#Galahad Graves

[dabiconcordia]

In Honor of Taffy

Taffy, the topaz-colored cat, Thinks now of this and now of that, But chiefly of his meals. Asparagus, and cream, and fish, Are objects of his Freudian wish; What you don't give, he steals.

His gallant heart is strongly stirred By clink of plate or flight of bird, He has a plumy tail; At night he treads on stealthy pad As merry as Sir Galahad A-seeking of the Grail. His amiable amber eyes Are very friendly, very wise; Like Buddha, grave and fat, He sits, regardless of applause, And thinking, as he kneads his paws, What fun to be a cat! by Christopher Morley

[thatbiologist]

G’eth Character Name Bank

First Names

Masculine Names

Alfred, Andrew, Arlo, Arthur, Balthazar, Barry, Ben, Benedick, Bernard, Burchard, Cedric, Charibert, Crispin, Cyrill, Daegal, Derek, Digory, Drustan, Duncan, Edmund, Edwin, Elric, Evaine, Frederick, Geffery, George, Godfreed, Gregory, Guy, Harris, Harry, Horsa, Hugh, Humphrey, Iago, Jack, Jeremy, John, Kazamir, Kenric, Lawrence, Leoric, Lorik, Luke, Lynton, Lysander, Madoc, Magnus, Maukolum, Micheal, Miles, Milhouse, Mordred, Mosseus, Ori, Orvyn, Neville, Norbert, Nycolas, Paul, Percival, Randulf, Richard, Robert, Roderick, Stephen, Tennys, Theodoric, Thomas, Tristan, Tybalt, Victor, Vincent, Vortimer, Willcock, Willian, Wymond

Feminine Names

Adelin, Alice, Amelia, Beatrix, Beryl, Bogdana, Branwyne, Brigida, Catalina, Catherine, Claudia, Crystina, Deanna, Desdemona, Elaine, Elinora, Eliza, Enide, Eva, Ferelith, Fiora, Freya, Gertrude, Gregoria, Gueanor, Gwen, Gwendolyn, Hannah, Hegelina, Helen, Helga, Heloise, Henrietta, Igraine, Imogen, Jacquelyn, Jane, Jean, Jenny, Jill, Juliana, Juliet, Katie, Leela, Lettice, Lilibet, Lilith, Lucy, Luthera, Luz, Lyra, Malyna, Margherita, Marion, Meryl, Millie, Miranda, Molle, Morgana, Morgause, Nezetta, Nina, Novella, Olwen, Oriana, Oriolda, Osanna, Pamela, Petra, Philippa, Revna, Rohez, Rosalind, Rose, Sallie, Sarra, Serphina, Sif, Simona, Sophie, Thomasine, Tiffany, Ursula, Viola, Winifred, Yrsa, Ysabella, Yvaine, Zelda, Zillah

Gender-Neutral/Unisex Names

Adrian, Alex, Aiden, Arden, Ariel, Auden, Avery, Bailey, Blaire, Blake, Brett, Breslin, Caelan, Cadain, Cameron, Charlie, Dagon, Dana, Darby, Darra, Devon, Drew, Dylan, Evan, Felize, Fenix, Fernley, Finley, Glenn, Gavyn, Haskell, Hayden, Hunter, Jace, Jaime, Jesse, Jo, Kai, Kane, Karter, Kieran, Kylin, Landon, Leslie, Mallory, Marin, Meritt, Morgan, Nell, Noel, Oakley, Otzar, Paris, Peregrine, Quant, Quyn, Reagan, Remy, Robin, Rowan, Ryan, Sam, Samar, Sasha, Sloan, Stace, Tatum, Teegan, Terrin, Urbain, Vahn, Valo, Vick, Wallace, Waverly, Whitney, Yardley, Yarden, Zasha

Surnames

Surnames, Patrilineal - First Name (Patrilineal Surname)

Ace, Allaire, Appel, Arrow, Baker, Bamford, Barnard, Beckett, Berryann, Blakewood, Blanning, Bigge, Binns, Bisby, Brewer, Brickenden, Brooker, Browne, Buller, Carey, Carpenter, Carter, Cheeseman, Clarke, Cooper, Ead, Elwood, Emory, Farmer, Fish, Fisher, Fitzroy, Fletcher, Foreman, Foster, Fuller, Galahad, Gerard, Graves, Grover, Harlow, Hawkins, Hayward, Hill, Holley, Holt, Hunter, Jester, Kerr, Kirk, Leigh, MacGuffin, Maddock, Mason, Maynard, Mercer, Miller, Nash, Paige, Payne, Pernelle, Raleigh, Ryder, Scroggs, Seller, Shepard, Shore, Slater, Smith, Tanner, Taylor, Thatcher, Thorn, Tilly, Turner, Underwood, Vaughan, Walter, Webb, Wilde, Wood, Wren, Wyatt, Wynne

Surnames, Townships in G’eth - First Name of (Location)

Abelforth, Argent Keep, Barrow Springs, Barrowmere, Bedford, Brunhelm, Bumble, Casterfalls, Dunbridge, Falmore Forest, Folk’s Bounty, Frostmaid, Fulstad, Heller’s Crossing, Hertfordshire, Humberdale, Inkwater, Little Avery, Marrowton, Mistfall, Mistmire, Morcow, Necropolis-on-Sea, Otherway, Parsendale, Piddlehinton, Port Fairwind, Redcastle, Ransom, Rutherglen, Saint Crois, Tanner’s Folly, Tavern’s Point, Wilmington

Surnames, Geographical Locations in G’eth - First Name of the (Location)

Cove of Calamity, Deep Woods of Falmore, Eastern Isles, Eastern Mountains, Foothills, Frozen Peak, Lakes, Maegor Cobblestones, Northern Mountains, Southern Isle, Tangle, West Coast, Wild Wild Woods, Woods of Angarad

Surnames, Nickname - First Name the (Something) 

Bald, Bastard, Bear, Bearded, Big, Bird, Bold, Brave, Broken, Butcher, Bruiser, Careless, Caring, Charitable, Clever, Clumsy, Cold, Confessor, Coward, Crow, Cyclops, Devious, Devoted, Dog, Dragonheart, Dreamer, Elder, Faithful, Fearless, Fey, Fool, Friend, Generous, Giant, Goldheart, Goldfang, Gouty, Gracious, Great, Hag, Handsome, Hawk, Honest, Huge, Humble, Hungry, Hunter, Innocent, Ironfist, Ironside, Keeper, Kind, Lesser, Liar, Lionheart, Little, Loyal, Magical, Mercenary, Merchant, Messenger, Old, Orphan, Pale, Polite, Poet, Poor, Prodigy, Prophet, Proud, Reliable, Romantic, Rude, Selfish, Sellsword, Scab, Scholar, Shield, Shy, Singer, Sirrah, Slayer, Slug, Small, Stoneheart, Swift, Tadde, Talented, Tart, Tenacious, Timid, Tiny, Tough, Traveller, Trusted, Truthful, Viper, Wizard, Wolf, Wyrm

[gunpowderdtim]

Narratomancy

You are the author of your own destiny, just as your destiny is the author of you. You are part of a story, you are the story, and you can take the story by the throat and try and kill it but IT IS STRONGER and yet you TRY ANYWAY. There are a million other versions of you walking stumbling crawling down this path this narrative leading towards the grave you will one day fill. This time you will be victorious. You will take the narrative and you will shatter it. You will win. And of course the story is around you and you are the story and the story always wins in the end. After all its a tale to be told. So instead you bend it to you, you are galahad tanking bullets and you are Arthur watching an insane man die. (And you are Jonny shooting yourself between the eyes and knowing you'll wake up again when things are less boring, please let me enjoy the quiet for now)

And the story is endless and the story is loops and the story is tred deeper and deeper and the story is told. What's funny. What's best. What's most pleasing. Marius has a violin. When observed, the nanobots are visible - someone needs to do the worldbuilding around here - but whose to say they are still there when not being looked at? This is a story and whats best to happen will happen. Is it funny? Will it make an audience laugh? Does it make sence? Is it another step towards the ENDING?

Death to the Mechanisms. The Mechanisms to the Death. A final trick of the creator? The bifrost corrupting them? Such things are trivial to the fact is they are Ending - and an ending doesn't always need am awsner when it's a story to itself - and so they ended.

[taliesin-the-bored]

“The Elder Knight” by Dorothy L. Sayers

Note: the speaker is Galahad; the elder knight is Lancelot. This poem is one of my favorites. It’s unusual in that its version of Galahad is really, really spiteful, and the ending is unforgettable.   I.

I have met you foot to foot, I have fought you face to face,

I have held my own against you and lost no inch of place,

    And you shall never see

    How you have broken me.

You sheathed your sword in the dawn, and you smiled with careless eyes,

Saying "Merrily struck, my son, I think you may have your prize."

    Nor saw how each hard breath

    Was painfully snatched from death.

I held my head like a rock; I offered to joust again,

Though I shook, and my palsied hand could hardly cling to the rein;

    Did you curse my insolence

    And over-confidence?

You have ridden, lusty and fresh, to the morrow's tournament;

I am buffeted, beaten, sick at the heart and spent.—

    Yet, as God my speed be

    I will fight you again if need be.

               II.

A white cloud running under the moon

   And three stars over the poplar-trees,

Night deepens into her lambent noon;

   God holds the world between His knees;

Yesterday it was washed with the rain,

But now it is clean and clear again.

Your hands were strong to buffet me,

   But, when my plume was in the dust,

Most kind for comfort verily;

   Success rides blown with restless lust;

Herein is all the peace of heaven:

To know we have failed and are forgiven.

The brown, rain-scented garden beds

   Are waiting for the next year's roses;

The poplars wag mysterious heads,

   For the pleasant secret each discloses

To his neighbour, makes them nod, and nod—

So safe is the world on the knees of God.

             III.

I have the road before me; never again

   Will I be angry at the practised thrust

That flicked my fingers from the lordly rein

   To scratch and scrabble among the rolling dust.

I never will be angry — though your spear

   Bit through the pauldron, shattered the camail,

Before I crossed a steed, through many a year

   Battle on battle taught you how to fail.

Can you remember how the morning star

   Winked through the chapel window, when the day

Called you from vigil to delights of war

   With such loud jollity, you could not pray?

Pray now, Lord Lancelot; your hands are hard

   With the rough hilts; great power is in your eyes,

Great confidence; you are not newly scarred,

   And conquer gravely now without surprise.

Pray now, my master; you have still the joy

   Of work done perfectly; remember not

The dizzying bliss that smote you when, a boy,

   You faced some better man, Lord Lancelot.

Pray now — and look not on my radiant face,

   Breaking victorious from the bloody grips—

Too young to speak in quiet prayer or praise

   For the strong laughter bubbling to my lips.

Angry? because I scarce know how to stand,

   Gasping and reeling against the gates of death,

While, with the shaft yet whole within your hand,

   You smile at me with undisordered breath?

Not I — not I that have the dawn and dew,

   Wind, and the golden shore, and silver foam —

I that here pass and bid good-bye to you —

   For I ride forward — you are going home.

Truly I am your debtor for this hour

   Of rough and tumble — debtor for some good tricks

Of tourney-craft; — yet see how, flower on flower,

   The hedgerows blossom! How the perfumes mix

Of field and forest! — I must hasten on —

   The clover scent blows like a flag unfurled;

When you are dead, or aged and alone,

   I shall be foremost knight in all the world —

My world, not yours, beneath the morning's gold,

   My hazardous world, where skies and seas are blue;

Here is my hand. Maybe, when I am old,

   I shall remember you, and pray for you.

[creelmalfoylaufeyson69]

A different job

Warnings: angst

Note: I’m here to bring more Harry Hart fanfiction to tumblr!

They hadn’t thought this is how Harry would find out that they were actually working alongside with the bad guys. They didn’t even want to be a bad guy anymore. They wanted to live their life as a Kingsmen, but now that would never happen

Their boss just had to ruin it. Harry felt shocked, and in denial as well. It had taken a lot to make Harry surprised, but this definitely did it for him. “This must be some joke, right?” Harry asked as they stood next to their real boss

“It isn’t Galahad. I can’t believe you were fooled by their amazing acting skills” that also aged poorly, since they might’ve shared a few kisses with Galahad. Harry looked so stunned, and couldn’t help but feel anger

“Not all of it was fake” they tried, but Harry was clearly not buying it. “They are just kidding, right?” A gun was aimed towards their head as tears left their eyes. They knew no one was on their side. They had to except their fate at this point

“No” they said, and begins to fight off the men in the room Kill Bill style. Once it was just Harry standing, they approached him. They were covered in blood, but it made Harry quite impressed. “You know I have to kill you, right?” Harry asked them

“I know. Go ahead” they dropped their weapon, and stand there until he shot them. He aims his gun towards them, trying not to cry. “Don’t waste your tears on me. It’s not worth it. I played you, so now to pay the price”

“I can’t” he says as he lowers his weapon. “I love you too much” they had a sad smile on their face; “it’ll pass.” Harry had tears start to leave his eyes. “Don’t say that” he says as his body begins to tremble. “I deserve it”

“No you don’t. You’ve changed. I can’t kill you darling” before they responded, a bullet goes straight through their brain. A hole was created as they collapsed onto the ground. Harry was in shock, and was trembling even more

He sits down next to them, and picks up their lifeless body. He holds onto them as he begins to sob. A death had never broken Harry as much as it did theirs. He was the only one who did a toast for them at the meeting area in Kingsmen

He was the only one who went to their funeral. He places their favorite flowers onto their grave as he had tears leaving his eyes. He wished he knew the signs before they’ve died, but now it was too late. Not to mention he didn’t find out who killed them that day either 

[mercyillustrator]

First time making Fanfic Head-cannon of my GSA version post but I will be doing Fanfic, Comic and Drawings of GSA cause of GSA BRAINROT IS TAKING OVER LOL. (Not Art Related but soon)

As well for the humans I wanna to do like Kirby characters plus GSA Knights as representation cause why not and also sharing my head-canon as well you are more and welcome to ask me anything you want ^w^

Sir Arthur

Leader of GSA also a puffball

He grew up to becomes a star warrior after his father was killed then has a single mother with him til his mother was taken away from NME that killed him

Nicknames: Arty, Mom or Mother ( as a joke), Art-Art, Shining Armor, Leader of GSA, Sir Arthur, Arthur, Goldy, Grumpy Pants and Grumpy

Has been a Star Warrior since when he was a teenager ever since his dad was a former GSA leader before he died when Kit Cosmos found Arthur was all alone at his parents grave and took him in and train him and how to become a warrior cause Kit Cosmos and his Father was good friends and very close

He has a sister but she is somewhere but doesn’t know where or what happened to her

Way before Kirby he trains his fellow warriors to fight monsters

Gets mad when it comes to pranks and makes fun of the GSA

British

Sir (Lady) Nonsurat

She has unsupportive and emotional abusive parents that wanted a boy instead of a girl

Pervious job: Cafe as a cashier before female puffballs was in danger

Disguises herself as a male when NME turns female puffballs into monsters to make other puffballs while female puffballs are in danger and was captured and was put into a cell.

