#it seems that tristan has been paying attention

[ladamedemartel]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹Mini-Playlist: Tristora 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Send me a ship name and I'll build a mini-playlist of 5 songs for them.

Thistle and Weeds - Mumford and Sons

Couldn't Stop Caring - The Spiritual Machines

#1 Crush - Garbage

Disarm - Cover by the Civil Wars

Use Me (Original Version) - Pvris

[demigod-shenanigans]

Thinking about the lost trio’s mortal parents

Thinking about Esperanza and Beryl both being clear-sighted (it’s said that Beryl knew who Zeus was, both times, and Esperanza specifically talked to Leo about his powers and seemed to know who Hera was).

Thinking about Beryl, who was famous and had so much and who did everything to stay in the public eye. Who would have given it all, including sacrificing her own kids, to get Zeus’ attention back. Who only ever wanted Zeus for herself and never for her children. Who named Jason to placate Juno’s anger and ultimately gave up Jason to her. Who even in death remained bitter and blamed Thalia running away for her own choices and her death, saying she left when Beryl needed her the most, despite the fact that Thalia was nine and severely neglected and thought Beryl had killed her brother and an adult’s choices should never have been her responsibility to begin with. Beryl blamed it all on Olympus and showed no regret for her actions. Who thought she could just neglect both of her children and abandon her two year old with no consequences and that Jason would still join her. Who only cared about Jason once he was a hero and a warrior, and even then only cared for him as a tool of revenge she could use against the gods.

Thinking about Esperanza, who had nothing. Who was smart and skilled and barely scraping by despite her degree. Who would have given everything to keep her son safe. Who had a son prophecied to be a hero and tried to look the Fates in the eye and say no, because he was her son first and destined for bigger things second. Who banned Hera, the queen of the gods, from their apartment because the gods couldn’t have Leo, not yet, not when he was still so young. Who still tried to prepare Leo, with everything she had, because she knew she couldn’t keep him from his fate in the long run, but also knew there were at least tools she could give him that would help. Who, despite knowing that a god had once loved her, only wanted Hephaestus as a father for Leo, never as a partner for herself. Who only ever worried about the ways she could fail Leo, never about him failing her. Who was happiest around her son and loved him more than her own life. Who, even in death, never could have blamed Leo.

Thinking about Tristan, who is in some ways a mirror to both Beryl and Esperanza. Tristan grew up with nothing and eventually, as an adult, he suddenly had everything, except the things that really mattered to him. He couldn’t keep Aphrodite and never fell in love again after her. Tristan can’t see through the Mist, but he had his heart shattered by the mythological world anyway, even without seeing. He couldn’t save his father because at the time he didn’t have the money to pay for the treatment, he only became famous after.

His relationship with his daughter is really strained. He’s probably terrified of losing Piper like he lost his dad and Piper’s mom. Tristan works and works and works because he thinks if they just have enough he can keep Piper safe (because even if he couldn’t have kept her mom that way, enough money absolutely could have saved his dad), but that makes him unable to give Piper his attention, which is what she needs the most. Hell, he thinks he’s protecting her by keeping her away from his celebrity nonsense, and in a way he sort of is, but it’s not what Piper wants.

Thinking about Tristan seeing through the Mist in TLH and breaking. Thinking about Tristan finally seeing Piper, and her having to give up the one thing she’s wanted all this time and make him look away again because it shatters him.

Esperanza and Beryl could both see their children for who they were, one for the better, the other for the worse. Tristan can never see Piper for who she truly is. We’ve seen how it would destroy him if he did.

Thinking about Tristan losing everything until the only thing he has left to give Piper is his attention—and that’s enough. (I still wish that had been a choice on his part after realizing that’s what Piper wants and needs instead of being forced on him, but I digress.)

Tristan could have been more like Beryl. Their stories are decently similar. But even though he can never fully see Piper for who she is, and even though it took him longer than it should have, when his daughter needed him most, he turned around and learned to be more like Esperanza.

[pendragon-of-chaos]

Ambivalence

King of Chaos Arthur x Male!Reader

Warnings: Reader is the son of Zeldris and Gelda, Spoilers from manga chapters 104 - 108 aprox. (nothing really big, just storywise)

Word count: 1342

Thank the anon who requested it for his OC! I tried contacting him days ago because I'm not used to doing requests specifically for OCs (I prefer that my works are more "general" so the most people are able to insert themselves or their OCs in the stories) but since this was requested some time ago I couldn't receive an answer. In the end I decided to publish it writing (Y/N) instead of the OC's name, but keeping his main characteristics. That way if the OP who requested it comes through this he can just insert their name and know it was written specially for him, and at the same time other people can enjoy easily the oneshot too! Hope you like it!

Generally speaking, Arthur's knights don't usually comprehend some of his majesty behaviours. His mood changes whenever you least expect it. Just when you think you know his strategy, he says something you would never have thought about. Was he having a good or a bad day behind that smile? Who knows. But what they do know is his hatred for other races except humans.

Except that maybe that isn't really true, since their king has been visited by a certain someone from time to time, who was not only a demon, but half demon and half vampire.

Today was one of those days. The secret entrance that connected Camelot with the demon realm (and that was made specially for him) activated, and a familiar face passed through. Arthur didn't waste no time, and upon noticing his entrance he went to welcome him back

"A surprise visit today (Y/N)? You always like to impress me, don't you?" - The King approached him laughing - "Although I would prefer if you told me beforehand, that way I can at least prepare something and make sure I have no appointments"

(Y/N) didn't change his serious expression, arms crossed and looking directly to Arthur while the entrance behind him closed.

"I wish I was here just to kill some time, but this time was urgent. I couldn't stay anymore there"

Arthur stopped laughing and tilted his head, now curious of what had happened for him to be talking like that.

"That really isn't new with you, but what happened this time?"

"The four knights have entered the demon realm" - Arthur smirked at the information, seeing that Guinevere's words weren't a lie.

"Oh, I know, some of my knights are already following them, anything else I should know?"

"Well, I know my parents have already talked to the green haired one, Percival I think it was... and he was accompanied by a few more people..." - (Y/N) looked away while thinking for a few seconds, with a subtly sorrowful expression on his face that only could be noticed while paying extreme attention to him - "Mmh... I also saw my cousin there, Tristan... don't tell me he is what I think he is" He looked back at Arthur, who was smiling once again, trying to control his laugh

"So you didn't know it? I thought your parents maybe had told you... ~ But yes, he is one of the prophecy knights"

(Y/N) frowned, not wanting to believe a close member of his family had just become one of his biggest enemies

"By my father's look, it seems that he didn't know about it"

"So Meliodas didn't want to risk his son's life by spreading information, typical of him" - Arthur shrugged and started walking, inviting (Y/N) to follow him - "It must have been a big surprise for all of you"

"Everything has been a surprise since they entered the realm if I'm being honest. I've heard my father talk wonders about Percival, it looks like the whole clan adores him since years ago, and I didn't know anything about what had happened until now. It feels like my parents decided to drop every ounce of unknown information today, and the worst part is that it affects us" - (Y/N) clicked his tongue thinking about it - "I hate it"

"Can't blame you. I don't like them either ~" - Arthur responded with a bratty laugh, followed by a deep sigh from his companion, which made him stop his laughing once again, looking at him out of the corner of his eye - "Sorry, but you already know the story behind it, I can't bring myself to tolerate them just one bit"

"Yeah, I know, I can't defend them I guess. Anyways, I do need to tell you something else"

Arthur turned his head to face him again

"Wait, there's even more?" - (Y/N) nodded, looking at his surprised violet eyes

"Did you know that another portal to Camelot has appeared in the demon realm?"

Arthur's eyes opened with surprise, being this information the only thing he really didn't know about

"I didn't have any idea. I've never done any other connection with the demon realm besides your entrance. And I also didn't sense anyone entering from there"

"No wonder, since that opening is inaccessible for now. It's on the Behemoth's back, a giant monster which was put to sleep almost 15 years ago. I heard my father say that it recently woke up and now can be a big problem for us living in the realm, since when it's active it swallows up all life, including us demons or vampires... If that isn't your doing or your knights then I don't know what's happening"

"I see, well I don't think I have to worry that much then; although it might be because of those knights of the apocalypse, everyday giving me headaches... And besides, that would gather the attention to that one entrance, and not the one I made exclusively for you, which benefits us both, don't you think so? - Arthur smiled happily, closing his eyes - "If it ever becomes a problem you can come here! That's all I care about that matter"

"Thinking about it that way, I guess you are right" - (Y/N) lowered his head, thinking about his words and all the information he had to understand in just a few hours. Arthur opened his eyes, looking at him, noticing how lost in his thoughts (Y/N) was.

"Too much information huh? Understandable... but I'm glad you didn't waste time and came as fast as possible to explain it to me" - Arthur patted his head softly - "I knew making an exception for you was the right decision. But I also feared this moment, the moment when you would doubt yourself and how to proceed. Now that your parents are also involved, along with your clans, and helping my enemies; you want to help me, but at the same time it becomes more difficult, am I right? Can I also say that you might be a little scared? Scared of making the wrong decision, scared of losing what you love here in Camelot if you fail, and being considered a traitor at the same time. Nowhere to go in the end"

(Y/N) looked back at him, alarmed, trying to answer him fast, but the only words that initially left his lips were gibberish

"Arthur I-! I swore to help you and I'll keep doing it, it's just... too much information for the day as you said... I'll need to prepare myself for everything" - He took a deep breath - "But I know I'm in the right place, and I won't look back now... Because, I can also count with your protection, right?"

Arthur took back his hand from his head, smiling softly

"(Y/N), I'll be clear: Your safety is my priority, don't ever think the contrary" - A tint of blush appeared on both of them - "I'm just advising you to be careful so we don't need to take greater measures. Nothing would make happier than if you could live a "normal" life seeing the circumnstances. And think about having one of my marks, it would be safer"

(Y/N) turned his eyes away from Arthur's intense glare, breathing deeply

"Hmm... I'll think about it. The problem is if they ever see it, I won't be able to cover that up as easily as the entrance"

"Fair enough. We can discuss it again when I have the coffin of eternal darkness with me, that way you'll be free from its effect" - Arthur took (Y/N)'s hand, leaning to kiss its back - "Now... if you have told me everything you wanted, what about we spend the rest of the evening here?" - Arthur separated his face from (Y/N)'s hand, and continued walking holding his hand - "I could use some company while I wait for the results of this mission"

[enemyoflactose]

You've got me curious about Museumshipping. How would Ishizu try to fix Bakura?

This is kinda long. Sorry for the wait, and any scatter brained nonsense.

This is mostly speculation and Divine Intuition, but the main reason I think Ishizu could fix Yami Bakura is because she seems like the only neutral character in Yugioh. She’s also the only character with no real beef with him.

Like, Yami Bakura has made enemies with everyone else except Ishizu.

Shadi doesn’t like him because he killed him and most of the Plana

Pegasus probably doesn’t like him because he stole his millennium eye and killed him

Yugi doesn’t like him because he tried to steal the puzzle and kill/hurt his friends and lied to him about being a changed person

The rest of the Yugi gang don’t like him for the same reasons (tho I think Tristan would probably hate him the most because he pays the most attention to Ryou)

Ryou sure as hell ain’t trying to redeem him unless it’s right after he dies

Ghost and the Gang are in hell because of him (I hope he sent them to the cool hell)

Marik doesn’t like him because he just doesn’t like him

Odion probably doesn’t like him because he inadvertently got Marik killed by Yami Marik and he just does whatever Marik wants.

Mai probably doesn’t like him because of how he treats the Yugi gang

Aigami fucking hates him

No one else knows who he is

So, that leaves Ishizu as his last option to help at redemption. From what I’ve seen in the anime adaptation, Ishizu doesn’t see Yami Bakura as much of a threat (due to her necklace) and Yami Bakura just flat out has no clue who she is. I think these factors would make them willing to not only interact, but also maybe help each other out.

Maybe since Ishizu wants to protect ancient artifacts, and Yami Bakura likes stealing them. They both benefit by having Ishizu possibly pay him to go and find any missing artifacts. I just get the feeling that since he’s technically King of Thieves whether you think he’s more Zorc or not, he could find them pretty easily. I think he’d like having an excuse to steal.

There’s also the fact that since Ishizu has the power to look into the past, she could see everything that’s happened to Yami Bakura and begin to understand and sympathize with why he wants the items and why he hates Yami.

She snoops in his past more and more and starts to resent the Pharaoh, but she’s scared of what will happen if she betrays him.

I think it’d be interesting to see her having an internal conflict about this because she was raised to serve the Pharaoh, but at the same he hurt Yami Bakura in ways that can’t ever be forgiven.

Ishizu being the only other person to know both sides of the story could be important to Yami Bakura getting redeemed.

And now time for this plot bunny that has been stuck in my head for a few months.

I think that in the situation where Yami Bakura got his own body sometime after the Memory World arc, he’d fall on some pretty hard times. Not as hard as it could be since he’s the greatest thief to ever exist, but he is homeless, jobless, motivationless, and he probably thinks he’s worth nothing and is a failure. Not because he tried to end the world or anything, but because his revenge plan just didn’t work.

I like to imagine that Ishizu found him one day, pitied him, and decided to let him stay at her house until he feels well enough to get an apartment. She tells him that everything in her house is just as much his as it is hers (to kill any desire to steal since it’s already his. Yes it would work), she makes him food whenever he has no energy to get up, she reasures him that he isn’t a failure just because this one revenge plot didn’t work out for him, and she comforts him.

Over time, Yami Bakura starts to feel bad. Not about hurting Yugi and the gang, but he does feel a little stupid for trying to end the world. The world that Ishizu lives in. This could lead him to trying to help Ishizu around the house to show her mild gratitude, giving her small gifts (usually a hair accessory), and attempting to cook for her. That usually ends in a disaster. A disaster that Yami Bakura expects to get yelled at for and maybe kicked out. To his surprise, that doesn’t happen. Ishizu just laughs at his misfortune with cooking and helps him clean up the mess.

