#its a learning process for her and merlin AND arthur

[justaz]

you know how aang took ozai’s firebending away?? what if merlin, emrys, magic incarnate, took morgana’s magic away? like he’s literally the embodiment of magic so can’t he take it back OR EVEN GRANT IT!!! idk bc i think it’d be neat. it would take her edge and power away so she’d be harmless and they’d be able to take her back to camelot to get some therapy before she gets it back

[tansyuduri]

7, 25 and 50 for the fic writers ask

Thank you for indulging me with the ask! *fignerguns*

7: post a snippit from a wip OK both of these are from the first free write so very rough!

So yesterday morning I got an idea for a fic to post in whumptober (the first fic in the AU world will be posted in july) I dunhave much yet I just kinda jotted down a few scenes that came to me first, I'm likley gonna go back and start from the begining like I normaly do when I write. “You’re alright. You’re alright.” Arthur whispered. His heart still hammered in his chest. His breathe came quick This was just the start.  This was just the start of the many ways he could loose Merlin. Arthur was not prepared.  “Gaius thank you” He managed to say never looking away from his sorcerer.

I also have a slightly less self-indulgent fic. I have apsolutly NO idea when you guys can expect to see this one published. Morgana should have told her, it was her right to be told. But she also understood why Morgana would keep it secret the way she had. Morgana was often alone. Ever since Gwen had became her servant when they were nothing more than girls they had had each other. Gwen grieving the loss of her mother And Morgana of both her parents. They bonded at a time when no other children seemed to care. As Morgana grew her world had become more restricted. Gwen had watched as she was shuffled into being a lady. Lessons with a sword came to a stop, except for those rare moments they praciticed with sticks together away from prying eyes. Uther had grown more strict about Morgana’s pranks until they too were taken from her. As gwen learned to be a skilled servant and seamstress Morgana was make to be less. Told to be more agreeable and obedient And yet they could never truely stfle her outbursts completely. That was something Gwen loved about Morgana too. She was wild in a way Gwen as a servant could never be. She did things her own way. And yet in doing this her own way and putting her needs first she had hurt Gwen and not told her about her brother. She had been selfish in a horrible way.

25: What is your favorite part of the writing process (world building, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing.) I would have to go with brainstorming. the first free write, and part way through revising if I don't feel its right yet. I acually almost enver outline and if I do its super vauge. As JRRM defines it I am VERY much a Gardner and not an architect. But I also have a love hate relationship with these bits because of two things. One if my writing is not always on the same level. Part of this is due to amonia brainfrog. So somtimes I look back all HOW DID I THINK TO USE THAT PHRASE . But I still write when its high when I can because I figure I'll get better at writing with it high and want to imporove all my writing skills. The secend is I tend to be very aynalitical. This tends to make the cycle of: Thinking you are good at writing>your mind develops to be better at spoting flaws but you are not good enough to fix them yet and convince yourself you are horrible>writing level up. Go pretty fast for me. It causes whiplash at times.

50: How would your describe your writing style Well not heavy on enviormental description, thats likley my greatest weakness. I think writing Emotions, Humor when it fits, and getting inside charatrers heads are my strengths. And some banger lines.

Feel free to ask me stuff these are from here!

[fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy]

Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

[llendrinall]

I’m slowly but surely falling in love with Percy of the Endrina universe.

Good! Let’s talk a bit more about Percy then.

· He is strongly a middle child. Wedged between the successful brothers and the fun ones. He wants some recognition, dammit, and is heartbroken when he realizes he will never get it.

· He suffers a double process of parentification. On the one hand, as in most large families, there is that expectation that he will check on his younger siblings. Doubly so because he is the responsible one, more than Bill and Charlie.

· On the other hand, I think Percy realizes pretty early that his parents aren’t good with money or navigating the social system, so he takes upon himself to compensate those gaps. He sees the family careening straight to disaster and, honestly, he is not wrong. Arthur puts the family in a very dangerous position. When Percy writes to Ron during the fifth year, it’s a clumsy but honest attempt to have Ron save himself.

· He likes Charlie and Ron best. He admires that Charlie managed a clean exit of the family. I won’t say that Charlie hates the family, but he is not coming a lot for Christmas, is he? Percy admires that Charlie managed to make a life to his taste despite societal and family pressure. For this reason, he is also the closest to Charlie. I’m not sure he is Charlie’s favorite, but he is the one Charlie confides in.

· Percy likes Ron because he is the other middle child. He sees Ron struggling for attention, recognition and identity, just like him.