Hidden voice changer as male (only mask)

Shy,sweet and sensitive puffball

Animal lover

Only shows her true self only to her closest friends

Close Friends with Garlude before Garlude was dead

Nicknames: Nonny,Nonsu,Lancelot, Non, Axe Man, Shy Guy ( Shy Gal), Softie, Soft gal ( soft boy)

Soft and Soothing voice

White but like mixture like White and Pakistan? ( human version)

Sir Dragato

Mechanical knight

Mechanic,Tech and Electronic

Nicknames: Drago, Draggy, Drag, Grape Knight, Gala, Galahad and Ponytail Boy

Serious tone of voice

Light brown skin ( human version

Sir Falspar

Nickname: Flasy,Dum Dum, Mohawk, Dude, Bro, Sassy Queen, z

Clown Soldier and Funny Soldier

How he becomes part of the GSA Warrior where he graduated from high school

Very Bootiful personality and very slay boi

German

Sir Meta knight

Hispanic like Spanish

CAN’T COOK

Becomes a GSA since teen or like young adult

Met Arthur same age?

He loves Spanish music and his ship and galaxia lol

Vampire cause of his wings

Trainer for Kirby

Nicknames: Blueberry, Metal head face, meta head, blueberry that can’t cook, Star Warrior, vampire warrior, and Cutie

How did GSA Knights join?

Arthur: cause of his dad was in the GSA

Nonsurat:found the poster and she sign it before she met GSA knights she has like a black cape hoodie so she gets her armor, mask, white suit and such cause of NME turns female puffballs into monsters and having female puffballs in danger by keeping them in the cell :0

Falspar: Found a poster as well after graduating from High School

Dragato joins because he wants to protect his family

Meta Knight I think He was trained to be like one of the knights?

[iztopher]

hi everyone it is my birthday so to celebrate im making a masterpost of stuff i've made and want to share and encouraging people to check it out and share your thoughts if you are so inclined >:3c

ORIGINAL WORK (aka RPG maker XP games)

Both games I've worked on are free, no combat, and take about an hour or less to complete! They are also both unfortunately Windows only.

seaglass: Eliot has never met their best friend, Loren, in person before. They have communicated for years by tossing bottles with messages in them back and forth across the sea. Now Loren is finally coming to visit, and Eliot wants to celebrate the occasion with a suitable gift - a sea glass necklace! This game I made by myself, and it's pretty old but I still like it.

Inn Need: The once marvelous Silver Willow Inn has fallen into disrepair over the years. Older witch and new owner Hestia Kindlee is determined to fix that, though. Explore the old inn, fix what you can, find help for what you can't, and restore the inn to its former glory. This game was made in collaboration with TeiRaven and Ji Tealeaf!

AVEYOND FANWORK

there is no better way to celebrate my birthday than to watch my te'ijalahad supercut. an hour and a half of (almost) every te'ijal and galahad scene in the series (i'll be uploading an actually complete one once i've finished my av3 replay, just to make sure nothing else snuck past me.

speaking of te'ijalahad, have you seen my aro meta? now you have :)

honestly just check out my AO3 and find what interests you but my personal highlights are:

don't you dare go down: if you read one of my fics let it be this one. four years old and still my favorite thing i've ever written. 5.3k, te'ijalahad, Av1-Av3, 3+1 fic, teen. Te'ijal and Galahad learn how to help each other.

you and i are friends of empty graves: 2k, end of Av3/TDP, te'ijalahad, general. Te'ijal's memory has faded over time and she looks to Galahad's help to jog it.

nobody's daughter: 2.2k, alternate take on the end of GON, Lydia?Mel, general. Lydia character study exploring a nonbinary Lydia.

you try so loud to love me: 3.3k, TLO, te'ijalahad, explicit. I stand by my completely non-erotic te'ijalahad sex fic although it goes against my personal headcanon. have a sex repulsed asexual's take on the idea that two people being married means they'll inevitably sleep together. this description works for both me and galahad

with rhyme and reason: 3.4k, Av1, Rhen-centric, general. A character study exploring the Aveyond 1 prophecy, how Rhen feels about being at the heart of it, and ultimately why she is.

left undead: 5k, modern/college AU, te'ijalahad, teen. Te'ijal liveblogs reading Twilight in Galahad's texts.

[altagraye]

Big Big Love part 11

part 11: Send Her my Love in Bedroom Hymns

Maia Age:28 

Sam age:31-32 

Dean age:35-36 

Roslyn age: 3 

Approximate year: 2014-2015 

Approximate season: 10 

TW!: SMUT, Cussing, depression, self-harming behavior (I don't condone or recommend, it's terrible), Alpha!Demon!Dean

Maia: 

Roslyn is three years old now. She grows so fast. Bringing her home from the hospital was no walk in the park. I had a lot to learn even with my built in Omega-mommy skills. There were tons of restless nights and don't even get me started on the teething! Raising a pup is definitely a team effort, Dean and I switching off so one of us can get some kind of sleep. Sometimes it was even a pack-wide effort. But I feel like I've gotten the hang of things by now. I'm so glad I have a multitude of cups of coffee to keep my engine running throughout the day. We moved into this inherited Bunker not too long ago, just last year I think it was? I like the layout, tons of rooms and a huge kitchen so I can actually learn how to cook something edible. It's like a maze down here. The only thing I hate about it is that there aren't any windows to the outside. I miss looking out the glass on rainy days. Oh well, It's easy for me to lose track of time. 

I was so relieved that, on the day that shook my core, Ros had stayed the weekend at Bobby's. I was sitting at the mapped table reading through some of the archived Greek literature books from the library of the bunker, late at night when I felt this terrible searing pain in my neck, where Dean's claim was. Sam told Dean to stop hunting but they never did. Can't take the hunter out of the Alpha after all. Now they were trying to stop the new big-baddie, Metatron. Dean, my poor Galahad was afflicted by this dumb Mark-of-Cain thing.  

But not even that would drag me away from him. We're soulmates. Dean tried to push me away from him but that only made me love him harder. I wasn't going to let him think that after all we've been through, that I was going to let some dumb scar come between us. 

The pain in my neck grew and grew like someone had been cauterizing it. I looked at it as best I could in a mirror but it was fading away. It felt like smoke slipping through my fingers, unable to grab it back. I wasn't a worry-wort or negative-Nancy but I knew something was gravely wrong. i called Dean's phone and all I got was a snooty answering machine and a dial tone. I must have called him twenty times before I went to Sam's phone. I left tons of messages on his cell and other cells he had.  

"Sam! What the Hell is going on?! Dean always answers when I call. My claim is breaking, please I'm terrified. I don't know what's happening. Call me back or text me fuck's sake, you have your hands off the wheel anyway." 

"Gods-dammit, Sam. How many of these do I have to leave? I thought you were the smarter one? I'm gonna slash you up when you guys get home!" I ended the phone call, with my blood boiling. I checked on my claim again, the last raised bump fading within seconds, into smooth skin. Like it had never happened. What the fuck is going on? I prayed to Cas multiple times and he didn't answer me either. Not even a poof or a flap of those unruly feathers.  

I sat with my head in my hands and started to cry when I heard the distinctive creak of the front door of the Bunker come open. I was beyond pissed. So I let loose. 

"Sam!! Where in the fuck have you guys been? It's 2 o'clock in the morning. You've better smote the shit out of this dick-bag Angel or I'm going to explode." I turned to see Sam carrying Dean down the steps. My mate's body was limp, he had gashes on his face, now pale. And I could smell iron in the air. Whatever it was it must have been a rough fight. My hand covered my mouth and I started to cry. Who dares to hurt my Alpha? My mind was down playing the scene. Sam looked exhausted and his eyes were red and puffy like he'd been weeping for a while.  

I followed them down to our room where Sam set his body down. His clothes covered in patches of his own blood. A deep hole burrowed into his chest.  

"Wh- wh- what happened??? Alpha? D-dean Winchester you better answer me! Wake up!" I slapped his face for good measure. His head cast to the side and didn't bounce back. It was then that I knew he was gone. I wept into his cold chest for hours, gripping where my claim used to be, until Sam came and pried me off him.  

It was easy for Sam to do judging by my small size and my natural Omega-ness. I could smell the liquor on Sam's breath. I never knew him to be much of a heavy drinker. Usually he'd share a beer or two with dean on occasion.  

With the door closed I couldn't bring myself to open it again for any reason. I cried myself to sleep. Only getting about three hours of Z's. I slept on the cold ground of the bunker unable to let myself be soothed by the softness of a bed. I heard Sam gathering supplies and keeping them down in the basement part of the bunker. He stayed there for a while. I didn't know what he was up to but I didn't care about anything.  

How am I going to tell this to Roslyn? I can't just say, 'Daddy's dead.' At that thought I broke even further, the reality sinking down deeper, bringing me to the bottom of the coldest seas.  

I thought about dying and all the different ways I could have done it. I knew where the silver bullets were stashed. Maybe I could take one of the cars from the garage and wrap it around a tree trunk? I couldn't bring my cowardly Omega ass to do any of it because of Ros. She still needs me. She can't lose both her parents at the same time.  

So to feel something once the sobbing had stopped I took one of my claws and made line after line of shallow cuts from my wrist to my elbow. I watched as the red beaded up to the surface to form a line.  

Dawn came and Sam was standing over me. I knew he was there but I didn't acknowledge his presence. I began to cut myself again and Sam held me up by my mutilated arm, examining it and my state of mind. I was crying, again, from shame.  

Sam lifted me up, one of his arms firm underneath my knees. He carried me to his bedroom, where I was nearly choked out by the intense pine smell. He put me on his bed. I stared at the fresh blood I had created trickling down from my wrist onto Sam's sheets.  

He'd undressed himself, wearing only boxers. And joined me in bed. If he wanted to claim and ruthlessly knot me so hard that I couldn't walk for three days, I would have been fine with that. But he didn't do either. Instead he licked my wounds to heal them. Apparently some Alpha's saliva has minor healing properties.  

We'd slept in his bed like normal impossibly broken people. Shattered into little tiny sharp shards. We picked each other's pieces up, little by little. Since I was now sharing Sam's bed, I had to bathe myself in scent blockers. I didn't want Roslyn getting the wrong idea and start calling Sam her dad instead. During the day I would put on a faux brave face for my daughter but at night when she was out like a light I would break again. Returning to Sam's bedroom, engulfing myself in pine and resorting to making slices in my arm. Sam would lick my wounds, so that Ros wouldn't see that I'd hurt myself.  

This was the routine for a while. Brave mask in the morning, Pine and blood at night. I was so broken that I didn't have room for tears anymore, just chronic dull numbness. My heats were back to a monthly cycle once Ros was born. So Sam was apprehensive the night my heat hit, without Dean's claim to protect me.  

When I'd just finished carving myself up, waves of fever wracked my body. I tried hard to muffle my ecstasy filled moans, not wanting to wake Roslyn a few rooms over. I managed to remove all my clothing. My slick covering my inner thighs and making a mess on his bed.   

I didn't even try to masturbate, knowing it would only make my heat worse. Every inch of my body was covered in a layer of sweat. Sam came in. All it took was the opening of the door and a waft of my thick strawberry scent and a look of my naked form to send him into rut.  

He'd closed the door and locked it. He took he clothes off down to his boxers and let his form overshadow me. His pine scent was purely intoxicating. It made me moan louder. He licked my wounds, like he did every night, but this time it was different. I made my core twitch with want. Once all the little cuts were healed up, he'd looked at my face, hazed over with need, my cheeks flushed and burning.  

"Must you make me beg?" I asked breathily. I knew even after all this time and his attempted rape, deep down, buried beneath all that debris, Sam had genuine feelings for me. With the obstacle gone, why not sprint for first place and get that gold trophy? He took the bait, unable to resist.  

He smashed his lips against mine into a sloppy, wet, kiss. I moaned softly into his flesh. I could feel his member aching to be inside me. He raked his clothed cock against my slickness. And nibbled at the right side of my neck, the opposite side of where Dean's claim had been. I could feel his fangs start to sink in, pricking into my skin. But he let go, instead moving down to my breast, taking my aroused and hardened nipple into his mouth. Biting the nub forcefully. His hand slithered down and found my folds.  

Long fingers dragging up and down my strawberry scented slick drenched core. He started to play with my clit when he stopped completely. Sam's style was rougher than Dean's. so I could only imagine what it was like with him in bed, and I wanted more. My heart skipped a beat at thinking about the size of his knot, wanting it to be at my base. Sam sat at the edge of the bed, contemplating.  

I came over to his back, looking over every toned muscle wrapped my arms through his and hugged his back tight to my breasts. I kissed his vertebrae where it met the bottom of his neck, that's as far as I could go with my height deficit. His long hair ticking my nose.I didn't want him to feel like I saw him as just happenstance. Just another Alpha opportunely placed in my path when I was feeling the absence of Dean. 