I like to think that at that moment, they slowly begin to fall in love.

Of course I have other ideas for them, but this one has been eating away at me for a long time. It’s such a shame that this could only work as a slow burn longfic because I wanna write so bad.

[alj4890]

Escaping for a Moment

(Ernest Sinclaire x MC*Catherine Mills) in a Choices Desire and Decorum drabble

Thirty Kisses in Thirty Days Challenge with the prompt: forbidden lovers sharing a kiss in the shadows

Not quite sure who to tag for this one since it has been so long since I last wrote a drabble for this pair. Plus in cleaning out my drafts folder I lost my permatag list 🤦🏻‍♀️Tagging some who won't be too angry at me for doing so, LOL! @hopelessromantic1352 @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @choicesficwriterscreations @krsnlove

Masterlist

"Enjoying yourself, my dear?"

Lady Catherine Mills stiffened at the sound of her fiancé's voice.

There was nothing that made her skin crawl quite like Tristan Richard's oily tone.

A scathing insult sat on the tip of her tongue to give the odious man the set down he so rightly deserved. One glance at her grandmother's stern demeanor instead had her forcing a smile.

"I am. Thank you, your grace."

The Duke of Karlington leered at her. He purposely moved closer and placed her hand within the bend of his arm. He enjoyed watching her suffer being trapped with him.

The Dowager Countess beamed at the pair. She was pleased beyond measure that her natural granddaughter had managed to capture such a prized suitor. There wasn't a young lady here who had done so well in such little time.

Nor with such a questionable background.

"You should dance and show her off, your grace." She prodded.

"What a marvelous notion." Tristan remarked.

He placed his hand over Catherine's, smiling all the more with her trying to avoid his touch.

"Shall we show them how it's done, my lady?"

Catherine knew she must say yes. It galled her to have to spend a single moment in this man's presence much less dance with him. The thought of his hands upon her body made her wish to find a chamber pot to wretch in.

If only she was allowed to marry the one man whom she so deeply loved. Mr. Ernest Sinclair was so many things to Catherine. He'd been her savior, her friend, and finally the one who stirred her soul like no other.

Why had they tarried so long that night before sharing the joyful news of their engagement? If they'd only found her grandmother sooner, Catherine would be eagerly taking a turn on the dance floor with her fiancé, Mr. Sinclair, instead of the fiend pretending to be a gentleman at her side.

Life seemed determined to be unfair for the young lady. Not only was she denied her true love, she also was denied even a glimpse of him. For reasons she assumed were because she was promised to another, Mr. Sinclair had yet to make an appearance this evening.

If it were not for Ms. Parsons and Prince Hamid being there to bolster her spirits, Catherine would most likely have dissolved into tears. Her heart ached for Ernest. She was near the point of throwing decorum out the window and running off to Gretna Green with him.

She no longer cared if her beloved father had intended to leave Edgewater to her instead of her stepbrother. Mr. Marlcaster wasn't a bad sort. Catherine could see that he truly had a kind heart when not under the thumb of his mother.

If her dear Briar believed he was all that was good in this world, then Catherine couldn't doubt it. Her friend had a way of seeing one's true nature. Mr. Marlcaster might fumble the finances and such, but he would be a good steward to the people of Edgewater.

She knew if she was to run away with Ernest, scandal would be forever associated with her name. Did it matter though? Her questionable birth already tainted her reputation, though she had no control over those circumstances. At least the new gossip would be something she could happily live with.

"Lady Catherine?" Tristan hissed. "Are you not paying attention?"

Catherine jerked her head away from the feeling of his breath on her ear.

The Dowager laughed at the notion.

"She is most likely lost in thought over the notion of marrying you, your grace."

Tristan's smile was one most ladies deemed charming.

Catherine found little to like in it.

"Is that true, my dear? Are you thinking about our wedding?" His voice lowered for her ears alone. "Or is your baseborn nature concentrating on our wedding night?"

Catherine jerked her hand from his. Trembling with suppressed rage, she pleaded for them to excuse her.

Blinded by angry tears, she wound her way through the crush of guests in search of an escape. Since the retiring room was filled with giggling ladies, she next hoped to find a quiet corner outside to try and calm down.

She shook her head when Prince Hamid asked if she needed him. After tripping her way to a side door, Catherine slipped outside and rushed deep into the shadows.

Her exit was halted by a pair of strong arms wrapping around her.

"Catherine?" Mr. Sinclair said softly to try and shush her cries.

"Ernest!" She twirled in his arms, her hands cupping his face as her lips immediately sought his.

Ernest deepened the kiss, holding her even closer within his embrace.

Catherine broke away to catch her breath. "I thought you were not coming."

"I could not stay away." He caressed her cheek. "I do not care what anyone thinks. I refuse to stand by and see you married to such a man as Duke Richards."

Though she couldn't see him well, his voice made her heart sing with his next words.

"You were created for me, Catherine. You are to be no one's wife but mine."

She sighed into the heat of his next kiss. Her hands moved along his broad shoulders, glorying in the fact that he was truly here and still wanted her for his own.

"My love," she breathed as his lips brushed kisses down her neck, "I want nothing more than to be Mrs. Sinclair."

"And so you shall." He fervently promised. "We will find a way out of your betrothal. The Duke of Karlington will not lay another finger on you."

The mention of her fiancé's name forced Catherine to reluctantly pull away.

"I should return before my grandmother sends the duke for me."

"I'll escort you back." Ernest pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before releasing her.

She took his arm, leaning closer than appropriate. She needed a few more moments near him if she was to endure the rest of the ball.

Once inside, notes were played to signal that the Allemande was about to begin.

"Would you do me the honor, my lady?" Mr. Sinclair asked in that proud proper tone of his.

Catherine looked up at him. Her eyes traced his handsome features in the nearby candlelight. Her first genuine smile of the night appeared upon her slightly kiss swollen lips. She could continue to play the part of a respectable noble as long as he was near.

"Thank you, Mr. Sinclair." She said with a polite tilt of her head. "I would love to."

As he took her in his arms to dance, Catherine felt both her hope and courage return.

She would find a way to freedom and celebrate it with the man at her side.

[aceofnace]

I don't think a one frame still plucked out of the scene at large highlights the true emotions within it. For instance that frame you chose for Nancy with Tristan, the scene in it's entirety and the performance Kennedy gives doesn't communicate curiosity and a mystery to solve, but actually Nancy growing closer to Tristan and getting intimate in a comfortable way, recognizing this person as a safe place. We can't hype fixate on a single frame to communicate the true intentions of a full scene performed.

I think what people are forgetting is that Nancy confessing a sin at the black door changed everything. Nancy wasn’t romantically interested in Tristan before her sin was eaten. It took her having her memories and feelings for Ace altered to get her to even consider Tristan as an option. So, even if she’s “growing closer” to Tristan, it’s only because she has forgetten she’s in love with Ace. Plus, if she thinks Tristan is her soulmate, now she’s probably feeling obligated to fall for him. Because it’s fate and destiny, so why fight it? But we all know as soon as Nancy gets her real memories back, she’ll be back to loving Ace. It’ll always be Ace for her (and if you think any different, you haven’t been paying attention).

Again, we don’t know the real deal with Tristan yet and Kennedy said we won’t until the finale. So it seems pretty clear to me that this bond she seems to be forming with Tristan is a misdirection and in the end will mean nothing. So any romantically charged scenes they may share together just feel kinda forced to me, especially since it has literally come out of nowhere. But that’s just my opinion!

[cozycryptidcorner]

i'm sick and bored so here's a snippet of winter's first chapter.

let me know what you think, i'm trying to pull a "mysterious and weird thing is happening right now vibe." tristan is also looking for something specific.

Nevada opens her eyes, blinking rapidly at the bright, sun-like light blasting from the middle of the Central Square ceiling. It takes her a moment to remember how to breathe, the muted but familiar burn of acid settling in the back of her throat. Her knees buckle slightly, but she catches herself, holding out her arms for balance, trying to figure out how she got there. 

Is she hungover? That’d look bad, if she gets caught out in public while barely able to think sentiently. People walk slowly around her, in a neat, perfect current, the ones nearest sidestepping around her still body without so much as a glance. She sucks in her breath and slowly presses herself up against the wall, trying to check for the exits. 

One, two, three hallways open up in the wall, but they were always there. One leads to housing, one to the terminal, and one to the docking bay, and as Nevada blinks, everything else seems to snap neatly into place. Lights projected in an empty, rusted fountain to imitate the flow of water, the ballistic covers permanently welded shut over acid-worn fiberglass windows, layers of soot-covered posters going back six decades. 

Carefully, back to the wall, she slides her way over to the hall leading to housing, hoping to get back to familial units before she gets the wrong attention. Still, no one pays her mind, which is unusual, but Nevada is not about to complain. She walks, staring at the floor, rubbing the skin around her fake eye, but she trips and-

She’s home, sitting on a stool, up against the island counter as her mom stands by a cabinet, pinching pain behind her eyes. She doesn’t remember getting back to the unit, Nevada can only see her mom’s thick, frizzled hair, curls limp and ashy from a long shift at the refinery. There’s a quiet hum, a soft gurgle, and Nevada realizes her mom hasn’t moved for the past few seconds. Concern wretches through her body and she stands-

The shift bell screeches, and Nevada is standing over a broken vent she’s welding together. The soldering iron is in her hand, flame a little blue, and she shuts her helmet over her face. Something is wrong, she thinks, wondering if she’s sick. Isn’t she a little too old to be wearing her apprentice uniform, anyways? In fact, wasn’t she shuffled into another shop after getting into an altercation with her foreman? 

She wobbles backward, and she’s sitting in the office of her Chloe, quality of life coach, the couch sinking a little too much to be comfortable. Her knuckles are bruised and scabbed over, not fresh, but days old, though she catches herself picking the flayed flesh raw. Her quality of life coach moves some things around the desk, her blond hair tied up in a messy bun, her office tidy and corporate. It’s the only place that doesn’t smell like hot metal and soot, with an expensive air filter spraying a floral scent into the air as it removes any acidic properties. 

Nevada thinks, for just a moment, about tucking the sleek rectangle beneath her shirt and waddling out of the office with it. Not to steal it, necessarily, but to see if she can pull any kind of reaction from her quality of life coach, who has been so positively chipper that Nevada leaves the sessions angrier. If her assignment had any good intentions behind it, anyways. She hit one man, twice her size and twice her age, and her disciplinary committee has her sitting in an air-conditioned office full of life-saving luxuries she could never afford, coloring mandalas with half melted crayons-

Why is her quality of life coach staring at her like that? 

Nevada hadn’t even realized she stopped talking, she was too busy staring at the vent shaft, wondering if she could wriggle through it. Chloe isn’t saying anything, just looking, her eyes wide and almost accusatory, which is out of character enough that Nevada feels the hair along her arms stand up. 

“What?” Nevada asks, resisting the urge to be overly defensive. Chloe wouldn’t know about the boxing practice, yet, and she hasn’t gotten in any fights on the work floor. 

Chloe slowly quarks her head to the side, her features strange, blurry. But her eyes are clear, open, staring, in a studious way, like she’s gauging Nevada as some kind of threat. And strangely, colored, Nevada realizes, like she’s wearing colored contacts to make her irises purple. 

“What?” Nevada demands again, feeling annoyance rattle her chest. She narrows her eyes when Chloe doesn’t immediately answer, “what’s wrong?”

Another uncomfortable second passes, and Nevada stands to leave, only for a sharp pain to wretch through her body. She sits back down in the infirmary, a rotary blade lodged in her right eye. Nevada is still a metalworker apprentice, in the same unit as her mom, who is currently chewing out the foreman overseeing her shift. 

Nevada tries really hard not to cry, even though she can feel tears flow from her one good eye. She doesn’t want that foreman to see her weak, he’s such a mean-spirited dick who takes every opportunity to remind her of any mistake she makes. The only reason he’s here is because he thought Nevada and her mom were leaving their shift early and chased them down. Even after he gagged at the sight of her injury, now he wants to have an attitude about the cracked protective glasses that didn’t do shit to shield her eye. 

Anger blossoms in her stomach, and her headache worsens. It feels like there’s some kind of creature crawling around inside her skull. It’s not the same pain as the literal shard of metal slicing through her eye, but it feels somewhat familiar. Earlier- not this morning at breakfast, that doesn’t make sense- wasn’t she doing something else? Didn’t she hit that foreman and get removed from the unit? 

Wasn’t she just in her quality of life session to work on her anger management? 

The medic turns the corner, wearing a medical mask, and he kneels down to see the injury more clear. Nevada isn’t thinking about the pain in her eye anymore, because she’s suddenly aware that this- the accident, the doctor visits, the favor her mom had to pull to get a mechanical replacement. This is the same medic that helped pull the rotary blade and shards of the protective glasses from her skull. 

He looks her over, but Nevada sees a flash of white in the corner of her eye. Her entire face hurts as she turns, but it fades as she sees a shadow walk away just out of the infirmary, in the hallway. When she turns back to the medic, his eyes are the same, icy, light purple of- they’re the same as Chloe, who Nevada hasn’t met, because Nevada is fourteen years old and her mom is still alive. 

[joseopher]

GUYS, I FOUND A BROOKLYN 99 AUDIO THAT IS PERFECT FOR THE ATLAS SIX

[This takes place sometime early in book 1]

[We open scene in the library, Dalton is standing there prepared to start his lecture, but no one is paying any attention. They're all looking at the clock. Or rather Nico sitting on top of one of the tables staring at the clock more intently than everything he's ever stared at anything in his entire life]

Nico: Wait for it...Wait for it...

[The clock's hand moves]

Nico: 9:01, Libby Rhodes is officially late for the first time ever!