· Percy dislikes Ginny. He still loves her and would do anything for her, but he doesn’t like her. Part of it is that they are extremely different in opposing and conflicting ways. Where Percy is nerdy, introverted and controlled, Ginny is outgoing and unrestrained. Percy can admire her boldness while not wanting to be near it.

· The other part is that a lot of Ron being unacknowledged is derived from the favoritism towards Ginny. It’s not Ginny’s fault and I think she struggles against being The Girl. But still, Percy resents her for it. Worst of all, he is aware of it and wishes he could love Ginny better.

· He is left handed. He learned to write with his right hand because that’s how Molly taught him. Same in school. He was told to grab his wand with your right hand, young man, and it wasn’t until Flitwick realized he is left-handed that he began to use his left. As a result, he can write with both hands, but uses different hands for spells. Right one for simple everyday spells and left one for the advanced ones.

· Harry Potter is the first person to realize Percy is constantly switching wand hands. He thinks it’s very neat.

· Percy could cast a corporeal patronus on his NEWTS but didn’t because he is embarrassed by its form. Whatever it is (and it will change from story to story) it’s an animal with negative connotations, like a shark or a snake.

· He has self-destructive tendencies that manifest in the wildest possible way. Percy is way beyond drugs and unprotected sex and comfortably planted in Faraday terrain. (Faraday tested his famous cage by putting himself inside of it and repeatedly striking it with high-voltage electric charges. That’s a man who is very certain of his math work).

· He has saved more lives than he has taken.

· He was right to question Dumbledore. Sure, Voldemort had come back, that part was true. But Percy was right to question Dumbledore.

· By all means he and Oliver shouldn’t work, but both of them have the intuition that the wizarding world is bananas and that’s what they like about each other. They may not question everything, but they don’t necessarily accept things blindly.

· He likes Harry. He is bothered by many of Harry’s quirks, but he likes him and feels very protective of him.

· Thank Merlin he is awkward and book-oriented because if he were a bit more charismatic and had fallen with the wrong crowd of sycophants he would have started his own Grey Lord path (not dark, that’s not Percy) and he would be much harder to stop.

· He is horrified at the treatment of goblins in wizarding society but doesn’t know how to help.

Ah, Percy. He is so tired. I just want him to rest and eat his own body weight in interesting foreign foods and gelattos, which reminds me I should pick up that WIP and have him eat some pistachio gelatto.

[clotpole-art]

Retrospective: Illustrated Merlin Alphabet Challenge

Finally finished the Merlin Alphabet Challenge, so here's the artist notes no one asked for! See below the cut for comments on each piece by order of creation. Be warned folks, it's a long post.

Before we begin: credit to @merlin-gifs for the challenge, which can be found here. It's awesome, go do it.

First thing you should know is I did probably 80-90% of these while on phone calls or in Zoom meetings and that's reflected in the simplicity of most pieces -- the compositions aren't complicated, the lines aren't refined, the coloring is slapdash. If you noticed variation in quality of the pieces, that's why!

Second: I tried to focus on trying something new for each drawing. Didn't always happen, but this challenge did succeed in helping me push me out of my own comfort zone.

Without further ado...

A is for Arthur Pendragon

Textures, baby! Brushed metal of his armor, scratchy linen texture of his shirt, wispy softness of hair and skin. I'd recently gotten my tablet out of storage after a year of figuring out where the hell I was going to live and this was one of the first pieces of digital art I spent time on. Glad it was Arthur kicking us off!

B is for the Beginning of the End (1x08)

Fun fact, I did not draw this with my tablet. I drew it with my work computer's touchscreen. It was awful, would not recommend.

C is for Camelot

I wanted to get used to different brushes, so landscape of the castle it was! There are brushes that help with drawing grass; I did not use said brushes and my wrist hurt afterward. That being said, I really enjoyed working on this and it was one of the few pieces I didn't do while multitasking.

D is for Daegal

Also drawn on my work computer's touchscreen, not my tablet. I didn't learn my lesson from B and the experience was even worse. This is my least favorite piece which sucks because it's Daegal so I'm slated to redo this sometime in the near future. Gotta do our boy justice.

E is for Elyan

Oh, I adored drawing this. Elyan often gets shafted in terms of fandom appreciation so I made sure to choose Elyan for this prompt and to participate in the Elyan fest. Plus, I love a good ghost story and figuring out a way to include the druid spectre was fun. Didn't multitask on this piece because Elyan deserved my full attention.