"Whatever is happening between, us, It's real." I tried to make him listen to truth. His hand touched mine and he'd escaped my hug. Grabbing his jeans and his plaid shirt. "Sam!" I started to plead. 

"I got to take a shower. Don't want her smelling you on me." He said leaving me in his room. Rejection again, by my second Winchester, for different circumstances. I don't understand, he was the one who had it going for me first and for a long time before I was finally sharing feelings for him. And now he won't take me up on my offer? Am I that much of a complicated Omega? That every man I've been with has to have a moral dilemma just to realize that they love me? 

He practically treats Roslyn as his own, especially after Dean's death. But he's tentative with that also, it's almost like he knows something I don't. Is there a secret he isn't telling me? I can't read Sam as easily I could Dean. And that frustrates the Hell out of me. Regardless he should know that he can talk to me. About Gods-damned anything. For the remainder of my heat that week he never joined me in his bed, so I resorted to wearing long sleeve shirt in the swelter of summer to hide my cuts. He took out his rut on vanquishing some Alphas who'd smelled me near by the bunker.  

Another month has passed since our buzz-kill. We haven't talked much since then. I started set out some of his favorite books for him since he got into that fight with some random demon, rendering his shoulder useless for time being. it was a bit funny seeing his arm slung up in that ridiculous looking fabric contraption. I continued my nightly ritual of scraping my claw against my flesh. Maybe if I do this often enough it'll leave dark lines? Tonight, I could feel my heat hitting again, with the blazing of sundown. Ros was fast asleep and Sam came in joining me in the kitchen. I was just finishing up washing dirty dishes that I made from a late dinner smorgasbord that I prepped for myself. The famous glutton-phase, numero-uno at the beginning of my heat.  

I inhaled his Pine, this is probably the last time I'm going to smell it tonight. Saddened by the thought of him leaving me, I extended my index claw and began my macabre work on the lines, digging in a bit deeper this time.  Sam growled low, his steps were full of purpose. He grabbed my bleeding arm and spun me around, pinning my lower back into the edge of the sink.  

"Maia! Stop this. Stop hurting yourself! Do you have any idea how disappointed seeing you like this makes me? What if you cut too deep and I'm not here? Cas is sick and out of the question. What if Ros found you, blacked out?" His pine was so overbearing now, it was hard for me to focus.  

"You don't think I haven't thought that through already? I can't stop. I can't stop it. Sam, can you help me feel something? Anything that isn't this noose around my neck? Don't you love me just a little?" Sam was a man of few words when it came to his way of loving. Instead he let his actions talk for him. He licked my fresh wounds until they'd healed. I kissed his lips needing that kind of tenderness from him. breaking the kiss I sucked in, he hasn't been this close to me in a month. I let his scent fall into my lungs and on the exhale I had to clench my legs together. I let out a controlled moan. I braced myself on the edge of the sink. My insides tightening and trembling for him.  

His eyes were mesmerizing like a bright kaleidoscope of hazel. He initiated more contact first. I didn't want to influence him, I needed us to be transparent. He sucked at the right side of my neck and slipped his free hand under my shorts and underwear, grabbing a fistful of ass. I was panting against his kneading touch, feeling my slick get thicker. I knew he could smell me.  his jeaned member present and grinding against my clothed slit. 

He left a hickey on my neck, marking it. I let out very breathy moans, needing to be quiet. He growled, leaving a sloppy kiss on my lips. His warmth left my ass cheek, making me think he was going to stop for the night a leave, again. Instead he held out his hand, "I know a place where we can be loud." I took it without hesitation and he walked me down past darkened corridors into the garage of the Bunker.  

He had some difficulty taking the Impala keys out of his breast-pocket but got it eventually. He opened up the back before he let me hop in, he raked a loving hand through my hair his eyes locking with mine.  

"Sam? You know this is real, right? We're authentic." I needed him to hear that. to know that our feelings weren't sparked out of our shared grief alone. he gave me a small smile and leaned down, his back bending, giving me a sweet- pine filled smooch. That's a yes. I took my shirt and shorts off, leaving my sandals next to the rear passenger tire. My undergarments were lacy and red. 

I helped out, gimpy, and took his pants off. I kissed and nibbled at his light stubble on his Adam's apple when I unbuttoned each of his buttons on his plaid shirt. That made him buck into me and send his free hand exploring into my underwear. He inserted one digit, making me gasp at the sudden penetration and wanting much more than just that. I took off his sling to completely remove his shirt and then replaced the odd contraption.  

He took out his finger and licked it clean, the look in his eyes as he did made me mewl against his chest. He let me get in first and he followed closing the door. I sat down in the middle like I normally would, my skin making contact with the cold leather seat. My cheeks were flushed again and I was near trembling. I scooted my butt forward in the seat, bringing my center to the forefront and resting the back of my neck against the edge of the seat.  

He kissed me again but this time he was much more forceful, letting his control slip a little. He ended the kiss by biting my lower lip, possessively and thrusting two digits as deep as they could go into my slick ridden vagina. I moaned loud, not worrying about anyone hearing my sex-filled moans. He was knuckle deep, curling his fingers in and out making me shudder and gasp with each aggressive thrust.  

"Got to stretch you out a little, I'm big and your damn, tight." He explained. I moaned getting excited at the thought of him filling me. I whimpered, missing his touch when he removed his fingers and turned around grabbing something from the glove box of the Impala. I took this opportunity to remove my undergarments and cast them to the floor of the car. He turned around, taking in the scenery. I didn't conceal any part of me, opening my legs for him. he seemed a bit shocked by this at first with my straightforwardness, but his gaze quickly returned to a rut-filled haze. 

he tore a small foil package with his teeth, a condom. A flash of anger came across my features and took it from him throwing it, landing in the far reaches of the dashboard. I embraced his scalp with both hands and kissed his lips. he growled sexily at my actions.He'd gotten more ridged both with his actions and where it mattered. I helped him take off his boxers and he sat down next to me.  

"Ladies first." he insisted wanting me to act as the top, or at the very least equal. maybe this was to do with his length and girth. It made my mouth water. I straddled myself on top him, guiding my hand down to position him at my entrance. I lowered myself down on him, the slick helped but I could still feel just how different having another man inside me was. It wasn't necessarily better than Dean just different.  

He moaned from the pressure. His head scraped against my cervix, making me whimper. In all honesty it hurt a little bit, but with the pheromones flowing through my veins and my heated state I didn't mind some pain mixed with pleasure. Unable to hold back any longer, he used his free hand to grab at my shoulder pinning me to him and forcefully bucked deeper into me. Deeper than I even thought possible, his head dipping into my cervix, making me see entire galaxies. 

"Ahh! Sam." He kept at a relentless pace, each thrust harder than the last, more passionate. I felt his knot swell at my base, ready to burst. I dragged my tongue across his scars displayed on his chest, the ones Dean gave him. My walls clench down like a vice. He lifted his torso off the backseat away from a resting position. his hand cradling the base of my neck and dragging it in. His knot locked inside me and load after sweet boiling load released into my deepest parts. Not wasting another second he sunk his fangs into the flesh of the right side of my neck, claiming me. I'd screamed, climaxing from the combination of his knot, seed, and pine intoxicating me all at once. We sat there panting out our arousals, still connected for about half an hour. He lapped the blood away from his claim but made sure not to touch the puncture marks, wanting them to scar over. We waited for his knot to calm down before talking.  

"I've waited a long time for this." He said rubbing my cheek with his thumb, his eyes mulling over my beauty. "Doesn't feel real, but I'm happy it is." I smiled back at him, moaning and wincing from his exit.  

"Me too. I need a shower." I definitely smell like him now. Both of us wanted to start round two but were unable to with the possibility of Roslyn waking up in the middle of the night. We left the Impala in her steamed state and headed off to the shower stalls. Oh man, I'm going to feel this in the morning. Together we bathed, needing each other as support. Me nursing his gimp shoulder and him, making sure the shower water didn't sting my fresh claim. it was a miracle at all that we by the end of the cleaning we didn't still smell like each other. Now dressed, we headed off to the bedroom section of the Bunker. We stopped at his room. He landed a kiss on my forehead.  

"Don't hurt yourself anymore." he said, demandingly, already exerting his Alpha nature onto his new mate. I gave him a weak smile, "Okay. Good night." That was the one thing I don't think I can promise. I'm going to sleep very solidly tonight. He rubbed my cheek with is thumb again.  

" 'Night. 'Mega." Hearing him utter my dynamic, really felt like setting our actions in stone. It felt good and right. should I feel guilty for this? Being my recently deceased mate's , whom I've bore a pup with, brother? my omega instinct was telling me, no I shouldn't be ashamed. Dean died. It wasn't really cheating after all, was it? it was too late to get cold feet now. I hopped into my bed in my room, cocooning, I was starting to get too much in my own head. I couldn't help but place a hand on the crook of my left neck, where Dean's claim used to be. I wanted to cut, but didn't so I had my fill of crying until I fell asleep. 

The next morning felt so odd to me, because it was like there was a light-switch that had been flipped on inside my brain. For the first time in a very long time, I felt happy. Dean and I had bonded through our emotions, I and Sam, however bonded intellectually. Not to say that Dean was dumb, he wasn't. Just the way Sam and mine brain operated was different than his. Dean thinks...thought with his heart. Sam puts that pre-law beautiful nerdy mind to work constantly. He needs to do that actually otherwise, he'd be bored out of his wits. Sam is governed by reason and thought.  

I was the first person up, getting some pancakes ready for Roslyn, those were her current favorite. In a few more weeks she'd have some other favorite fad to please her palette. Pups, Gods help me.  I was sipping on some coffee and got Ros up, heaving her groggy little booty out of bed and putting her in her high-chair. It was hard to get her to eat, even though she liked the stuff. She only ate about half of it, but I settled for that. In another three hours she'd only be tugging at my leg wanting more food. Her little face scrunched up in a frustrated manner. Sam, finally out of his slumber came in, fixing himself a cup of coffee from the batch I made. 

"What's up buttercup?" I asked Ros, she has been talking for a little while. Mostly baby nonsense talk that only people who were close to her could comprehend. but other than that she can string very minor sentences together to get her point across. I tucked her fine hair out of her face and behind her ear. It hurt to see Dean's eyes reflected in those tiny eye sockets and his freckles on her face.  

"Bored. Wanna play hide seek. Miss Daddy." I smiled as hard as I could, because that sentence coupled with the look on her face made me hurt so damned bad. Sam was silent, turned around tending to his coffee. "Daddy will be home soon, pumpkin. I promise."  her eyes tensed on me. 

"Wiar." Liar. I almost broke right then and there. but I used that hurt to heave myself out of the kitchen chair and pick her up.  

"Somebody needs a nap, huh grumpy-face?" I told her. she didn't say anything back. I put her back to bed and rubbed her back and hummed Landslide to soothe her to sleep. that worked every time. I closed her door without a sound and Sam was in the hallway staring at me, looking guilty. I walked away from her door and collapsed down into Sam's chest, a bawling mess. 

"Sam, how are we gonna fix this?" I asked him, not knowing where else to turn. He sighed but didn't answer me. He kissed his claim, the flesh still tender. Sam gave me some room, knowing I needed time to think and stir. I let my emotions fester inside me before settling down and coming to streamline. The morning faded into the night-time and I had noticed Sam's laptop open and a tab closed down. Sitting next to his laptop a stack of papers, notes upon notes of demonology.  

I skimmed through them, not thinking much of it until I saw he'd written a sentence. how to become a demon with an anti-possession tattoo? Why was he so invested in this? I thought he was keeping hunting to a minimum with his shoulder. at least that's what he told me. I tried opening the window but of course it was password protected. with a tiny security question to answer.  

Circles infinity expecting differently. I mulled it over for a little while before cracking it. Insanity! Circles being a cycle, for infinity so repeating the same actions over and over expecting a different outcome. It's the famous saying from Einstein, and the definition of insanity. You'd think Sam would have thought of something more difficult? 

The file was titled, 'Gas-n-sip footage DD'. That's weird. maybe he's stumped on a case? since I cracked his riddle, I can help him with this. I clicked on the file and view the video. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, just some guy looking over the magazines on one isle. almost all Gas-n-sips are the same, so seeing this brought back memories of before the Mill. Crazy to think how much my life has changed since then.  

another man came on the screen and caught my attention. He had bowed out legs and dressed a bit plainly, with a cap on. The taller man suddenly attacked the other one and threw him into the shelf, for no reason. He looked right at the camera and I froze in place. I'd know that face anywhere. it was Dean, in the flesh. No can't be, has to be a shifter or something, right? for a second his eyes flashed, pure black like they'd been covered in soot. and then returned to normal. I closed the laptop horrified, appalled, excited, elated, terrified for Dean, and then livid. I took Sam's laptop and ran to his room where he was sleeping.  

I threw it purposely on his shoulder making him wake from the pain. I mounted him and pounded on his chest. "How long? How long did you know?! You told me he was DEAD! He's alive! Breathing. Walking. and a black eyed fool!" by the end I put my forehead to his, headbutting. I shouldn't have done it because it hurt like hell.  

I dismounted him, falling to the floor with a thud. He got up from bed, sitting with me on the floor.  

"I haven't known for long, only a few days. I was going to tell you. I just didn't know how. I'm afraid of losing you. I thought, if you knew, you'd go running back to him and leave me. Everyone leaves. Go! Go see what he's become!" he said his mood changing mid-speech. 

I grabbed his face in both my palms, surprising him with my actions. I kissed his forehead, the way he did to me. "I can't leave you. I won't. Mates for life. That goes for dean too. I'll be back. I need to go rescue my Galahad Sam. Can you do me a favor, and don't follow me? Watch over Roslyn, please. If something goes wrong, I have you on speed dial." I had a mission now, a purpose.  

Sam closed his eyes savoring my touch and thinking through my promise.  