[Nico smiles, perhaps it's meant to look sinister, instead, he looks like a child that just stole an extra cookie]

Nico: Alright, let's do this! Who's go theories?

Tristan: Uh, alarm didn't go off?

Nico: All three alarms? All with battery backup? Come on, who wants to take this seriously?

Reina: She was taken in her sleep.

Nico: That's what I'm talking about! Super dark Reina, but way more possible than Tristan's ridiculous alarm clock theory.

Parisa, with a slow seductive voice: I bet she touched herself in bed too tight and got stuck.

[Callum inspects imagery dirt from underneath his nail]

Callum: Hmm, maybe she fell into another dimension where she's interesting.

[The door opens and Atlas enters the library]

Atlas, sounding monotone: It's 9:00 AM, why hasn't the lecture started?

Nico: Libby Rhodes is a few minutes late and we're all trying to guess why.

Atlas: Well, I can play.

[The others exchange glances]

Atlas: Hmm I'd say she's in line at the bank.

[The room is silent]

Atlas: This is fun.

Nico: It is fun, but you're all wrong! She clearly slipped through a subway grade and is having terrible sex with a mole man.

[The door is thrown open and Libby runs in]

Nico: There she is!

[Nico's face turns into a mockery of serious]

Nico: Rhodes where have you been we've been worried sick!

[Nico gestures at them all, Parisa has started reading the book in front of her, Reina is glaring at a fern in the corner, Callum and Tristan have started whispering judgments about the whole situation to each other and Dalton is staring at Parisa's breasts. Atlas, however, seems engaged]

Nico, at Libby: Do you care to explain yourself?!

Libby, flustered: I'm just seventy seconds late, it's not a big deal, don't worry about it!

Atlas, sternly: Miss. Rhodes, you will tell us and you will tell us now.

Rhodes: There...was a problem at the bank.

Atlas: HOT DAMN!

[Atlas begins to perform a victory dance]

[malorydaily]

While concerns of geography, place, and conquest/control are prominent in much medieval romance literature—particularly Arthurian romance—Malory’s text is unique among accounts of King Arthur for the way in which it imagines the map of Arthur’s world, an imagining that is best understood when viewed in light of some of the specific concerns of fifteenth-century England.

Engaging the Morte Darthur from the perspective of Cornwall helps throw into sharp relief the contours of the unique problems inherent in the late medieval British relationship between regionalism and nationalism. Using Cornwall in Malory as a kind of pivot point, we can apprehend this relationship between the whole and the part, but we cannot resolve it. Indeed, close analysis reveals that it can never be resolved, and herein lies the significance. the stubborn refusal of Cornwall to be categorized—and our attention to this refusal—helps us better see the Morte Darthur as a text that produces difference and presents challenges so that its characters have a means of defining themselves. Cornwall helps make plain the necessity of always striving toward resolution, toward incorporation, but never achieving it. The endless deferral is essential to Malory’s narrative.

[...]

It is a commonplace to note that the world in which Malory lived was one full of territorial concerns and the mourning of geographic losses. At the time when Malory was writing his text, the Angevin empire had long been whittled away. all English continental holdings—save Calais—were gone, and England itself was fractured in multiple ways. although both Malory and his first printer, Caxton, refer many times to “all ye englishmen,” their contemporaries were much more likely to identify themselves first in terms of their local affinities rather than their national ones. This does not preclude national sentiment, but it does mean we must pay as much attention to local identities as to national.

Such a self-identification becomes all the more interesting when we consider that many of those living in Cornwall in Malory’s day most likely spoke Cornish as a first language, although many certainly also spoke english. Thorlac Turville-Petre argues that “defining the nation in terms of territory or race presents considerable complications. By far the most satisfactory form of self-definition is in terms of language, wherever this can be achieved.” By this definition, Cornwall would seem to be an entity distinctly separate from England. the position of this region within Malory’s text becomes even more interesting when we consider that Benedict Anderson has famously and contentiously suggested that it is the explosion of print culture that helps give rise to the nation—an “imagined community”—through the fixing and dissemination of texts in vernacular languages.

[...]

Cornwall is contradictorily both part of england and distinct from it, as Patricia Clare Ingham’s astute comment on the opening lines of the Morte Darthur makes clear: “either the ‘all’ of england Uther rules does not include Cornwall, or Uther remains only titular ruler there, his power compromised by the duke’s rebellion” (see figure 1.1). Cornwall is the source of Malory’s Arthurian community at the level of narrative—Arthur is born here to a Cornish mother—and Cornwall is the Morte Darthur’s center in terms of structure—the middle third of Malory’s text is based on the old french Prose Tristan. in the final conflict between Arthur and Launcelot, the knights of Cornwall side with Launcelot: “then there felle to them, what of north walys and of Cornwayle, for sir lamorakes sake and for sir trystrames sake, to the number of a seven score knyghtes” (1170.26–29). and it is from Cornwall that Arthur’s heir comes, as we are told in the closing lines of the Morte: “then syr Constantyn that was syr Cadores sone of Cornwayl was cho- sen kyng of englond, and he was a ful noble knight, and worshipfully he rulyd this royaume” (1259.27–29). again and again, Malory’s Morte Darthur returns to the realm of Cornwall, as if seeking to reconcile the identity of this geographic space with that of the arthurian community to which it gave birth, from which it remains estranged, and to which it is essential.

– Dorsey Armstrong, Mapping Malory's Morte: The (Physical) Place and (Narrative) Space of Cornwall

[ronanzng]

☆ — 𝙍𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙉 𝙕𝙀𝙉𝙂.

      highlights & keywords; eccentric, a touch of elitism, his end would come through hubris, lacked the parental affection, demanding attention, acting only on impulse, excelling, always second, dramatic, believed he was better than people, a god complex

is that RONAN ZENG ? a SOPHOMORE originally from MANHATTAN, they decided to come to ogden college to study DRAMA. they’re THE HUBRISTIC on campus, but even they could get blamed for greer’s disappearance.

FULL NAME: ronan zeng

SEXUALITY & PRONOUNS: bisexual, he/him

ROMANTIC STATUS: single

BIRTHDAY: october 30th, 2003

HEIGHT: 6″2

BIG SIX: scorpio sun, aquarius moon, scorpio rising, leo venus, aries mercury, scorpio mars

HOMETOWN: manhattan, new york

OCCUPATION: full-time student

EXTRACURRICULARS: captain of the swim team, debate team member, SAE frat member

SIBLINGS: an older sister, by one year

TATTOOS & PIERCINGS: a nose ring & eyebrow piercing, and five small-medium tattoos scattered across his body — 1 on his left arm, 2 on his right arm, 1 on his chest and 1 at his ankle.

MUSE INSPO: tristan dugray (gilmore girls), max wolfe (gossip girl reboot), lumpy space princess (adventure time), sharpay evans (high school musical)

AESTHETICS: old money, messy hotel rooms, an apathy built by money, a lana del rey song, crashed vintage cars, body glitter, the chaos of unnecessary drama, an echo in an empty theatre, a god complex,

THREE POSITIVE TRAITS: eccentric, quick-witted, fun

THREE NEGATIVE TRAITS: impulsive, hedonistic, arrogant

THREE SKILLS: acting, piano, competitive swimming 

RELATIONSHIP TO GREER: a family friend. ronan has always been closer to eddie than anyone else in that family, but he knew them all pretty well — the good, the bad, and the ugly. greer was part of that. 

HOW THEY EMBODY THEIR CHARACTER TROPE. arrogance, pride, a touch of elitism (when he’s not trying his best to pretend he isn’t) and feeling like you deserve a lot more than what you’ve been given — if ronan lived in a greek myth or a greek tragedy, his end would come through hubris and nothing else.. 

EXTRACURRICULARS: captain of the swim team, debate team member, SAE frat member 

☆ — 𝘽𝘼𝘾𝙆𝙂𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙉𝘿

ronan zeng was born into money, wealth, and luxury. his father was a ceo of a software company that generated an obscene amount of money for him, and his mother had her own small side businesses that she owned and visited often. she could have easily slipped into the rich house wife lifestyle, but what was admirable about his mother was that she chose not to. but as admirable as that was, it also meant that both parents were quite absent and focused on work for most of his life, if not all of it, to pay any real attention to him and his sister.

naturally, that caused a ripple effect — they lacked the parental affection and attention that children crave, so they grew up to become people demanding the attention that he thought he deserved. for ronan, this came in becoming more eccentric, causing a little more trouble, saying out of pocket things just to get a reaction, and acting only on impulse. this desire to be seen didn't only come in the form of a wild streak — it also came in excelling at the piano, and swimming, joining the debate club and being the loudest most obnoxious fuck in there, and current day, joining a fraternity on campus. still, it seemed to get him nothing more than a hair ruffle, or a nod of approval, or a few words of affirmation that felt scripted from both his parents. it wasn't like he doubted that his parents loved him — at least, he never doubted his mother. they just didn't really put him above their careers, always second. this is why ronan wanted to be the first and the best at everything he did.

as far back as he could remember, ronan grew up alongside the morrisons. they were like a second family — full of the good, and the bad side of a family. he was the closest to edward, as they were the same age, and did pretty much everything together. for a second, he thought that he and eddie would be close friends until they grew old. but now, that hasn't been the case, after their most recent fight that they haven't been able to come back from.

☆ — 𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙔

eccentric, dramatic, and absolutely loves being the center of attention. he demands it, and tries to get it in every single room he's in. ronan grew up learning how to grab people's attention, so it was effortless at this point, but never quite enough

he really hates to be seen as some elitist rich trust fund baby, so he likes to pretend that he isn't... but deep down, it's how he grew up, and it was all he grew up around. he's always been privileged, and it shows in those rare moments when he isn't able to catch himself from letting his trust fund baby show. he truly believed that he was better than people, whether he wanted to shout that out loud or not.

ngl guys this is all i got so far, this is a new muse for me and im still figuring him out.... i will let u know if i add more shit lmfaoo please plot with me.

[kate-bishops-waifu]

Could you please do a Tristan x reader?

Perhaps where the reader ran away from home and Darrowby took them in as a stray. They might act as a secretary for the practice and work under Mrs. Hall. And someone has just pointed out Tristan that he's in love with them and is now awkward and flustered.

Or something entirely different

a.n. So sorry this took so long! I've been busy and quite frankly unmotivated. But I hope you like it. Have a lovely day, and thanks for the request nonny.

Tristan x gn!Reader

'Unethical'

No I have not seen the '78 All Creatures.

Warnings: Like one swear? Tristan being an anxious boy. Siegfried.

Fluff. Friends to lovers. The slightest hint of angst.

word count: 2241

He/They pronouns for Tristan

Six months in Skeldale house had taught you how a somewhat more sane world operated. You had space to move about without bumping into machinery, you weren’t suffocating in what amounted to a tenement and you had a bed all to yourself. 

Tristan had compared your room to a broom closet, but you didn’t mind. No rats crawled over you, no bed bugs bit at you.

It was a palace to you. 

The tall ceilings, the stone walkway, the numerous alcoves you could just fit a small table

with a plant or picture in. You’d never been more comfortable in your whole life. But

you couldn’t entirely relax, could you? 

No.

 The room sometimes suffocated you, the jobs were sometimes too clean and safe. It felt foreign. All you had to worry about was how dinner would be ready in time and if the

Bookkeeping was safe. And it was quiet. Not too quiet, especially on days the surgery was open, chickens, dogs, and all sorts came in on those days and you felt you could breathe a little easier. But every other day was quiet. Jess, the kindest most obedient pup you had met was so quiet that she merely tilted her head at the door when someone came in. She didn’t protest when you put her in the back, she just quietly went along like it was routine. And it was. 

You were in the grand kitchen with the fine wood table and window into that magnificently unkempt garden. Tristan was sitting on the counter, something they only ever did in your company. Siegfried or Mrs. Hall would let them have a piece of their mind. Say something about it being unsanitary, while Jame’s just sort of chuckled and went on with his day. 

You didn’t mind though. In fact you like Tristan’s company most. He had this relaxing attitude about life, and infectious joy you admired. You felt like a real person around him, unlike the rest of the village who seemed to find you a peculiarity. Something interesting to whisper about. 

You’d been long in thought. Tristan was going on about cricket, some fantastic feat was played the last time it was broadcast that he was still buzzing about. You wanted to pay attention, but you had been overtaken by that feeling again. Like you were living a dream about to wake up to a loud stuffy room with your parents arguing in the next as the never ending sound of machinery rumbled the weak walls. 

‘Y/N? Y/N are you alright? I think I lost you.’ Tristan was practically waving his hand in front of your face, leaning over to try and get your attention. 

‘What? Oh. Sorry, guess I zoned out. What were you saying?’ 

Tristan tilted his head at you and squinted like he was trying to read your thoughts. Which he was, but he wasn’t very successful. 

‘Alright, spill it. I’m not about to judge you, you know. Six months here; you’re practically part of the furniture.’ 

You shake your head, placing a plate on the drying rack and wiping your hands. ‘It’s going to sound strange. So don’t judge me.’ 

Tristan straightened up, to show you he was taking it seriously, grabbing to top of the side of the counter, he nodded. 

You rubbed your forehead with the heel of your palm, and chuckled at yourself. ‘It’s. . . Well it’s too quiet. Here. In the house. I constantly feel like something has gone wrong. You know the other week, that dog who wouldn’t stop howling?’ 

Tristan shuddered at the memory. 

‘That was, for whatever reason, the most relaxed I’ve been here. Like I’m looking forward to a busy surgery so things can be a bit more hectic.’ 

Tristan shook his head seriously. ‘You want me to start banging pots and pans every half hour?’ 

You breathed out a chuckle and tossed the towel at him. ‘I’m serious! It puts me on edge.’ 

Tristan dropped down from the counter, still chuckling at himself. ‘You want the radio?’ he asked, joyfully kissing the side of your head as he hopped over to the wood box on the other side of the dining table. 

‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it. But yes. If you wouldn’t mind.’ 

The radio sputtered on as you leaned back against the counter. You didn’t recognize it, but Tristan began to hum along. 

‘What is this?’ You asked. 

Tristan shrugged. ‘Don’t know the name. Heard it before. Goodman I think the chap’s name is?’ He ventured. 

‘Tristan!’ Came a recognisable belt from the back entrance. Siegfried charged in, a muddy white coat in his hands. ‘What on earth are you doing? I thought I told you do mix the-’ 

‘I know, I know. I already did it.’ Tristan interrupted.

‘Well did you organize them correctly? Last time I couldn't find the calcium injections.’ 

‘He was just keeping me company. He finished his duties.’ You said. ‘I made sure of it.’

Siegfried eyed the pair of you, eyes flicking back and forth. ‘Alright. Good.’ There came a loud barking from the other side of the house, and Siegfried squared his shoulders. 

‘Surgeries open. Go on back to work.’ He directed,

Tristan hopped to it, turning back with a grin as he mouthed, ‘like that?’ motioning to the door where the infernal racket came from as people flowed in. 

You laughed, nodding in agreement as Tristan gave a self satisfied smile. 

Siegfried was still gazing between you with hooded eyes, like he was trying to decide something. 

‘Tea Mr. Farnon?’ 

‘I think so Y/N.’ He took a seat at the table, sighing comfortably as you put the kettle on. 

Siegfried Farnon was, to say the least: A lot. Six months as his employee and you'd seen his highs and lows and determined that he was overall a good man with well meaning. But he wasn’t always a kind man. Especially to Tristan who you always wanted to speak out in defense of. 

‘Where’s James?’ Mrs. Hall asked as she came through the same back door. 

Siegfried checked his watch, a mouth full of toast. ‘Should be at the Hanson’s.’ He guessed. 

Mrs.Hall nodded and hung up her coat. Dropping a bag of groceries on the counter. You poured the tea, watching as she went into the corridor. Not a minute passed before she was hurrying back, Tristan on her tail. 

‘Siegfried, I’m gonna need your help.’ Tristan announced from the doorway. 

Mr. Farnon looked at the tea in his hand dejectedly and stood up following his contemporary.

The air in the sterile operation room was mild. It wasn’t a particularly scary procedure, you just couldn’t do it alone. 

You made quick work of cleaning up, having a piece of toast for yourself, before going ahead to see what was happening. 

Tristan was examining the area of interest, taking a pair of scissors to the spot. His eyes kept darting up to the window through the makeshift waiting room. You were explaining something to one of the waiting customers who looked especially impatient. 

‘What’s that? Why are you so distracted?’ Siegfried asked, watching his little brother bemusedly. 

Tristan’s eyes darted back to the task at hand.

‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ He lied. 

Siegfried sniffed at that. ‘You’ve been staring at Y/N like that for the past two weeks. You’re gonna bore a hole in the back of their head if you’re not careful.’ 

Tristan blushed, itching his forehead as an excuse to hide his face. ‘What do you mean? I haven’t.’ He shot back. 

Siegfried raised an eyebrow. ‘That was a bit quick off the mark.’ He observed. 

Tristan was blushing furiously. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it. It was annoying. A distraction, and shit. If he didn’t know what to think about this. It started to hit him like a wave. The only thing that had been on his mind for the past two months had been you or the patient. Often you took priority, as little as he’d like to admit it. 

‘Wait! Y/N. Wait up!’ Tristan called as he slung his sports coat over his shoulders and jogged to catch up with you. 

‘Damnit Siegfried.’ He muttered under his breath as they proceeded with the surgery. 

It was a cool spring day. The ground still wet from rain as you splashed against the cobble. 

‘I thought you weren’t coming?’ You said as he fell instep beside you. 

‘House was too quiet.’ He shrugged, which made you laugh. 

‘Now who’s the weirdo!’ You beamed in satisfaction. 

Tristan rolled his eyes and you made your way to the cafe. 

You sighed as you stepped in. It was so warm and smelled of pastries and good food. You took a table for two and settled in. ordering your food and drink fairly promptly. Most people were out working after the storm so it was considerably quiet. Tristan cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea. 

‘It’s funny. I was just thinking, Yknow. I know you pretty well, but I don’t know anything about where you came from. No offense but you seemed pretty desperate when you got here?’ 

You couldn’t help blushing, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that in a bad way! I just wanted to know a bit more about you.’ He was the embarrassed one now. 

‘No. It’s alright. I uh, I came from a working family. We made fake flowers for crassages and dresses and stuff. Lots of industrial presses and big machinery. Constant hammering. Not much money in it. We had a little place made of Plywood out the back.’ You admitted.  

Tristan hummed in acknowledgement, taking a bite of his food, and sniffing when they couldn’t think of how to respond. 

‘Sorry that was a bit much wasn’t it? I shouldn’ have-’

‘No! No. Not at all. I just don’t know what’s right to say? I don’t think sympathy is the right way to go, and I want you to know that I understand and don’t pity you. I think it’s rather remarkable you left it all behind. Going up in the world as you are.’ Tristan hastened a speech, falling into a warm, slightly apologetic smile. 

You laughed. Properly laughed, full belly chuckle that Tristan wasn’t sure he had heard before. The sound took him by surprise and he felt his chest swell with fondness as you started to calm down. Wiping your tears away with your napkin. 

‘Oh don’t worry about it! I get very well confused sometimes too. But you should have seen your face!’ You chorkled, tossing your napkin on the table.

‘It’s any wonder Siegfried would suggest I have feelings for you; when you laugh at me when I try to have a serious conversation.’  The remark was an utterance. They were looking at their food. But Tristan spoke loud enough for you to hear and that made your heart sink. 

‘What’s that?’ you asked.

Tristan looked up at you slightly embarrassed. 

‘It’s nothing. Just something my brother said. You know. He’s always saying things about me.’ 

‘Is it true?’ Your voice had gone small 

‘What?’ 

‘Is it true what he said?’ 

Tristan started to wring his hands nervously. Internally hating himself for saying anything.

‘Well. I don’t know. I suppose there’s truth in it. Or else he wouldn’t say it would he? Or maybe he would, he’s been rather keen on stretching the truth lately how am I to know?’ 

‘It’s not for him to know. I think only you can say wether or no it’s true.’ You had to steady your voice. You were not expecting this conversation to take this turn and it was freaking you out. 

Tristan took a moment to think, playing idly with his food. ‘I suppose it is, isn't it?’ he seemed to be talking more to himself than to you. ‘That really mucks things up doesn’t it.’

‘Why? Why does it mess anything up?’ You pondered. 

Tristan looked up, but he wouldn’t look you in the face. His eyes darted about. ‘Because you’re out employee right? Well, Siegfried anyways. It doesn’t feel entirely ethical to put you in such a position. If something were to go wrong then, well, you probably wouldn’t want to stay would you, and you’d be out on the streets again.’

You nodded in understanding, then shook your head at the idea of never doing anything about it; and how hollow it made you feel. 

‘I can find other jobs. I’ve built up enough savings now. It could always go right.’ You said. 

Tristan looked at you with longing, dammit why did he have to have such a good ‘kicked puppy’ face? 

‘But-’ 

‘Stop being ridiculous Tristan. I can handle myself well enough. I figure it’s easier to just get to know each other instead of sitting on our hands and hurting ourselves.’ You blurted out. 

Tristan looked sympathetically at you. But you weren’t sure if the sympathy was for you or themself. But then you felt their hand brush against your own. The table was small so it was no reach. 

‘Really? Are you sure, because I really don’t want to put you in a position-’ 

You nodded your head vigorously and took hold of his hand, the warmth and softness nearly melting you. 

‘I like you a lot more than what’s usually considered ethical.’ Tristan beamed.

[very-grownup]

Book 21, 2024

Do you know I love Silvia Moreno-Garcia? Because I love Silvia Moreno-Garcia, even though my acquisition of her works and reading of same has been a staggered and inconsistent thing (for instance, I still haven't acquired "The Daughter of Doctor Moreau") and so hey, spoilers, I loved her most recent novel, "Silver Nitrate".

"Silver Nitrate" is the closet to a contemporary setting I've found in one of Moreno-Garcia's books, immersed in the world of Mexican film in the early 1990s, a world that is in the process of getting pushed out in favour of easier American imports (NAFTA? probably NAFTA). The protagonist, Montserrat, is a sound editor and lover of film, particularly Mexican cinema, and even more particularly horror movies. She's not particularly attractive and she has trouble making herself the kind of agreeable a woman in the entertainment industry (or any industry) is expected to be, her temper and confidence in her own skills sabotaging her professionally as jobs become fewer and fewer. She loves her job, but doesn't love the culture that surrounds it. In addition to loving her work, Montserrat also keeps going to help pay for her sister's ongoing cancer treatment, but despite the affection between them, her sister isn't in a position to support her and even if she weren't sick, you get the impression the sisters are very different people. The closest thing to an ally Montserrat has is her childhood friend Tristan. And Tristan is not the most reliable ally.

Like Montserrat, Tristan is in the industry. Unlike Montserrat, Tristan's place is in front of cameras. Or it was, until the car accident that killed his co-star and girlfriend damaged his face and reputation. No longer the rising young soap opera star, Tristan's hungrily trying to find the shape of his life and career. He also can't seem to stop sabotaging himself. His love for and friendship with Montserrat is not conditional, but as a tangible presence he can be lacking depending on what else is going on in his life. He expects Montserrat to always be there and this one-sided reliability is one area Montserrat has difficulty asserting herself in.

Professionally and personally, Montserrat and Tristan's lives aren't in great places.

Then they strike up an unexpected friendship with Tristan's newest neighbour, an elderly gentleman who frequents antique shops and also happens to be a forgotten-by-almost-everyone pioneer of Mexican horror movies, with two plus-a-legendary-lost one under his belt before he vanished into obscurity.

Oh, he was also an occultist and part of a clique of occultists and also maybe their leader was a hidden Nazi who died under mysterious-maybe-murdered circumstances and there might be a curse BUT maybe spells are real but also maybe doing spells will get the attention of the curse and/or murderers and maybe some other members of the secret occult group are still around and looking for some last piece of hidden something that will give them clues to how their dead Nazi leader did his spells and what his final ritual, intertwined with the lost and unfinished film, was supposed to do.

"Silver Nitrate" is, I think, at the tamer end of horror - bits of its premise are not dissimlar to Clive Barker's "Coldheart Canyon", a book that was good but also upsetting enough that I did not keep it. This may be in part because of how much of the horrors of colonialism Moreno-Garcia infuses her books with. A weird cursed film summoning a satan is creepy, but the ways white supremacy creeps into communities of colour, hidden and overt, are genuinely scary. The ways Nazis found to launder their reputations and lives and careers are depressing and upsetting, a reminder of how hard positive change is, how often people don't really want that much change, they just want to direct bad things in their favour. The bit where America will try to take over and homogenize all the unique little quirks of your part of the world when it benefits them? That's more annoying than scary, but I think the modern reader can recognize it as a softer form of what the United States does to other countries. Their two main exports are whitewashing and bombs. "Silver Nitrate" uses all of that to build the more personalized horror Montserrat and Tristan experience, and that produces a good kind of creepy, cold weather shivers when you know there's a blanket in the other room, because on an individual level, the smaller horrors are defeatable, and when they're in the shadows of actual Nazis, 'small' is a relative thing.

I love Montserrat. I feel like a lot of people know a Montserrat, the unquiet girl who embraces her strange, dark enthusiasms, her heavy metal t-shirts and monster movies, but I was surprised that the book was also Tristan's. Not only that, but Tristan … is likeable? Tristan grows as a human being? It's interesting because I feel like Montserrat's arc is about a woman who fully understands herself and has mostly been doing all the work just pushing herself a little bit further, asking and risking just a little bit more than she has in the past, while Tristan is the character who really grows and changes. In his relationship with the world, in his relationship with Montserrat, in his relationship with himself and his past and everything. It's not what I was expecting but it was a pleasant discovery.

Did you know you can have protagonists of different genders in the same book and they can be equally important but also not go through identical or mirrored character arcs?

Silvia Moreno-Garcia knows.

[h1rezzie]

@lordofthestrix asked: "Would you believe this may be somewhat outside my areas of mastery? I'm gifting you something used, to begin with. It would be within your rights to feel outraged already." Casual humor introduced the present.

At the very least the distinctive pocket watch didn't look used. Once a unique creation expertly crafted for him, it now gave the impression of an impossibly well preserved museum piece. Or perhaps a treasure robbed out of its proper time.

"A favorite of mine a number of centuries ago." Tristan found a measuring silence. As if for once he wasn't sure how to complete the sentence.

"The truth is I was more phantom than vampire back when I first encountered you. I like to assume I still recalled how to put on a proper performance but beneath it all this world was hollow to my eyes. Darkened and lifeless. Time had left me behind as it is the curse of some immortals. And then you..." He gazed in Lizzie's direction. Deeply. "And then you were you. And you both slowly and ferociously painted all shades back into the world. Until there were fireworks of refulgent colors I had never contemplated before. I suspect the reason why, in spite of your obvious lack of need for this watch considering the shining screen resting inside your pocket, I'm still choosing to give you a timepiece is that somehow, bewitchingly no doubt, time returned to me when I began counting the seconds separating your smiles. The increasingly agonizing silences that divided the opportunities to hear your voice." The gaze lingered still until the moment he finally relented. Mystified with himself.

"Some chocolate treats, as well. Far more of an obvious choice for today's celebration, are they not? " Tristan introduced a box of delicacies to accompany the pocket watch with casual amusement. As if calling attention away from the mysterious, uncharacteristic sides of him the self made Lizzie Parker Forbes was capable of awakening.

