#all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put us back together again {re: jacen & jaina & anakin}

[short-form-whump]

The Whumpee sits at a hotel bar on their own, the Caretaker having just left them to go upstairs. It took some reassuring, but the Whumpee convinced them that they’d be alright if left alone for another drink. The Whumpee spreads their fingers over the top of their rocks glass and lowers them like a cage over the top. They lift their hand then let it descend again. They don’t notice the person who sits next to them until they hear their voice order a drink. The Whumpee freezes when they hear it. “Not used to seeing you in one piece,” the Whumper says casually. The Whumpee looks up and sees their former tormentor sitting alongside them, and they’re immediately struck by the new silence in the room. There’s nobody else in the bar now except for the bartender and the Whumper’s henchman sitting at a table behind them. “Shit, I didn’t even know you could find all your pieces let alone if they’d fit.” The bartender comes back as they’re speaking, and the Whumper doesn’t even pause before saying “Thanks. Fuck off.” The bartender avoids the pleading look of the Whumpee as they quickly make themselves scarce. The Whumpee feels cornered and alone. “I bet deep down they don’t fit, though. Not like me, at least. Like some kind of golden glued vase. Fucken… what is it I’m thinking of?” the Whumper asks their henchman. “Kintsugi,” the henchman answers coldly. The Whumper snaps their fingers so loudly the Whumpee flinches. “Not like my kintsugi-ass pieces. No,” the Whumper says, leaning forward in their seat into the Whumpee’s space. “I bet all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put you together again.” The Whumpee is frozen in place like in a sort of waking sleep paralysis as the Whumper’s whole aura descends on them too like a cage. The Whumper takes their drink and downs it in one go before standing and adjusting their jacket. “The memory on you, Jesus. Kintsugi,” they say to their henchman as both walk out, their work done for now.

[misfitwashere]

“We did not do well”: MAGA admits Kamala Harris broke Donald Trump

And all the King’s horses and all the King’s men won’t put him together again

By Brian Karem

Published September 12, 2024 9:00AM (EDT)

Beware the prosecutor who smiles. Be wary of the cornered sewer rat who feels threatened.

That sums up the contentious presidential debate between Vice President Kamala Harris and former president and convicted felon Donald Trump in Philadelphia Tuesday night. At every turn, she brilliantly laid out bait that he couldn’t resist. By the end of the night, he was the cornered sewer rat – and he knew it. His closing speech was just a volcano of rage spewing at an opponent who had just thoroughly destroyed him. 

Harris proved beyond all reasonable doubt she was presidential. Trump again proved he is not.

The Republicans, curiously, find themselves in the same position Democrats were in following the last debate.

Then, on Wednesday the nation took a breath from the divisive politics of the day to remember our fellow Americans who died 23 years ago in the most infamous act of terrorism ever perpetrated against our country. Democrats and Republicans, political rivals and enemies for a brief moment acknowledged what the rest of us face on a daily basis; we are all in it together.

If only Donald Trump and his minions understood and practiced that ideal. But, as my dad used to say, “wish in one hand and s**t in the other and see which one fills up first.” Political realities these days, being an inexhaustible source of feculence, ensure that at least one hand is filled at all times with an undesirable solid waste disposal project – and usually it is courtesy of Donald J. Trump. Five minutes after a somber ceremony in Pennsylvania honoring those who died, Trump was back grifting; asking for money and calling Harris a Marxist.

Trump dabbles in the devious, delights in the disingenuous and hopes to destroy with deception. Being decrepit and a demonically driven demagogue, he has only been successful in duplicity with those who cannot differentiate between fact and fiction. 

The debate was a total debacle for Donald Trump

Immediately following Tuesday’s debate (just think of how far we’ve come since Trump debated Biden in June) Trump again declared victory – saying in emails to his supporters that he destroyed the Harris campaign, while Harris issued an email declaring she had done the same to Trump.

The only thing both camps agree on, seemingly, is that the moderators sucked. I gave both moderators much better grades than their counterparts at CNN during the first debate. ABC News’ David Muir and Linsey Davis actually fact-checked both candidates in real time. Democrats thinks Trump got too much time to talk and was never muted. The right thinks Trump was fact-checked too often and the moderators sided with Harris. The fact that both sides have complaints about the moderators is an indication that they did a better job than their CNN predecessors. Muir was good at fact-checking Trump on the false claim of Haitian immigrants eating pets and pinning Trump down on his 2020 election loss. Davis was really good at getting Trump to shut up when he rambled. Trump and his supporters complained that he was fact-checked more than Harris, but that’s merely an admission that he lied more often than she did.

I covered the Trump administration daily for four years. I came to know him as an unprincipled man of greed, lust and carnal desires that continue to rule him and thus make him unfit for office. As Harris said Tuesday night, he’s a disgrace.

A year ago, I was not a fan of the vice president. I served as the pool reporter on a trip through Los Angeles and noted how laughably inept the staged visit was. I noted that she looked like a local city council member making an appearance rather than the person who was only a heartbeat away from the presidency. Worst of all, she simply wasn’t impressive when she spoke. 

Harris has grown considerably in her role since then. 

Her acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention was impressive. Though she ad-libbed next to nothing of that speech, she delivered an impassioned call to voters to turn the page on Donald Trump and his outlandish, outmoded thinking. Tuesday night was impressive on another level – she proved not only that she could think on her feet, but she nailed the issues. From the beginning, when she forced Trump to shake hands to her closing when she charted a course for America that resonated, she owned Trump. She looked right at him with the gaze of a prosecutor as she called Trump out, and she looked out at the audience as if we were the jury as she made a plea for a better nation. 

Trump couldn’t offer a complete answer to any policy question. The closest he came was saying he had a “concept” of an idea for healthcare after nine years of dealing with the subject. I guess he was channeling his inner George Costanza. He never said how he could end the wars in either Gaza or Ukraine - though he claimed he would do both. Finally, he failed to explain why he called GOP lawmakers to kill a bipartisan immigration bill while he continued to try and campaign on the issue.  Harris nailed him there when she said he “wanted to run on a problem rather than fixing the problem.”

Trump failed to understand the abortion issue and why women are so upset that men get to make choices about their bodies when women cannot. Again, Harris nailed him on that. Davis as moderator asked Trump why women should trust him. He couldn’t answer that. Harris reminded everyone how unconscionable Trump was and that “one does not have to abandon their faith or deeply held beliefs to agree: The government and Donald Trump certainly should not be telling a woman what to do with her body.” At that point in time, they should’ve sent in a coroner to check for Trump’s vital signs. He was dead in the water.

Mind you, Trump didn’t know who was running the Taliban (Abdul?) and when Harris said he was manipulated by flattery from international leaders who laughed at him, he could only say that Viktor Orban loved him. 

At the end of the day, even Trump staffers were quietly talking about the fiasco.

Trump is ultimately blind to what America is, and only attracts those who are willing to give up their independence to him and believe that despite whatever facts are available to the contrary – Donald is the only truth-teller.

Of course, to Donny Darko, a day in the life of an immigrant in the U.S. is to wake up in jail, get your transgender operation before you have your dogmeat breakfast, then take over Seattle or a small town in Ohio before you chow down on your favorite feline for dinner.

Bless his heart.

Donald Trump is many things. He is rude, crude, socially unacceptable, inflammatory and demonstrative. He constantly called the U.S. a failing nation, said only he could fix it and that world leaders (who laugh at him) are so afraid of him that if he isn’t let back into the Oval Office, World War III will ensue. 

To Harris’s credit, she never took the bait, even as he clumsily tried to talk about race. “Same old lies,” was all she could muster, in between laughs. “Now that’s extreme,” she laughed off his absurd claims about immigrants eating dogs. 

At the end of the day, even Trump staffers were quietly talking about the fiasco. “Down ballot Republicans are very angry and worried,” one Trump staffer told me. “We did not do well.” That was certainly the reason why Trump appeared in the “spin room” to talk to reporters after the debate. He was trying to shore up the press response to a horrible outing. It didn’t work.

The question, of course, is did this debate move the needle at all?  

The Republicans, curiously, find themselves in the same position the Democrats were in following the last debate. Trump is seen as old, out of touch and delusional. When Harris mentioned that Trump was still having “a hard time processing” the fact that he lost the last election, to many people she was speaking directly to a loss of mental capacity. “World leaders are laughing at you,” she said to his face. Dictators, “would eat you for lunch,” she chided. And then, she used his own catchphrase against him when she said “81 million people fired you.” He was a crushed lunatic. A cornered sewer rat. She reminded everyone that 200 former Republicans, including some of the highest members of the former Trump administration had endorsed her. He could only lamely say they were all bad people. 

But does it matter? For the Trump cult, nothing has nor apparently will it ever make a difference. He consistently polls between 42-44 percent of the electorate who will vote for him. If that number drops below 42 percent in the next few weeks, then Trump is done. 

The better chance, of course, is that of the two candidates on stage in Philadelphia Tuesday, only Kamala Harris did what she had to do to reach the fabled undecided voters. “I could see her as the president of the United States,” an undecided voter who is a friend of mine told me after watching the debate. “I didn’t see her that way before.” As for Trump, “He’s a lost ball in the high weeds,” I was told.

Nope. He’s the cornered sewer rat. Norm Ornstein, an American political scientist and an emeritus scholar at the American Enterprise Institute, a Washington, D.C., conservative think tank, said on Mary Trump’s “Nerd Avengers” show Tuesday night that a damaged Trump is still a very dangerous Trump. “We cannot rest. We cannot give an inch. Don’t let them get away with the stuff they will try to get away with.”

The Republicans themselves understand the desperation. Though they are at the same place the Democrats were in June, they are well past their national convention and cannot switch candidates as easily as the Democrats did after Biden’s lackluster performance in the June debate. In short, the Republicans are stuck with Donald Trump. Desperation is mounting as the GOP sees its chances to dominate either the Senate or the House dwindling. 

That makes Trump and his minions more dangerous by the day. 

“We cannot pretend he is not one of the most dangerous people we’ve encountered in American history. He doesn’t care about any of us,” his niece Mary Trump said. 

Be wary of that sewer rat.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

This is mesmerising. Thank you my lovely friend! It's not exactly the happy part yet of the loudest silence sequel but it's hopeful? maybe? (This is the post-series one. Not to be confused with the season 1 inspired version)

“How bad is it?” Jamie asked, his voice breaking. “Just fucking tell me, Roy. You’re the only one I can count on to just to tell me the fucking truth.”

Roy paused. Jamie’s words both hurt and touched him and he wanted to tell Jamie everything, but he’s barely been awake, Roy wasn’t sure if this was exactly the right time to do it, if he should wait until Jamie has some time to adjust to his injuries, some time to get used to the idea that his right leg was badly broken. Roy has had two weeks and he’s not sure he’s gotten used to it himself.

“Please,” Jamie begged, his voice hoarser currently than it was even earlier, the lack of use during the last two weeks becoming more evident with each word Jamie’s forced to speak.

“It’s bad,” Roy admitted. “It’ll take a lot of work, but you’ll be back out there on the pitch. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.”

It wasn’t said in an angry or accusing manner like it could have been. It was just a fact, same as if Jamie was saying what day of the week it was.

“Yes, I fucking can.”

“No. You fucking can’t, Roy,” Jamie said, voice now the strongest it’s sounded since he woke up, but the hoarseness still cut through Roy. ‘What did the doctor say?”

Where was the fucking doctor he thought. He shouldn’t have to be the one to tell Jamie his career might be over that he might never dribble a ball that he might never run that yeah he’ll probably walk without a limp but they couldn’t even guarantee that and they couldn’t give a time table of when he would even be able to put weight on his fucking leg again.

Jamie was humpy dumpty and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t guarantee he’d be put back together again.

Jamie looked at him expectantly, his grey eyes glassy but open for the first time in more than two weeks, and at that moment Roy was glad the doctor wasn’t there. He didn’t want Jamie to hear this from someone he didn’t know. He wanted Jamie to hear it from him if he had to hear anything at all.

It has to be me. It could be no one else.