"Come back in one piece." he demanded from me. "Always." I answered my new lover, before giving him a kiss tasting his pine. I gathered my things quickly, packing a demon knife and all the love and courage I could muster within me. I took one of the random working vehicles from the garage and drove to the Black Spurs bar pulling in to the a parking spot and turning off the engine. I exhaled, Zeus give me strength, resting my forehead against the steering wheel. Here goes nothing. I exited the vehicle and locked it, keeping aware of my surroundings. I'm walking into a demon bar, where there are guaranteed to be Alphas of some kind.  

Demons are not below rape, if anything they are encouraged by it. I'm still in my heat cycle so the fact that I'm still standing in this musky cesspool is a miracle. Maybe Sam's claim helped me out with that? I swung the door open, my only goal being to find Dean. The music stopped every pair of eyes on me and my Omega body. the music returned and some of the Alphas nearby were calling for me. 

"Come over here, 'mega, wanna ride this pony, cowgirl?" the first alpha whistled. 

"Got a fat knot, waiting for ya, Darling!" One fisted his clothed dick in my direction. I gave him the bird, not exactly intimidating considering my tiny fingers. 

"We can fuck that cunt, two for one discount, Baby-gal. Awhoooooo." Another mock-howled banging on the chest of his buddy. 

I didn't acknowledge them at all. instead payed attention to Dean, seeing his back turned to me. he had a red shirt on and jeans, boots. His hair grown out a little and combed over semi-neatly. I could smell the liquor that emanated from him as I closed the space between us.  he was sucking face with a blonde. I crossed my arms and dragged my tongue across my canine. 

"Didn't know they made Barbie the black-eyed-bitch edition. Must be new." that got her attention. She broke the kiss, get your filthy lips off my man. Dean laughed, entertained by my insult. I let my eyes pierce into his, wanting  to peer into his soul, if there was one left. 

"Why don't you get your own knot, you reek of sex, Omega slut." I wasn't going to show weakness, especially not here. plus the fact that I was already vexed. I took the demon blade out of my black suit jacket, pinned her hand to the table and impaled it to the wood, making her scream. for good measure I made sure she would need plastic surgery to fix that up-turned nose of hers. Feeling it break underneath my knuckles.  

Dean was smiling from ear to ear, revealing his perfect rows of teeth. He whistled after taking another shot of liquor.  

"You, me- need to fuck. Right now. You make me all tingly when you take control like that, M." just hearing his voice again, made me so happy but I knew the fact that him being here for all this time and not in the Bunker meant something was astray. He rose from his seat. I couldn't tell if the whiskey scent was coming from his body or the exuberant amount of alcohol he'd been consuming. His hand took mine and led me out of the bar, I needed his touch so much. What have they done to you, Love?  

He took me across the street to a dingy looking motel. He took me into his arms, bridal style. Shifting his weight to one foot, he kicked the door in. He set me down on the bed and topped me. Taking the collar of my jacket into his hands dragging me up to meet his lips I could taste the poison on his lips, still lingering. I couldn't help but moan into him. I had missed him for so long and that made a deadly combo with my heat being active at the moment. He was rougher than usual, like he'd lost his inhibitions.  

"That's what I like to hear." His hands stroked down the fabric of my jacket, reaching the juncture of the button that connected the two sides, and jerked ripping the button off. I wasn't going to let my heat distract me from why I came here. he took my heels off along with his reddish-rusty colored jacket and black shirt. he unzipped my jeans with his teeth, growling at the scent of my slick beneath them. 

"Dean, we need to talk." I said. He undid the metal button of my jeans and licked at my clothed slit, making me moan again. He descended and hopped off the bed taking the bottom of my jeans and tugging them off my legs. He cast off his boots and yanked his pants down enough to where his length fell out, slapping firm against the base of his stomach.  

"Sure, let the skin do the talkin', Baby." He said in a lustful tone, returning to the bed. The abused springs creaking under our combined weight. I was already slick as all Hell. So he wouldn't need to prep me or anything. Before that plane could come in for a landing, I needed to get my point across before I wasn't able to talk. he started to remove my silky pink underwear. I need to say it now. 

"Dean! You died. and came back, why not come home? Do you miss me at all? Or Ros?" He had begun working on eating me out, taking in my slick with an aggressive appetite. I felt waves of heat wash over me. Fucking Cerberus in a handbasket! I couldn't lose track of my objective. I stared at him through the valley of my breasts, needing his answer, before I couldn't make conscious thought. 

He was staring back at me, his tongue scraping at my walls. His eyes were filled with rut and then turned as black as coal in a millisecond. My chest heaved and my heart was drumming in my body, pumping my heat through me. Out of my core, down through my thighs and into my toes, making them curl. I was close to cumming, feeling my heat searing into my cheeks. He still had enough Dean in him to tease me, like old times and didn't give me a chance to release. he licked my slick off his lips and stalked further up to me.  

He looked at me like prey. His eyes still blackened. He swallowed, and I could feel his hot breath on my neck.  

" 'Course I do. What I can't take a vacation? Oh, am I scaring you sweetheart? Want the green ones back? Personally I prefer these. Think they look better on me." He answered. I was about to open my mouth when. His bullshit reply made me angry I took his throat in my grip, my claws scraping with his skin.   

"I'm not afraid, I'm sad. This isn't you. Death is no holiday, it's finite! I felt your claim sever!!" I let my feeling spill out. He cackled against my grip. His eyes returning to the shade of green that I adored and knew so well.  

"Welcome to the Dark-side, death is only a new beginning, Maia." His brows furrowed for a second. Laughing again but it sounded more like a scoff. He grabbed at my neck with one hand to pull me up to him so he could take my jacket off. He threw it, landing on a lampshade, darkening the room a bit. He set my neck down, and put his lips next to my right ear. His hand stroked at Sam's claim.  

"Somebody's getting on the naughty list this year. You think I couldn't smell him on you? Taste him inside you? It's pretty sad really. He gave you a pity fucking. And This ain't no pity fuck." he  said making his eyes return to black. He plunged himself into me, making gasp after gasp escape me. His fangs extended and tore into the left side of my neck. His Whiskey coursed throughout my entire body, spreading from cell to microscopic cell. The claiming hurt but it felt exhilarating at the same time. My veins were filled with Pine and Whiskey melting into my own strawberry scent. A potent triquetra. Throughout the sex, I felt something burn into my wrist. I stared at it and watched dark lines, as if someone was giving me a tattoo, form a symbol I had never seen before. I noticed the same thing sting itself into dean's wrist. on the same spot. 

Dean knotted himself into me more times than I could count. He fucked me senseless, ultimately and literally reclaiming what was rightfully his. At some point I had passed out. I woke up to find Dean snoring next to me. My eyes welled up but I couldn't let myself cry. I got up from the motel bed and collected my things and left. I forgot that I drove here, unable to focus on anything but what had just happened.  

I limped down the highway, the night and moon still high in her resting place among the stars.  Dean screwed me so hard it made walking a challenge. I don't remember how long I walked down the desolate road, casting my feet between the two yellow lines. I felt more numb than I had ever been. My mission had failed and I don't know how to fix Dean. I'm back at square one. I flopped down on to the cold blacktop staring into the dark abyss, a halo of white light ringed around the full moon. I closed my eyes, waiting for a car to come and crush me under its tires. I felt so used. I hate what heat makes me, lets me accept. my phone rang multiple times but I ignored it.  

I watched the moon creep across Nyx's cloak. Until bright lights made me wince and screeching tires skidded to a halt, stopping in the knick of time. A heavy door opened and closed. Boots running heavy across the asphalt. a warm hand caressing my cheek. Pine filling my nostrils and lungs.  

"Maia?! What happ-" he stopped mid-sentence, his glossy hazel eyes noticing two claims, one for each side. I lost it, tears searing stains into my cheeks. "Take me home, Sam, please." I begged. that was the one thing I was good for, begging. I begged for love. I begged for happiness. I begged for knots. Sam got me into the passenger seat ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he rose me from the ground. I kept staring at the moon on the way to the Bunker.  

Alphas, Omegas- such an overrated shit-show. 

End chapter 11. Start Arc B of series. 

Quote: 

"And I've moved further than I thought I could  But I missed you more than I thought I would  And I'll use you as a warning sign  That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind 

And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be  Right in front of me  Talk some sense to me" 

-'I found,'-Amber Run 

Quote: 

"The sweetest submission  Drinking it in  The wine, the women, the bedroom hymns" 

-'Bedroom Hymns,'-Florence + the Machine 

[satohqbanana]

Call Me Like You Love Me

Summary: Rhen and Lars call each other names a lot. Then they don't.

Notes:

I dug this up in my drafts. I knew it was going to be a friendship Larshen, but I got hurt reading it nonetheless. I touched this up a bit to alter some parts that didn't quite fit the emotion and thought I perceived through this story. By the way, the names aren't canon, but I just like name-based intimacy.

(Story below cut)

Rhen observes, Lars is more than fond of calling her "Rhenellaine" than simply "Rhen".

Not even Dameon uses her first name in full. Rhen doesn't know what he thinks about her silly birth name, but it's probably similar with her own thoughts - it's pretty cheesy, kinda cliche, but definitely reserved for moments of intimacy and heightened emotions.

And as for her own feelings towards the name, she finds it too long. For a while, she forgets it; prefers the simplified "Rhen Darzon" and uses that whenever a signature is necessary.

Her memories are definitely hazy on how Lars acquired this knowledge. Perhaps she'd been careless in the past. She remembers him sing-songing "Rhen-a-Rhen", and it sounds close to her own name. Maybe an argument or two happened, but what definitely happened was that Lars took a deep liking to it.

There wasn't much she could do to retaliate, except mention his name only when necessary. She loves the face he makes when she refers to him as "the noble brat", or "the sorcerer I graduated with", or "the man I still babysit". Their party thinks it's funny, and even moreso when Galahad strictly refers to Lars as "boy" or "sorcerer".

(Besides, those names and monikers are much better than "Peta" and "Grasshead" - both innocent to outsiders, but reminiscent of a past best kept to the grave.)

Lars never calls her that long name in battle. It's definitely a mouthful to say. He prefers to say it when he's teasing her, or when he's being sarcastic. She notices he never calls her that either when he's pissed off and angry.

Likewise, she only ever calls him by name during the heat of battle. It's short and great for barking orders here and there.

So it's weird.

It's weird that at the mansion in Sedona, he offers her his sincerest apologies--

"I don't know if it's too late for me to say this, but… you deserve to hear this at least. I, I've been a jerk to you this whole time, and… you didn't deserve any of that. I'm sorry… Rhen."

--but it's her nickname that spills from his lips.

It's weird that the night before they face Ahriman, he looks at her with such gentleness, holds her hands in a firm grip, but struggles to form words--

"Rhen… Rhen, I… my, my name… ugh, forget it. I'm nervous. Don't die on me, I mean."

--and still it's her nickname he uses.

So when they finish the whole Ahriman thing and return, she realizes that Lars only utters her nickname now. She loses Dameon, and Lars comforts her--

"You'll find other lovers, Rhen. Better ones."

--but though his words reassures her, it feels so distant, the way Lars says her nickname.

Then, they report to the Oracle, Rhen chooses her fate, and they part their ways. Lars rushes home, and Rhen makes haste to the kingdom she is meant to rule.

By the time that Rhen catches up with the utmost needs of Thais, she realizes Lars completely stopped correspondence. She thinks of sending a letter, but the right words never come to mind. She still has so much to do, so much to think about.

It is during a visit to Veldarah that the pieces of the puzzle fall together.

It is the marriage of a prince, and to honor alliances, Rhen decides to attend. The culture of the Eastern Empire is vastly different, but the Queen of Thais is allowed to witness the main matrimonial rites.

Rhen tries to hide her surprise when she sees that the groom is none other than Lars Tenobor. His name spills from her lips on a hushed whisper, and it is during the ceremony that she hears of his full name - Lars Setiah Tenobor.

Her eyes never leave him as her mind plays upon the concept of his being a prince, his marriage, and his full name that she never got to know, never heard from him.

They meet again at the reception dinner. Rhen pays her respects to the Empress, then to the newlyweds. Lars offers her a smile. He introduces his veiled bride to her and back, whose radiance emanates even when Rhen can barely see the other woman's face from beneath the layers of cloth.

Lars guides her through the conversation, does most of the talking, asks her lots of questions. She is slightly relieved, for she is not sure what to say. Her eyes keep on him, but his only briefly meets hers.

It's unfair, and she almost wants to punch him.

But she can't. She can't, because it's rude to his new wife, rude to the Empire. She can't, because the damage is done, and the distance is achingly obvious. She wants to break down and cry. She wants to hold her sword again, don her sword singer uniform, shed her royal identity and yell at Lars at the top of her lungs while he laughs and he makes sassy remarks and he calls her "Rhenellaine" again.

But she can't.

"It's nice. We haven't talked like this in a while… Lars."

And she can only call him by that one name.

He regards her one last time, and her name falls from his lips--

"Thank you, Rhen. Ahem, no, Your Majesty."

The space between them had become a chasm, and a suffocating pain throbs in her chest.

She limits her visits to Veldarah and the Eastern Empire for the rest of her life. She marries. She has children. She leads Thais into prosperity. She takes her last breath.

And though her diaries reveal it's always been a question in her mind, she never gets to know if Lars ever managed to abolish slavery.

[deke-rivers-1957]

Elvis Ask Game

This is a part of the original thread by @aconflagrationofmyown. I made it separate to make it easier to read since I'm deciding to answer a lot of these lol. Thank you @lindszeppelin and @ash-omalley for tagging me.

•When and what was your first exposure to Elvis Presley?

I don't remember when I first watched this film, but my first exposure to Elvis was watching Lilo and Stitch.

I was only 2 or so when the movie came out so I think I saw it later on when I was like 5 or 6 years old so like maybe 2005/2006.

•And what was your first impression?

I didn't understand who Elvis was other than oh he's the guy Lilo likes so much because of her parents. I didn't think much of him until I was older.

•Lace shirts or jumpsuits?

Lace shirts since I like that era of Elvis better. The jumpsuits are very hit or miss with me and the idea of how much he suffered in that era keeps me from truly enjoying that era.