F is for Freya

Ho boy. This piece. I have such mixed feelings on this drawing. Really really didn't like it after I'd decided it was done and very nearly scrapped the whole thing. I had a vision in my head that I just couldn't render into reality and it frustrated me SO MUCH. Looking back, I like it much better than I did when I first created it.

G is for Gwaine

What can I say, he's pretty when he's cold. I didn't stretch too much with this one -- it's my normal drawing style, I was just trying to find a brush that mimicked the softness of pencil.

H is for Hunith

Another one that didn't stray too far from my comfort zone. I was stupid sick and slammed at work, so a motherly Hunith manifested herself. I blame the bad brush choice on the cold medicine.

I is for Isolde

I woke up and chose violence! Tried to vary my figure drawing style a little in this piece but my brain resisted, resulting in... this. Not mad at it, but not happy with it either. Poor Isolde.

J is for Juggling

Ah, this lovely piece was drawn during a particularly vexing meeting at work. Fun fact, there's another version of this line art that's less about Merlin's stress and more about mine.

K is for Knights of Camelot

Continuing the theme of doodling through bad news and shit meetings. Like I said above, normally meeting doodles aren't complex because I'm concentrating on something else. This one was more involved because I didn't want to concentrate on the meeting. I have a few issues with this from a technical standpoint (perspective, my nemesis) but it's still one of my favorites. Tried some funky coloring technique, didn't hate it.

V is for Vibrant Colors

And here is where we said fuck the rules and started going out of alphabetical order! This one was really fun to do and I loved kicking off Albion Party with this as my first submission. The colors were a challenge (as I hoped they would be) and this is the first time I had to do some color tweaking midway though and after finishing the coloring process. Vibrant Arthur, my beloved. This started as a multitask doodle but took dedicated time to finish.

O is for Old Religion

The concept for this one was buzzing in my head for a bit before a quote-prompt solidified it. I adore the thought of more visible, tangible representations of Merlin as the son of the elements, of "magic itself" -- not just sun-gold eyes, but sea-water hair and sandstone-skin. A complement to the vibrant Arthur portrait.

S is for Sorcerers

When I said I wanted to challenge myself, I wasn't kidding. Ho boy, this was fun but frustrating. I wanted to completely illustrate a gif. So I did. Will I do something like this again? Maybe. A while from now.

M is for Morgause

See above -- same illustrated gif style so at least I was able to reuse some drawings. Poor Morgause ended up looking a little wretched here because I was mentally done with this when I was drawing her. Love the concept of tarot cards + Merlin but others are doing it so I won't continue this series.

Z is for Zzzz

This one was specifically done to test out some custom brushes I made in Krita to make abstract background drawing easier for me. I think they turned out well! Plus who doesn't love bb iridescent Aithusa.

L is for Leon, P is for Percival

Quick, minimal doodles of the boys! Mentally, I was going for a Brady's-style retro ensemble cast TV show credits feel. Not mad at it! Some boys look closer to their actors than others (I think my brain broke drawing Percy, my apologies to Tom Hopper).

T is for Tristan

It wasn't until after I posted this that I realized there was more than one Tristan in Merlin. Could have drawn Isolde's bf but I drew Ygraine's dumb jock undead brother instead. Had some fun with dark greys and blacks here regardless.

Q is for Queen Annis

Best royal in Albion, bar none. I tried a different coloring technique here and I kinda like it! may make it my go-to but we'll see. Old habits are hard to break. Also: our queen deserved more badass clothes.

X is for Arthur X Merlin

Oh, be still my shipper heart. Doodled and colored during a meeting. I had hoped to spend more time on it outside of multitasking but alas, work is a bitch. This one is slated for a rework sometime in the future; I adore the concept too much to let it go without creating another version of this that isn't an utter mess.

U is for Uther's Ward

And here's my attempt at forgoing line art. Not fun, do not like.

Y is for Young Warlock

Channeled some pain into this one. Those are the dead eyes of someone who had been told that he'd succeeded when his friend died. That the destiny he'd been expecting to carry on his shoulders into old age was done and dusted before he turned 30. Grief plus the existential dread of the aimless immortal. Oof. One of my favs.

N is for Nimueh, R is for Rising Sun, W is for Will

And we end on this sorry offering. I was away from home for a while without my tablet and I just got tired of waiting. So, pen doodles at the airport. This was a challenge in its own right because 1. pen only and 2. I wasn't able to pull Netflix up for a reference on the fly. Which is why Will's face is obscured and Nimueh looks.... not like Nimueh lol.