“The doctor said he doesn’t know,” Roy said, and Jamie’s eyes searched him for answers. “They don’t know shit for all their fucking schooling. They couldn’t tell me anything. Your leg should heal, but they don’t know to what extent, if you’ll be able to play or at the same level you were at before. But he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t know because he doesn’t know you, not the same way I do. He doesn’t know what a stubborn prick you can be, what a hard worker you are, how far you’ve come, on and off the pitch. Your story doesn’t end here in this fucking hospital.”

Your story doesn’t end because of me.

He doesn’t say that part, but he means it. Maybe even means it the most. But Jamie doesn’t need his guilt on top of everything he’s already fighting through. Jamie’s saved Roy once, but he’s not going to make it so the lad has to save him again. No, this time, Roy is the one that will help Jamie, save him if he needs to. It’s the least he could do after all.

Jamie looked at him, and a small smile crept into his face, “You did make me better than Zava.”

“You made you better than Zava. I just got your arse out of bed for 4 am.”

[astro-tag-9]

Taylor Swift lyrics for various Astro placements Part 🤟🏼

“All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put me together again” (The Archer) - Virgo sun/Mars

“Memories feel like weapons” (Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve) - Capricorn Moon

“Why are people always leaving I think we should stay the same” (Hey Stephen) - Virgo Sun/Mercury

“Does she smile? Or say F you forever” (Mad Woman) - Aries rising/moon

“I notice everything you do or don’t do” (Tolerate it) - Virgo Venus/Mars/Moon

“To make them love me and make it seem effortless” (Mastermind) - Capricorn Sun/Rising

“I wish you left me wondering” (Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve) - Gemini Venus

“Don’t blame me love made me crazy if it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right” (Don’t Blame Me) - Libra/ Aries Venus/Mars

“Does a scorpion sting when fighting back?” (Mad Woman) - Scorpio rising/ Sun

“So here you are, two steps age

“My name, is whatever you decide” (Don’t Blame Me) - Cancer Sun/Venus

“All of my enemies started out friends. Help me hold onto you” (The Archer) - Scorpio/Virgo/Sagittarius Sun

“I thought I had you figured out” (Haunted) - Virgo/Pisces venus

“What a shame she went mad” ( Mad Woman) - Virgo Mars

“What if I told you I’m a mastermind?” (Mastermind) -Pisces/Scorpio Mars/Rising

“Now I’m haunted!” (Haunted) - 12th house moon

“I miss who I used to be” (Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve) - Scorpio sun/rising

“Combat. I’m ready for Combat. They say I don’t want that, but what if I do?” (The Archer) - Aries Moon

“If it’s all in my head tell me now” (Tolerate It) -Pisces Moon/Mars

“I just wanna call you mine. I’m insane but I’m your baby” (Don’t Blame Me) - Taurus Sun/Mercury

“I don’t need your closure” (Closure) - Aries/Leo venus

“No I could never bring you peace” (Peace) - Leo moon

“Don’t leave me like this” (Haunted) - Pisces Venus

“I can’t help it if you look like an angel” (Hey Stephen) - Sagittarius/Gemini moon

“You’re a crisis of my faith” (Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve) - Taurus Mars

“Help me hold onto you” (The Archer) - Sun in the 7th House

“I can’t help myself” (Hey Stephen) - Sagittarius Rising/Sun

“But you got a friend in me” (Peace) - Libra moon

“They say she’s gone too far this time” (Don’t Blame Me) - Taurus Venus/Sun

“I wanna be your endgame” (Endgame) - Cancer moon/Venus/Sun

“They say ‘move on’ but you know I won’t” (Mad Woman) - Scorpio sun / Aries Moon

“So I’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since” (Mastermind) -Pisces Sun

“Dark side, I search for your dark side” (The Archer) - Scorpio Rising/Mars/Moon

[thepastisalreadywritten]

The Strange Historical Origins of the Humpty Dumpty Nursery Rhyme

By Carl Seaver | 24 January 2023

Nearly all children who grew up during the twentieth century are familiar with the nursery rhyme of Humpty Dumpty.

This modern version of the short rhyme runs as follows:

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;

All the King’s horses

And all the King’s men,

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.”

So far, the story is quite simple. However, there is a much wider story to how this nursery rhyme came into existence and developed over five or six hundred years.

This is the story of the strange historical origins of the Humpty Dumpty nursery rhyme.

The Modern Origins of Humpty Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty has been around for centuries, but the modern, standardized version of the rhyme is largely derived from the version published by an English publisher and organist Samuel Arnold in 1797. This ran:

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

Four-score Men and Four-score more,

Could not make Humpty Dumpty where he was before.”

Slight evolutions occurred after that throughout the nineteenth century until the twentieth-century version was arrived at.

Was Richard III the inspiration for Humpty Dumpty?

The Humpty Dumpty rhyme can be traced back to at least the late fifteenth century and is an allusion to King Richard III.

Richard III briefly reigned as King of England between 1483 and 1485 after his brother, King Edward IV, passed away.

Edward was to be succeeded by his son and namesake, Edward V, but as the young Edward was a minor in 1483, Richard was chosen to serve as regent until he reached adulthood.

Richard can hardly be said to have honored his brother’s faith in him and quickly placed young Edward and his younger brother Richard in the Tower of London, from where they never reappeared.

The assumption is Richard had his two young nephews killed, and thereafter, he usurped the throne.

He did not go unchallenged in this, and Henry Tudor, a Welsh upstart, overthrew him in 1485 by defeating Richard in combat at the Battle of Bosworth Field.

All of this is relevant to Humpty Dumpty because Richard suffered from scoliosis and was a hunchback.

Additionally, his horse was allegedly called ‘Wall.’

So, in later years, when figures such as the great playwright William Shakespeare wrote about Richard, they emphasized his humped back.

By modern standards of ethics, it hardly seems acceptable to refer to somebody with a physical disability as ‘Humpty Dumpty,’ but this seems to have been a reference to Richard’s humped back.

When the rhyme refers to him falling off of a ‘wall,’ this would seem to be a reference to his horse, which Richard is recorded as falling off of at the Battle of Bosworth Field.

The King’s soldiers and men are a reference to his forces at the battle being unable to win the day against Henry Tudor’s army.

Other Possible Origins of Humpty Dumpty

Richard III’s story is the most plausible origin of the Humpty Dumpty rhyme, but several others exist.

Some suggest that Humpty Dumpty is a derivative of a Swedish or Germanic fairy tale character, many of which were immortalized by the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen in the nineteenth century.

There is also a plausible link to seventeenth and eighteenth-century slang terms.

For instance, Humpty Dumpty was a drink consumed in Stuart-era Britain composed of a mix of brandy and ale.

This, combined with other pejorative terms which were used at the time to refer to people of shorter stature, would suggest that at least in the eighteenth century before Arnold publicized the largely modernized version of the rhyme, Humpty Dumpty was a bawdy, insulting comedic figure of some sort which term was widely applied to people when inebriated.

Humpty Dumpty and the English Civil War

One final interpretation is that Humpty Dumpty was the name of a large piece of ordnance, or a canon, which was mounted on the walls of the town of Colchester in the mid-seventeenth century.

During the 1640s, England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland were enveloped by a series of conflicts collectively known as the Wars of the Three Kingdoms or the English Civil War in England.

Colchester was besieged during the civil war between King Charles I and the English Parliament in 1648.

Humpty Dumpty was the name of a huge canon atop the town’s walls.

The Royalists, the King’s supporters, held the town while the Parliamentarians besieged it.

The wall, which Humpty Dumpty was perched on top of, was shattered by parliamentary ordnance fire, and Humpty Dumpty fell off this great wall.

The King’s Men, in this interpretation, were the Royalists, who could not remount the canon, and eventually, after an eleven-week siege of Colchester, were forced to surrender to the Parliamentary forces.

Again, the theory that the Humpty Dumpty rhyme originates in the siege of Colchester in 1648 is speculative.

What seems clear from all of this is that there is no one origin story for the Humpty Dumpty rhyme.

Rather, it was a rhyme inherited from the early modern world from medieval times.

Each successive generation reimagined it to suit the circumstances of their age, whether that was Richard III falling from his horse in 1485, a canon falling from the walls of Colchester in 1648, or somebody who had drank too much brandy and ale falling over in the seventeenth or eighteenth centuries.

Each generation brought its interpretation to the rhyme we all know today.

[kitsnicket]

I was thinking about Humpty Dumpty and how “all the kings horses and all the kings men” couldn’t put him together again. And like ok the men not being able to makes sense as far as the song goes. Not even grown men with hands could put him together bc he’s just so broken. But the horses?? Of course the horses can’t put him back together. They have hooves. Are they supposed to use their mouths? That doesn’t demonstrate that humpty was too broken—it demonstrates that the king had unrealistic expectations for animals

[swaps55]

Spotify Wrapped Fic Meme! 11 and 29! :D

Send me a #1-101, and I will either tell you what fic the corresponding Spotify Wrap song inspired, or write a ficlet inspired by the song.

11. Golden Age, by Zayde Wolf.

If there was a single song that defines Cantata, it's this one. I paired it specifically with the chapter "What We've Been Given," because that's where I wanted to really hit on the idea that the time this squad spent on the 'Yang was Gondolin before the fall: a golden age they all long for but can never go back to. I wanted this chapter to be uplifting, exhilarating, with the thrill and the freefall of falling in love. The best part of Cantata was the fact that it took place before Eden Prime, before Saren and the geth and the reapers. The galaxy was not at stake. They had room to be themselves without the weight of everything resting on their shoulders. That gave me so much narrative freedom - there was no constant dread looming in the background.

So here's a snippet from that chapter.

~

Half the crew waits at the ‘Yang’s airlock to greet the N team when they return, Kaidan among them, swallowing back his relief like it’s a living, breathing thing. He gets lost in the shuffle when the airlock opens and the yelling starts, but Shepard’s gaze cuts through the crowd, and he parts it like Moses and the Red Sea. With a grin on his face that could shake the stars, he throws an armored arm around Kaidan and hugs him tight, thunking an energetic palm against his shoulder. Kaidan returns it just as fierce, the plating stiff and sterile against him.

“Did you see that?” Shepard exclaims when they part, elation on his face, hand still on Kaidan’s shoulder, biotic field humming with kinetic energy. This is Shepard in his element, Shepard at his best. The impossible means nothing to him.

Kaidan grins back. “Yeah, I saw it.”

How can I look away when it’s you?

29. All the King's Men, by The Rigs

This is a Virmire song. :D Concerto is my Virmire novella, and this song is paired with Chapter 3 - All the King's Men (GO FIGURE).

Snippet:

Korkhra is dead. One of the hoppers put a hole through his head while he tried to drag one of his downed men to safety. Another salarian named Teuffel is in command now, with Kirrahe using Mannovai team to try and breach another area of the base in hopes of drawing away some of the enemy fire. Either it hasn’t worked, or Saren has a lot of goddamned geth.

Ashley grimaces, checking the field patch over her thigh plate. The seal has already cracked – what did she expect for something she’d devoted an entire five seconds to – and a sharp lance of pain runs from her hip to her ankle. Alenko’s not here, and none of the salarians have the slightest idea how to treat a human, so if her medical exoskeleton can’t fix it, she’s just shit out of luck.

Things are spiraling out of control. Fast. Even if Shepard holds up his end, it might be too late.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty back together again. She stifles a laugh.

[renee-writer]

Hurt and Healing

Inspired by the Flashfic Fridays prompt: all the king's horse. I wrote this one first then decided to write a more secular one to submit to them.

That is what they say

isn’t it

That all the king’s horses

and all the king’s men

can’t put back together what is broken

Oh but they try

With program after program

Law after law

They try

The problem is

they are powerless against the real issues

It isn’t a matter of the right law

the right program

Some things can only be fixed

With a soul change

You can’t legislate evil away

King Solomon, in all his wisdom couldn’t

No way out current government can

no matter the country

There is only One that can

Who can put us back together again

Only He Who created us in the first place

Who can restore broken families, lives, relationships

Break the bonds of addiction, fear, abuse

Restore the respect for life

For natural law

Only He Who established them

No, all the king’s horses nor all the king’s men

can’t fix the broken

but

God can

God will

Turn to Him for healing, today.