Life   has   been   a   rollercoaster.   All   of   her   life,   Lizzie   had   felt   out   of   place,   even   with   her   own   family,   the   heretic   had   felt   out   of   place,   with   a   sister   who   seemed   to   resent   her,   a   father   who   pay   no   attention   to   her   and   a   mother   who   tries.   She   understands   it's   not   conventional.   All   the   more   reason   why   perhaps   the   most   unconventional   of   all,   was   her,   dating   a   vampire   as   old   as   time   itself   almost   and   who   has   a   view   of   the   world   she   could   never   reach,   not   yet   anyway.  

She   had   always   been   fascinated   by   the   way   he   speaks,   timely   yet   piercing,   her   hands   reaching   for   the   watch,   delicate   fingers   touching   even   more   delicate   heirloom.   "It's   gorgeous."   San   Valentine's   Day,   she   is   in   her   zone,   really,   always   loved   how   it   made   her   feel.   "What   is   a   girl   supposed   to   say   after   a   speech   like   that?"   A   little   choked   up,   Lizzie   tries   her   best   to   compose   herself,   a   smile   on   her   lips,   closing   fingers   over   his   own   and   the   watch.   "I   love   you   sounds   about   right."   The   heretic   proclaims   and   it   feels   right,   because   well,   she   does.   And   sure,   she   might   be   rushing   into   things   but   it   felt   just   about   right   for   a   long   time   now.

A   quiet   whisper   spell   is   enough   for   her   to   make   a   watch   appear   in   his   wrist,   somehow   her   present   combined   with   his   very   own.   "It   has   my   initials   on   it,   and   yours.   .   .its   enchanted,   you   just   think   of   the   person   you   want   to   know   about,   and   the   watch   will   tell   you   how   they   are."   it's   simple,   child's   play,   really.   But   she   thought   it   would   be   a   token   to   symbolize   her   trust,   now   that   she   was   sometimes   off   with   the   rebranding   of   the   coven.   "Tap   it   twice   and   I   will   appear   if   you   need   me."

[freebt]

Mega man 6 beat locations

game, but right now, college football is the last thing on his mind. He’ll focus on recruiting again after Friday’s 7 p.m. Proctor says Southeast Polk is a different team since then, and they have the record to prove it, outscoring opponents 313-84 during an eight-game winning streak. The Rams' only loss this season was to Ankeny in Week 4, when they were without Nwankpa. That top 12: Alabama, Clemson, Florida, Georgia, Iowa, Iowa State, LSU, Notre Dame, Ohio State, Oklahoma, Texas and Texas A&M.įor now, all his focus is on winning a state title with Southeast Polk. He said he shared his top 12 in September so that he wouldn’t leave 20-some schools hanging, and so he could focus on a dozen schools while leaving time to be a "normal" teenager. Proctor’s recruiting has slowed down, but that was by his own design. Kadyn Proctor, OL, Southeast Polk Focusing on winning the state championship, slowing recruiting down I’m just being my own self and go through my own recruiting, and I’ll go wherever I feel most at home." "He’s not going to, you know, peer pressure me into going where he’s going to go and I’m definitely not going to make my decision off where he’s going. "It’s just jokes at the end of the day," Proctor said. He chuckles and shakes his head when he’s asked about it. 43 senior recruit in the nation, and hears the whispers of people saying Proctor will end up wherever Nwankpa goes.

He shares a roster with Xavier Nwankpa, the No.

Proctor is used to the comparisons, and people guessing which program he’ll play for. More: State football: Southeast Polk rolls into Class 5A championship game with semifinal win over City High But when someone’s saying I am the next (Tristan Wirfs), that sort of means I have to follow the same path." "I’m just trying to be myself and make a name for myself. "I hear it a lot, that I’m going to be like this person or that person," Proctor said. He hasn't been afraid to tell that to Hawkeye fans on Twitter comparing him to Wirfs, too. He takes it as a compliment, but Proctor also wants to be known for his own accomplishments and make his own college decision. Tristan Wirfs comparisons and Xavier Nwankpa talkīased on his size and production, and the state he lives in, Proctor is often compared to former Hawkeye Tristan Wirfs, who was also considered an elite prospect coming out of Mount Vernon in the 2017 class, albeit not as highly touted as Proctor. Southeast Polk offensive lineman Kadyn Proctor (74) works to keep a rushing Ankeny defender away from his quarterback on Sept. With Proctor on the field, the Rams have put up 2,336 total rushing yards this season, averaging 194.7 rushing yards and 2.3 rushing touchdowns per game. I’m just living life, playing football."Īs mainly an offensive tackle, he doesn’t rack up the recorded statistics that Southeast Polk’s other star players do, but he’s a big contributor to their top-five rushing offense. "I don’t really pay attention to it," Proctor said. More: Breaking down Iowa high school football's Class 5A state championship between Ankeny and Southeast Polk He's been a must-have talent since before his sophomore season - before he ever played a snap of varsity football.Īnd yet, he doesn’t seem to feel any of the pressure that comes with the rankings and the stars and the national attention. He holds offers from Iowa and Iowa State, in addition to notable out-of-state programs including Alabama, Georgia, LSU, Michigan, Notre Dame, Ohio State, Penn State and USC. While his classmates worry about ACT scores and safety schools, Proctor already has 33 scholarship options. "It’s just being with our team, kind of like team bonding stuff." "Having those competitions, they’re fun, they get our minds off the other things that we have going on," Proctor told the Des Moines Register. He’s just another Southeast Polk football player. In that huddle, he’s not a five-star recruit. He has learned to appreciate these moments. It’s a small moment of normalcy for Proctor. He admits he doesn’t have a go to dance move. It's hard not to notice a 6-foot-7, 330-pound high schooler jumping in the crowd. Still, during that dance battle, Proctor was his teammates’ biggest hype man.

It’s all fun and games, but junior offensive tackle Kadyn Proctor doesn’t like to lose. Cheers erupt from the group before the song switches to "Fergalicious" then Usher’s "Yeah," before the battle finishes on "Hollaback Girl." The defense won this time. "Teach Me How to Dougie," an anthem from 2010, blares over the loudspeakers. Southeast Polk offensive linemen Kadyn Proctor (74) and Austin Young (65) double-team Linn-Mar's Colton Waller (44) on Oct.

[handsomelyhiddleston]

The Nanny - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader

“Papa!” India ran towards her father, Chris Hemsworth.

Hemsworth picked her up, looking around for whoever had the other two. When he spotted you, he waved and laughed seeing both boys clung to you. You had one on each hip. A big perk of being curvy is that it makes it a lot easier to tote the little ones around.

It was rare that him and his wife, Elsa, both had projects going on at the same time, but when it did happen, they had a close friend nanny the children near one of the projects. With the twins being a year old and able to be away from their mother for a short time, Elsa reluctantly took a month-long job where she would be doing quite a lot of traveling. Chris put her worries at ease and told her she had put her own career on hold quite a lot for their family. You had met the couple back when you nannied for their manager. When they had India, you helped them navigate having a child while working in Hollywood. When the twins arrived, you once again moved in with the family and helped smooth the hectic schedule involved in being a parent to three kiddos while working in such a high-demand and publicized job.

“India, I told you to wait for me” you gently scolded the young girl.

“…but I saw papa n unca Tom” she replied, hiding her face in her father’s neck.

“India, you know you need to listen to Y/n. She just wants you to be safe” Hemsworth said, rubbing her back with his hand.

“…m sorry” she said, peeking her face out and smiling at you.

“Thank you” you replied.

“You look like you’ve got your hands full” Tom said, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the two boys sitting on your hips. “I think we’re done for the day” he added, gaining the attention of Tristan, one of the twin boys.

Tristan reached out a hand, making grabby gestures towards Tom. “Looks like you’re about to have your hands full” you quipped, safely passing the 1 year old to Tom who happily took him into his arms.

“Hey, buddy” Tom said, smiling as the young boy gently played with the wig he was wearing. Tom was great with everyone’s kids. It kind of made you wonder why he hadn’t had any of his own.

Hemsworth spoke to India, bouncing her up and down. “Papa and uncle Tom need to go get out of our costumes and then we can all go home and eat. Does that sound okay?” Chris was talking to India, but he looked at you and Tom as well just wanting to confirm that this plan worked for everyone and making sure Tom knew he was welcome to join.

“Sounds wonderful” Tom replied.

“India, why don’t we go get dinner started for everybody. I could use some help.” You knew that India LOVED to help cook.

“Your papa takes a lot longer than me to get ready…” Tom teased, making Hemsworth laugh. “So why don’t you let me walk you back to the car with Y/n so he can get a head start?”

India started squirming, wanting her dad to put her down. “Make sure you hold uncle Tom’s hand the whole way.”

When you got back to the car, you put Sasha in the first child safety seat and turned to grab Tristan from Tom. “Thank you for walking them back with me”, you smiled up at your always generous friend.

“No need to thank me” he said, passing off the second boy. “You’re incredible with them, but I know it has to be a lot of work.”

Strapping Tristan into the second child safety seat, you replied. “You’re a natural with kids, Tom. You’re going to make a wonderful dad someday.”

Slightly blushing, he replied. “Well, I’ll take that as the highest compliment coming from you.”

Tom’s sincerity kind of stopped you in your tracks for a second. “I’ll take that as a compliment as well”, you failed at hiding the grin he’d put on your face. “India, say bye bye to uncle Tom. He needs to go get ready so him and papa can come home.”

The girl gave Tom a hug before reaching for you. “I’ll see you guys soon” Tom said, waiting to leave until you got the third child strapped in so he could open your door for you.

“Always a gentleman” you smiled at Tom who was still in full Loki garb.

As you climbed into the car, Tom said “A woman such as yourself deserves to be served by the gods.”

You felt your cheeks warm as you thanked him again. “Remind Chris that he promised he’d bring home ice cream for India.”

When you got to the house where you, the kids, and Chris were staying during filming you pulled into the garage and unloaded the kids. The two boys were in their safe gated area in the living room so they could play, and India was sat on the counter helping you tear apart lettuce for the salad.

“Good job, sweetie.” You said, finishing up the grilled chicken and squash. “Can you go wash your hands for dinner while I get the boys set up in their high-chairs?” you asked, setting India on the ground. “Make sure you use the bathroom downstairs. No stairs without an adult!” you called out. You continued making the salad at the counter

“Dinner smells wonderful” you heard, feeling a hand on your shoulder. You were startled, not knowing the guys had arrived home.

“Shit!” you yipped, turning and almost dropping the bowl in your hands.

Tom grabbed the bowl, trying to hold back laughter. “I’m so sorry” he laughed out, setting the bowl on the counter and wrapping his arms around you.

“You made me say a bad word” you replied, laughing into Tom’s chest. You wrapped your arms around him and leaned back against the counter for stability. Looking up at him you added, “No swearing in front of the children”.

“Well, I’m not the one that said it, darling” a smirk present on his otherwise serious face.

“You’re supposed to leave the mischief at work” you laughed, dropping your arms from around him and turning to finish the salad.

“What fun would that be?” he said quietly into your ear as he reached around you and snagged a vegetable out of the salad.

When you turned around, he was stepping over the child gate to grab one of the twins and get them set up at the table. You shook your head as if you could shake away the very inappropriate thoughts you were having about your friend.

You could hear Hemsworth laughing in the other room, India giggling along with him. “Well, are you going to tell me the secret?” he said. “No one else can know?” he questioned. India must have been trying to tell him something. “Well, they can’t hear you, just whisper it to me.” It got quiet for a moment. “Ah, I see. I’ll have to pay attention and see for myself.”

“Are you telling secrets?” Tom asked after grabbing the second twin and setting them up at the table.

“Mmhmm” you heard her say as you brought the platters full of food to the table.

“Do I get to know?” you asked, turning to grab the twin’s bowls since they weren’t eating adult food yet.

“Maybe” she answered before telling her dad she could get in her own chair. She was quite proud that she wasn’t in a high-chair anymore and she wanted to seat herself.

“Do you need help with anything else, darling?” Tom asked, following you back into the kitchen.

“Help me grab the cups of water?” you answered, handing him two full cups before grabbing your own and a small juice cup for India.

“Dinner was delicious” Hemsworth said, leaning back in his chair with his hands over his stomach.

“It truly was” Tom added, standing to gather the dishes.

“I’m glad” you replied, gathering the dishes Tom hadn’t grabbed. “You don’t have to clear the table.” You said, reaching for the last dish.

“Nonsense” he replied, grabbing your hand before you could grab the last dish. “You worked hard preparing this wonderful meal. The least I can do is help clean up.”

He wouldn’t let go of your hand until you conceded. “If you must” you said with a smile. “Thank you.”

You saw India crawl into her dad’s lap and whisper something to him. “I see” he answered, looking between you and Tom.

You shot him a look, letting him know you were suspicious of whatever they were talking about. Hemsworth shrugged, acting innocent.

After dishes were done and leftovers were put away, Chris put the twins to bed. You could hear him singing along with the giggles of the twin boys. “India, do you want to take a bath before bed or in the morning?”

“Tomorrow” she answered, crawling up the stairs to her room with you right on her heels.

“Tom, there’s a bottle of red wine already out on the counter if you want to grab a few glasses. I’ll be back down in a few.” You called down the stairs.

When you finished getting India dressed in her jammies and got a movie playing in her room, you headed back down the stairs. You could hear the guys talking in living room, but you couldn’t really make out what they were talking about. “You make it sound a lot easier than it is” you heard Tom say before you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

“All good?” Hemsworth asked, getting up to go say goodnight to his daughter.

“As per usual, she’s a dream. She’s watching Big Hero 6.” You answered, walking into the living room.

“Come sit” Tom said, holding out a glass of wine for you.

You grabbed the glass and sat in the spot next to Tom. “Thank you for pouring the wine” you said, taking a sip and sighing, laying back against the soft couch.

“Long day?” Tom asked.