In summary: this was a goddamn joy to do. I finished 26 letter prompts in approximately 21 weeks, which exceeded my own unspoken goal of filling one letter per week. I found a good, happy corner of the Merlin fandom after a years-long hiatus away from being a fandom creator. If you did make it this far with me, thanks for reading my inane comments and giving this little project even a moment of your time -- I'm so grateful.

[pb-dot]

Actually, I'm not done! Some Aguefort thoughts!

So I've always been amused at Principal Arthur Aguefort's whole idea. The basic joke with the man is that he is the kind of over-permissive headmaster certain other magic adventure franchises have popularized but given a (more than) healthy dose of megalomania and a more D&D Endgame Wizard-type power level.

Arthur Aguefort may be a few cards short of a full deck, but given his influence and considerable arcane powers, there's not really any non-apocalyptic power in Spire that can challenge his decrees. Why yes, it is incredibly risky to send young adventurers on a quest that might bring them into contact with a being so great and terrible even it's name is a forbidden secret, but what are you going to do? Ask that guy who had sex with an immortal celestial fire-bird and can turn back time to reel it in? You might as well be arguing with a wall that's in the process of tipping over and crushing you.

It's a fun framing device for all the... staggeringly inadvisable, immoral and/or illegal shenanigans that go down in your average D&D adventuring party, but it also does lend itself to the possibility of the training wheels remaining on for too long, which can kneecap the story if managed inexpertly.

Brennan, however, very seldomly does "inexpertly." My favorite part of stakes-raising in SY is when Arthur Aguefort, in his crusade to maintain his projection of power as it pertains to his students' right to go to faraway places and just fuck some shit up, goes too far. Now this isn't a judgement on my end, this is straight from the wizards' lips as it were. It turns out you can in fact not turn yourself 300 feet tall, move the sun in the sky, and wage war on an entire sovereign country. That, in Aguefort's words, is too far.

On one hand, it is very funny to see the guy who's been doing "Merlin from the Disney Sword In The Stone if he had an ego and did stimulants on the reg" eat a thin slice of humble pie. On the other, it kind of seems like Aguefort has learned very little from the encounter, as his main complaint was that the spells that he tried to use to quite literally shape reality in his image didn't actually work out for him. Normally, I'm not one to cherish the "and then they learned nothing from it"-style gags, but it does feel very correct as to Aguefort's character.

This man has fucked up before, the whole Goldenhoard setup from season 1 was for example doomed to one day blow up in someone's face, and the fact that Aguefort puppetmastered the messiest teens available to him, snuck into heaven to unseat god and brought himself back to life to save the day doesn't change that he probably shouldn't have made the dragon-demon that he just defeated into his vice principal for hundreds of years. That's hubris, not only in the "you will continue to live in defeat and have to deal with teens forever" sense but in the "I'm going to circumvent the propechy speaking of your return so you can't do anything about it, neener-neener-neener" way.

It also makes it a bit heartwarming to see the subplot with him and Ayda come to a very earnest ending. The two have been estranged since literal lifetimes ago, and while it is entirely possible this was one of those "family fights are always nasty and nobody's entirely right or entirely wrong," I chose to believe it was over some blatantly unjustifiable wizard bullshit from Aguefort Sr. Regardless, it is a bit heartwarming that once Aguefort realizes that his daughter's latest reincarnation do wish to speak to him, he does extend a hand to open lines of communication again. That's a surprisingly mature thing for Aguefort to do, and it warms the heart to see it.

And Ayda. Lord above, Ayda. The romance with Fig gets the most attention obviously, but she's honestly great with a lot of the bad kids. Her "you'll be a great wizard" thing with Gorgug is funny for its alternative logic, but also kind of sweet in its own way, and it's great to see Aidane and Ayda talk Magic Nerd. The sheer relief of "oh thank god finally someone who understands all this shit I can talk shop with" feels instantly relatable.

Ok. That should be it for now, unless some more thoughts should come crashing down. Give it some hours, and we'll see.

I was trying to get through all of Fantasy High: Sophomore Year before Junior Year dropped and I'd probably have succeeded, hadn't it been for the final episode being no shorter than 5 hours long, so I'm finishing up the final episode of SY now before getting started on the new season. As usual, I have Thoughts. SY spoilers below the cut.