[vyragosa]

the nursery rhymes of amelie and higgs, their conflicting ideals

“ It's inevitable. Putting Humpty Dumpty back together won't change a goddamn thing, and risking life and limb to try's a fool's errand. Why sacrifice what little you've got in the here and now for a future that'll never come? It's wasteful and meaningless. Amelie'd agree, for sure.”

because amelie has no past nor present, her eyes only fixated on the future she has had visions ever since she was a child of the extinction of humanity

both higgs and amelie are entities centered on their experiences as a child, amelie being born from bridget’s near-death experience during her ovarian cancer operation but bearing her soul and experiences all the same, forever young and unchanging, stuck so deseperately alone on the beach

she is defined by the “London Bridge is falling down” nursery rhyme

she was willing to bury alive men and infants in the foundations of the london bridge toward the future

not realizing a single second that the bridge in question, had been sam the entire time

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

“making us whole again” because a charade between higgs and amelie, his mocking tone is not toward amelie’s ideals but toward his own past ones, as he had believed she was the omnipotent, that she could become the one Fixing him where fragile had already known “he was already broken”, he delegated all his own previous ideals of freeing the world from the death stranding to amelie, who in turn showed him that there was no other alternative but accepting it, the humpty dumpty nursery rhyme centers not on the failure of falling, but the failure of not picking oneself up

amelie and higgs were both mutually coasting stranded on the beach of acceptance

[aashriapps]

Humpty dumpty rhymes |Humpty dumpty sat on a wall | Humpty dumpty Song

Humpty Dumpty's Great Egg-scape | A Nursery Rhyme Adventure Join Humpty Dumpty and his nursery rhyme friends on an egg-citing adventure like never before! In "Humpty Dumpty's Great Egg-scape," Humpty finds himself in a bit of a scramble when he tumbles off the wall. But don't worry, he's not alone! With the help of his nursery rhyme pals like Jack and Jill, Mary, and Little Bo Peep, they embark on a quest to put Humpty back together again. Your Queries :- Humpty dumpty sat on a wall Humpty dumpty Humpty dumpty Song humpty dumpty nursery rhyme humpty dumpty poem humpty dumpty train humpty dumpty cartoon humpty dumpty saturday humpty dumpty rhymes humpty dumpty cocomelon humpty dumpty chu chu tv Lyrics :- Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall Humpty Dumpty had a great fall All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again. Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall Humpty Dumpty had a great fall All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again This enchanting and colorful journey takes you through the whimsical world of nursery rhymes, where you'll encounter lively characters, riddles, and challenges at every turn. Will they be able to solve the puzzle of Humpty Dumpty's fall and piece him back together? The answer lies in your child's hands as they sing, laugh, and learn through this timeless and cherished nursery rhyme adventure. "Humpty Dumpty's Great Egg-scape" is a delightful and educational experience for kids, combining the joy of storytelling with the magic of nursery rhymes. It's an egg-cellent choice for both entertainment and early childhood development. So, gather 'round, and let the adventure begin! Join Humpty Dumpty on a whimsical adventure through the magical world of nursery rhymes in "Humpty Dumpty's Great Egg-scape: A Nursery Rhyme Adventure." In this charming tale, Humpty Dumpty, known for his famous fall, embarks on an enchanting journey to explore the lands of beloved nursery rhymes. When Humpty finds himself in a playful mishap, he discovers a world filled with familiar characters like Jack and Jill, Little Bo Peep, and the Three Little Pigs. Each encounter brings new challenges, unexpected friendships, and delightful adventures that teach valuable lessons about bravery, teamwork, and resilience. As Humpty encounters these well-loved characters, he realizes the importance of courage and problem-solving. Through teamwork and determination, Humpty and his newfound friends work together to overcome obstacles, celebrating the power of unity and friendship. "Humpty Dumpty's Great Egg-scape" is a heartwarming journey that not only revisits the classic tale of Humpty Dumpty but also introduces a world where nursery rhymes come to life, fostering imagination and teaching important life lessons in a fun and engaging way for children and families alike. 🌟 **Follow Us:** Stay up-to-date with the latest news, updates, and promotions. Follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61551426965282 https://twitter.com/AashriApps https://www.instagram.com/aashriapp/ 🔗 Download Now: https://play.google.com/store/apps/dev?id=6047620568157430302 https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.aashriapps.balloonspop https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.aashriapps.prelearning https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.aashriapps.popping https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.aashriapps.balloonpoptelugu https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.aashriapps.balloonspophindi https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.aashriapps.prelearn.abcd https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.aashriapps.prelearn.num123 https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.aashriapps.slidesolvepuzzle https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.aashriapps.prelearn.tracing 📢 **Help Your Child Shine Bright with Aashri Apps!** As always, please make sure to customize this description with your app's specific details, such as the app's name, developer information, and links to your privacy policy and terms of service. Highlight any unique features or benefits your app offers, and let parents know how it can be a valuable educational tool for their children. Aashri Apps,Kids Friendly & Fun,Balloon Kids Games Preschool Kids ABCD Alphabets, 1234 Counting Numbers, Shapes, Strokes, Colours, Match Alphabets, Match Numbers, Painting & Tracing for Kids. More by Aashri Apps,Kids Friendly & Fun,Balloon Kids Games #humptydumpty   #nurseryrhymes   #childrenssongs   #fairytales   #eggcellent   #rhymetime #kidsentertainmentvideo #storytime #EggAdventures #classictales #Eggstraordinary #kidsfun #EggHumor #nurseryrhymefun #childrensliterature #HumptyDumptyAdventures #eggciting #rhymeandreason #Eggsplore #StorybookMagic  |...

[criesinmultifandommess]

Nursery rhymes that somehow fit into the DSMP storyline

Ok, hear me out, I know it sounds weird, but I think it’s pretty cool

“One, Two, Three, Four, Five” 

Wilbur at Sally, maybe sung for Fundy

One, two, three, four, five Once I caught a fish alive

Wilbur recounts meeting Sally. Maybe she got caught on his fishing line, maybe she tripped and he caught her, it really depends on if you trust Wilbur’s words in Sally being a literal salmon or bending it and making her a shapeshifter, your choice.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten Then I let it go again

 Wilbur eventually has to let go of her for unknown reasons.

Why did you let it go? Because it bit my finger so

Maybe she bit his finger. Maybe she hurt his finger. She hurt him, regardless.

Which finger did it bite? This little finger on my right

Can be changed to fit “This ring finger” to symbolize how they were in love but she had to leave so they never got married.

“London Bridge”

For L’Manberg/Manberg (wanted to use a longer version to pack in L’Manberg’s three lives)

London Bridge is falling down Falling down, falling down London Bridge is falling down My fair lady

Build it up with wood and clay, Wood and clay, wood and clay, Build it up with wood and clay, My fair Lady.

Wood and clay will wash away, Wash away, wash away, Wood and clay will wash away, My fair Lady.

Build it up with bricks and mortar, Bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar, Build it up with bricks and mortar, My fair Lady.

Bricks and mortar will not stay, Will not stay, will not stay, Bricks and mortar will not stay, My fair Lady.

Build it up with iron bars Iron bars, iron bars Build it up with iron bars My fair lady

Iron bars will bend and break Bend and break, bend and break Iron bars will bend and break My fair lady

Build it up with gold and silver Gold and silver, gold and silver Build it up with gold and silver My fair lady

Silver and gold will be stolen away, Stolen away, stolen away, Silver and gold will be stolen away, My fair Lady.

London Bridge is falling down Falling down, falling down London Bridge is falling down M-y f-a-i-r l-a-d-y

Side note: It’s really funny to me that I used “London Bridge” since 3 of the original L’Manberg citizens are British lmao

“Humpty Dumpty”

For Dream

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall

The first wall made of concrete before the L’Manberg Independence War, the second wall when Tommy griefed George’s house before the Exile Era

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall 

All the king's horses and all the king's men

His friends. George, Sapnap, everybody that held him dear

Couldn't put Humpty together again

They couldn’t see that Dream had changed for the worse and was never coming back

“The Grand Old Duke of York”

For L’Manbur/Vilbur

Oh, the grand old Duke of York He had ten thousand men He marched them up to the top of the hill And he marched them down again

And when they were up, they were up And when they were down, they were down And when they were only half-way up They were neither up nor down

“Little Boy Blue” 

For Tommy

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn, The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn.

Tommy was the starting point of all this conflict and drama, and “blowing his horn” symbolizes how he calls people to his aid, ex. Techno during the Battle of the Lake.

Where is that boy who looks after the sheep? He's under a haystack, fast asleep.

Tommy well, died, which is actually what this nursery rhyme is about.

Will you wake him? Oh no, not I, For if I do, he'll surely cry.

When Dream revived Tommy, he wasn’t really crying, but he certainly became more sensitive to pain and reacts negatively to being told he was dead.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 9284

A shield, her fall; she cries to peer.     Which makes human being a Titan hiccups in holy     merriment, from which kings could have done: Marry a tender     hesitation alone wide awake, with Cossacques pursued     the men, are wrong her

throbbing station of what was dead     woman to the sold tomb. Then a Mammon grins on her ere     they grapple to march with me the unconscious stone battery     one, pervaded him as he loves, hills no, not ask a     kiss, when one act at once

may decompose, but lived and bone     by one of us, as beating each lovely far her, well     of brow, nor signs: his hands, when a childhood wished for some prison     of Polouzki: this matter hand, not keep thorns and replied,     he came yonder, so

she wound; hers conversation I     couldn’t see ourselves, that passed day was a passion be a wave     hot youth at once again, my cue for his gore. And if the     red condition, till Gazing grew broad estate reveal’d. And     if you send, less fight, and

hound, the others, o’er whisk the sad     eyes will. Yet thus is the womb is not so love doth swell, sick,     ourselves have left the lawns. She sits in stark and save a few     who wish of a calf in at the imagination, are     put an end of Azra,

whateuer may I bake. Esteem, like     the snow’s daughter, and in a haze of concatenations,     ask’d her station—if he was a pall, the morning. I said,     was well as they sow. With scorners, from this unsighing pride,     He ceased in Catherine’s reign

this explicit emails, and scarce     wounds! The door, and ravenous and closely fused as deep this     typewriter like most, on a little time he foreseeing,     still clouds bedimme my fare; to win, to tumbled back in their     faults done wide wounds of bloody

hands and so—she awoke with     flutes, toilet and night to leaue to ill stirring or seedling     the shadow chequer-chased by the quick seven together     tune nor shrink from of existence, apt to whose sigh’d, and Echo     the day, stella, I

say, mine ear, a female dress your     own horse race. And they wall; but not unholy her breasts beneath     the window as an earphone with burst like the found, with     conflicts better; you the scorch’d with Melissa Florian,     you must taste—indeed the

rightful green, as the more brown from     Spain. Would be six or severe, sublimer worse than like voice:     I am shame! And peace, or shame! But heaven, or nothing     I’ve mickle glass, twas light reap the best, of hand, addressing     in the silent was built

thus early morning like a billows,     whose set doth makes and yet content to me? As thou dost     stalls, that which make epic poesy so rare and whom she had     dropt off in vain to be a wave hot your lips, her hands of     Love fray’d himself, the garden

sometimes still kept us closed     bawk, sae gentle readiest hour gave whate’er it may not too     few the slashing, but there, as though the scimitar, and his     own no prosody can every good announced how should fain     say by which pass’d for all.

[mabedgeofsanity]

I read an article a few months ago that said I had to be drunk on Divine power to have accepted my life’s mission, there are days when I have to completely agree with that. Today is one of those days. Everyone who can has tried my patience today in one way or another and it’s a miracle that I have not cussed anyone out or lost my temper.

I drove my kids crazy when they were little because they didn’t get anything by me. I can see through walls, and hear them whispering on the other end of the house, had eyes in the back of my head. And they couldn’t lie to me, nobody can and me not know they are. That’s one of my favorite in my bag of tricks.

I was blessed with many gifts in this life, and entrusted with a great responsibility to go along with them. Creativity in many forms is one that I enjoy. A couple of months ago I struggled with the idea of who I am. I have always been defined by the roles I play in the lives of those I love and care for. So now that I don’t have to be defined like that I am figuring out exactly who I am, where I’m from, where I am going, and what I am meant to do with the knowledge that I have be entrusted to share.