“Not nearly as long as yours. I can’t imagine going non-stop all day like you guys do.” You answered, turning your head to face Tom as you took another sip of wine.

“Ridiculous” he said, tapping his glass against yours. “You take care of three tiny human beings that have all of the energy and attitude of their father”, he laughed. “I’d argue that your job is harder.”

“They’re great kids. The only reason this week has been a bit tiring is because the twins are teething. Sasha seems to be getting it worse, though” you explained.

“Poor thing” Tom said.

“I know. He’s been clung to my side all week. I’m surprised Chris got him to sleep, actually. He’s been fussy at bedtime and usually ends up passing out in my arms.” You felt Tom’s arm slip from the back of the couch to your shoulders.

“Well, enjoy the break” he said, pulling you to lean into his side a bit. “Though I can’t blame him for wanting to sleep in your arms.”

You looked up at Tom. “You’ve been awfully complimentary today.”

“I’m just saying, you’ve got a wonderfully voluptuous figure, darling.” He cleared his throat. “I imagine anyone that gets to fall asleep in your embrace is going to sleep well.”

“Well, if I thought you were interested, I might just tell you to find out for yourself.” You could hear Hemsworth coming down the stairs.

“Tom, I got the spare room all set up for you so we can ride into work tomorrow. No point in going to your place since we both have to be in the make-up trailer at 7 tomorrow anyways.” Chris said, laying out on the couch across from the two of you after grabbing his wine glass. “Y/n, I checked Sasha. He’s still asleep.”

“I’m glad. Hopefully his teeth aren’t hurting him as much.” You answered.

Chris looked at how you and Tom were sat and made eye contact with Tom, raising his eyebrows and looking between the two of you. “Anything you two want to tell me?” He asked, grinning like a little kid.

“Whatever do you mean?” Tom smirked, drinking the last of his wine. “Would you like more wine, Y/n?”

“Yes, actually. Thank you.” You sipped the last of your wine, handing the glass to Tom. When he got up, you watched him walk away with a smile on your face.

When he was out of earshot, Hemsworth imitated him. “Oh, whatever do you mean?” He laughed, looking at you and waiting for some sort of response.

“I have no idea what’s gotten into him” you shrugged, unable to keep the smile from your face.

“I’d wager a bet that I know what’s gotten into him.” He looked you up and down, sipping his wine, as if to say ‘duh!’ You’d become practically family to Chris and Elsa, and unbeknownst to you they’ve always thought you and Tom would make a great pair.

“Then why now?” you asked.

Chris shrugged. “India’s big secret earlier was that she thinks uncle Tom over there thinks you’re pretty because he looks at you like I look at her mom.”

Your face softened, thinking that was the cutest damn thing you’d ever heard. “Your daughter is officially my favorite of your children. You aren’t allowed to tell the boys. Or their mother.”

Chris laughed. “But seriously…give it a chance. Trust that I know something you don’t.” He was trying to help without breaking Tom’s confidence.  

You could hear Tom walking back. You whispered, “I didn’t know I had a chance!”

“Here you go, darling.” Tom sat back down, opening his arms so you could resume your earlier position.

“Thank you” you answered, snuggling further into Tom.

The conversation went back to normal after Tom came back. The guys talked a bit about what they would be filming tomorrow, and they answered questions as you had them. Chris talked about the fact that Elsa would be coming to visit for a few days since Tom and him had two days off from filming after tomorrow.

“Y/n, Elsa will be here for 2 nights, 3 days and she wanted to make sure you knew that you didn’t need to work that whole time. You’re obviously more than welcome stay with us and keep your schedule, but she wanted you to know you could make plans.” Chris explained, knowing that you usually stayed and helped even when one of the parents was going to be around full time for a while.

“I don’t think I have any plans to make, but I’ll keep it in mind” you answered.

As the night wound down, you could feel yourself drifting off while cuddled up next to Tom. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“It is getting quite late” Tom responded, his hand running up and down your arm.

“Thank you two for a nice kid free night” you laughed, pulling yourself from Tom’s embrace to stand up.

Tom watched as you slightly adjusted your clothes, his eyes gazing over your body as you stretched. “The thanks should go to you, love.” He stood, grabbing the three wine glasses so that they could be rinsed in the kitchen.

“You have to stop giving me all the credit” you replied, grabbing the glasses from Tom. You leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before taking the glasses to the kitchen.

When you were far enough away, Chris started teasing Tom. “Oh, whatever do you mean?” he repeated from earlier.

Tom threw a pillow at him, leaving the living room to find you in the kitchen. “I don’t want to startle you again” he spoke before he entered the kitchen, peeking around the corner with his hands raised.

“I didn’t even know you guys were home earlier” you laughed. Your hands were in a sink full of water, rinsing the wine glasses.

“I just wanted to come and say goodnight.” Tom walked up behind you, placing his hands gently on your hips and kissing your cheek from over your shoulder. “I hope you get some well-deserved rest.”

“You too” you answered, but he was already walking away when you turned to look at him.

When you got in your room, you felt like you were floating. Today felt crazy. Sure, you and Tom had been fast friends from the start. You’d certainly grown close, but today felt like something entirely different.

“Chris said to trust him.” You stripped out of your clothes and took the time to decompress in the shower. You towel dried your hair, threw on a pair of short spandex shorts and a baggy t shirt, and crawled into bed.

You were woken up by the baby monitor in your room. “Oh, Sasha.” You crawled out of bed and quietly made your way down the hallway. “Come here, sweetheart.” You picked Sasha up and he threw his arms around your neck. You walked back and forth, bouncing him in your arms.

“Is everything alright?” You heard Tom quietly ask from the doorway.

“I’m so sorry if he woke you” you said, feeling bad that they had a full day of shooting tomorrow.

“Don’t be” he replied, walking into the room and rubbing Sasha’s back comfortingly. “I take it his teething woke him up?”

“Must have.” You answered. “I’ll get him back to sleep if I take him to my room.” You turned to check on Tristan and he was standing up in his crib with tears running down his face.

“I’ll grab him” Tom said, moving to pick the boy up out of his crib and holding him to his chest. “What do you normally do when they both wake up?”

You couldn’t help but smile at how cute Tom was in his pajamas and glasses. “I’d take them back to my room with me. They usually fall asleep pretty quickly after that.”

“Would you like some company?” Tom asked, kind of in awe of how easily you handled the craziness of taking care of three very young children.

“I’d love some” you answered, turning and walking to your bedroom. Holding Sasha to your chest with one arm, you pulled back the blanket and crawled into your bed. You were sat up, just a bit, with the already half-asleep boy draped across your front with his head snuggled into your chest.

Tom followed suit with Tristan draped across his much leaner figure. “Come here” he said, lifting his arm so you could tuck the two of you against Tom’s side.

“I hope you aren’t too tired tomorrow” you said, feeling yourself already drifting off to sleep.

“Don’t worry about it, darling. Get some sleep.” Tom pressed a kiss to the top of your head before dozing off, himself.

You woke up to Hemsworth trying to wake Tom with the biggest grin on his face. “Brother, we need to leave in a half hour.”

Both boys were still passed out on top of the two of you. You rolled out of bed, still holding Sasha. “Let me go put Sasha in his crib and I’ll be back for Tristan.” You walked to the boy’s room and laid him down in his crib. Before you could even turn towards the door, Tom walked through with Tristan. “Good morning” you whispered.

Tom set the boy down in his crib and gestured that the two of you leave so you wouldn’t wake them back up. “Good morning, beautiful.” Tom gently closed the boy’s door and pulled you to him in a long, lazy hug.

“You’re not allowed to be charming this early in the morning.” You laughed against his chest.

“Nonsense” he said, letting his hands slowly slide to rest on your ass. “If I’m not allowed to be charming then you’re not allowed to be irresistible.”

“That road goes two ways” you said, sliding your hands under the back of his shirt and grinning up at him.

“Oh, does it?” Tom replied, dipping down to kiss your cheek before whispering “I think you should stay at mine while Elsa is here.”

“Tom!” Hemsworth whisper-yelled down the hall. “Get your hands off my nanny’s ass and get ready for work.”

You both tried to quiet your laughter as not to wake the boys back up.

“Consider it?” Tom said, releasing you and walking towards Chris to get changed and on their way.

You quickly walked to your room to brush your teeth and wash your face. You threw on a more modest pair of shorts and quickly put your bra on so you could go make the guys some coffee for the road.

Once in the kitchen, you brewed some coffee and got two travel mugs ready. You grabbed a piece of fruit and a protein bar for each of them before Tom walked in. “I hope you got enough rest”

“Actually, I feel incredible.” He said, eyeing the coffee and breakfast you’d set up for him and Chris. “I don’t think it has anything to do with rest, though, if I’m being entirely honest.”

“It must be something in the air” you blushed, ducking your head.

Tom took a step towards you. “At this point, I don’t think I could spend all day trying to pay attention to my lines and cues and such if I’m preoccupied with wondering whether or not I’ve made my feelings clear.”

You looked up at Tom, realizing this is the first time you’ve ever seen him look nervous. “Was your invitation serious?” you asked, filling the gap between you and sliding your arms around his neck.

“Very” he answered, holding you tight against him.

“Then, yes” you answered, going onto your tippy toes and pressing your lips together in a slow, gentle kiss.

“Brilliant” he breathed out, dipping back down to connect your lips once again.

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

Part 2? Let me know! (I haven’t edited this so I apologize if there are errors. I’m too sleepy.)

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The upcoming visit of a particular Noble has Merlin on edge;

Gwen has to explain why to an incredulous, soon to be horrified, Arthur.

TW: Physical abuse.

Arthur doesn’t question it when Merlin drops an empty tray moments after he was told of Lord Dunstan’s upcoming visit, he simply rolls his eyes and mutters something about incompetence.

Merlin wordlessly cleans up the mess as Arthur goes on to tell him to make sure the Steward was aware, and to have a servant ready for him.

Merlin’s... subdued, behaviour in the following weeks however, does invite question, but Arthur quickly drops it when Merlin snaps at him. It’s rare that Merlin gets angry (or openly angry), so The King shrugs his shoulders, and stops pushing it.

If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed that all the servants seemed a little muted, not even Gwen was holding the long conversations with him that she usually does. But Arthur was a King, preparing for the visit of a long-standing family friend he hasn’t seen since Uther died.

He had more important things to worry about than the conspiratorial whispering between Merlin, the Steward, and George. So he left it. He figured Merlin was just finally getting in trouble for being a shit servant, and deserved whatever he got.

~

When the morning of Lord Dunstan’s arrival finally came, Merlin was unusually quiet as he dressed and readied Arthur; but Arthur was so preoccupied by complaining at the small portion of his breakfast, he didn’t notice (or at least didn’t comment on) Merlin’s lack of sarcasm or witty insults.

Just as Arthur finished eating, a knock resounded from the chamber entrance. Arthur frowned in confusion, he wasn’t expecting news of Lord Dunstan’s arrival for another hour or so, but Merlin seemed pleased as he opened the door.

A young servant boy, who Arthur vaguely recognised as being called Tristan, walked in. He seemed nervous, but smiled when Merlin patted  him on the shoulder, whispering encouragement that Arthur couldn’t quite hear.

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Merlin when he turned back, but before the King could question him, Merlin spoke:

“This is Tristan, My Lord. He’ll be serving you during the day whilst Lord Dunstan is here. Be nice to him.”

Arthur frowned, sternly saying:

“Well, where will you be? I don’t recall giving you any time off, Merlin.”

Tristan gulped, but Merlin ruffles his hair as he rolls his eyes, before heading towards the door, replying over his shoulder:

“It’s my turn to serve the visiting noble and there’s a few things to sort out before he arrives. The servants have a rota.”

He shuts the door behind him briefly, before opening it and sticking his head back through, giving Arthur a pointed look before repeating:

“Be nice to him.”

The door quickly shuts again, and Arthur sputters indignantly. Tristan cleared his throat slightly before shyly asking:

“Is there anything you require to be done today, My Lord?”

Arthur’s attention is quickly drawn back to the boy, around fourteen summers old, and he fixes him with a confused stare before his brain seems to catch up, and he responds:

“Uh... yes, there’s a... wait, do you.. do you know how to read and write?”

Arthur doesn’t really think about it often, he doesn’t need to, but he was aware that most commoners, even servants working in the castle, didn’t know how to read.

The nerves seem to drain from Tristan’s face as he gives the King a wide smile:

“Yes, Sire. Merlin started teaching me when I first started working here last summer. I’m pretty good at it now, as long as it isn’t too complicated.”

Arthur is taken aback at that. Of course, teaching peasant children to read and write sounds like exactly something Merlin would do, so he’s not sure why he’s surprised.

Arthur nods, returning the boy’s smile with an unsure one of his own:

“Right. There’s a list of chores on the desk. Try to get as many of them done as you can but... uh... ask the Steward or Merlin if you need any help, or if you can’t do something.”

Arthur had no real concept of what commoner boys of Tristan’s age were capable of. When Arthur was fourteen, he could recite the names of every Camelot Noble, and decapitate a training dummy without breaking a sweat, but he knows that’s not... normal... for other children.

Tristan nods enthusiastically, and goes to the desk, picking up the list and reading it with furrowed brows and a bitten lip. Arthur sees the deep concentration on his face and the slow pace of his eyes moving over the page, and makes a mental note to allow Merlin an extra few hours a week, to give more official lessons to the younger servants.

Arthur clears his throat, standing from his place at the table and gesturing at the empty tray in front of him:

“Take this down to the kitchens, then get started on the list. I’ll be working in here until Lord Dunstan arrives, make sure to come and inform me as soon as he approaches the castle, I wish to meet him in the courtyard.”

Tristan’s eyes go wide, and his face loses a bit of colour, but he gives Arthur a smile that’s only slightly shaky as he bows, and slips the list into his pocket:

“Yes, of course My Lord.”