First off, the format. The live stuff is fun, and it gives some of the wilder episodes like Pirate Brawl a real electric energy. The tradeoff is, of course, that combat is a bit harder to follow, but I wasn't really noticing before the final, multi-part curse-breaking apocalyptic brawl. My Dyspraxic ass had some trouble following that one, but considering how much went on that's perhaps to be expected. It'd be pretty rad with models, but I suppose the fan art artists of the world need some epic scenes to recreate apart from all the exquisite emotion in play.

Because oh boy are there a lot of fun emotional stuff. Well, I say fun, but I suppose I do mean "occasionally devastating" by that. Kristen's quest for a theology that makes any sort of sense to her continues, but it hits a bit less hard this season for me, probably because it feels very Main Quest Component-y to me. It's a good component of the main quest, even though its existence as part of the plot does perhaps make it less of a mystery than I think it could be.

Now, where the hits land and don't stop are more in the wheelhouse of Fig, Fabian, and Adaine. Fabian, in particular, goes through the wringer in the middle part of this spring break adventure. Although it is both compelling and fun, I did find myself wanting to reach through the screen and say "Brennan Leeanathan Mulligan, you stop putting that boy in Situations right this INSTANT, that goes for you too Lou." There is, however, no denying that his arc is resolved pretty dang well, and gives Fabian a bit of depth that his "comically out of touch rich swashbuckler boy"-persona might have lacked earlier on.

I'm also equal amounts impressed and intimidated by the gumption to go as deep into the "Adaine's biological parents are pretty damn bad" hole as they do, especially because it did perhaps feel like they were holding back on that a touch in season 1. Gloves are off for Sophomore Year though, these elvish assholes are abusive, and the mask comes off in a major way, perfect for punching with custom-made magic spells.

Riz also feels like he has come into his own in a major way this season. I always felt like he should've had a more leading role in S01, as the one most directly involved in the central mystery from the word go, and that there were pits of character development and anguish yet to mine. I don't know if it was a conscious choice to leave some of that unprobed, or if Riz simply drowned in the maelstrom of strong personalities that is the Bad Kids. Fortunately, Murphy and Mulligan Mining Co. brought their good pickaxes out for this particular outing. Working the season's mystery and his slight sense of alienation from his fellow Bad Kids, Riz is a nexus of cool plot threads. One of these threads even genuinely bamboozled me with a misdirect, which is easier said than done in an Actual Play show.

As for supporting characters, Fantasy High continues to be a provider of interesting folks. Garthy O'Brien and his ward Ayda Aguefort are instant favorites, and Fabian's new bogeyman Chungledown Bim is perhaps not a sterling example of characterization, but there's no denying the gravity of his scrungly presence.

Overall, I feel like the show does get a tiny little bit Days Of Our Lives with the Bad Kid's parents/guardians. It's not a terrible flaw, but I do feel that it puts me in the shoes of Riz a little bit as I go "Welp these people are NOT normal about getting their kisses in, and that's worrying" and try to keep my relationship charts up to date and accurate. Seriously, I do not care much to know who's smooching on who in the adult segment of this story, even when it raises the baffling question of who would be romantically interested in the world's (second) most divorced man, Gilear.

Oh, and I suppose I should talk about Gilear a bit too. He's in this considerably more than S01, as he has the dubious honor of being the players' Favorite Guy of the season. At first, his inclusion seems mostly to be to enable him to Eeyore his way through further humiliations, but honestly he ends up actually being a positive presence in the plot. Granted, he keeps getting into increasingly unlikely predicaments whose sole purpose is to inconvenience or humiliate him, but Fig putting her nose to the grindstone to help the man rediscover whatever scattered fragments of confidence he has left is honestly really sweet.

There's oodles more, I could probably talk about how incredibly sweet the romance between Fig and Ayda is for hours, and the way Brennan weaves the themes of the show in between genre mainstays and conventions with a dexterity that never ceases to surprise me, but I'm sure I'll get to that at some point. Now I gotta do what I actually started this marathon watch for and get started on Junior Year.

[anything-goes-my-friends]

A New Beginning

The ending of ROTT broke me and I was left very disappointed in the ending of the show. I loved the movie, but the last 10 minutes didn’t sit well with me. I needed a fix-it fic with the ending I think the series deserves, so don’t be mad at me if you don’t like it. This is just what I think it needs, obviously not what everyone else thinks it needs.

In this fic Jim goes back to the day he got the amulet, but instead of giving it to Toby he takes it himself, and relives his journey with the knowledge and experience to save everyone he lost.

A New Beginning When he said goodbye to Blinky, Claire, and the others, Jim knew the journey ahead would be the most difficult thing he’d ever have to do. He needed to find a good time to jump back to, but whenever he settled on a date he thought of someone else he could save, and the date was pushed forward.