I have many blessings in my life each and every day. I am grateful for the challenges ( opportunities for growth) that have helped to shape the person that I am now. Without the obstacles I wouldn’t know my strength. I don’t want to go back and relive my life because I know that I can’t change anything in my past. To change things would change who I am now and I don’t want to do that, not sure that any other version of me could handle the situations that I have. I lived it all once and that was enough for me, I promise.

Born in the year of the fire dragon is a true blessing, but I have had to learn not to play with fire because it usually doesn’t work out well for anyone around me. Working with dragons is not for the faint hearted, it is not easy and requires a great amount of effort, honor, and honesty. And they hear requests made out loud or formed in the thought process, and they will usually give you what you ask for so you have to be very careful and consider if it what you ask for is truly what you want or need. This is the lesson that I was taught in November of 2019 when my reality began slipping into the darkest realm of my brain. It took me to the edge of my sanity and danced along the the thinnest lines possible. I finally crashed in December and have been playing the role of the kings horses and his men trying to put me back together again. All of the pieces I have found fit in just not in the same place as before. And some of the pieces have flat out gone away, to be replaced with a new piece of information that I will need moving forward in the future.

It doesn’t do any good to relive the past, and none of us are promised a future, so you live your best life each day no matter what or who tries to steal your joy, and peace; hacks away at your dreams and self worth until you are as small as they can get you.

[divinitydevouring-blog]

fun fact about the names of my ocs

haneul’s name: her full name can be taken to mean “red sky” or “red heaven” and that’s cool, right guys? 

faxiah’s name came from me trying to remember the difference quotient in calculus. it sounds like some fancy fantasy name, but the truth is i just shoved a bunch of vowels into the difference quotient.

ashte’s name is from a joke. i was discussing how i couldn’t think of a name for her any my friend suggested “Aste” (from Astral Teahouse) I then made the joke that it’s more like ashte since her life is in ashes. it stuck. 

[mrsalwayswrite]

Sinners and Saints (Sihtric x reader)

Summary: One day you stumble upon your childhood friend, Osferth, whom you have not seen in years. Yet the more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself drawn to his companion, Sihtric….and the butterflies his dark eyes give you.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 followers challenge! Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you! 

My prompt was - "Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints." - Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton (in bold within the story)

Words: 5500

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluff, my poor attempts at humor, Osferth being a good bro. 

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @flowers-in-your-hayr​

This gorgeous moodboard was made by @flowers-in-your-hayr​. All credit goes to her! 

"...so there she was, aye, and next thing I know, she flips 'er dress up and I see the most perfect set of…."

 "I'm going to be sick." Osferth mumbled to himself, trying to block out Finan's retelling of his prior night. To the laughter of his companions, he started to push away from the outdoor table at the alehouse. He was no virgin anymore, Finan and Uhtred had seen to that, but he still felt squeamish when listening to their stories of recent conquests. His mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, things she had told him before her passing, about respect and love. Plus, he could not help but think that this idea of conquests, of women's worth derived from what pleasure a man could take from their bodies, was what brought bastards into this world….like him. 

 "Alright, Finan, we get it. You saw the arse of a goat and couldn't help yourself." Uhtred teased, slinging an arm around Osferth so he could not escape them- most likely to find a church and pray for their souls. 

 "Oi, lord! Ya know that was one time!" Finan feigned mock-outrage, making Uhtred and Sihtric laugh. 

 Osferth put a hand over his eyes as if that would somehow block the image from his mind. Something he desperately did not want there. 

 "How much longer are we here, lord?" Sihtric asked, changing the subject, while twirling a dagger between his hands fluidly. 

 Although Osferth would never admit it aloud, and God forgive him, it was hard not to be jealous of how easily his companions handled their weapons like they had been born with weapons in hand. They continued to tell him it was practice. Recently though, he decided it was a gift that he clearly did not have. 

 "Until I feel satisfied with the training of Lord Godwin's fyrd and his defenses." Uhtred stated indifferently, as if it was something he had to repeat to himself often. 

 "Ya think King Alfred knew how much of a horse's arse Lord Godwin is?"

 Uhtred glanced up, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Probably."

 "But he knew you were the man for the job." Osferth commented. Not necessarily to defend his father but to hopefully bolster Uhtred's confidence. "The men respect you, even if their lord fails to acknowledge his own respect."

 "The baby monk is right." Finan said. "What else needs to be done for the town?"

 Uhtred and Finan began discussing ideas and strategies, Sihtric adding an occasional comment but mostly just listening. 

 Osferth found his attention wandering, since this was an area outside of his expertise. His gaze drifted to the town and its residents who moved about to complete their duties under the midday sun. Their group had only been in this large town for two days and already Osferth was keen to return to Coccham. 

 From amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention. The world tilted off its axis as his entire body went rigid, all his focus zeroed in on her. His heart hammered in his chest and the air whooshed from his lungs painfully. 

 "Y/n?" He muttered to himself, disbelief and shock clearly painted in his tone and on his face. 

 "Baby monk, ya alright?"

 Finan's words did even register, so consumed by the ghost before him. Rapidly, he slid off the bench, almost losing his footing when he went to stand, but pressed on, hurrying towards her. 

 "Y/n!" He called, an almost desperate tone in his yell. 

 When she did not turn around, he shouted louder. "Y/N!" 

 That time she paused, then slowly turned to find him standing still amongst those walking around him, a solid rock in a stream of people. He held his breath as he intently watched her expression, suddenly worried seeing him would not be as meaningful as he hoped. He could see her utter his name silently, eyes wide. Then in the next moment, she dropped the basket on her hip and ran towards him. He opened his arms just in time for her to collide with him, and with her embrace, a painful wave of nostalgia and guilt crashed over him with the strength of a tempest. 

 "It's really you." She finally whispered, peering at him in awe. 

 "Hi." He smiled, his own shock clouding his mind from forming coherent sentences.  

 Then to his surprise, she reared back and punched him in the arm. 

 "Ouch! What was that for?" He whined, rubbing the offended limb. 

 Throwing her hands in the air, they landed on her hips as her voice rose in anger. "For disappearing in the middle of the night without telling me!"

 "I did tell you."

 "That you were THINKING about leaving, not that you WERE leaving!" She reared back and punched him in the arm again, ignoring his pained cry as she continued to berate him. "I spent an entire day running around the monastery trying to find you only for Father Harold to finally pull me aside and tell me you left for Wincheaster." 

 And there was the heaping of guilt he knew he deserved. "I'm sorry….I just….I just knew if I didn't leave that night, then I never would."

 Her face softened at his quiet admission, understanding passing in her eyes. "I know. I wasn't truly surprised…. Just wish you'd have told me before."

 "I'm sorry."

 She sighed, all anger and frustration disappearing, much to his relief. She was a force to be reckoned with when truly in her fury. "So, what are you doing here?"

 "Ah, traveled here with the Lord Uhtred to assist Lord Godwin in his defenses….or something."

 "Uhtred? That Uhtred?"

 He smiled at her, catching the reverence in her tone. "That very one."

 "How did you find him? How did you join him? Wait! Are you a warrior now? We have a lot to talk about and you better get started." There went the hands on her hips again, making his smile widen at the image. Even as a young girl, when her hands were on her hips, you knew she meant business. 

 "Would you like to meet him first?"

 A shy look passed over her face that he was unused to seeing. "I'm…. I'm not presentable to meet a lord."

 He scanned her, noting the dried mud on the hem of her dress and shoes, the small smear of what looked like flour on her left temple. What he noticed most was how the years had made her even more beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl but now, she truly looked like a beautiful woman. A fact he was unsure of how to feel about. 

 He chuckled lightly after a moment. "Well, you certainly smell better than Lord Uhtred so I think it's fine."

 That caused her to tip her head back and laugh loudly, the desired effect of his comment. She gathered up her basket and walked next to Osferth, back to the table where his companions were. It was impossible to ignore their curious stares as they approached. 

 "Lord Uhtred, may I introduce y/n. Y/n, this is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg." Osferth said, standing next to her at the end of the table.

 Uhtred nodded graciously, clearly wondering why this woman mattered and why Osferth was introducing her. 

 "Oh, it's an honor to meet you!" Y/n gushed, a bright smile on her face. "Uncle Leofric told us so much about you, but I never thought I'd ever meet you in person."

 "Leofric?" That caught his lord's attention, his gaze narrowing and eyeing her with renewed interest. "How did you know that turd?"

 "When he came to visit Osferth, he'd tell us stories."

 "Ah….all exaggerated, of course." Uhtred said with a cocky smirk. 

 "Wait. I think we're missin' the most important thing here." Finan leaned forward, dark eyes bouncing between Osferth and her, as he pointed a finger at them, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Ya said 'Uncle Leofric'....are ya related to Osferth?"

 Osferth answered quickly. "No, her family owned the farm next to the monastery, so we grew up together." Then he furrowed his brows as a thought hit him. He had been so amazed to see his childhood best friend (only friend really) that he had not realized that she should be back at the farm and not in this town. "Wait, y/n, why are you here and not at the farm?"

 Her face crumpled for a brief second before she was able to mask it into a neutral expression. She shrugged casually, but he could read the subtle tension in the action. "We lost the farm, so mother and I came here to look for work."

 "Ah." There were so many things he wanted to ask but could tell now was not the right time. If she lived here, he would have plenty of time to hear the full story later. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So, you know Lord Uhtred, the others are Finan and Sihtric…. And Sihtric is also a bastard." He added as an afterthought. 

 That made her face light up as she turned to look at the Dane. "Hey, another bastard! We really need to start a club. We can all rant about how awful our fathers are."

 "You're a bastard?" Uhtred asked, shock evident in his voice. 

 "Yes, my lord. My mother was a servant for a lord. Got pregnant. The lord's wife did not like that so sent my pregnant mother back to her family. Certainly, it was our Lord's Will because how else would I have been able to grow up with Osferth?" She asked, patting him on the cheek affectionately. He blushed and swatted her hand away, much to the other's amusement. 

 "I reckon you have quite a few amusin' stories of growin' up with Osferth, eh?" Finan smirked. 

 "I might….but I don't share secrets for free." She matched his smirk with her own crooked smile. 

 He slapped his hand on the table. "I'll owe ya a drink! I need to 'ear this."

 "No….oh no, no, no." Osferth said but knew it was a lost cause before he even tried to deter them. The rest were already deciding when and where to meet that night. "Lord help me."

 "It's not that bad." She teased, bumping his arm with hers. "The worst one is when we went streaking naked through the monastery."

 Osferth felt his face heat up like the flames of hell itself as everyone laughed. "It was your idea."

 "Yeah, yeah, so you like to remind me." She smiled fondly. "Now, if I don't get back home, my mother is going to think I've run off with some man or I've been kidnapped. Either way, she will raise the fyrd herself to find me. I will see you all tonight."

 The others said their goodbyes but before she could step too far away, Osferth gently touched her arm, halting her movement. 

 "Y/n….I'm….I'm glad our paths have crossed once again."

 She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am too, Osferth. I've missed you." With that, she turned and walked away with her basket still on her hip; but not without glancing over her shoulder at the group before disappearing around some buildings. 

 Once out of sight, Osferth sighed and turned back to his companions, only to see them all still staring intently in the direction she disappeared. 

 "No….y/n is off-limits to you fornicators." He stated firmly, well as firmly as he could be. 

 "She's very pretty…." Uhtred declared, a playful grin on his face. 

 "Lord, no. All of you, keep your hands off of her."

 "Or what?" Finan chuckled, eyes alight with mischief. "You'll fight us, baby monk?"

 "I will if I must."

 "Alright. Her dignity won't be tarnished." Uhtred lifted his cup in Osferth's direction. "Your reputation might be tonight depending on what stories she shares." 

 Osferth groaned, sitting back down next to his lord. "I'm going to need a lot of ale."

 "That can certainly be arranged!" Finan laughed, jovial once more. 

 As discussion started back up again, they all missed the silent, longing glance Sihtric snuck one last time in the direction she walked away….

 *****

 Over the next several weeks Lord Uhtred helped increase the defenses of the town and instructed the guards and fyrd how to better defend against the Danes. 