The boy’s miniscule change in disposition doesn’t strike Arthur as odd until the door shuts quietly behind him, leaving The King alone in his chambers.

He hums thoughtfully to himself, everyone seemed to be acting strangely this morning. Though perhaps Merlin, and a boy who was spending a lot of time with Merlin, acting strangely shouldn’t be... surprising, to Arthur.

He shrugs his shoulders slightly and sits at his desk, resigning himself to at least an hour’s worth of boring paperwork. 

~

When Tristan came back around a candle mark later to inform The King that Lord Dunstan’s carriage was approaching the castle gates, he seemed even more nervous and tense than earlier.

Arthur noticed, but payed no mind. He figured the boy was just a little overwhelmed with his duties, and made a mental note to ask Merlin to check in on him, the next time he saw the gangly manservant.

He had no time to do so however: the next time Merlin was in Arthur’s presence, he was unloading Dunstan’s baggage as Arthur greeted the Lord.

The two men clasped arms, wide smiles on their faces as Arthur said:

“Welcome back to Camelot, Lord Dunstan. I hope your journey wasn’t too difficult?”

The man’s smile grew as he shook his head:

“No, not difficult at all, we made good time. It’s an honour to be back, My Lord.”

Arthur nodded in satisfaction, and resisted the urge to frown when he noticed how tense Tristan and Merlin seemed, instead keeping the smile on his face:

“Well, lunch will be served in a candle mark or so. You’ll be seen to by my personal manservant for the duration of your stay-”

Arthur gestures loosely at Merlin, who doesn’t react at all as he quietly informs George and one other servant to take Dunstan’s belongings up to the chambers he would be staying in. As the two of them ascend the castle steps, bags in hand, Merlin moves to stand behind the Lord, giving George a knowing look before focusing his gaze on the floor, jaw tense and face blank.

Arthur doesn’t manage to avoid frowning at Merlin’s odd behaviour this time, but covers it quickly before continuing:

“-let him get you settled and then you can join me for a meal in the dining hall. If you require anything at all, do not hesitate to ask him.”

Dunstan looks to a still non-reactionary Merlin, and Arthur takes advantage of his distraction to glance at Tristan, whom he had noticed take a subtle gasp at Arthur’s words. He frowns slightly at the boy’s apprehensive face and strained posture, but looks back as Lord Dunstan drops a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder. 

Arthur can see the bob of Merlin’s throat as he swallows and winces slightly, but stays otherwise still. The King doesn’t have time to think about it before Dunstan joyously exclaims:

“Yes, I remember him from last time. I will take full advantage of your hospitality, My Lord.”

Arthur returns his smile, and gestures to the castle entrance, Merlin’s odd demeanour immediately forgotten. Dunstan removes the hand from Merlin’s shoulder, and the two of them follow Arthur through the large doors. 

They separate in the corridor, Merlin stiffly leading the Lord to the guest chambers, and Arthur and Tristan heading back up to The King’s chambers.

Both of them enter the room, Tristan standing still and tense, expression drawn and concerned as he makes a point of staring at the floor submissively.

Arthur frowns in confusion, trying not to sound accusing as he asks:

“How are you getting on with the list?”

Tristan replies in an even voice, obviously making an effort to sound blank as he keeps his gaze on the floor:

“I’ve crossed off the first three tasks. Is there anything specific you require now, or would you like me to continue with the chores, My Lord?”

Arthur’s eyes widen and he smiles:

“Three? In one hour? That’s brilliant. No I don’t need anything, keep going with the list-”

Tristan bows, still not making eye contact, and wordlessly goes to leave, but Arthur calls him back:

“Wait! What’s gotten you so tense all of a sudden? Speak freely, you won’t be punished or anything, is there a problem somewhere?”

Tristan tenses even further, and turns around with wide eyes. He shakes his head roughly:

“No Sire, no problem.”

Arthur frowns and furrows his eyebrows, but before he can reply, a frantic knocking comes from the door. Before Arthur can ask who it is, the door bursts in harshly and Gwen rushes in, looking panicked:

“Merlin?!-”

Her eyes land on an awfully confused Arthur and she bows very briefly before hurriedly saying:

“-I apologise for the intrusion, My Lord, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mer-”

Her frenetic gaze lands on Tristan, and she lets out a breath before rushing over to him. She puts one hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek. She tilts his head carefully, as if looking for something on his face as she says:

“-Oh, Tristan thank the Gods. Matron just told me that you had been assigned to Lord Dunstan. You haven’t been hurt have you?”

Tristan smiles nervously and takes Gwen’s hand from his face as he shakes his head softly.

Arthur looks on in unconcealed bewilderment as the boy quietly replies:

“No. Merlin swapped with me. He’s with the Lord now, and I’m serving His Majesty. I told him I could handle it, but he and George insisted.”

Gwen’s jaw tensed slightly as she shook her head:

“Hmm. You’re not even of age yet Tristan, we won’t let you-”

She looks up nervously at Arthur, seeming to only just remember that The King was in the room with them. She gulps slightly, before plastering a smile on her face and looking back down to the boy:

“-why don’t you run along and finish your chores. I can deal with anything His Majesty needs right now. And stay out of our guest’s way.”

Tristan tilts his head in question, but at Gwen’s slight nod he turns and bows to Arthur, before leaving the room. Gwen watches him go with a concerned frown on her face, but her attention is quickly caught by Arthur again as he suddenly exclaims:

“Right, are you going to tell me what that was about? Why did you think he had been hurt? And Merlin told me it was his turn to serve the visiting noble?”

Gwen looks back to him nervously:

“It’s nothing, My Lord. Do you require anything?”

Arthur scoffs disbelievingly, looking annoyed as he retorts:

“Yes. I require that you answer my questions.”

Gwen frowns again, looking desperately worried as she replies:

“Really, Sire, it’s not anything you should have to concern yourself-”

Arthur holds a hand up, his face morphing from annoyed to worried as he interrupts her:

“Colour me concerned. Speak freely, Guinevere. What’s going on? You, Merlin, and Tristan have been acting noticeably odd all day, and it isn’t even noon yet.”

Gwen gulps, before seeming to sag slightly in resignation. She lets out a breath and looks to the floor as she quietly replies:

“The servants look out for one another, Sire. George is the best servant, gets things done the quickest, but Merlin can... Merlin is the best at taking hits, better than all of us. So whenever a noble is particularly... demanding, they tend to work together, to keep the younger or more inexperienced servants out of harm’s way.”

Arthur’s expression morphs once again, this time to one of puzzlement, and Gwen looks up at him apprehensively as he replies:

“What do you mean, “taking hits”, and since when has Merlin worked with George?”

Gwen tilts her head, before slowly replying:

“I... I don’t really know what to say, My Lord. Whenever a noble is aggressive, George will do his best to make sure everything’s perfect, and Merlin will stop the noble taking an interest in any of the other servants; he’ll take the hits. Lord Dunstan has a- you said I could speak freely, My Lord? I know Lord Dunstan is a friend of yours-”

Arthur nods firmly, muttering an “of course”, starting to realise with numb horror what Gwen might be talking about:

“-well, Lord Dunstan is always rather... violent, with the serving staff, especially the younger ones, so whenever he visits, Merlin takes over serving him, and the rest of us try to keep out of his way, and patch Merlin up at the end of the day.”

Arthur looks shocked, and Gwen frowns as he collapses back into one of the chairs at the table. She slowly walks over, sitting opposite him. When Arthur stays silent, seemingly staring into the distance, Gwen clears her throat and speaks up quietly:

“Surely you knew, My Lord? That we get hit?”

Arthur looks at her in shock, shaking his head incredulously before replying:

“No! No, I didn’t know. Why has no one said anything?”

Gwen tenses her jaw, suddenly looking like she’s trying to control her anger, before she replies harshly, but still quietly:

“What would you have us say, Sire? We’re just servants. Nobles can do whatever they want to us without punishment. And even if abuse of the staff was illegal, who would believe the word of a servant over that of a Noble? Like I said My Lord, we look out for each other. None of us like it, but Merlin is the best at working through injury, so he always takes the violent ones whilst the rest of us do his other duties for him.”

Arthur slumps back in his seat, thinking for a moment whilst Gwen stares at him with an odd mix of anger and pity.

He speaks up again after a few minutes, barely audible:

“Merlin takes the violent ones...”

Gwen nods sympathetically, before replying in a quietly disbelieving tone:

“Yes. Do you actually believe Merlin every time he says he fell down the stairs, or ran into a door, or something else equally stupid and clumsy??-”

Arthur nods wordlessly and Gwen sighs:

“-He disappears for hours at a time, and comes back with all those bruises and injuries because he takes over someone else’s... difficult assignment. We used to try and take turns, and still do very occasionally, when Merlin can’t, but he usually insists. He can take beatings that no one else can; he can somehow work with a fractured jaw and a concussion and all manner of other injuries, children who are barely fourteen summers old can’t.-”

Gwen sighs once again, and Arthur looks up at her in shock as she stares at the table and sniffles slightly, tears filling her eyes as she quietly continues:

“-He’s always been stupidly proud of his ability to work after being thoroughly smacked around, AND hide it from you, but it worries me. One day he’s going to take a hit he can’t get up from.”

Arthur gains his ability to speak again, muttering in a horrified tone:

“Gods. I had no idea. I mean I knew a few of the Lords were a little handsy occasionally, but I put a stop to it when I see it. I didn’t think it was this... widespread.”

Gwen tilts her head, catching Arthur’s eyes. They meet each other’s gaze as Arthur quietly asks:

“Does anyone else know?”

Gwen gives him a weak smile and gulps before she replies, equally quietly:

“Gaius knows. After the first time we had to carry Merlin back to him to get patched up, we started warning him when anyone particularly... violent, was around, so he could prepare.-”

Arthur flinches and looks away slightly at that, the image of other servants having to carry a beaten and bloody Merlin back to Gaius replaying over and over in his head.

Gwen takes his hand sympathetically as she continues:

“-A few of the Roundtable Knights look out for us. We try to keep Gwaine and Elyan away from it because they just get angry and accusing and of course the servants face the repercussions for that later. Leon, Percival, and Lancelot are pretty good at distracting them, so we can escape, but it doesn’t work long-term. Sometimes the Nobles are less willing to be violent in front of others, so some of the guards hang around wherever possible, to keep an eye on us, but they can’t do that all of the time. They do what they can, when they can.”

Arthur nods mutely and Gwen stares at him as he gathers his thoughts. He straightens his back and takes in a deep breath before looking Gwen in the eyes, and firmly asking:

“How bad is Dunstan? Compared to others?”

Gwen winces, glancing away briefly before looking back to Arthur’s determined face:

“He’s... one of the worse ones. Last time he was here, he gave the first servant a broken nose and a concussion, and when Merlin took over, he bruised four ribs, fractured his wrist and collarbone, and ended up with permanent scars all up one of his arms.”

Arthur let out a breath and cursed:

“How did I not notice that? Or did I just take some stupid excuse at face value, again?”

Gwen pursed her lips, replying softly:

“Everything was bandaged up under clothing, and there were no visible bruises. Merlin is... skilled, at hiding his pain. You couldn’t have known.”

Arthur stands suddenly and begins pacing. He huffs before turning back to Gwen, ranting slightly:

“This is unacceptable. This is ridiculous. I want a list. Of all the violent ones, all the even mildly aggressive ones. Nobles, Knights, hell, even royalty, I don’t care. I want to know the names of everyone who thinks it’s acceptable to beat my staff.”

Gwen smiles sadly, and joins him in standing, but shakes her head slightly:

“It’s not that simple, that would be a very long list, Sire. I can think of maybe ten nobles who have never laid a hand on any of us, and one of them is Leon.”

Arthur goes pale and deflates, tears coming to his eyes as he whispers:

“Would... would I be on that list? I’ve thrown things at Merlin before but I didn’t... I never wanted to to hurt him, I never meant to be violent.”

Gwen steps forward and puts her hands on Arthur’s shoulders, giving him a soft smile as she says:

“Arthur, you throw pillows at Merlin when he calls you fat. You definitely wouldn’t be on the list. Merlin put Tristan with you because he knew that was the safest place for him to be whilst Dunstan was here.”

Arthur relaxes and nods slightly at her words, but still looks troubled. He looks up at her after a few moments:

“How long until lunch? Merlin will be with Dunstan until then.”

Gwen grimaces:

“Another half a candle-mark, Sire.”

Arthur huffs again, but begins walking towards the door purposefully, Gwen trailing after him worriedly:

“We’re going to pay him a surprise visit. I can hardly make an announcement, or accuse him with no proof, but if I catch him in the act...”

They both hurry down the corridor, Gwen rushing to catch up after the shut the door behind her. She can tell that Arthur feels guilty, but he was right in his assessment: the only way he could do anything about it is if he walked in on his manservant (and best friend and possibly love of his life) being beaten. And that’s not exactly something one wants to see.

They finally reach the hall that Lord Dunstan’s chambers were in, to see George approaching from the other end of the corridor. The servant’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of them, but he covers it quickly, moving to stand in front of Dunstan’s door, water pitcher clutched tightly in his hands. He bows at the King, and glances nervously at Gwen before saying:

“Is there anything I can help you with, My Lord?”

Arthur sees the way he’s stood in front of the door defensively, and whilst it frustrates him slightly that his servants think him incapable of protecting them, he understands. Apparently, this had been happening forever, and they all thought he knew and just didn’t care.

Gwen speaks up, quietly so they can’t be heard through the door, before The King can reply:

“It’s alright George, he’s here to help. How was Merlin last time you saw him?”

George goes a little pale, wincing slightly as he looks to Gwen at Arthur’s side:

“He was... alright. A few bruises, but nothing serious.-”

He tacks on a quick “-My Lord.” as he looks back to Arthur.

Arthur’s face goes red and he looks furious, Gwen has to tug his sleeve to stop him from shouting as he angrily whispers:

“A few bruises?? He’s only been here for half a candle mark!”