So he settled on the day it all began.

When his alarm buzzed, there were no words to explain the emotions swirling through him. With the deaths he witnessed still raw, and the destruction fresh in his mind, being in his old room seemed foreign. He remembered one of the last times he was there, recently half troll and struggling to adapt. But now, none of that had happened, but it had to him. He thought of everything ahead and smiled. But first, Toby.

He hastily prepared the meals for himself, his mom, and Toby, but nothing as fancy as the meatloaf he made the first time around. His head was buzzing and he struggled to focus on the simple task of making the sandwiches. But soon enough it was time.

The garage door opened and he gripped the handlebars of his bike until his knuckles turned white. This would prove that everything he did was worth it. Just to see Toby’s smile once more. The innocence in his eyes. He would never take it for granted again.

And there he was, his best friend. Jim let out a sound that was a mixture of a laugh and a sob and rammed into his friend to engulf him in a hug. It was worth it. All the pain he’ll endure again, and the burdens he has to bear were worth it for this moment.

“Come on Tobes, let’s take the canals today, I have a good feeling about it.” Jim took off on his bike, Toby hollering nonsense to pass the time and it was music to Jim’s ears. 

And when they reached the bottom of the canal, and he heard the amulet speaking his name in Kanjigar’s voice, Jim smiled.

“Hello again, old friend.” He whispered as he ran his finger over the familiar metal of the amulet.

<><>Time Skip to the end of ROTT with the new ending Jim created<><>

Jim read the text on his phone from Claire, asking him when he was on his way to Trollmarket. He hastily typed out ‘be there in 10’ before shoving the phone back in his pocket. He could feel the amulet buzzing in his bag, and grinned to himself. He knew what today was, he had it marked on his calendar for years. Today was the day the Titans were defeated in the old timeline. The day Toby died, and Strickler, and Nomura, and countless others. He thought of how different things had become as he rummaged in his bag for his horngazel. The door opened easily under the bridge and he started to descend the stairs.

“There you are, Trollhunter, cutting it close aren’t we?” Claire teased as she met him at the bottom of the stairs. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and she threaded her fingers through his. They began to walk through Trollmarket, all the familiar buzz that had been lost the first time. Jim had learned from his mistakes, but also knew there were some events that had to happen. Losing Trollmarket was not one he could bring himself to do. His gaze shifted to Claire, who’s white streak in her hair, the ponytail, and purple armor was the same as the day the titans attacked. But she was smiling, and there was still a light in her eyes.

“Romeo and Juliet? I would love to try out...Your brother was taken by goblins into the Darklands, I’m sorry, but I’ll get him back I promise. For now, try to get to know NotEnrique, he might surprise you...Everything we’ve done, we’ve done together, I love you Claire, and I always will.”

He had dreaded letting Enrique get taken into the Darklands, but Claire had once remarked that she was glad NotEnrique came into her life, and thought of him as a brother. He didn’t want her to lose that relationship. And saving Enrique pushed Claire to become the sorceress and warrior she was destined to be, bringing the two of them closer together in the process.

The two of them waved to Barbara and Strickler, as Barbara showed off her new ring to a group of changelings. Strickler gave Jim a nod, and he returned it with a smile.

“Strickler, I would like you to meet my mom...The Janus Order has fallen, you’ll be safe in Trollmarket...Yes, I would be honored to be your best man.”

The fall of Gunmar had been a shock to troll kind. Jim had arrived in Trollmarket knowing where the Janus Order had hid the bridge, and used that knowledge to secure it early on. Toby, Claire, and Jim had trained for months as Trollhunters, answering calls and building strength to enter the Darklands. Jim had made the mistake of going alone once, and didn’t want to do that again. So when they were ready, they entered together. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh had rescued Gunmar’s prisoners, even though they got distracted by Blinky’s brother. Claire and Toby had gone off with NotEnrique to free all of the babies, while Draal and Jim faced Gunmar. And at the end of the day, and with a battle that lived in infamy, they emerged victorious.