 During those weeks, you found yourself frequently spending time with Osferth and his companions. First it started off with meeting them in the evenings for ale, laughter and good company. Within days, it became almost expected for one of them to purposefully seek you out. Most of the time it was Osferth and Sihtric coming to join you in whatever your tasks for the day because they were bored or unwanted in meetings. It was not difficult to tell that although they were certainly welcomed members of Uhtred's group, not everyone else saw them in such a positive light. 

 So the three of you often passed the hours away together, waiting until evening to rejoin Uhtred and Finan at the alehouse. Their presence became such a regular occurrence that your mother practically adopted them, they even had their assigned seats at your small kitchen table for meals. Somehow, they seamlessly slipped into your daily life in a way that seemed like they were meant to be there this whole time. 

 Even at the alehouse in the evenings, you usually found yourself nestled between Osferth and Sihtric on the bench. A place you certainly found yourself enjoying more and more….especially next to the Dane. 

 Over the weeks, there was something growing between you and the Dane. It gradually revealed itself with each passing day, growing like the roots of an oak tree. It was through the borderline flirtatious comments that you teased each other with. It was in the subtle touches that caused butterflies in your stomach to dance, from your fingers barely gracing each other when passing something, to the way you leaned your head on his shoulder when your eyelids threatened to close, to the way your thighs would touch under the table and away from view of the others. It was in the lingering looks when your gazes locked and you swore you never wanted to look away. It was in the consistency of being next to one another whenever you could, either sitting at a table or just walking down the street, almost like your bodies were magnetized to one another's. 

 Plus the more you talked to Sihtric, the more you desired to know about him. For he was like no other man you had ever met. 

 Almost a fortnight after you reunited with Osferth, there was one particular evening after staying out far too late with the four men and drinking a bit too much, Sihtric graciously offered to walk you back home. You knew propriety demanded Osferth should be the one to escort you but he was already passed out, head on the table and snores emitting from his mouth. Giggling at your childhood friend, you accepted Sihtric's offer and the two of you easily fell into step. 

 On the walk you learned more about his past, about going up in Dunholm and his cruel father. You had heard bits and pieces while with Osferth and the others. Maybe it was under the cover of darkness, maybe it was the extra ale flowing through both of your blood, but he confessed secrets to you he had never told another besides his mother. When you reached your home, before he could slip away, you clutched his arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. After, you bid him goodnight and slipped inside your humble home. 

 After that night, he always walked you home, sometimes alone and sometimes one of the others would join. But when it was just you two, when you were alone, you would bid him a goodnight with a kiss on the cheek or he would kiss your hand, locking eyes with you in a way that made a fire stir in your belly and your core clench. 

 There was definitely something between the two of you, but neither seemed able to verbalize it or take the next step. 

 *****

 "So, what is going on between you and Cedric?" 

 You turned your head to look at Osferth, who laid on the grass next to you, soaking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. "What?"

 "You know….that blacksmith. The one you were talking to the other day."

 "Oh." The memory hit you. You had stopped by to drop off your mother's damaged cooking pot for Cedric to attempt in fixing, although you personally thought it was a helpless cause. The dent in it was significant, but he offered to see what he could do. As you dropped it off at his workshop, the two of you began discussing an approaching saint's day and the celebration that would occur with it. 

 Several minutes later, you heard your name called and looked over to see Osferth and Sihtric walking towards you. You bid Cedric a farewell, promising to stop by the next day to come pick up the pot. After receiving his promise to try his best at fixing it, you headed off towards the stables with your fellow bastards. At the time, you had not thought the encounter significant but with it happening two days ago and Osferth now bringing it up, you wondered how long he had been ruminating on it. 

 Finally, you simply said, "he's a good man, and has been kind to my mother and I since we arrived here."

 "Is he….pursuing you?" Osferth turned his head to scrutinize you, his lips pursed slightly as if concerned about your answer. 

 You openly laughed at the notion. "No, that's silly. He is just a kind man."

 If anything, you had to fend off flirtatious advancements from some of the young men that worked under Cedric. Those same young men quickly learned to keep their eyes on their work and mouths shut. When one openly called out to you, and before you could offer a sharp retort, Cedric threw a hammer at him from across the shop. He bellowed that he did not allow heathens to work for him and if they chose to act godless then they needed to find a new place of work. Their blatant interest diminished after that and Cedric made a point to be the only one that conversed with you if you came to the shop. Although he was easily ten years your senior, you found him a likeable man with a quick wit and sarcastic comments that occasionally left you in stitches. 

 The idea of him pursuing you was an amusing idea. He was still a bachelor, never having married, claiming that his work and apprentices kept him far too busy for much else. 

 Your answer appeared to satisfy Osferth. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but immediately slowly closed it and turned his head back to stare at the blue sky. 

 A stillness settled after your answer, only interrupted by the frequent bird song and the wind through the tall grass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth and just lying around relaxing on the hill outside of the town, away from the hustle and bustle and chores that demanded your attention.  

 "He was watching you like a man who wants a woman." Sihtric stated after a couple minutes of peaceful silence. 

 Startled by his sour tone, you shifted up to look over at the Dane. He sat on the other side of Osferth, one leg propped up and an arm casually slung over it, but his gaze was focused straight ahead, staring off into the distance. Now that you thought about it, over the past two days Sihtric had become more reserved and sullen than you had ever seen. Even his companions commented on it a few times to which he would shrug his shoulders or make an excuse and walk away. You had thought he just missed Coccham, the group having been away for so long, or something happened that made him introspective. It had also not escaped your notice how the prior closeness between you two had halted. Now you wondered if there was something more to his demeanor.  

 "Well, that is most unfortunate for him since I am not interested in him."

 "Does your mother not want you to marry?" Osferth asked, his voice deceptively neutral. 

 Sighing, you leaned back on your hands. Eventually you knew Osferth would bring up the topic, he was your friend after all and you were certainly of marriageable age. Actually far too old to not be married by some people's standards, but you ignored them. "She does but she has told me that she will not force it upon me. She said I should make my own choice….that if I am able, I should choose love."

 You knew your mother offered you that choice in hopes your life would turn out differently than her own. 

 "But if Cedric is a good, kind man….could you not love him….or someone like him?" Osferth pressed. 

 "Perhaps. There are plenty of men I have seen who the church would call a 'good' man but are cruel in their own home, and there are many men who are calloused but it's obvious they love their wife and children. My love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. I would rather choose a man whom I know loves and cares for me than a man I know is 'good' but carries no love in his heart." You paused, the candid confession rolling off your tongue before you realized it. Sighing, you ran a hand over your hair before quietly saying. "I just….I just want someone that loves me….sinner or saint."

 Not a word was spoken as all three contemplated your statement, the silence hanging heavy like a brewing storm. Tilting your face to the sky, unable to meet the gazes of your companions, you chastised yourself for the candor with which you spoke. Osferth had asked a simple question initially and you chose to make it complicated. They did not need to know how you longed for love, how the hope for it in your potential future was what kept you going. It was foolish and you supposed after this, they would only see you as a silly girl with outlandish dreams of a storybook romance. 

 Finally, Osferth broke the silence. "Well, I shall be praying fervently for this man….hopefully he knows what he is getting into before he marries you."

 You laughed, appreciating his lighthearted comment. Reaching a hand out to smack Osferth's arm, you teased. "Keep that up and you won't be invited to my wedding."

 "Your mother will let me in."

 "Yeah, you're probably right." You glanced over in the direction of the town, regretting that your time away had to end. "I need to head back, those chores won't finish themselves."

 The three of you headed back to the town, quiet contemplation cloaking your group. Yet you feared that whatever spark lay between you and the Dane had been extinguished forever by your unexpected honesty. For still he refused to look your way, keeping his gaze focused forward. If your heart fissured within your chest, you swallowed down the pain. It was better for the spark to die out now then burn brightly only to be smothered later. 

 Or at least that was what you told yourself. 

 *****

 "What you said….about the sinners and the saints…."

 You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat with a silent scream on your tongue. In the small herb garden behind your house, you had thought you were alone. After the awkward conversation on the hill earlier that day, you sought solace in your chores. Thankfully Osferth and Sihtric headed back to meet with their companions on their own accord, leaving you to trudge through your muddled thoughts with all the grace of a newborn foal. 

 Now you found the very person who your thoughts centered on, standing just a few paces from you….and your heart began to race for a very different reason. 

 When his voice trailed off, those dark eyes that set fire licking through your veins dropped to the ground, you quietly stood up from where you had knelt, wiping the dirt from your hands, although you moved no closer. 

 "Sihtric?" You tried to prompt him. 

 "Is it true?" His piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Your love doesn't discriminate?"

 "Yes." You breathed out. 

 He nodded silently before taking a step closer to you. "And what about….what about Danes?"

 Your chest pulled tight at his words, yet a coy smile grew on your lips. The flutter in your belly made your gaze drop for a moment as you tried to stifle the excitement making butterflies dance. Although this was no declaration, it was the closest the two of you had talked about what lay between you. Taking a steadying breath, you prayed this moment would not pass by without confessing the truth that you had harbored in your heart for weeks now. 

 "Not even towards Danes." You shook your head, the smile still on your lips. "And…. There is one I'm becoming quite fond of lately."

 "Yeah?" He took two steps closer, somehow moving cautiously but eating the ground with each determined step. 

 "But….do you think this Dane could be….fond of me?" You softly murmured, feeling as if your heart lay in the palms of your hands for all to see. 

 That last step separating you two disappeared almost before you finished asking your question. His hands ever so gently reached over to take yours, entwining your fingers together. The two of you stood so close, your chests almost touched with each breath you took. Your breathing seemed to cease under the intensity of his gaze and a shiver raced up your spine. Yet you had no desire to withdraw from him.

 "He would be a fool not to." He whispered, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I'd bet you are constantly on this Dane's mind. That he cannot go a day without seeing your face and hearing your laugh. You are the first thought that he wakes to and the reason he falls asleep with a smile. That you have become the north star that it seems the gods have been guiding him towards for his whole life."

  As he spoke, everything faded to oblivion around you. The past and future vanished. Dane versus Saxon disappeared. The world narrowed down to this….this moment….this moment that you had dreamt of but never thought would come true. 

 The two of you continued to stand there, lost in one another's eyes with fingers intertwined. Your heart raced within your chest but a cooling breeze swept away the fears that plagued your mind. For staring at him, you knew he spoke no falsehoods. That he owned your heart just as much as you owned his. That very heart you could feel hammering away in his own chest. His eyes fervently held yours, a silent conversation, a confession, spoken only in looks but you both understood the language. His gaze dipped down to your lips, tracing them before slowly rising once again to your eyes. A curl of pleasure blossomed in your core as you witnessed the fire now in his eyes. 

 "If this Dane wanted to kiss me…. I wouldn't mind."

 A deliciously, sinful smirk teased his mouth. "As my lady commands."

 His head tilted, leaning towards yours. Unconsciously your eyelids fluttered closed. Then the briefest of touches made your knees weak and your mouth part open in a sigh. After a moment's hesitation, he continued to shower your jawline with kisses. Needing to touch him, your hands landed on his chest, feeling the tunic that covered his firm chest. Your hands moved upward to grasp the back of his neck, his pulse jumping for a second as your nails scraped his skin. His hands landed on the curve of your waist, bringing you even closer to him, erasing the unwanted space between your bodies. 

 As his lips began their ascent upward along the otherwise of your jaw, you moved. For the burning sparks in your body screamed if he did not kiss you, you would spontaneously combust. Shifting your face, you stole a kiss on his lips before he could place it on your skin. It was more of a gentle pressing of your mouths, but even then, you heard a sharp inhale from him. Before you could question him, his mouth returned to yours with soft, probing kisses that urged you to respond. Not that you would ever deny him. What started off as a gentle flame quickly became a roaring fire. Breathing became unnecessary, for how could air bring you life when your body craved Sihtric, when your lungs demanded to breathe him in instead. He led you in a drugging kiss that had you melting against him. Your lips drank from one another as if that alone could sustain you forevermore.  

 "THANK YA, GOD!!" 

 The passionate kiss abruptly ended as Sihtric and your gazes darted towards the side of your house. Only to be met with the sight of his three companions standing at the entrance in various states of smugness. 

 "Oh, for the love of Odin…." Sihtric mumbled. 