•You can steal one of Elvis/Austin’s outfits, what’s it going to be?

I love this so much because it just summarizes what Elvis represented during the 1950s. He has a combination of masculine and feminine features. This is stylized as men's clothing but the floral patter on the shirt feminizes it.

•C’mon, we know you’ve been watching/reading old interviews and random footage of the man, so what’s your favorite random Elvis quote?

From Elvis' concert in Elvis That's the Way It Is: "So those you who've never seen me before will realize tonight that I'm totally insane and I have been for a number of years". It just describes literally everything he did and how self aware he was.

•What’s an aspect of Elvis’ character you wish more people appreciated?

Elvis loved kids and treated them with respect. He also loved black people and also treated them with respect. In a time which segregation was legal, Elvis consistently showed that he was color blind, yet understood how he was treated differently because he was white. People who claim he stole from black people understood nothing about Elvis. So many black artists and celebrities praise this man for showing them respect and outright stating that he loved Fats Dominoes and Arthur Crudup's music. James Brown and Muhammed Ali were the definition of black pride and were great friends with Elvis, going as far to go his funeral and visit his grave. This needs to be talked about more and at least the movie attempted to do that.

•You meet Col. Tom Parker for the first time, forewarned with the knowledge of what a scumbag he is, what do you do?: A. nothing, you’re a coward who doesn’t care about abused golden-hearted men B. you give the Colonel a stern telling off C. you encourage Elvis to leave him and break the contract E. you slap a legal document against that fat suit and declare “Mrs. Claus is bringing you a lawsuit” F. you waste no time with formalities, it’s a letter opener to the juggler for that piece of trash

Assuming there's no witnesses or consequences for me, choice F. The amount of anger in just being near him would make verbal options impossible. I would feel satisfied in doing that.

•You can choose only one song or piece of media to convince someone to become an Elvis fan, what is it going to be?

This record shows both sides of Elvis' songs. He was the precursor to all rock artists and also did a lot of ballads.

•Where are you hanging out with EP, his bedroom with the teddy bears, Club Handy, his private jet or Graceland?

•What is the peak Elvis era? warning, this says an awful lot about you…

Very hard question but...

I know this was very short lived but I love how Elvis exists in this film. Toby is one of his best characters and I honestly think this was Elvis at his healthiest. He wasn't taking diet pills until after this era because he was told he was overweight. That's just not true since in Kid Galahad he had defined muscles and in this film, he's carrying people around like it's nothing. He just looks so strong here that I can believe his fight scenes. Toby can legitimately win a real fight and Elvis actually looks the part because of his karate and boxing training.

•Pick your poison in the fan-fiction realm: angst, fluff, smut, fluffy smut, angsty fluff, angsty smut?…or is reading about Elvis Presley an acknowledged health hazard?

I can handle angst, fluff, and fluffy smut. I feel uncomfortable with smut because a lot of it is just Elvis being so dominant that it reminds me of why I don't like a lot of his characters. I just can't handle guys that are that rough with other women even when it's consensual. I need it to be soft or Elvis be in a more submissive role.

•What are your odds for besting this man at karate?

I feel like Elvis might let me win one match since given the sheer experience and size advantage he would have. I'm only 5' 3" and am not athletic in anyway. Elvis would probably be worried about hurting me so we just would only do that one match and not do it again.

•If you could meet Elvis and have enough composure to tell him something, what would it be?

Don't let your sense of self worth be determined by other people's happiness. You have done more than enough for people that your mama and Jesse would be proud of you. They would want you to take the time to love yourself. Your fans would want that too because we all love you, Elvis.

•If you could spare him one tragedy what would it be?

Letting Jesse live. If you read the Inner Elvis, you would know how much trauma he experienced just by not having his twin. It's part of why he was so close to Gladys. He didn't have anything else to fill in that hole that losing Jesse created. He obviously had no memories of Jesse but subconsciously he was aware that he needed Jesse in his life. Not having him made Elvis so vulnerable to the outside world including the Colonel. If he had his older brother, he might have actually had the chance to live longer.

•If you’ve got a favorite gif or photo insert it here and bless us all

Sorry for the sadness. Here's a picture of Elvis with his dear puppy, Sweet Pea.

A reminder that despite media showing Elvis as a dominant man that could have his way with women, he was also a little boy that would just melt around dogs.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm now tagging @skinnypantsmcgee and @cheesy-cryptid for this game. I really like the art you two make.

[neostriatum]

Vanishing Point

[AO3] [Dreamwidth]

-

The king is dead. Long live the king - by nearly-forgotten, dusty clause.

-

“I beg your pardon.”

Eggsy’s voice was stiff, back even more so. His face was rumbling with the beginnings of thunder, held back by the thin lashings of disbelief.

Merlin sighed, clicking off the screen of his tablet and vainly wishing for a moment to have hair to run his hand through. “This is what happens when you commit a coup, lad.”

“D’état!” Eggsy protested, tossing away the thin façade of his commoner’s reputation. The man threw an expansive arm to underscore his point, “I was a failed recruit! By all rights, you should have wiped my brain and dumped me in a gutter!”

He would have stressed for Eggsy to lower his voice, but by the steady beeping of the complex machinery keeping their erstwhile Galahad alive, the point was moot. “Be that as it may,” Merlin replied, interrupting the emotional storm simmering across the other’s body language, “You do have the right.”

“I- what,” Eggsy made an earnest face, bewildered and desperate as he waved a hand in front of him in gesticulation, “How? ”

The pressure behind his eyes was drying, and he made the executive decision to prop his glasses atop his head to rub a tired hand over them, waking up his tablet and keying in the password to hand it to Eggsy. He watched as the man - their newest Arthur - scrolled through the damning text, face alit in the faint purple wash of light as each line was meticulously scanned for important phrases.

Eggsy frowned, and Merlin could suck in a breath at how different it was in tone from the usual pouts, smirks, and thin tendrils of fearful tension that had accompanied the recruit training and subsequent, haphazard mission to save the world. By god, he thought, I can see it.

And he could, truly, envision the sight of Eggsy at the helm of their enterprise, commanding their missions and guiding them along their core principles. The seriousness that was curving the former recruit’s brow was unlikely to buckle from the strain of their tasks, and the sight made his heart swell in unfathomable affection, the sort that would cause him to bend in service. It had been such a long time since he felt such stirrings, and his eyes ticked almost unconsciously to the other man lying across from them.

Galahad , Merlin thought, observing the determination coalescing across Eggsy’s face, The sights you’ll be seein’ soon.

There was a tapping upon his tablet, Eggsy looking up at him thoughtfully, a conclusion already forming in the man’s eyes. “Why has nobody ever brought this bylaw up before?”

What brought his attention more than the arresting gaze was the slip of humor hiding underneath the grave, subtle accusation. “Why indeed,” Merlin replied, scoffing. Not everyone is like you, lad , he thought, We’ve become too bred to accept authority , “And leave a string of assassinations? It’s a good thing you’re young then, Eggsy, you’ll be withstanding your own barrage of… suitors.”

And wasn’t that a perverse idea. He wet his lips, watching the gleam in Eggsy’s eye as he was studied. Something unspoken went laid to rest, and he exhaled as their new king bent his attentions to the document once more, frown softly highlighted violet.

“Wha’s there to be sayin’ about protection, then?” He was asked, and Merlin watched as particular sections of the text were highlighted. Struggling to remember the precise words by overhead glance at the shape of the paragraphs, Eggsy ran over his thoughts with a contemplative sound, “That kind of clause warrants some kind of bodyguard, a’ least.”

Merlin nodded slowly, percolating the idea. Between the crumbling of the world and its partial, private section of resurrection, he had not memorized all the ins-and-outs of this particular law and all its related remarks lost in the dusty archives of the estate. Sticking his hands in his pockets, feeling a little awkward without his so-called magic wand at his immediate disposal, he stepped closer to read the text over Eggsy’s shoulder.

“I imagine there were some sort of failsafes involved,” He mused absently, watching as Eggsy’s finger upon the tablet slowed in its scrolling trawl, “Given that it would be an easy one to abuse.”

They paused for a beat, Merlin feeling the fatigue inch closer over their toes in a warning wave. He stifled the urge to lean into the heat so near to him, grumbling. If Eggsy was the one to sway minutely in him, well, he could hardly fault the lad for his exhaustion, running around the past few days as he had been.

Silence passed comfortably for a few beats, nothing but the pause of Eggsy’s inspection of Kingsman’s foundations and Harry’s monitors giving indication that a world of greater attendance awaited them.

He almost let his eyes blink lazily when Eggsy’s sharp inhale stiffened both their postures. A question was at the tip of his tongue when it sank back down at Eggsy’s whispered proclamation.

“Guinevere.”

“What?”

It was his turn to be baffled, Eggsy rounding to face him, nearly bouncing onto the tips of his toes with the energy of whatever revelation it is that he just discovered, “ Guinevere, Merlin,” He exclaimed, “Do we have one?”

Merlin blinked. The roster of agents was slower in being recollected, decimated as their ranks recently were. He pushed away a grimace at yet more rounds of candidates - that was going to be a royal pain in his arse - and came up with a blank, “Er. No, not t’ my knowledge.”

Eggy’s eyes sparkled excitedly, and he looked back down at the tablet, moving the document to the section the man apparently already had in mind, “Merlin, exactly ,” The statement was breathed out, excited, reflected in his gaze when he returned Merlin’s perplexed attention, holding up the tablet, “There isn’t one.”

Peering at the displayed text, a section detailing the extraneous duties of agents under such a clause enactment, he frowned, “... Aye, lad.”

He rolled his eyes at Eggsy rolling his eyes, accepting the tablet being shoved back at him with a huff.

“Merlin,” Eggsy said seriously, lips twitching up into a smirk, “We’re going to create a Guinevere.”

-

As it turns out - if’n the case anyone was asking for his opinion, which they weren’t - creating an agent was damned near impossible. Not by edit, no. Oh no, that was the first official thing out of their new Arthur’s mouth, and the old urge to strangle Eggsy reared its head, long-buried he thought that impulse was from the early days of the Lancelot training gauntlet.

No, the difficulty of this was configuring the systems to create new agents in the first place. Nominating a candidate to fulfill a previously-named role was one thing - easy enough to do, just adjust the permissions and move some data around.

But making an entirely new profile?

“Cannae be done, Arthur,” Merlin commented tartly, “It won’t take to the systems. Absolutely bollocked, it won’t accept even a workabout profile.”

Eggsy arched a brow, the challenging, teasing tilt making him scowl, “Come now, dearest Merlin,” Said Merlin snorted at the carefully-applied arch tone, “Yer a wizard, can’t you wave a wand at it?”

“ No ,” He retorted, uncommentative of the hand rested upon his shoulder. It was a new development of Arthur, and he supposed it was a branding, divorcing himself from the image of the old Arthur. Merlin was loathe to divulge exactly how comforting the commiserative gesture was, nor how supportive.

Sighing, he set the mug of tea down, all robust Scottish tea that did not work the miracles he was needing it to this past week, “The problem is that I don’t have high enough clearance to do so.”

Blinking, Eggsy looked at him in bewilderment, “You’ve got the highest clearance in the agency, Merlin, how do you not have access to this?”

Warmed by the blatant and simultaneously earnest praise, he shrugged his unadorned shoulder, leaning back in his chair, “I shouldnae be restricted anywhere in the system, given that all of this was created by the first Merlin as soon as we had the technology available. We’re sysadmins, nothing ought to be restricted t’ us.”

We built the damn thing went unsaid, but not unheard. Eggsy sighed, leaning against the desk to peer more closely at the monitor. He was content to lean back and let the lad have the space to work, even if he was uncertain how much could be actually accomplished; miracles had been accomplished in the past several months with less, and Merlin was willing to believe in probabilities.

Eventually his mouse was commandeered, as well as his keyboard, despite the skip in his pulse at having anyone other than his team touch Kingsman’s code - it only settled with a forcible, stern reminder to himself that Eggsy’s skills at technology had skyrocketed after the first preliminary exam for candidates. If anyone could parse one of the hearts of their agency from his tutelage, it would be the young man yet to be coronated as their newest Arthur.

Still. He sucked in a silent breath, watching as Eggsy hunkered down into the meticulous sprawl of code with a frown of concentration chiseled onto his brow. It seemed almost like monotonous work, watching the man learn as he worked, a steady rhythm that had Merlin settling more comfortably into his chair.

A blink later and he found new text being written on the screen, a command window opened up and what looked like their mainframe being updated. There was a jolt of adrenaline that had him shooting forward, poised to retake control. Eggsy had a gleam in his eyes as he stared at the monitor, typing not quite with Merlin’s speed but with appreciable velocity, “Shh,” The man dismissed his alarmed demeanour easily, not halting in his typing, “I think- almost got it.”

Merlin adjusted his glasses, loathe to attempt recording the code onscreen but wanting badly to have this event saved for prosperity. He twisted his attention to the monitor instead of their Arthur instead, wanting to catch up to whatever the hell was going on in the two seconds he wasn’t paying attention. Now’s not the time for debating trust.

Chester had broken what Eggsy was taping back together, with a solid determination and a burgeoning eye for strategy. Swiveling his chair closer, Merlin muttered to himself what he could read on the rapidly-shifting screen. “‘Last known location’- why are you editing his profile?”

The “he” in question went understood, a side monitor lighting up with the grim bastard’s face that Merlin had known as a comforting fixture of the agency until quite recently. Eggsy was making a considering noise, absorbed in his task, and one that he could now see was guided by the computer itself. Prompts were flying across the main screen, answered nearly as quickly as they were brought up.

Arthur was being re-written, and Merlin was confounded as to why it was necessary.

Ostensibly a mind-reader now, Eggsy tapped the ‘enter’ key with a pointed amount of force, “Arthur’s the only one able to create new profiles.”

Merlin supposed, after a moment to privately gape, that it was a sensible conclusion. He leaned back in his chair, processing the development, “How in th’ bloody hell did you figure that?”

Eggsy cut him a glance, “I asked.”