Gunmar, eager to avenge his son that Jim had slain, and his ego clouding his judgement, had agreed to a fight to the death with Jim. A fight that Jim won. The Trollhunters exited the Darklands with refugees and freed Gum Gums, and babies that were taken care of by Barbara and Strickler until they could find loving homes for them all. And with the fall of Gunmar, the troll world was left without direction. The Janus Order struggled to adapt now that they couldn’t take form as human, but Jim made sure they were welcomed into Trollmarket with open arms. Gunmar’s spies and allies were hunted down by the Trollhunters if they made a mess of things, and after months of struggling, peace was nearing. When Strickler was brought into Trollmarket, he drifted closer to the Lakes, and when he got down on one knee, Barbara didn’t even hesitate to say yes. He had even given Jim the ring to Angor Rot’s soul, and Jim was able to return it to its rightful owner, and set the Trollhunter Hunter free. And Claire, reunited with the real Enrique, gained a brother in NotEnrique, and her family became a little bit bigger. 

Jim never slept better after the Darklands. He was proud of his decision to go in together once they were ready, as was the original plan the first time around. Jim knew the importance of seeking help from friends, and he was able to live without that particular trauma twice.

Gunmar was defeated, Trollmarket wasn’t lost, Angor Rot became an ally, and his friends were alive and happy. Jim smiled as he and Claire walked past the forge, where Draal and Nomura were sparing, swapping insults that bordered on flirting, although both would deny it. Jim was most proud of saving Draal, although he would never tell anyone that. After defeating him in battle in the forge and gaining the respect of Trollmarket, Draal moved into his basement and the two of them renewed the bond that had been ripped away by Gunmar. Draal never lost his arm, was never under the control of Gunmar, and never died saving Jim’s life. He fought beside Jim as equals throughout his battles, and remained one of his closest allies and friends.

Vendel entered the forge to yell something at Nomura and Draal, but it wasn’t long before the three of them erupted in laughter. Vendel looked around and noticed Jim smiling at them, and gave a curt nod with his staff to signal a hello and his continued respect. 

“Vendell, Queen Usurna is working for Gunmar, she wants to take over Trollmarket and steal the Hearthstone.”

When it had come the time of the Eternal Night, there was no Morgana to rage war, and no Gunmar to destroy Arcadia. Jim stayed human, and stayed in Arcadia where he belonged. Blinky shortly became Vendel’s right hand, and the two of them set out on a mission to organize trollkind in the wake of Gunmar’s defeat. Dictatious had wanted to go along with his brother, but knew he was needed in Trollmarket to help the Changelings and Gum Gums adjust to a life post-war. He was joined by Aaarrrgghh in his endevor, who was happy to help others the way Blinky helped him. 

After the day the Eternal Night was supposed to be, Jim found himself wandering into the cafe Douxie worked at.

“Douxie, we need to find Merlin.”

Teaming up with Archie and Claire, the four of them set off to the tomb, where Merlin was resurrected and the next steps were taken. While they prepared for the war with the Arcane Order, Toby had stayed back in Arcadia as it’s one Trollhunter. He had formed bonds with Aja and Krel, and protected Arcadia from the threats better than Jim would’ve. He came into his own as WarHammer, and had accepted the role he chose himself.

“Claire, let’s free Morgana. She isn’t a bad woman, and she can help us in the days to come.”

With Douxie and Merlin at her side, Claire had freed Morgana and managed to settle her down enough to talk. And with her help the plan was made. The Wizards and Trollhunters traveled in time to determine the identity of the Green Knight, where Douxie was named a Master Wizard and the Trollhunter amulet was made. Deya was named the first Trollhunter, and the past was secured. And when they returned, it was Morgana that saved them from the Green Knight. She gave Arthur the rest he deserved, and when the battle was over, she left with Merlin to grieve and find themselves in the new world. Nari had stayed behind with Douxie, who had accepted his role as protector.

“There’s Douxie!” Claire briefly let go of Jim’s hand to wave, and Douxie beamed and returned it. Archie was sitting on his shoulder while Nari padded along after the two of them. Archie was mentioning something about going to visit his dad, and Douxie agreed to go along for moral support. Nari looked at Jim with a knowing look in her eyes, the way she always looked at him. He could never tell if she knew what he did, and all that he had changed, but he decided he didn’t care. She was alive, and Douxie had succeeded in protecting her, and that was all that mattered.

“We need to find the seals Nari...Do you know where the rest of the Arcane Order might have gone?...It’s over now, you’re safe.”

The Genesis Seals had been found and rehidden by Douxie, who didn’t tell anyone where he hid them. Not even Jim or Nari. They had all agreed it was for the best. When Douxie died the secret would die with him. Unable to find and open the seals, Skrael and Bellroc scrambled to find Nari and finish what they started. And with the help of Krel and Aja, the Trollhunters, and the Wizards, the two had their magic stripped away by Akiridian tech, and Jim was able to deliver the finishing blows.

