about each other

not only is kilgharrah being forced to let merlin go right now, but he's making peace with the fact that he'll be alone

the last dragonlord is planning to die. and kilgharrah is going to be alone again, like he was in that cave.

another thing is that if merlin died rn then we would never have aithusia. i'm kinda going on a tangent now but idk this scene is sad

this forest is so pretty

literally just lancelot's face and lancelot in this whole episode.

that's my note

HAHA GWAINE BURNING IS SOCKS

LADS BEING LADS

I LOVE THEM

omg i always see posts about this.

like merlin and lancelot planned that lancelot was going to walk in first and trick them and THEN merlin walked in

that's so funny to me. they're SO dramatic HAHAH

merlin looks so happy

BRO

ARTHUR

JUST HUG

HIM

PLS

STO

P

JUST HUG HIM WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM

Tell me why they actually look MARRIED here. PLS

🥲🥲 SELF SACRIFICING IDIOTS I LOVE YOU BOTH YOURE BREAKING MY HEART

LADS I LOVE THEM

🤠🤠 arthur wanting Gwen to be happy is KILLING ME. He loves her so much

This is so pretty. Honestly like how

Who let merlin have this many pretty landscapes

HOENSTLY

Lajs;dlkfajd buds in a boat together.

This reminds me of going to amusement parks and there’s always that boat ride

They’re the cutest

Ok so they also have this picture. It’s actually 3 pictures spliced together because the episode pans down and it’s really badly spliced (sorry) but LOOk how pretty that is.

WTF

Omg not me literally copying merlin with his slow mo head flick at the wyverns to make them go away

;sldkfjasdlkjasd leon percival and elyan and my heart.

Ok i’m not even gonna try to lie. They all have my heart

Frick you cailleah

Omg i was like ‘gwaine you dumbass’ jK i love him. Pls don’t come for my neck

Asldjfasldjfka ‘i’m prepared to pay whatever price is necessary’

HAHA CAN YOU NOT. WHAT IS WITH THIS CREEPY ‘COME HITHER’ HAND MOTION MS CAILLEAH

Stopp rn. ‘It’s my density

STOP. I AM HOWLING. LANCELOT

WHY

COME BACK

NO NONO PLS. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME.

stop rn merlin is all alone.

PAN TO ARTHUR WHO IS LITERALLY SURROUNDED BY EVERYONE.

Stop they all look so sad. I’m so sad.

merlin looks like he’s cried

I’m not sure abt arthur with his ‘no man is worth your tears’ type business but still

I am ✨sad✨

I screamed at this picture. I am depressed

Anyways

Gwen’s face is killing me

I’m so sad i don’t even want to write commentaries

Arthur realizing that lancelot only died because he loved gwen

Gwen standing in front of the fire

Aslkdfjasldjfa im so sad

HER STANDING IN FRONT OF THE FIRE ALL ALONE.

I. AM. SO. SAD.

STFU THAT THRONE IS NOT “RIGHTFULLY” YOURS MORGANA

STOP PLS GET AWAY

WHAT IS WITH THIS WEIRD TENSION

PLS DO NOT STAND WITHIN KISSING DISTANCE

IK YOU’RE NOT TECHNICALLY BLOOD RELATED BUT STILL.

PLEASE.

STOP.

I HATE AGRAVAINE

✨we hate agravaine in this house✨

😭😭 not merlin having ANOTHER secret. I’m so sorry bby

Anyways! I’ll be back next week to rant more about the wicked day so I’ll see you then! thanks I love you bye

#bbc merlin #merlin #colin morgan #bradley james #arthur pendragon #king arthur #the darkest hour pt 2 #literally every single thought I had #destiny and chicken I love you #this is for you bestie #I have so many thoughts #WHY do I have so many thoughts #gwen #morgana pendragon #angel coulby #katie mcgrath #gaius #richard wilson #uther pendragon #anthony head #anyways #sorry this is so long