Who was what he wanted to ask, but then the spare puzzle pieces managed to click together and Merlin deeply wanted to swear in a creatively filthy manner. “What’s the name of the program?” He demanded, fingers itching to snatch the keyboard from under, apparently, the properly-reigning Arthur’s control. Impudent as that would be, “What backdoor is this?”

Silence was his answer, Eggsy leaning back in satisfaction as the monitor at last flashed to a more familiar scene.

Agent created, codename: Morded. Position filled by: Gary Unwin.

The profile itself was nearly blank, absent of images and dates that would have otherwise provided the contextual framework to illustrate the ongoing history of their organization. Notably, it was a profile bereft of other, previous agents in the position. As was proving a trend, Eggsy was a ground-breaker in this aspect of Kingsman as well.

Beside him, Eggsy was watching him absorb the shift in perspective. Something must have shown on his face, for the man nodded slowly, hip cocked against the edge of the desk and arms crossed. “Guess the name of the program,” He asked - commanded - Merlin quietly, nodding at the monitor in front of them, “How do you think I did this?”

It made him feel unaccountably young again, being thrown into a test and ideally discovering the answers after he failed miserably. He swallowed, knowing Eggsy was simultaneously too kind to humiliate someone but also too intuitive to avoid the hard lessons. The information was sparse, but there must be something-

“This allows the coronation, doesn’t it,” Merlin replied, frowning thoughtfully at- at Arthur, who was somehow also Mordred. A connection was wriggling around in his mind, and he wasn’t sure how to catch it. Literature was never his strong suit.

Eggsy’s lips ticked into a brief smile, mused and encouraging, “‘The king is dead, long live the king.’”

“How-” Merlin pursed his lips. Kingsman was illustrious, in many sense of the word; they didn’t pick the name they used on a mere whim, and while the mythology was built up post facto , they did maintain some sense of consistency to their theme, subtle as it was, “... Excalibur?”

He received a mild shrug and tilted head, “Close,” Eggsy said, smile stretching into a grin, “I suppose you could say a sword was involved.”

That atrocious pun aside, Merlin shaking his head and huffing a laugh - pen is mightier than the sword, indeed, he turned his attention back to the screen. Wracking his brains for something outside his immediate forte was a difficult task, but he was intent to succeed, “So not a sword, but a sword nevertheless,” He mused quietly to himself, grabbing the mouse and clicking on the command box to scroll upwards for clues. Interestingly, most of the information automatically erased itself, which was irritating but bolstered a swelling of pride that this circumvention of one of their silently-beating hearts was not totally compromised, “Something… to do with a sword? With corruption.”

Beside him, Eggsy hummed encouragingly, spurring him on into thinking that he was taking the correct tack. He mumbled to himself, wheeling his chair closer to the desk and sinking into the familiar rhythm of cracking a puzzle in front of him. Dragging various windows across the field of screens, Merlin widened his vision, comparing multiple scenes in the progression of Mordred’s existence.

An agent like Mordred could not simply spring forth into existence - even languidly, there was little conceivable way for Eggsy to create an entire profile from scratch, format and all. Mordred sprung from the grave, unburied with the stroke of a key and wielding that which could fell even a king.

It was… it was impossible that Mordred was new. And that left precious little explanation, the realization impelling him to whirl his chair around to face Eggsy directly.

“Merlin did make this,” Eggsy said quietly, looking at him intently, “But the original Merlin needed someone to kill Arthur, just in case.”

Just in case. And wasn’t that a harrowing thought, that even the most insidious of plots was accounted for. “And only Merlin can crown an Arthur,” He murmured back, stunned, “‘The king is dead, long live the king.’”

And here Eggsy nodded, a slow dip of his head in recognition. It aged the man’s face, the blue of the monitor casting shadows that would otherwise have been caused by experience. Perhaps it did , Merlin thought, casting his gaze over his Arthur’s visage, Perhaps we finally have someone who understands it.

He turned back to his computer, drawing up the profile of Arthur under the guise of the late Chester King. There, in the footnote, laid the evidence he needed to see.

Mode of death: Assassination (Agent Mordred) (edited)

Rarely did he feel the urge to heave a deep sigh, but at this Merlin did so, feeling drained. The data wasn’t hyperlinked to other documents within their system, no, but he knew as someone who held the keys to the proverbial castle that there were still means available to him to discern the truth.

He needn’t, given that he had watched the edit performed in real time, but the confirmation still rang uncomfortably. Eggsy stood beside him, tall and unyielding. The expression on the other man’s face was familiar to many of the facets of determination he had worn during the course of his candidacy, but the new dimension to it was yet-uncrossed territory.

Merlin swallowed, throat dry with the answer, “The Lady of the Lake.”

Eggsy nodded, looking as solemn as Merlin felt.

Turning to the keyboard, Eggsy brought up the command window, typing in a fluent set of words that he must have recently memorized in the haystack he had been rifling through. Login codes, they were, and what he now knew were for Mordred.

Bringing up his own profile, their new Arthur keyed in the changes to one “Gary Unwin, Candidate: Lancelot (failed)”, and they both watched as the screen blinked and updated with the new coordinates.

User: Gary Unwin. Agent: Candidate (Lancelot, previous), Mordred (previous), Arthur (reigning).

A flicker of the monitors, blue awash and fading out to a new screen, their breaths holding fast as they watched the mainframe process the update.

New Agent, Arthur, instated. Coronation may proceed. Press Enter to continue.

Sliding a sideways glance at him, Eggsy passed the keyboard toward his hands, where they had been pressed into the desk in wary anticipation. The central monitor showed nothing more than the standard screen for inducting a new agent into the fold, username pre-filled and pop-up open to change the password from the system default to whatever the agent decided their new one to be.

It felt more monumental than it was, despite having gone through this process more than once - had done so quite recently with Roxy for her formalization as the ultimate successor to Lancelot. Still, he couldn’t help but look back at Eggsy, waiting for the man’s nod before laying his hands upon the keys.

Change password?

// Yes.

Enter current password.

Merlin watched the cursor blink for the span of a few heartbeats, inhaling as he typed in the one he had been ordered to memorize as soon as the previous Merlin had instructed him on the information surrounding their Arthur. Upon Chester’s death, the password had automatically reverted to the default only a Merlin would know.

The clacking of the keyboard was the only singular, brief noise between the two of them, Merlin’s heart too well-trained to thump unsteadily despite the unknown.

Password accepted. Enter new password.

He breathed out, lungs feeling rattled with the solution Eggsy had managed to shake forth. Silently, he passed the keyboard back, into Arthur’s waiting grasp. Despite the keys being pressed, he knew he would never be able to truly guess what the new password was - no Merlin would allow even the smallest of whispers to betray them in their domain.

Waiting out the changing of hands, Merlin stared dutifully into the middle distance, gaze affixed onto the monitors rather than the modernized coronation happening a scant breath away from him. Only the sound of the enter key, noticeably only for its age shown through frequent use, surrendered the damning finality.

The central monitor flickered to a new message.

Password accepted. Welcome, Arthur.

Beside him, Eggsy exhaled, in tune with the nerves he himself was wrestling with. It was one thing to merely pronounce Eggsy their new Arthur - it was quite another for the mainframe to officially recognize the young man as Kingsman’s newest ruler of the roost. For a moment neither of them did more than absorb the changes.

“Well,” He breathed out, leaning back in his chair, turning to look at the man standing beside him, “Welcome, Arthur.”

Eggsy tilted a smile in his direction, fond and warm, “Thank you, Merlin. It’s good to be here.”

-

The only - or rather, next - thing left to do was the second edict in their new Arthur’s queue. Guinevere, now that Merlin knew how to better dig around the castle, was an equally derelict agent name that was waiting to be unburied just like Mordred. There were few conditions to instating someone as Guinevere, but those were weighty conditions, indeed.

The Lady of the Keep was the only agent that Merlin couldn’t assign. After a bit of swearing and some ruminating by Harry’s bedside, where the man was now only sleeping deeply rather than deeply recuperating, Merlin could accept the fairness that was a hidden Mordred for a hidden Guinevere. Arthur needed some defense against assassination, and Merlin needed a sporting chance to topple a king.

Just in case.

It was a phrase nearly forbidden among Kingsmen agents, well used to being the ‘just in case’ measure for world peace, and this sort of stipulation made his ears ring the further down he dug into the dusty corners of the mainframe. It was certainly an educational experience, finding out precisely how much of the organization the previous Merlin had deliberately made hidden.

But then, after all, that was its own security measure. Chester had been a good warning - trust no agent, especially the ones you had no choice but to trust.

He was still turning the matter over in his mind as Lancelot squirreled her way into Merlin’s office after her most recent debriefing. The lass was doing well, spearheading the restructuring of their organization and taking Eggsy’s coronation rather well. Merlin supposed that saving the world in an appropriately dramatic fashion straight after one’s final exam would function as a rather good bonding activity.

Even if it was highly unusual for failed candidates to stick around. If Valentine hadn’t been on the docket as a current mission that had already felled two agents and taken advantage of the corruption of more, Eggsy’s best hopes would have been an ordinary, actual tailoring job, completely upon the mercy of Chester and what leverage Merlin could have used.

They nodded to each other, Lancelot revealing a small box with a flourish upon a side table. He appreciated the attention to detail, knowing how many agents needed reminding that no food was allowed on Merlin’s working desk.

“I take it New York went well?” Merlin asked her, standing from his chair to the coffee maker tucked into a dedicated corner.

She nodded, leaning against one of the decorative tables, “It had been fun posing as a research assistant,” Lancelot replied, accepting the freshly-made drink with a nod, “It’s going to take some time for the academic circuits to recover themselves. So much damage was done to their credibility, they’re going to be even stricter with how many people they take in.”

Merlin nodded to her sigh, adding a splash of cream to his own coffee in acknowledgement of one of their best agents back in the roost. He could never bring himself to do so during active missions, well aware of how they could go tit’s up at a critical juncture; Harry certainly added a polish to the reputation of Galahad, in that respect, despite how absolutely capable the man was at stringent professionalism when the situation called for it.

Shaking his head, he returned his thoughts to his waiting guest, “Aye, though maybe they’ll think twice before accepting students based on recommendation,” He replied, settling down in one of the leisure chairs with a gesture toward the spare. Lancelot took a seat with a hum of agreement, “That whole fiasco with the American testing system didna do them any favours.”

“At least it’s over,” Lancelot murmured, stretching her legs out with a pleased noise.

Both of them knew full well that such work would likely never be done, but Merlin agreed with the sentiment that encompassed the shadow of Valentine, “At least it’s over.”

They sat in relative silence, Merlin with one eye toward the message board his team used to keep him updated. While there were still some agents out in the field, they were mostly reconnaissance. Even months down the road, the world was still reestablishing trust with itself - on multiple levels. Too many had died, and while it resolved some long-standing issues that had been weighing their corner of the market down, it brought up new ones that Merlin felt everyone was struggling to see the light in.

“We have another one on the continent for you after your leave,” Merlin informed her, taking a sip of his coffee and watching some updates scroll in to his glasses. Nothing of the unusual sort, but the signs of liveliness were relaxing, “Some hospitals need bolstering, and we need to connect some research on tax documentation to the right parties.”

Lancelot rolled her neck, propping her head up on an upturned palm. Her posture spoke of weariness, but he could tell from the relaxed sparkle of her eyes that she saw the pattern of milk runs he tried to evenly distribute throughout the agency. He smiled into his cup, knowing the well-wishing he was sending had been received.

“You’ll need to see Arthur about the finer details,” He continued, setting his cup down with a light clink, “But I feel your alias of Sofia Torres would be apt for the mission.”

It was an older profile, as old as one could get with half their members being recruited within the past year. But the façade of Ms Torres, an aspiring medical technician that was well-situated to hang about the shadows of more well-known doctors and hospital personnel, was one they had opportunity to leverage frequently in the nascent hours after Valentine’s mop-up. It was a perfect position for Lancelot to slip in and out of hastily-constructed field hospitals dotting the planet, the various associated charities that shipped medics to an fro more than happy for an extra pair of hands.

Roxy’s training in field first aid prior to her candidacy made her maneuvering of Lancelot whilst searching for any surviving agents exceptional, and Merlin appreciated that they were able to save even more people due to her quick eyes and steady hands. It was her who had helped he and Eggsy argue their case for Harry’s return from Statesman, a reliable presence when it came to dissecting the finer social points neither he nor Eggsy could discern.

Politely draining the rest of the coffee, Lancelot nodded, rising to her feet, “I’ll let him know you said hello.”

Merlin smiled into his cup, “Be sure you do, Lancelot.”

-

It was rare that he spent a day without slipping into the meeting chambers where Arthur held court, even moreso now that the world had fallen in to shambles. Valentine and his team might have worked hard, but Kingsman worked harder.

Such a sentiment was even more apparent as he entered this morning, sun still in the process of dawning and Arthur neck-deep in manually signing off on various updates to Kingsman missions and policy reforms. Ace up their respective sleeves regardless, they were both still sloughing off the morass of corruption that had built up over the pragmatic bones of their organization.

And speaking of such ‘aces’, Merlin began his day with the daily report of Galahad’s status, knowing it was a linchpin to their moods and setting the stage for the coming routing of responsibilities. He presented the medical report first, setting the tablet down in front of Arthur’s work and waiting for the man’s pen to pause for long enough to broach the subject.

“Good morning, Arthur,” He said, “Only minor changes today. Doctor Lenore mentions that Galahad’s neurotransmitters are reaching stable levels, and that the surgeries are healing nicely.”

There was a more thorough description in the walls of jargon on the document, which Arthur immediately started scrolling through, reading glasses perched on his nose to reduce the strain of such fine text. While Merlin could commend himself for a mediocre understanding of everything their medical teams got up to while regularly performing miracles of reviving their agents and stealing them from death’s door, he nevertheless found himself routinely impressed with how Arthur had committed himself to the unenviable task of nearly memorizing the reams of information necessary to interpret Galahad’s shifting condition.