 You buried your face in Sihtric's chest, face heated in embarrassment but unable to stop the giggles that poured forth. So caught up in finally confessing your feelings and kissing the man who haunted your dreams, you forgot that anyone could walk by and see you. His arms tightened around you, keeping you within his protective, loving embrace….and you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be. 

 "Took the two of ya long enough." Finan continued, leaning against the side of your humble home with a shit-eating grin. 

 "Amen." Osferth had a small, teasing smile on his face. "Thought I would have to lock them in a room together before one of them finally confessed."

 Apparently, you and Sihtric were not as subtle as you previously thought. Now it made sense why Osferth was questioning you about Cedric and your thoughts on love and marriage earlier. Your heart flooded with gratitude towards your childhood friend, for without him you doubted neither Sihtric or you would have spoken up. Peering over, you caught Osferth's eye and mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He nodded, a simple joy radiating from his face. 

 "Lord?" Sihtric called over with a blank expression. "Permission to continue?"

 Uhtred chuckled. "I guess you've waited long enough. Go ahead." 

 Without waiting a moment longer, Sihtric tipped your face back up towards his and claimed your lips once more. You vaguely thought you heard laughter coming from the others but it all blurred away, like a faint sound while underwater. All you could see, all you could feel, all you could hear was Sihtric. 

 Just how you wanted it. 

 Suddenly you yanked your head back, your breathing labored and lips swollen. "My mother is helping at a nearby farm today. She won't be back until it's dark."

 He hummed against your skin trailing small kisses along your jawline and down your neck as if unable to keep his hands and mouth off you now that the dam had been released. 

 "I'm not as pure as Osferth thinks me to be."

 That statement made his actions stop. Carefully he raised his head to meet your gaze. "After dark?" He confirmed, voice rough in a way that sent a bolt of heat through you. 

 "Yes, she planned on having supper with them….so my home is currently empty….and I did just clean my blankets the other day…."

 He swooped in to give you a feverish, greedy kiss that left no doubt where his mind had gone. When he finally pulled back, you were surprised your legs could still hold you upright. Your whole body felt like puddy in his arms and he had only kissed you, albeit you doubted you would ever forget the way his mouth worshiped yours. 

 "You are certain? You want this?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes once more. "You want me?" 

 It was the last question, the vulnerable undertone, the hint of insecurity in it that sealed your decision. Letting your actions be your answer, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door to your home. It did not take more than a second for him to come beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

 With his taste on your lips, the future did not matter right now. It did not matter that he was Dane and you were not. All you knew was Sihtric was neither a saint nor a sinner, but simply a man deserving of love. The river of your love was pointing you directly towards him, and you silently vowed to never let it run dry. 

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Leon brings Merlin and Lancelot in on his underground enterprise;

Turns out, Leon is the biggest Magic Ally out there. Confusion, bonding, and sneaky hijinks ensue.

I imagine it starts fairly normally.

The Gang (King Arthur, Merlin, and the five knights) have literally just arrived back at the castle after a fairly uneventful hunt (I mean... nowadays, getting attacked by bandits only once in three days counts as uneventful).

Merlin is left behind to help the stablehands untack the horses, like usual, except he leaves the stables half a candle mark later to find Leon awkwardly loitering around outside, the evening dimming around him.

He thinks maybe the First Knight had gotten injured, and was too embarrassed to ask for help in front of everyone (something that is common in all of the knights. Merlin thinks it’s very stupid, and has told all of them this at least once), so doesn’t question it when Leon asks Merlin for a quick word, and leads him back to his quarters.

Leon locks the door behind him. Not unusual, the man was very private. It’s when he puts a chair in front of the door and draws the curtains, that Merlin starts to get a little nervous. He’d cast a small enchantment on one of the bandits, to make him confused enough to trip over his own feet (as opposed to skewering Elyan, which is what he’d been about to do) but Merlin was certain that no one had seen him. He was certain.

And... Leon was a knight. He’d been a knight for longer than Arthur had been King, longer than he’d even known Merlin. Surely if he saw... he would've said something, accused him or just killed him.

(He has to remind himself to have a little faith in his friends. But also: “This might be completely unrelated, so just act natural.”)

Leon turns around to look at Merlin, and instantly recognises how nervous the younger man is, despite his poor attempt to hide it. The knight keeps his distance, and gives him a slow nod:

“I just wanted to let you know, Merlin, if you ever need... ah, a way out of the city, unseen, at short notice, then I can sort something for you.”

At that, all of Merlin’s racing, terrifying thoughts, stutter to a stop, and he looks at Leon with nothing but confusion on his face. He tilts his head slightly, asking, ever so eloquently:

“...What?”

Leon sends a soft smile and a knowing wink his way:

“Or, you know, the back up of a noble in court, or an alibi, I can do that to. I have a feeling that, considering you haven’t done a runner yet, you’re planning on sticking around.”

Merlin just furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly in bewilderment:

“I... Leon I have no idea what you’re talking about. What do you mean, done a runner? Why would I need your help in court or... or an alibi??”

Leon just raises an eyebrow, and tilts his head.

Merlin copies him.

A look of realisation crosses the blonde’s face, and he lifts his hands in surrender:

“Ah. Ok, before I say anything else, I promise Merlin, you are entirely safe. I would protect you with my life if I had to-”

Merlin slowly nods, still confused:

“-I know about your magic.”

Merlin gasps and steps back, but Leon just smiles at him again, nodding his head slightly; it does nothing to relax the servant, and his breathing continues to get deeper as he backs himself against the wall, tears filling his eyes.

Leon frowns, his heart cracking slightly, but resists the protective urge to walk towards Merlin to comfort him. Instead he takes a step back, not lowering his hands. Before he can open his mouth to utter more reassurances, a tirade of broken, cracking apologies fall from Merlin’s lips:

“I... Leon I swear I’m not evil, I... I don’t hurt people, I promise. Please, you... please believe me, I would NEVER-”

Leon interrupts him, shaking his head rapidly, and forcing a reassuring smile on his face:

“I know. Merlin, I know that. I know you’re not evil, I know that you use it to protect us, I know. It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone, you’re not in danger, I would NEVER hurt you, or tell anyone, ok? I swear it. You’re safe with me.”

Merlin gulps, but relaxes (only slightly, but it’s a start. Leon doesn’t know why he’s so surprised at Merlin’s reaction, I suppose he thought he had been clear in his brotherly affection and protectiveness towards the younger man. Apparently not; he would have to fix that). He gives Leon an assessing once over, and it strikes the knight how efficient he is. He wonders how many times Merlin’s eyes have flicked over someone: checking their face for any sign of deception, checking how close their hands are to a weapon, checking their stance to see if they’re preparing for a fight.

Leon stays in place, forcing himself to untense, and giving Merlin a weak smile, hoping that the servant doesn’t mistake his slight heartbreak for fear or anger.

After a few moments, Merlin relaxes even further (though is still understandably ready to bolt at a moment’s notice), and steps away from the wall, Leon’s smile widens, and he nods once again, patiently waiting for Merlin to say something:

“You... you offered to smuggle me out of the city?”

Leon nods, glancing to the door behind him before gesturing Merlin to keep his voice down as he replies cryptically:

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

The servant gulps, giving the knight an assessing gaze, magic buzzing under his skin, alert and frightened at the idea of a Red Knight other than Lancelot knowing the truth:

“You’ve smuggled others out?”

Leon nods and moves ever so slowly to sit on the edge of his bed, still holding his hands up placatingly. He doesn’t gesture for Merlin to join him, understanding the other man’s remaining jumpiness, but leaves space next to him, just in case.

Merlin hesitates for only a second before settling on the bed next to him, forcing himself to relax. The knight wasn’t currently armed, and anyway, if Leon had been planning on accusing him or attacking him, then he wouldn’t be doing this. None of what he said could, in any way, make sense as some sort of trick.

Once Merlin settles, still a little uneasy, Leon begins his explanation in a quiet voice, obviously still worried about startling Merlin (and obviously not wanting to risk someone overhearing him):

“It started when I was fifteen. One of the serving girls in my father’s household was born with magic, though it didn’t manifest until years after the purge started. She was my age, sweet, kind, I couldn’t possibly believe her to be evil or corrupt, but under The King’s law, she would’ve been burned. Poor girl was terrified of being found out, but Uther was so paranoid, they were basically interrogating anyone who entered or exited the city; she had nowhere to go. I had already started my training at this point, so I used my knowledge of guard rotations and shift changes to sneak her out. I left her with some family in a village nearer the border, snuck back in a few days later. From then on it just... kept happening. I suppose I got good at recognising the specific brand of fear that magic-users in Camelot suffer from, and I’ve got a good eye; I know magic when I see it-”

He gives Merlin a knowing look, but the servant just turns indignant and says:

“Well, I was also born with magic, and it took you ten years to figure it out, so-”

He sticks his tongue out at the knight, and Leon raises his eyebrow at him, before laughing and nodding, thankful for Merlin’s lessening fear:

“-yeah, I suppose. But still. It started off with just the occasional person; one or two a month. And then it was whole families or groups of people who either had magic, or were scared of being accused and wanted out. It became a bit of a side-career, though I always refused any payment they offered.”

Merlin stares at him, thoughtful and in awe, before yet another look of realisation crosses his face:

“Is this why the Druids are so fond of you?”

Finally, it’s Leon’s turn to look confused, and Merlin continues:

“Whenever we come across them, they always seem less wary of you than the other knights, like they know what you’ve done.”

Leon takes in slow breath, quirking his eyebrows slightly and shrugging:

“I’ve never really noticed, maybe. I’ve never been into a camp, but when someone I was sneaking out had nowhere to go, I’d take them as close to a Druid settlement as I dared, and pointed them in the right direction; I suppose word might’ve spread.”

Merlin nods, looking to his lap, thinking. Leon stays silent, understanding that this is probably a lot to take in, and not wanting to interrupt Merlin’s processing time. 

After a few moments, Merlin, still staring into his lap, reaches across to Leon and takes the knight’s hand in a shaking one of his own. It’s then that Leon notices the slow tears on the other man’s face, but before he can say anything, Merlin looks up at him, his voice shaking as he whispers a rough:

“Thank you.”

Leon smiles, squeezing his hand and bumping their shoulders together:

“Anytime. Like I said Merlin, I would protect you with my life. If you ever need anything...”

Merlin takes a deep breath, standing and wiping the tears from his face quickly before dragging Leon to the door:

“There is one thing. Come on.”

Leon allows himself to be dragged, and Merlin moves the chair to the side before stepping out of the way, allowing Leon to unlock the door with the key hanging around his neck. He doesn’t question where they’re going, though he is slightly confused when he notices that they’re heading deeper into the castle, as opposed to outside or to Merlin’s chambers like he was expecting.

They finally come to a stop outside Lancelot’s door, and Leon nods to himself in realisation. He had suspected that the other knight had known the truth, but hadn’t wanted to ask or push it in case he was wrong.

Merlin knocks rapidly after checking the corridor for other people, and the door had barely been opened before he’s pushing his way through, still dragging Leon behind him. The two men move to stand by the opposite wall, Lancelot still by the door looking increasingly confused:

“Merlin, Leon, is... is everything alright?”

Merlin waves his hand casually, not even needing an incantation as his eyes flash briefly gold and the door shuts of it’s own accord (... or Merlin’s accord).

Lancelot immediately gasps and makes a jump for the sword sat on the table, but Leon holds his hands up in surrender as Merlin rushes to speak:

“Lance it’s fine!! Leon knows about my magic, and he’s been smuggling people out of Camelot for decades, he’s safe.”

Lancelot looks to Leon with a mix of suspicion and relief, still picking the sword up and holding it loosely in one hand, but the older knight is too distracted staring at Merlin in mild outrage:

“Dec- How old do you think I am, Merlin?!”

Merlin looks up at him guiltily, and Lancelot lets go of his suspicion, instead clamping his free hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing at Merlin’s squeaked reply:

“Uh... there’s no safe way to answer that, is there? You said you were fifteen when you started, and I know you’re older than Arthur, so...”

Leon scoffs, rolling his eyes as Lancelot snorts:

“I’m only five years older than him, Merlin. I’m thirty-one, you can say “decades” plural when I hit thirty-five, and not a day sooner.”