George gulps, and looks to Gwen for support. She pulls Arthur around to look at him, and the barely concealed devastation in her expression drains the anger from Arthur’s face:

“I told you, Dunstan is one of the worse-”

She gets interrupted by a muffled thump coming from the room behind George, and Arthur’s gaze whips to the door. George flinches slightly at the noise, biting his lip as he looks to the floor, as if trying to block the sound out. Gwen clamps a hand over he mouth, tears filling her eyes as they vaguely hear someone yelling in anger.

Arthur hesitates for only a moment in his shock, before pushing behind George and ripping the door open.

He stalks quickly into the room, Gwen and George on his heels as his gaze is immediately drawn to Dunstan drawing his fist back for the second blow.

Arthur is completely taken aback by the sight in front of him. Merlin was straightening up, recovering from the first hit, turning to look Lord Dunstan in the eyes with a blank expression. The Lord hadn’t noticed the other three enter the room, and Arthur has no time to yell before Merlin’s face is struck once again.

His head rocks to the side violently, and Arthur can see the spray of blood coming for the cut that Dunstan’s ring had left. Merlin takes a stumbled step back, but only looks to the side for a moment before taking a deep breath and, like before, returning to his original position with a blank look on his face.

Merlin notices Arthur, Gwen, and George over Dunstan’s shoulder, and his eyes go wide, but before he can say anything, or Gods forbid be hit again, Arthur speaks up.

His voice is low, and angry, but he just about manages to keep himself from attacking the Lord whilst his back is turned:

“What is the meaning of this?”

The Lord turns quickly, shaking his hand slightly to rid his knuckles of pain. Arthur has to resist the urge to launch himself at the man when he gives him a wide smile, as if he hadn’t a care in the world:

“Ah, King Arthur! I wasn’t expecting to see you until lunch. What can I help you with?”

Arthur’s jaw tenses as he glances quickly at Merlin’s bleeding cheek, before looking to Gwen and nodding in Merlin’s direction. Gwen takes the prompt with no hesitancy, moving quickly around the Lord to stand at Merlin’s side.

She tries to reach up to check his face, but Merlin gives her a short, reassuring smile before waving her off and fixing Arthur with a questioning stare.

Arthur ignores him, knowing that if he looks at him any longer he’ll fly in to a rage; choosing instead to direct a harsh gaze at Dunstan, who still has an innocent grin on his face:

“You can help, by explaining why on Gods Earth you thought it appropriate to lay hands upon a member of my staff.”

Dunstan looks a little confused, but doesn’t drop the smile entirely. He glances back at Merlin absent-mindedly before looking to The King once more:

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with-”

Arthur’s hands clench at his choice of words:

“-there was simply a mix up that required punishment.”

Arthur bristled, and took a menacing step towards the Lord, who at least had the decency to look a little self-conscious at the movement:

“No mistake that isn’t worth concerning myself with, warrants the physical beating of my employees. If you have any problems with the service, you are to bring it up to the Steward, or me directly. You are NOT to take it upon yourself to dole out punishment, am I understood?”

Arthur resists the urge to look at Merlin when he takes in a shocked breath, keeping his vicious gaze focused on Dunstan. The man sputters slightly, going red in the face as he rather indignantly retorts:

“Well, you’ve never had a problem with it before, Sire.”

Arthur takes a fortifying breath clenching his hands tighter as he grinds out:

“So you admit to physically abusing my staff?-”

Without waiting for a response, Arthur turns to Gwen:

“-Take Merlin to see the Court Physician,-”

He then looks to George behind him:

“-Inform the Kitchen, the Housekeeper, and the Steward, that Lord Dunstan will not being staying with us after all.”

Gwen takes Merlin by the arm, dragging him to the entrance despite his protests. George gives Arthur a brief bow, before rushing out the door behind them, leaving the furious King alone with the red-faced Lord.

Arthur turns back to look at him once again:

“I was, until recently, unaware of this ongoing problem. The people who work in this castle are under my protection, and they are not to be harmed under any circumstances. Until you can refrain from beating my staff, you are no longer welcome in my Kingdom. I want you out of the city by noon. I will be sending guards to help you find your way out.”

Without waiting for a response, Arthur turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, before he strides quickly out of the castle and down to the training grounds. He gestures Leon and Percival over, and the confused knights rush to his side, Leon asking what’s wrong.

Arthur tenses his jaw slightly before quietly saying:

“Have Elyan take over training. I want you and Percival to go and supervise Lord Dunstan pack his things, and make sure he makes it out of the city before noon. I want him gone.”

Leon widens his eyes slightly, but covers it quickly. Percival is not so quick, looking concerned as he asks.

“Is Merlin alright??”

Arthur sighs, a little upset that his most loyal knights were aware of the situation and he wasn’t, but he covers it well, looking to the floor briefly:

“It could’ve been a lot worse. Gwen took him to Gaius, I’m going there now.”

The two knights nod at his response, before rushing back to the other knights. Arthur doesn’t bother to hang around as Leon talks to Elyan, choosing instead to head straight in the direction of the Physician’s Chambers.

Servants, guards, and Nobles alike jump out of his way in the corridor. Whether news has spread of Lord Dunstan’s essential banishment, or the angry look on his face scared them, Arthur didn’t know. But it didn’t matter, he payed it no attention, focussing only on the quickest route to Gaius’s chambers.

He meets George at the door, and the normally uptight servant gives him only a shallow bow before shakily saying:

“The kitchen and heads of staff have been informed, My Lord-”

He glances nervously to the door, before looking back to The King and continuing:

“-Is there anything else you require?”

Arthur immediately picks up on George’s desire to see if Merlin was alright, and shakes his head:

“Come in and help Gaius with anything he requires. After, I’d like you to find Tristan and see if he’s alright, he seemed a little shaken earlier.”

George nods very slightly, grateful, understanding that The King had just given him an excuse to check on Merlin before he had to continue with other jobs.

Arthur gives him a strained smile before entering the chambers without knocking, George hot on his heels. The servant shuts the door behind them, and they see Merlin sat on the table looking put out, whilst Gwen insists on holding his hand and Gaius bustles around.

The three of them look over when the door is opened, Gaius giving them barely a glance before going back to flitting about, Gwen giving them a small smile before looking back to Merlin, and Merlin nodding briefly at George before settling yet another questioning gaze on The King.

George stays in place by the door, his concern well-hidden as he stares at Merlin. Arthur takes a few more steps towards his confused manservant, clearing his throat before saying:

“Lord Dunstan will be gone by noon. I told him not to come back until he could refrain from hitting my staff.”

Gwen gives him a grateful smile, and Arthur hears George let out a relieved breath from behind him, but Merlin just tilts his head in confusion:

“I don’t know why everyone’s making such a fuss. I’ve definitely had worse, he doesn’t even hit that hard.”

Gwen groans and gently smacks him on the arm, muttering:

“That’s not the point, Merlin.”

George huffs quietly, before saying, louder than Gwen:

“Guinevere is right Merlin. Gaius, do you require any assistance?”

At Gaius’s casual wave of denial, George turns to Arthur, giving him his normal deep bow before glancing at Merlin once more as he leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Arthur was taken aback at Merlin’s casual reply, and when Gwen notices the pained shock on his face, she pats Merlin’s hand softly before whispering:

“It’s not ok, Merlin. I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Merlin gives her an incredulous look, but before he can retort, she’s gone from the room. That woman can move quickly when she wants to, but Arthur hardly notices as he continues to stare at the cut on Merlin’s cheek.

Gaius finally finds what he’s looking for and rushes over to Merlin, tilting his head so he can look at the cut properly, and cleaning it with a strong smelling alcohol as the younger man winces.

Gaius speaks slowly as he works, and Arthur moves closer, to stand next to him:

“Hmm. You’re lucky you didn’t fracture your cheekbone. There’s no concussion either, just make sure to keep this clean, my boy.”

Merlin goes to nod, but stops with a smile and roll of the eyes as Gaius huffs at the movement.

Arthur waits patiently, but gives Gaius a pointed look when he finishes. The aging physician gives him the patented eyebrow raise, before leaving the room without a word. Merlin ignores Arthur, watching Gaius walk out with a frown on his face and a muttered:

“Where’s he going?”

Arthur shakes his head, putting a forceful hand on Merlin’s shoulder when he goes to stand up. The manservant flinches away and Arthur retracts his hand quickly, as if he’d been burned.

Gods. That had happened in front of Arthur. He’d seen it, and shrugged it off, like Merlin’s pain was nothing. No wonder none of his staff came to him.

Merlin gets the idea nonetheless, and stays seated, furrowing his eyebrows:

“Why’d you make Dunstan leave? It’s only me he’s hit, people have done way worse.”

Arthur takes in a harsh breath, planting his feet to stop himself from pacing as he shakes his head:

“I didn’t know, Merlin. Gods, if I’d known that my staff were getting beaten I would’ve done something earlier.-”

He looks up, and Merlin is slightly taken aback by the desperation in his eyes:

“-I swear, I had no idea.”

Merlin tilts his head in confusion, talking slowly, as if to a child:

“But you... accepted all my excuses? I thought that was our way of acknowledging that it was happening and that we couldn’t do anything about it?”

Arthur exhales forcefully, but fails to stop himself from pacing this time. Merlin’s eyes follow him up and down the room as he speaks quickly:

“No! I really just thought you were that clumsy! Gods above Merlin, why didn’t you just tell me? The staff are under my protection, you should NOT have to volunteer to take violent masters just to protect the younger ones. No one should! There should be no violent masters in the first place!”

Merlin huffs and rolls his eyes as he replies:

“I’ve had worse, Arthur. And besides, this has always happened, it’s the way of things. The rich and noble get to do whatever they want to the... not-so rich and noble.”

Arthur turns to him in shock, upset that Merlin seems to have no problem with regularly being beaten for no reason:

“Merlin! That shouldn’t be the way of things.-”

Arthur takes a step towards him, and puts a hand on his (uninjured) shoulder. Merlin’s eyes soften at the touch, and The King takes a deep breath before continuing:

“-And it stops now. If anyone, and I mean anyone, is violent or needlessly aggressive with the staff, I want to be informed immediately, no matter what. Even if you have to walk out on your duties or interrupt a meeting, I don’t care.”

Merlin shakes his head, laughing slightly, much to Arthur’s confusion:

“I don’t see what the big deal is?! No one but me gets hurt anyway, and it’s not like telling you will make them stop. I’m perfectly capable of filling in for the others, I have a high pain tolerance-”

He nudges the cut on his cheek slightly with a finger:

“-I can’t even feel it, see?”

Arthur growls slightly, slapping away Merlin’s hand before roughly saying:

“It is a big deal Merlin. You shouldn’t have to fill in for the others, because they shouldn’t need protecting from their own masters in the first place!-”

The anger drains out of Arthur suddenly and he sags, before looking up to Merlin with unconcealed sorrow on his face, and continuing in a shaky voice:

“-Just because you can take it, doesn’t mean you should have to. I’m not questioning your strength or stupid pain tolerance here Merlin, I’m trying to help. Frankly, I don’t want to trust the safety and well-being of my subjects to men who beat them just because they can anyway. Will you please just accept that I don’t like seeing you, or any of my other staff, in pain, and do what I ask for once?”

Merlin tilts his head, as if still struggling with the idea that this shouldn’t be happening, but at Arthur’s pleading eyes, he sighs and nods, before speaking quietly:

“Alright, fine. But if you put me in the stocks for accusing one of your Nobles of being an arsehole in front of the council, then I’m going to be pissed-”

Arthur shakes his head roughly, responding with conviction:

“I wouldn’t.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow in amusement, before shrugging his shoulders slightly. His eyes harden, and he takes a deep breath before saying, in a voice that invites no argument:

“But I won’t ever stop protecting the others. I’ll always volunteer to serve the aggressive ones, and if you try to stop me, I’ll do that thing you hate where I completely disobey your orders.”

Arthur lets out a gentle laugh, shaking his head slightly:

“I wouldn’t expect you to anyway.-”

The King looks back up at his manservant, an assessing look in his eye as he says:

“-It seems that you’re quite... paternal, when it comes to the younger servants; protecting them from violence to your own detriment,-”

He raises his eyebrow slightly as he continues:

“-teaching them to read and write?”

Merlin blushes slightly and looks down, mumbling:

“I was lucky in Ealdor, my mum taught me the basics; I wasn’t very good, but Gaius helped me when I got to Camelot.-”

He shrugs slightly before continuing, still refusing to look up at the man in front of him:

“-I just think everyone deserves a chance, so I teach them when I’ve got time.-”

He does look up now, smirking slightly as he says:

“-a good thing I learnt as well, otherwise who would proof read and improve your God awful speeches?”

Arthur looks indignant and offended for all of two seconds before he laughs and nods his head reluctantly:

“You have a point. You know, if you want some time in the week to give properly structured lessons, I could figure something out. I’m sure we can find an empty room in the castle for you to use, and the crown will pay for anything you need.”

Merlin brightens noticeably, a wide smile on his face as he rushes to say:

“Really?! That would be great, I know they really want to learn but it’s difficult when I only have an hour here and there, especially when they all have jobs to do as well.”

Arthur laughs gently as he nods his head, deciding that it’s a little ridiculous, how desperate he is to keep that smile on Merlin’s face for as long as possible:

“Of course. We can discuss it with the Steward, but how about... a morning one day, and an afternoon another day? You can split the group into two, that means the castle isn’t missing too many staff at once.”

Merlin nods, not dropping the enthusiastic smile once, and Arthur chuckles fondly.

Yes, Arthur thinks, yes, that smile, for as long as possible.

~

THE END!

Maybe it’s a tad anti-climactic, but some fluff is just like that I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Same as always, if you wanna write it out properly, go for it! Credit and tag me ✌

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular:)