It was time that built itself up, and he made himself comfortable in the guest chair, well-learned in Arthur’s unofficial policy to not make others wait - sometimes literally on hand and foot - while he digested the nuances of his duties to the agency. Minutes passed in inviting silence, letting Merlin take in his other daily routine: watching Arthur read.

Such a habit was a miniscule indulgence, but he savoured the time to watch the man’s face mould itself in reaction to whatever he was reading. With Galahad, it was always with the same level of concentration that beheld the agent in… Merlin refused to think ‘in life’, especially now, but perhaps ‘in person.’ The attentiveness that could likely be transmitted through pixels alone to Harry himself in the spirit of well-wishing was as warming as a bonfire merrily burning away - heartening, and restoring even if he wasn’t the direct recipient.

Galahad would live, and vivaciously, if only because Eggsy wanted it.

He watched as the document was eventually finished in its considering review, the tablet with the official slating of events waiting in reserve once the matter of their most infamous agent was handled. After a few more moments spent in companionable silence, hazel eyes flicked up to his own, contemplation etched into the creases of Arthur’s face.

Abruptly, Merlin is certain that their docket of other items will wait a moment longer, and he leans forward in anticipation.

There’s a smile on Arthur’s face, one hand on the latest news of their fallen agent. It’s a delicately-posed tranquility, one that beckons to him. “Merlin,” His king says, “See about waking Harry. I need to have a chat with him.”

-

It was, of course, now possible to wake Harry. Not that he wouldn’t have done so even if they didn’t have a chance in buggering hell of accomplishing it - there was one thing Merlin was learning, and that was that he would bend the world to Eggsy’s will, the same as he would for Harry.

One of these days it would scare him. Not today, though, he was too busy with assisting the doctors in reviving their agent by standing watchfully out of the way.

The various monitors beeping their signs to the room were a symphony folding over a new page. He could vaguely understanding what the changing noises meant, but the physicians were moving as a well-oiled team to its beat, lines being changed out and instructions being ordered as the flow of Galahad’s consciousness was roused into proper wakefulness.

Were it not for the fact that the man had already woken on his own and drowsed vaguely into consciousness enough times to soothe the medical reports constantly recorded of every microcosm of Galahad’s health, this process would have been painful to experience and also to witness. As it were, things were much more orderly, the lights dimmed out of respect for the patient’s comfort and voices at a murmur - or nearly so - to encourage a softer awakening.

It was worth it, so, so incredibly worth it, to watch those doe eyes bat open with the familiar spark of awareness. Merlin clutched his tablet to his chest, heart tripping over itself in relief. He watched in silence as Galahad responded with halting exhaustion to the diagnostic questions, only able to chance lip-reading when the other wasn’t being swarmed by doctors reading his vitals and verifying them with their own eyes.

Eventually, Doctor Lenore peeled away, content to let those she was directing to handle the minutiae. She smiled up at him, reassuring, “Agent Galahad is in fine health. Be gentle on him, he’ll likely fall asleep soon.”

He nodded, laying a genteel hand on her elbow in acknowledgement, “Thank you, Doctor.”

“I’ll send a tray up,” Their CMO responded, smile tilting fondly, reciprocating the gesture.

They exchanged appreciative looks, and the good doctor was followed out by her own retinue in piecemeal, leaving Merlin alone with a weary Galahad. For a moment they did nothing more than look at each other.

“You’re awake,” Merlin says, feeling perhaps a little stupid but unable to contain the urge to point out the obvious.

“I’m alive,” Galahad said quietly, looking vaguely surprised about the fact.

The words were their own instrument, and Merlin found himself by the man’s bedside, fingers ghosting over Harry’s wrist in a manner too gentle to be strictly called professional. It turned the man’s eyes toward him, gaze soft and wondering. They were quiet, the steady heartbeat enough between them.

It was a familiar sound for Merlin, used to having it in his ears as a consequence to harrowing and otherwise intensive missions. That the sensation was relegated to his fingertips was reassuring but also disappointing, to have such a world narrowed down to a comparative pinprick.

Nevertheless, he pronounced with a dry voice, briefly squeezing his fingers over the sleep-frail wrist, “Alive. You idiot.”

Galahad’s smile was wry, voice rough from disuse, “I found this near-death experience rather… unsatisfactory.”

“It should,” Merlin retorted, throat thick, “It was supposed to have been permanent.”

That news brought a complicated look to Harry’s face, confusion twisting the man’s features. He refused to relinquish his grip, missing the barometer he had taken for granted for too many years. The heartbeat beneath his fingertips was steady still, guiding his own heart into forced, practiced placitude.

“I-” Harry said, voice cracking. His eyes left Merlin’s, staring toward a place Merlin remembered like the back of his own eyelids, “I am sorry. Truly.”

“Tell that to the both of us,” Merlin rasped, squeezing the hand below his.

It made the monitors warble, the one he had long ago memorized as the blood pressure briefly pinging higher, an accompaniment to the stress response he knew his words introduced. Bloody bastard, he thought, bereaved and glad all at once that such a conversation was even possible, Too many close calls. I shan’t have it.

He waited until he received an answer, the hand in his weakly squeezing back. The acknowledgement was enough, and he listened to the quickened breathing as Galahad dragged his injured mind upwards into the newest conundrum presented to him. Such a thing was always a marvel to see, even if half the time it terrified the wits out of him to know that it had sometimes been a Hail Mary of its own.

“I’ll bring him up,” He promised, smiling in the face of Galahad’s wild look sharply directed at him, “If y’ think you can stay awake long enough for that.”

“Yes.”

Merlin smiled at the gasped, determined reply, “That’s what I thought.”

-

There must have been a hell o’ a quarrel between them, if the hiccuping breath Arthur let out at the sight of Galahad sitting upright and awake under assisted steam was anything to judge them by. Bewildered as Galahad might be, the man didn’t resist when enveloped in a tight hug, cradled with a fierceness that had the monitors protesting.

He felt his heart aching with softness when Galahad was released only long enough to have a kiss pressed onto the other's forehead, watching as the two of them melted into the reciprocation of relief. This was a moment long in the waiting, and whatever blood must have bled between them, he could see the scraps of those wounds beginning to heal as they murmured to each other.

It was a sight that told him the universe was righting itself, at least his little corner of it. The stabilization it evoked loosened a knot that had been twisting in its repose for over a year, coaxing Merlin to breathe a sigh of consolation.

When the tablet in his hand beeped a reminder, the flow of messages never actually ceasing, Arthur and Galahad’s attention was drawn back to him. Biting back a sigh, Merlin turned the screen back on, swiftly keying in the password. Nothing out of the usual, and for once it was mostly updates, “Nothing to worry about, gentlemen,” He assured them, “Though we will be pressed for time shortly.”

Galahad shifted back into his bed, weariness still dropping his own shoulders, chased by their king’s hand on his shoulder. He shifted closer, casting a significant look across the both of them.

“Oh, what’s this eyebrow for now,” chided Galahad on a sigh, letting himself be settled in with murmured affections and gentle gestures.

Merlin was loathe to let their time wheedle away too soon, and looked on with amusement at the fussing. Finally, when they both looked to be settled, he turned his tablet ‘round, angling the screen away from Galahad with a crisp, “Arthur.”

It was worth it, to see the way Galahad’s eyebrows shot up, heart monitor making a brief, irritated blip at the deviation from the norm. “Arthur?” He demanded, “What about him?”

Scrolling through the scanned documentation, with its hastily, helpfully-added highlights and commentary, their resting agent was received of a raised brow, “Arthur is quite fine,” Eggsy replied, one hand idly patting the man’s, brow furrowed, “Let me just- ahah, there we are.”

“ Merlin -” Galahad said, frowning at the both of them. He tilted his head toward the younger man, instead, ignoring his friend’s stern demand with the benefit of years of serene practice.

“Galahad,” He replied, smiling, knowing it irritated the hell out of him and relishing that he had the opportunity to parry such scandalized vocalizations in person, “I’d suggest listening.”

We’re not done here , was the glare leveled his way, even as they were politely interrupted with the tap of Merlin’s tablet upon the bedrail, “If you would,” Arthur said genially, a grin tugging on his face and drawing a smile out of both of them, “ gentlemen .”

“Of course,” Merlin said, pressing his lips together in what he knew was a badly-concealed attempt to hid his smugness, “Sir.”

“Sir?” Galahad muttered to himself, incredulous, “Eggsy, what-”

Another pat of his hand, comforting and not even an ounce vaguely condescending, even if Harry quite indulged in puffing up like a peacock. Woe to his ego that the man didn’t realize he was already the center of attention. He caught Arthur’s eye, winking. The laugh he received was warm, in on the joke and that Galahad wasn’t - not just yet.

Bloody bastard, he thought fondly, The sights you’ll be seein’.

“This,” Arthur said, sliding right through the non-verbal conversation he and Galahad had slipped back into with ease, presenting the tablet to Galahad, “Is a job offer.”

For a moment, Galahad seemed to brace himself, brow furrowing even as he tried to shuffle himself around so that his hand wasn’t far away from Arthur’s. “I… thought I already had a job.”

“You do,” Arthur assured him, firm. He nodded at the tablet and its vows of information, “But there’s another for you, if you like, Harry.”

That seemed to take the wind out of the man’s sails, even as it visibly made his thoughts veer toward scyllan confusion with the dichotomy. He watched Galahad’s eyes flick toward him, and Merlin nodded in reassurance. Between the two of them, that seemed to be enough consideration, and they both watched as his attention turned fully to the information presented textually before him.

He could see the line of tension in Arthur’s shoulders, knowing that they were balanced on a knifepoint of Galahad’s opinion right now, and wished he could take that unfathomably large step to rest a weighty hand on the man’s shoulder. Such comforts might be relegated to later, privacy yet to be dictated. Merlin inhaled, instead, wetting his lips as he briefly locked gazes with Arthur.

“This is…” Galahad murmured, the quality of his frown changing to something softer, a confusion that bordered the bewildered their Arthur had only months prior, back when the subject was first broached about the update in organizational effects, “This is monumental. How is this possible?”

Although the question was directed toward him, Merlin nodded toward Arthur sitting between them, “That’s a question better put to him.”

“... Eggsy?” It was no less baffled in tone, but more personal, a plea to make sense of things. It was such a change from what Arthur had quietly confessed to them of his and Galahad’s last, actual conversation, and he witnessed the toll it took on the man as he inhaled, grasping Galahad’s hand in an unwavering grip. There was no question, he noticed, of how Eggsy would know anything, only the unwavering faith that events would occur in such an orderly way that the world could be made sensible with a simple inquiry.

Arthur’s inhale, steady and voluminous with the weights of his shouldered grief, was yet another insight that this man was indeed the true heir to Chester. He found himself nodding, softening the lines of his posture, “Go ahead.”

There was a nod in reply, a steady exhale, “Galahad,” Arthur said, steadfast, “I pulled the sword from the stone.”

Galahad gaped at both of them in silence, and they let the words sink in, Merlin feeling like they were both recalling the warnings of the medical staff that it might take some time for genuinely more complex conversations to be possible with Galahad. He bit back a prayer that they had leveled that particular hurdle.

“Chester was…” Arthur swallowed, his face momentarily contorting to a fraction of his remembered anger, “unfit. He was killed.”

“By who?” Whispered Galahad, looking wan.

Here, Arthur’s face looked up toward Merlin’s own, gaze searching. Do they tell the truth, or merely the nicely formatted version of it? He found himself leaning against Galahad’s bed, tightening the sphere of conversation tighter around them. “I think it would be wise,” Merlin said slowly, looking pensively at the nearly-forgotten tablet resting in Galahad’s off hand, “To tell the whole truth.”

“And nothing but the truth?” Arthur said wryly, lips ticking up in a ghosted smirk. The man sighed, “Very well.”

Squeezing Galahad’s hand, Arthur resumed, “Agent Mordred was written in, and the assassinator of the previous Arthur, Chester King.”

Looking like he didn’t know which question to voice first, Galahad looked between them, attempting to digest the mountain dropped onto his lap, “And what,” He said quietly, at unease, “Does this have to do with me.”

Arthur brushed an invisible hair off his leg, not meeting any of their eyes, “It happened shortly after your death, Galahad,” He said, nearly prim, “It was discovered that your death was considered… acceptable.”

The look in Galahad’s eyes were of a depth of tolerated sadness that made Merlin immediately wish to never see it again. With how Arthur was looking at a distant spot on the floor, he could guess that this was an unrevealed facet to their argument after the candidacy final exam. It was a realization that struck at his heart, impelling him forward toward Arthur and clasping a tremulous hand over the man’s shoulder.

He decided it would be best to pick up the thread, “Agent Mordred was… a temporary creation,” Merlin said, directing his gaze toward Galahad, wishing to take away some measure of the lost look on the man’s face, “It was necessary in order to coronate the new Arthur.”

“And we have one?” Galahad asked, “We have an Arthur?”

“Aye,” He replied, nodding down to where their king was sitting in the middle of their huddle, “There is, however, a complication.”

Pale as he thought his friend could become, Galahad became paler still, a fearful tremble in his hand despite how Arthur clutched it even tighter, “And what would that complication be?”

“The creation of Mordred requires the creation of another agent,” Arthur said, “For as Mordred is the death of Arthur, only a Guinevere can be Arthur’s salvation.”

Looking appropriately overwhelmed, Galahad faithfully took back up the tablet, reading it with a closer study. The three of them were silent in the intervening time as their agent caught up to the conundrum of the hour. Merlin could only discern the minutiae of time passing by the expression of Arthur shifting as Galahad’s grip waxed and waned, how the set of Arthur’s shoulders changed in tandem and radiated up to Merlin’s grip.

“Only a current agent can be Guinevere,” Galahad eventually responded, looking exhausted, “The requirements are quite particular.”

“It must be someone I trust,” Arthur said, not batting a lash to how Galahad startled, looking the agent in the eyes, “With my life.”

“I-” Struggling to sit further upright, Galahad was enlivened into reaction, “Eggsy. Arthur.”

Merlin nodded, sombre, “Aye. He is our king.”