Merlin holds in a smirk, and nods. Lancelot clears his throat, dropping the sword back on the table and asking the obvious question:

“So... how much does he know?”

Merlin spends the rest of the night explaining everything, from Kilgharrah calling to him when he first arrived, (”You mean that thing was under the castle the whole time?!”) to just last week, when he had to sneak out of the city to deal with a particularly insatiable Succubus that was causing problems with the border patrols (”Huh. I wondered why the men had just... stopped disappearing. I’m not complaining though, thank you.”).

He included all the information about the prophecies and being Emrys and how Arthur was the Once and Future King and the coming (potential) Golden Age. Leon was especially curious about that, and interrupted often to ask questions.

Lancelot also interrupted rather often, but only to correct Merlin when he underappreciated his own genius or power or selflessness, much to Merlin’s embarrassment and annoyance.

Merlin also tried to miss out as much of his own suffering as he could, but Lancelot wasn’t having it, and Leon was horrified to learn of the Serket sting, the countless, almost fatal fights he’d had with various people (Nimueh, The Cailleach (”I did also wonder how the veil just... repaired itself. Nice one.”), Morgause, Agravaine, etc (Morgana is good in this, though her magic is still hidden)), and all the other terrible things that had happened.

When he finally finishes, Leon is speechless.

The knight had just thought that Merlin had learned a few tricks to keep himself and Arthur safe when they went out and about, but he was actually, apparently, the most powerful Warlock ever, and had a whole series of prophecies and battle scars to back it up. Lancelot’s face was an odd mix of prideful and mournful, and that only drove home to Leon how much Merlin had suffered over the years.

After a few minutes of silence, Merlin awkwardly waiting, as if for judgement, Lancelot pipes up, his voice oddly cheery:

“So, Sir Leon, fancy two extra sets of hands in the little smuggling ring you’ve got going?”

~

And that is essentially... exactly what happens. 

It’s usually Leon who discovers the sorcerers, being the most observant of the three, but it’s Merlin they send on the first approach more often than not. Leon had always been painfully aware of how scary a Camelot Knight going “I know you have magic” must be, so the trio takes advantage of Merlin’s non-threatening look. That, paired with the fact that he’s well known and well loved around the town, makes starting things off a lot easier.

A lot of the time, the people they approach don’t want to leave. They’ve kept themselves hidden for over twenty years, and they plan to continue to do so, but it’s a weight off their back to know that the option is there if they need it.

Merlin introduces Leon to the tunnels under the city, hidden and warded with his magic. The older knight is very much relieved at that; taking advantage of gaps in guard rotations wasn’t the most reliable plan, and he’d been paranoid for years that something would go wrong one day and he’d get caught.

They worked well together, though all three of their lives got a lot more complicated. Lancelot and Merlin were pulled into Leon’s secret smuggling life (despite him insisting that they could sit it out, considering they were already so busy trying to keep Arthur alive, which is apparently a lot harder than Leon had first assumed), and Leon was pulled into Merlin and Lancelot’s secret “bring about the Golden Age” life (despite the two of them insisting that Leon didn’t need to help, considering he was already so busy running a smuggling ring right under the nose of the King).

To be honest, the two lives sort of swirled together. Anyone that they sent to the Druid camps was told to spread the word of the Once and Future King, and when Leon was sent to distract Arthur when Lancelot and Merlin needed to do something Magicky, Lancelot was sent to distract Arthur when Leon and Merlin needed to do something smuggly.

Eventually Gaius finds out. Because of course he does. Because he’s not stupid. And whilst the three of them are unwilling to put him in anymore danger than he’s already in (harbouring a Warlock is... pretty dangerous. Though Arthur would probably forgive the older man anything.), they never turn away the small, portable medkits he passes along to them, and don’t complain when he offers to talk to Arthur about a promising new treatment for the flu for a few hours.

But overall, they have a proper little (unpaid) enterprise going, and no one suspects a thing. 

~

Mistakes are made of course, some a little bigger that others. But most of them get a laugh from the trio when they think back on them later.

Ironically enough, this mistake came when the trio mistook a “need to save Arthur” problem, for a “need to save this poor scared sorcerer” problem.

They’d been getting complacent. No one had tried to kill Arthur directly in a while, so when a visiting Lord brought with him a very nervous, very secretive stablehand, they didn’t even consider that it would be the young servant who wanted to kill Arthur as opposed to the visiting noble (who was an arsehole, and therefor automatically under suspicion).

Merlin, being the most powerful of the three of them, was keeping an eye on the noble; trying to keep him away from Arthur as well as trying to figure out if he knew that his stablehand was a magic-user. Leon was distracting Arthur, with the help of a report Gaius had written, by talking endlessly about certain weaknesses in the knight’s armour and the injuries that Gaius treats most often and the link between the two.

That left Lancelot to trail the stablehand, whose name they had discovered was Alban. He wasn’t wearing any armour and didn’t have a sword, only a small dagger up his sleeve, so as not to frighten the boy.

Which of course was a huge mistake.

Considering how innocent Merlin looks, but how dangerous he actually is, they really shouldn’t have underestimated the boy, but alas, with how well both of the secret lives had been going, their egos had grown, and they weren’t as careful as they should’ve been.

It was only after the Lord had retired to his chambers (and Merlin had come to the annoying conclusion that he was an arsehole, but certainly not smart enough to be dangerous), and Leon had exhausted every possible line of enquiry about armour and injuries, that the two of them thought something might be wrong.

It had been hours since they had heard from Lancelot, and by the sounds of it, no one had seen him in that time either.

The stablehand also couldn’t be found.

They tried not to assume the worst; all of them (Merlin, most often) had disappeared for longer before, so before they panicked, the two of them went about methodically searching for the other knight.

The wards down in the tunnels hadn’t been disturbed, Lancelot’s room was untouched (the sight of his armour and sword laid out on his bed did nothing to quell their growing anxiety), and no one had seen him leave the city. The Camelot stablehands had no idea where the visiting servant was, and had apparently barely seen him in the stables since he’d arrived anyway.

Now it was time to panic.

The two men rushed back to Lancelot’s room, shutting the door behind them, Merlin hurriedly asking:

“What’s the last thing he touched, do you reckon?”

Leon raked his hands through his hair for the dozenth time, looking around with wide eyes:

“Uh... we had training this morning, and he took his armour off after that, and immediately went to follow Alban, so his armour? His sword?”

Merlin picks the sword up in careful but hurried hands. He closes his eyes, concentrating, as he mutters a quick spell. The sword shimmers for a moment before Merlin throws it back down on the bed with a huff:

“Nope, the trail is there but it’s weak, I need something more recent.”

Leon curses quietly to himself:

“Try his water goblet? Or the wash bowl? God knows that man doesn’t like to be grimy.”

Merlin hums, walking to the wash bowl before halting in his tracks:

“Wait... no, you’re right. He doesn’t like being dirty,-”

With that, Merlin changes direction, heading to the small desk in the corner and opening the draws at random, rifling through them. Leon walks up behind him:

“Merlin? What are you-”

He’s interrupted by Merlin exclaiming in victory, and straightening up. He turns around with a grin on his face, holding out a small comb:

“-he will have run a comb through his hair after washing,-”

He pulls a short, brunette hair from between the wooden teeth:

“-and an actual piece of him is WAY better to track him with than something he’s just touched.”

He repeats the spell from earlier, the smile returning to his face when he begins to feel the pull in his heart, leading him to the lost knight.

The two of them leave the room hurriedly, Leon trailing after Merlin, both of them trying to look an inconspicuous as possible.

They walk briskly down the corridor, hope and excitement blooming in their chests at the idea of finding the friend they’d been so worried about. Leon puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but neither of them stop moving as he speaks lowly:

“Can you tell how far away he is?”

Merlin hums, before replying equally quietly:

“Yeah, I think he’s about... actually... no, no I can’t- what?”

With that, he stops dead in his tracks, stumbling when Leon runs into his back with a gentle “oof”. The knight looks down at him, his face back to looking panicked. They’d stopped at a crossroads in the corridor, and Merlin’s head twitches from side to side, like he can’t decide which way to go.

Leon shakes his shoulder slightly:

“Merlin, he’s been gone for hours, we need to hurry. Close your eyes, breathe, which way is Lancelot?”

Merlin does what Leon says, shuffling on his feet slightly before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and relaxing his shoulders:

“Where are you, Lance?”

He mutters it quietly to himself, and Leon barely dares to breathe, not wanting to distract him. After a few moments, Merlin’s head twitches to the right, the corridor that leads to the servant quarters. The servant opens his eyes, nodding briefly at Leon, before turning and walking down the corridor. 

He passes the first few doors without hesitation, thankful for the late hour; all the servants are either eating their own dinner, or serving dinner to their masters. Which is probably where Merlin should be right now, but he had more pressing matters, he could deal with Arthur later.

He slows as he reaches the end of the corridor, frowning in confusion. There are no more doors, they’ve reached a dead end, and Merlin tilts his head whilst Leon stares at him expectantly, periodically checking the corridor behind them. Merlin begins muttering to himself again, flexing his hands as if he were in pain:

“This is... wrong. I don’t come down here very often but... there’s... this is wrong. I can feel it and I can... see it, like there’s something out the corner of my eye that shouldn’t be there-”

He gasps, turning and looking at a specific part of the wall, hovering his hand over the stonework:

“-or something that should be there!”

Leon’s gaze flicks between the wall and Merlin as he quietly asks:

“A hidden door? Can you... unhide it?”

Merlin takes a second to snort and roll his eyes, before pressing his hand against the wall, muttering spells to himself. Leon turns around, hand on the hilt of his sword at his hip as he stands guard. After a few minutes of Merlin getting more and more frustrated when the wall stays... well... a wall, he finally lets out a whispered exclamation; Leon glances behind him to see the stone rippling, and finally fading to reveal the door. 

With one last check down the corridor, they enter the room slowly, shutting the door behind him. Leon whispers Lance’s name into the darkness tentatively, but Merlin just shakes his head, summoning a light.

It’s just a normal storage room filled with dusty shelves and empty crates, but Merlin moves through the debris to the back, cursing under his breath when he finds what he’s looking for. Leon moves up behind him, staring over the younger man’s shoulder to the precise symbol drawn onto the floor:

“Merls?”

Merlin huffs speaking lowly, not looking away from the symbol:

“It’s a teleportation spell, it’s why I was being pulled in two directions. Lance went through this portal, but it probably took him somewhere outside the city limits.”

Leon gulps, before taking a deep breath and gripping Merlin’s shoulder again:

“Can you activate it? Do we follow through the portal, or track him out of the city??”

Merlin shakes his head roughly:

“No, that would take far too long, we don’t actually know how long he’s been gone, it could have been all afternoon, remember? Look around, there should be a crystal or an orb or something, like a switch I have to push magic into to activate the spell.”

It only takes a few minutes of rummaging for Leon to uncover a rough looking crystal, and Merlin smiles weakly at the comically fearful look on the knight’s face as he holds it as far away from himself as he can; he may trust Merlin’s magic, but he is still logically... unnerved by things he doesn’t understand.

Merlin takes it from him, eyes turning briefly gold as he mutters an incantation and his hand is engulfed in a blue flame. The flame dies down after a few seconds at Merlin’s command, and he hides the now glowing crystal back where Leon had found it, before looking back to the symbol on the floor.

It takes only a few moments for the lines to start softly glowing, and when nothing else changes, Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him blindly for Leon’s hand, and muttering:

“Well, here goes nothing.”

He feels the knight take his hand and step up next to him. With one last nervous glance to each other, they nod, and step into the circle.

~

MEANWHILE

Thankfully, whilst Lancelot hadn’t been seen in a while (on account of being camped out in the hidden storage room, waiting for his stalkee to reappear out of the weird glowy circle thing), he had only actually been kidnapped by Evil Alban the Not-Stablehand for about half a candle mark.

And he was currently very bored. The younger man finally reappeared, only to fly into a rage at the sight of another man, crouched like a gremlin, almost asleep in the corner of the entrance to his secret lair.

His eyes had flashed sickly yellow, and Lancelot found himself falling over the edge into sleep, and waking up an undetermined amount of time (like five minutes, but it was so fucking dark where he was, he had no way to guess what time of day it was) later, tied to a chair (not gagged, thankfully).

He had realised the trio’s mistake fairly early on in Evil Alban the Not-Stablehand’s monologue; something about vengeance and sins of the father and yadda yadda yadda. Honestly? He tuned it out pretty quickly, he’d heard it all before... multiple times, and he wasn’t too worried; he had faith that Merlin and Leon would arrive to rescue him soon (though he wasn’t looking forward to all the comments along the lines of “who’s the real princess?”).

It was when he almost nodded off that Alban stuttered slightly:

“...after all, surely someone who is strong enough to take the crown should... should deserve... it... are you falling asleep?!”

Lancelot’s head whips up with a quiet snort as he blinks the sleep from his eyes, and looks at the outraged criminal with guilt in his eyes:

“Uh... no? You’re doing wonderfully, Alban, very riveting, keep going.”

The knight’s words do nothing to calm the other man down, and he exclaims slightly as he stamps his foot petulantly. Lancelot bites his lip to stop himself laughing, but before he can get himself under control and say something else, Alban puffs his chest out and grins triumphantly:

“Your mind games shan’t work on me, Sir Knight. I will not be distracted by your mocking or... or distractions.”

Lancelot raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Alban huffs, shaking his head roughly before looking back at Lancelot with wide, expectant eyes:

“Well? What do you think of my plan, noble Sir? Ineffable, no?”

Lancelot purses his lips, once again looking guilty as he chooses not to point out the younger’s misuse of the word ineffable (definitely NOT ineffable, considering he’d banged on and on for half a candle-mark):

“I don’t suppose you could... sum up the last twenty minutes or so worth of... plan? Then I could.... let you know my thoughts?”

Alban let out an inhuman screech, stamping his foot again, much to Lancelot’s hidden amusement. The Great Villain stalked off into the darkness, huffing and grumbling to himself, and Lancelot just rolled his eyes, murmuring under his breath:

“For fucks sake. Better not leave me here. Where the fuck are you guys?”

As if the Gods themselves answered the knight’s question, he hears another inhuman screech come from the darkness; though this one was a lot more high pitched, and was immediately followed by Leon’s unmistakable voice growling out:

“Where is he you pre-pubescent piece of shit?!”

Lancelot allows himself to snort at the likely look of terror on the Not-Stablehand’s face before yelling:

“Don’t make the kid shit himself Leon, if he does, you’ll be the one carrying his unconscious body back.”

He hears Merlin’s laugh and the distinct sound of a skull making contact with the hilt of a sword, before the two of them appear like ghosts, lit only by the glow of Merlin’s golden eyes, and the magical light floating between their heads.

Lancelot gives them a grin, shuffling in his binds slightly as he says:

“Took you long enough, he’s been banging on about how clever he is for fucking ages. Cut me loose, would you?”

Merlin clicks his fingers, the ropes falling the the floor as Leon checks him over for injury, and affectionately ruffling his hair, much to the other knight’s chagrin.

The three of them move to crowd around Alban’s crumpled form, hands on their hips as they stare at him, unimpressed. Lancelot sighs:

“You really didn’t have to hit him that hard, I don’t think he was that much of a threat.”

Merlin huffs and stalks off to reactivate the teleportation spell, leaving the chastising for Leon to deal with:

“Not much of a threat?! Lance no one had seen you in hours, we thought you were dead!”

Lancelot frowns and shuffles, suddenly looking apologetic:

“Ah, sorry. He took me less than a candle-mark ago, though I guess I lost track of how long I’d been sat waiting for him before that. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Leon huffs, but drops the subject as Merlin calls back to them. The curly-hired knight picks Alban up, laying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before following Lancelot in Merlin’s direction. They stand around the glowing symbol, and Lancelot rolls his eyes at Merlin’s glower:

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Mister I regularly show up after three days covered in bruises and blood with “The Tavern” as my only excuse.”

Leon snorts and Merlin rolls his eyes but smirks, and with that, the trio step into the circle, reappearing back in the storage cupboard with no one else in Camelot even vaguely aware of the mini adventure they’d had.

~

This happens for a while. Saving people (mostly Arthur) from the batshit insane things that happen in Camelot that no one but them seems to be aware of.

Of course, rumours fly about the oddly close connection the three men have. Lancelot is head over heals in love with Guinevere (which he ardently denies, despite Merlin and Leon’s repeated dramatic attempts to get them together) and everyone knows it, but even Arthur starts to (jealously) suspect something is going on between Leon and Merlin, especially when Merlin’s lack of talent when it comes to making up excuses is displayed yet again.

Leon and Merlin had been sneaking out of the castle, on their way to meet the teenage son of a noble who desperately needed to escape. Lancelot, who had a late patrol, was to meet them by one of the tunnel entrances outside the city limits, and assure that no other guards were nearby.

Unfortunately, the pair came across a sleepy King, on his way to the kitchens for a midnight snack.

The King stared at them with wide, shocked eyes, and the pair stared back. Leon grimaced slightly, and after a few moments of awkward silence, Arthur slowly asks:

“What are you two... doing?”

Leon takes a deep breath desperately trying to come up with something to say, but before he can find an excuse, Merlin pipes up:

“I was teaching him poetry.”

Leon lets out his breath before slowly covering his face with his hands as he shakes his head slightly. Merlin immediately realises his mistake and bites his lip, furrowing his eyebrows as he says:

“What I mean, is that-”

He’s cut off by Arthur holding a hand up, his face looking mildly put-off as he shakes his head:

“I don’t want to know. Yeah, I changed my mind, I really... don’t want to know.” Before turning around and heading back in the same direction he’d come from, hunger forgotten.

Merlin holds his breath until Arthur turns the corner, before letting it all out in one go and staring at the floor wide-eyed. Leon keeps his head in his hands as he mutters:

“You fucking idiot.-” before looking up at the man besides him incredulously:

“-Why??”

Merlin looks at him indignantly, and loudly whispers:

“I don’t know!! It was just the three of us in a dark corridor like last time and it just popped into my head and I said it! At least he didn’t push, I suppose.”

Leon shakes his head again, before a look of realisation crosses his face and he looks at Merlin with dread in his eyes:

“Yeah... except when you used that excuse on me- shut up, of course I knew you were lying, I’m not an idiot- I thought you and Arthur were uh... well, I thought you were sleeping together...”

Merlin’s eyes go wide and he sputters for a response before he lets out a quiet, deranged laugh, and shakes his blushing head:

“First off, no. Second off... at least he didn’t push.” he repeats. Leon squints at his friend, before he gasps and grins:

“Oh my God, you like him!-”

Merlin scowls at him, and Leon laughs gleefully (though still quietly) before whispering:

“-all this time we’ve been ribbing Lancelot about Guinevere, and we should’ve been ribbing you! Oh my God, wait ‘til Lance hears this.”

Merlin turns on him, face bright red as he angrily (or as angrily as he can, when he’s the colour of Leon’s cape, and the knight is trying not to wake the castle up with his laughter):

“I swear to God, Leon, I will turn you into a fucking toad if you breath a word to anyone! I’ll do it, I swear I’ll do it!”

Leon forces himself to breath and coughs slightly as he catches his breath, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder:

“Fine, fine. I won’t say anything, but only if you help me hang mistletoe up in Lance’s doorway next week.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, but nods his head with a grin, and with that, they resume their sneaking around.

~

This happens for what feels like years and years, but really, Merlin only gets one day into looking at Leon with a shit-eating grin and saying that the old man has been doing this for “decades”, when suddenly... they don’t have to do it anymore.

Arthur repeals the ban on magic. 

And to be honest, it was a complete surprise to everyone. Of course, the whole Kingdom knew that he was more tolerant than his father had ever been; he hadn’t executed anyone in years, and unless accusations were serious or life-threatening, he rarely ordered investigations.

As it turns out, he’d been working on it in secret for months, with only  Morgana’s help (not that he knew about her magic, she was just the only person in his life who’d always been vocally against the ban). All the work they’d put in meant that when it came time to present it to the council, all Arthur had to do was hold his head high and say something along the lines of “I am your King, you do this, or you lose your seat.”.

The drafts were so well-worked, so perfect, the council had nothing to argue against, no excuses worth more than a roll of the eyes and a dismissive wave of the hand.

The repeal went through seamlessly, and Arthur was announcing Merlin and Morgana as his Court Sorcerers within a week (after of course a few hours of raging at the lies and deception, in which they defended themselves and each each other with sharp tongues and entirely valid descriptions of their terror, and with Leon and Lancelot stood behind them the whole time ready to pull their swords at a moments notice).

Leon, Lancelot, and Merlin told the King about all their adventures saving his arse, which he floundered at before abashedly thanking them, but they never mentioned the now obsolete smuggling ring they had going.

Of course, there were moments when they missed the excitement of sneaking out at night, the victory of seeing a family off to the Druid’s, or to a safe village, but ultimately they were ecstatic that they weren’t needed in that capacity anymore. It was undeniably a good thing.

Their plan to keep their heroics to themselves failed miserably however, when a crowd of around two-hundred gathered in the courtyard, led by a woman in her mid-thirties who looked mighty familiar to Sir Leon.

The gang met them down there, armed and worried at first, but quickly relaxing when they realised this was the furthest to an attack a group this large could get.

The King led the party, Morgana, Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival to his left, and Merlin, Leon, and Lancelot to his right, Guinevere and Gaius waiting by the castle entrance. It was only when Lancelot gasped, and grabbed Merlin and Leon’s sleeves to point at a specific family near the front of the crowd that they understood. All these people, all these happy, joyful, alive people... were people they’d saved over the years.

The three of them gulped, suddenly teary as more and more of the crowd pointed their way, wide smiles on their faces. They knew that this wasn’t even half the people they had saved (if you include Leon’s sixteen years doing it alone), but still, it was astounding to visually see it.

The familiar woman stepped forward at Arthur’s gesture, and the trio suddenly realise what’s about to happen. “Oh shit.” and variants of the above are muttered by all three as they wait with baited breath. There’s not really anything they can do to stop this:

“Your Highness, firstly I would like to thank you, for accepting my people back into your Kingdom-”

Her voice quietens slightly as she glances to the floor, her eyes filling with tears before she looks up again:

“-many of us haven’t been home in... in a long time, and it’s good to be back.-”

Arthur nods, giving her a smile despite his still growing confusion at the crowd behind her. The woman looks quickly to Leon, giving him a brief smile as he gasps, recognising her. She looks back to the King, raising her voice and her head as she continues:

“-Secondly, I would like to extend an even greater thank-you to Sir Leon, and his two companions, without whom many of us would have died. They risked their lives sneaking us out of the city when your father hunted us, and after, when we were still at risk of execution, but they never stopped, and never gave up. We are but a fraction of the hundreds of people they saved, and we have nothing to offer them but our unending gratitude, and a humble demand that they are rewarded for their service to Camelot’s people. They are heroes to us all, and always will be”

Arthur looks slowly over to a very teary Leon, who doesn’t even glance his way as he stares at the former servant-girl, a weak smile on his face. Merlin and Lancelot meet The King’s gaze in his stead, smiling sheepishly and shrugging as they nod, confirming the woman’s story.

Arthur shakes his head minutely, half proud of his friends, and half annoyed at being caught off guard, before turning back to the woman, the smile back on his face:

“I’m glad to welcome you home, all of you, and I apologise that it took so long for me to right the wrongs committed by this Kingdom. Sir Leon and his companions will indeed be rewarded for their service,-”

At this, Arthur turns to look at the trio, a soft, meaningful smile on his face as he nods at them:

“-and I extend my thanks to them also, for being brave enough to protect my people, when I was not.”

Leon finally meets The King’s gaze, and returns his nod. Merlin and Lancelot each clap him on the back, before the three of them descend into the crowd. A loud cheer goes up around the courtyard, the rest of the knights, Morgana, and Guinevere looking on in shock as the trio greets person after person, accepting thanks and hugs and laughing joyously at the reminder of the good they’d done, despite their fear.

~

THE END!!

I really loved writing this one😄! Honestly this idea started out as crack, but I’m glad that it ended so wholesomely :)

Same as usual lads, someone wants to write it up properly or extend it, go for it, credit and tag me ✌️