A gasp from Galahad resounded forth, rousing Arthur in his seat as he looked back upon the man with a shuddering sigh as Galahad ignored the tablet clattering from his lap, “He tried to kill you? ”

The anger was something Merlin didn’t realize he had missed, how protective of a rage it could be, enveloping anyone it was aimed at. Resurrection from death or not, Arthur was likely the safest person in the room - he amended that quickly to the entire estate with how the monitors beeped and warbled, a healthy flush across Galahad’s features.

For his part, Arthur nodded, sinking into the umbrella Galahad was casting about him. “I’m alive,” The man said quietly, bereaved, “But I didn’t want to be, not if- not-”

Inhaling, Merlin cut in, “The world went to hell in a handbasket, Galahad,” He said, unable to completely hide his own devastation, “Kingsman was nearly mobilized under Chester’s orders - he had sold himself out to Valentine. If it weren’t for the… subsequent events, we wouldn’t have a new Arthur at all.”

“Come here,” Galahad gasped impulsively, grabbing Arthur and by extension Merlin within his reach, “He would have killed both of you. Oh, he almost got away with it.”

They all huddled either together in the bed or over it, pressing into each other. It was warm, reassuring in how Merlin could feel with his own two hands that both of them were as alive as Galahad was only now realizing. He would have apologized for how rude of a wake-up it was, but the words crumbled behind his lips at the sheer relief in the way Galahad and Arthur were turned into each other, himself half bent over them and feeling rather glad at his own broadness that shielded them from view.

“Harry, please,” He murmured above their heads, “Be Guinevere.”

“Yes,” Harry replied, grip firm on the both of them, “Yes. I shall be anything you need. Anything at all.”

Arthur shuddered between them, a buried-deep distress shaking out of him, a hand twisting tightly over each of their own. Merlin found himself resting his head upon Arthur’s shoulder, sinking into the feeling of a recuperatively-chilled hand cupped over his cheek. We’ll be alright. Everything will be alright.

“Oh, my dears,” Harry murmured, hands calloused and voice rough, “I’m here. Never again shall your backs be left unprotected."

-

The sunlight was golden, filtering in between the brocaded curtains tugged aside to let the springtime sights filter through. A pot of tea was steaming on the desk, the periodic glint of a gilded pen as it danced across numerous pages the only interruption to the calm.

Merlin was seated in his usual chair, comfortable and lived-in, redecorated with a blue brocade that held knights prancing upon horses as a coy joke as a memento to some occasion he scarcely remembered. His tablet lay in his lap, undisturbed and screen having long since gone to sleep, his attention instead fixed to the expansive gesturing of Guinevere as a riveting piece of gossip was retold.

He was sure the numerous illustrations to the story were for their benefit, and he slipped a smile to Arthur, watching as the man didn’t bother to hide his own, eyes warm behind the windows of his glasses. The crinkling of wrinkles at the edges of his eyes were as deep as the smile of Guinevere’s face, drawing up a similar depth from his own self.

It would be waxing into summer, soon. They were still drawing up the roster of candidates for the latest round of recruitments, and expansion into Merlin’s branch for scouting activities. Parameters were changing, accommodating the needs that Arthur was seeking to assuage the neglect of.

Kingsman was running smoothly under Arthur’s hand, and Merlin smiled, leaning forward to refill their cups. Though some ships had set sail, theirs was currently safe in port, weathering whatever storm they had faced Kingsman toward.

He had a good feeling about it.

-

Author's Notes

The point in a perspective drawing at which parallel lines receding from an observer seem to converge. The situation in which, place where, or point in time when some object or phenomenon is no longer observable or notable.

- Wiktionary

“If people reach perfection they vanish, you know.” - The Once and Future King (1958) by T.H. White

[fergus-cousland]

10 Songs on Repeat

Tagged by @ziskandra to go to my “on repeat” playlist, hit shuffle and expose the results to the world. And then tag 10 people so the real challenge will be thinking of 10 more people--

1) Swan Upon Leda - Hozier

The gateway to the world The gun in a trembling hand Where nature unmakes the boundary The pillar of myth still stands The swan upon Leda Occupier upon ancient landThe gateway to the world Was still outside the reach of him What never belonged to angels Had never belonged to men

2) Maypole - Magnet

And on that bed there was a girl And on that girl there was a man And from that man there was a seed And from that seed there was a boy And from that boy there was a man And for that man there was a grave From that grave there grew a tree

3) The Horror and the Wild - The Amazing Devil

Day by day oh lord three things I pray That I might understand as best I can, How bold I was, could be - will be - still am, by god still am Fret not dear heart, let not them hear The mutterings of all your fears, the fluttering of all your wings Welcome to the storm, I am thunder, Welcome to my table bring your hunger

4) Hail! Hail! the first of May - Jackie Oates

Winter time has gone and past, Summer time has come at last. We shall sing and dance the day And follow the ’obby ’orse that brings the May.

So, Hail! Hail! The First of May! For it is the first summer’s day! Cast you cares and fears away, Drink to the old horse on the First of May!

5) Sweet Sir Galahad - Joan Baez

Sweet Sir Galahad went down With his gay bride of flowers, The prince of the hours Of her lifetime.                                                                                                    And here's to the dawn Of their days, Of their days

6) Blood Upon The Snow - Hozier & Bear McCreary

It's not my arms that will fail me But this world takes more strength than it gave me The trees deny themselves nothing that makes them grow No rain fall, no sunshine No blood upon the snow Blood upon the snow Blood upon the snow Blood upon the snow

7) My Mother Told Me - Rachel Hardy

My mother told me Someday I will buy  Galleys with good oars Sail to distant shores

Stand up on the prow Noble barque I steer Steady course to the haven Hew many foe-men Hew many foe-men

8) Get Out of My House - Kate Bush

No stranger's feet Will enter me (Get out of my house!) I wash the panes (Get out of my house!) I clean the stains away (Get out of my house!)

9) Witch’s Coven (The VVitch soundtrack) - Mark Korven

[ominous chanting]

10)  Unknown/Nth - Hozier

You know the distance never made a difference to me I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen And all that we believe So I thought you were like an angel to me

Tagging (with no pressure!): @wildbasil @demandthedoodles @couslande @amatres @transprincecaspian @zevsurana @villainanders and...anyone else who wants to show off their bangin’ music tastes

[cantillat-moved]

The more I read about Arthuriana the more I want to yell.

I'm so annoyed how Kay, Gawain and Percival were downgraded after megachad Lance was added -- nothing against Lancelot, I just think it is sad and a smidge of bad writing when you need to make others characters worse to make another look better.

Robert Graves commented that the early description of Cei "is close to the account given of the Sun-hero Cuchulain in his battle rage. But in the later Arthurian legends Cei has degenerated into a buffoon "—an aspect of the folklore process whereby old heroes must be downgraded (but not forgotten) in order to make room for new.

Meanwhile John Matthews comments how Gawain was still a hot-headed guy, but was still an accomplished adventurer before joining Arthur's court and a servant of the Goddess (an aspect that early Christians didn't like too much) but in at least one account he eventually even became the Pope ! And soon that he heard his buddy Arthur was in trouble he dropped everything and left Rome to help the guy.

And then there's Avenable, a girl who was from a family that got into hard times and disguised herself as a man and become a knight, going to many adventures and becoming a general. Merlin entrusted her with investigating a premonition that the Emperor had in his dreams and her stories are pretty much like any other hero: capable and full of excitement.

There's also Sir Morien, coming from the Dutch tradition, who was a mixed race with dark skin. His brothers-in-arms never once showing the prejudice that we see the dudebros bitching about "there ain't no women or blacks in my medieval fantasy ! " He was another cool knight with fun stories.

Originally Percival, Percival's sister and Bors were the ones who saw the Grail but after Lancelot and, subsequently, perfect boy Galahad made their way into Arthurian canon all the other ones were pretty much forgotten. Big sad.

So many cool knights were ignored by Malory, who is the biggest source nowadays. Like the knight who was just chilling as a dog, no lesson or anything there. Just dogo being dogo. Speaking of knights-as-animals there was also a she-wolf that was causing trouble and it was never said if she was a female werewolf or just wolf, but her children joined Arthur -- if they were wolves or werewolves is also up in the air. Some legends says that Kay could hold his breath for 9 days, others says it was for 4 days. Another dude could hear a ant scratching itself 5 miles away. Yvain was also a very cool knight with his lion partner slaying all the beasts.

[fanfiction-inc]

Update + New Characters

Hey everyone!

I am so happy to be able to return for a bit from my studies! I’m entering the last week of exams but I have a chance to FINALLY update my character list (and with some exciting characters I might add!) So, going into the character list:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

- Buffy Summers

- Rupert Giles

- Willow Rosenberg

- Xander Harris

- Spike

The Kingsman Series

- Gary “Eggsy” Unwin

- Harry “Galahad” Hart

- Merlin

- Jack “Agent Whiskey” Daniels

- Ginger Ale

Repo! The Genetic Opera

- Nathan “The Repo-Man” Wallace

- Grave-Robber

- Blind Mag

- Pavi Largo

- Luigi Largo

- Amber Sweet

As for that life update, I just want to start out by saying thank you to all of you that have been continuing to like and share my work. It truly means so much to me that you guys still enjoy my content even though I haven’t posted anything in so long. School has been a lot, and with trying to further my education and get my bachelor’s degree. I have had literally no time, nor motivation to write but hopefully this summer in between work and days off I will be able to get more content out there! 

Again, thank you all so much and happy reading! Also, request are open for a short time, especially for these newly added characters! 

[ltcolonelcarter]

Heyo, it’s me !!!

I’m literally DYING to learn your top soundtrack list, the conversations we’ve had have given me nothing but absolute satisfaction and I’m looking forward to having more material to yell about 👀<333 please go WILD it can get ad long as you want I’ll read it and listen to it ALL

STRIKE UP THE BAND (PART ONE OF FOUR)

let me preface this by saying I have so damn many favourites that I will inevitably forget MANY of them. I'm coasting purely on ✨vibes✨ here. this will be chaos.

elias -- person of interest / ramin djawadi i tried not to put this one first. i truly did. it is INEVITABLE. now I've linked other tracks by djawadi before bc I am physically incapable of not loving his work, but THIS ONE MAKES ME WANNA BREAK BRICKS OVER MY HEAD. the scene was glorious, and the music perfectly captures it. the scene is a massive spoiler for s1 so if that's not your jam then go careful. the harsher strings at 1:20, and the build to the 2min mark?? I'm BREAKING STUFF. i'm not sure if my attachment started with the music or the scene or a combination but I don't care to detangle them, to be quite frank, i'm happy going absolutely insane forever over it a kind word and a friendly face -- the sandman / david buckley i'm cackling a lil at myself bc of COURSE there had to be something from sandman here. i'm nothing if not predictable. and of course I had to pick death's theme. we're going to pointedly ignore the fact i'm in love with her and focus INSTEAD on how beautifully soft her theme is, how gentle and warm, how serene. I always know a piece of music is special when I have to pause what i'm watching to process what I've heard, and this was that. the scene let the music take centre stage too, which I find is remarkably rare, and i appreciate it so much. its sentiment is crying, but not as mourning, as the deepest, most heartfelt love. it's bittersweet grief. a sad parting with someone beloved. i'm not crying you're crying last man standing -- the order: 1886 / jason graves OHOHOHOH THIS ONE. okay so IF you do end up playing this game, I need to know. this is from the final scene and let me tell you when I say it HURTS i mean it HURTS. the start is lovely, matches the rest of the score with some tremulous notes to show the conflict--a little of galahad's theme in there too, but then the low stuff starts, and internally i am SCREAMING bc i know that's coming. this game annoyed so many people for being short but it was an incredible, short window into a rich and dark world full of tension and war, and at the two minute mark you feel it come back down to the people. it narrows its cope back down to the emotional core of the piece and i will never forgive them for making me watch this scene and hear this music and feel inevitability the way they made me feel it.

beyond the horizon -- a plague tale: innocence / olivier derivière time for that ORGAN MUSIC NOW I could link half of this score, to be honest, and several of its tracks (+related ones) are in my honourable mentions list, so I don't overload this one. this slow progression in this one absolutely floors me every time. the heartbeat type percussion at two minutes is strong enough to rip my heart from my chest. the vocals that join a minute later sound as I leave my body. this track is a slow and weary march towards a terrifying, eclipsed future, bright sun blocked by the obstacles between the present and safety. it's putting one foot in front of the other anyway, and holding out a shaking hand for the people that walk with you. if i never hear this performed live at dusk in the bleak autumn, candlelight teasing and chasing the shadows...sigh i'm going to stop waxing poetic whatever comes -- horizon: forbidden west / oleska lozowchuk i have a weirdly hard time picking a favourite track from horizon, both forbidden west and zero dawn, because they all blend together--not in a bland kind of way, in a way that makes it feel like a place, not a sound. this one is a track I keep coming back to because it's so so lovely. aloy's theme interwoven with the main game theme...the machine theme....I'm back there right now........

[ukdamo]

Babylon

Robert Graves

The child alone a poet is: Spring and Fairyland are his. Truth and Reason show but dim, And all's poetry with him. Rhyme and music flow in plenty For the lad of one-and-twenty, But Spring for him is no more now Than daisies to a munching cow; Just a cheery pleasant season, Daisy buds to live at ease on. He's forgotten how he smiled And shrieked at snowdrops when a child, Or wept one evening secretly For April's glorious misery. Wisdom made him old and wary Banishing the Lords of Faery. Wisdom made a breach and battered Babylon to bits: she scattered To the hedges and ditches All our nursery gnomes and witches. Lob and Puck, poor frantic elves, Drag their treasures from the shelves. Jack the Giant-killer's gone, Mother Goose and Oberon, Bluebeard and King Solomon. Robin, and Red Riding Hood Take together to the wood, And Sir Galahad lies hid In a cave with Captain Kidd. None of all the magic hosts, None remain but a few ghosts Of timorous heart, to linger on Weeping for lost Babylon.