Now today, the day the Titans were supposed to have risen, there was nothing but blue skies. School happened like normal, and the world was at peace. Claire and Jim finished their stroll through Trollmarket as they arrived at Blinky’s study. He was ready for them, and complained that they were the last to arrive. 

Inside sat Toby and Aaarrrgghh, who were shoving their faces with the feast that Blinky had prepared. Jim and Claire sat down at the large table and Blinky looked at him expecting him to speak. Jim chuckled and rose to make a toast.

“We have overcome a lot. The defeat of Bular, Gunmar, and the Arcane Order. Merlin and Morgana are off on their own. Douxie and Archie are protecting Arcadia from mystical threats. Aja, Krel, Steve, and Eli are off on Akiridion-5 to rule together. The Darklands liberated, our families reunited, and our loved ones close. This was all I ever wanted for all of you, and I couldn’t be happier.” Jim looked around at the smiling faces surrounding him. This was his family, the ones that had been with him since the start. Blinky, his mentor and father figure, Aaarrrgghh his loyal friend, Claire the love of his life and powerful sorceress, and Toby, the friend who had been with him since the beginning. From a time before trolls and aliens and wizards. When he had wanted more excitement in life.

There were days the burden of the what-could’ve-beens plagued Jim’s mind and he struggled to carry on with the weight of his mistakes. But then days like this happened, where he knew he had changed things for the better, and the world was better off because of his sacrifice. He wouldn’t change a thing, and given the choice to have the time stone again, he would toss it aside. This was the happy ending they all deserved, the ending he worked hard to give them all. There had been changes that brought new threats to face, new calls to answer. But he faced them all with the friends and family he chose and surrounded himself with, and he used his experience to do what he could. He was a hero, the Trollhunter, the champion of Trollmarket. He was Jim the Bular Slayer, the Gunmar Slayer, but most importantly he was Jim Lake. The first Human Trollhunter. And he didn’t think, he became.

[voidsentprinces]

FGO is a mythological fanfic clusterfuck...

Prologue: You are an unassuming man or madam who briefly meets their classmate, Mash. And angers their tsundere superior in Chaldea. An organization made to stop the end of the world. The one guy standing around and dressed like “I am an evil villain”. Turns on Chaldea and all the people suppose to go get blown up before they can embark on their first mission. This explosion sends you flying into Fuyuki with your Tsundere Superior and your classmate turned servant. You are the worst choice to save humanity from the end of the world. But now the only option.

Storyline of Fuyuki: Ah, good to be back in OG Fuyuki. Except everything is one fire, most of humanity is dead, and you have to escort a tsundere superior around while your classmate learns how to be a servant. Everyone is evil except Cu Chulainn who is a wizard and is your drunk uncle here to impart wisdom and snark.

Storyline of Orleans: Jeanne D’Arc comes back as Darth Vader leading an army of other historical villains including Elisabeth Báthory , Dracula, Marie Antonette’s Executioner, the Phantom of the Opera, and Darth Lancelot. You team up with Jedi Master Jeanna D’Arc as well as a younger for some reason dragonkin version of Elisabeth Báthory (just to make thing confusing), Marie Antionette, Motherfuckin’ Mozart, Kiyohime and Sigfried to stop her. Also dragons are everywhere. Darth D’Arc exists because Bluebeard wanted to give her catharsis.

Storyline of Septem: What if Emperor Nero wasn’t completely off his fucking rocker, came back as a fashionable wife, and has to fight previous Roman Emperors to get back Rome? Including a rotund Julius Caesar, an incoherent batshit Caligula, a young Alexander the Great and his hapless future successor who is an adult and just as confused as you, and Romulus. Whose death spawns Attilla the Hun as a space dressed waifu. And just to make their roles in history null and void. You enlist the help of Boudica and Spartcus to aid you. Also Jing Ke and mecha Lu Bu are there too.

Storyline of Okeanos: What if Francis Drake was a big tiddie pirate wife. Alright what if previously to your arrival she 1 v 1′d Poseidon and WON!? Alright now what if after getting her help, you fought Eric Bloodaxe, got trolled by Euryale to re-enact the myth of the Minotaur. But then the Minotaur turned out to be a good boi and joined you. Also Artemis carrying around Orion, Atlanta and David, King of Israel is there. So is Jason and some of the Argonauts but like just Medea and Heracles. Replacing the other Argonauts with Hektor from the Trojan War. Also you have to punch Blackbeard with Mary Read and Anne Bonny.

Story of London: There’s fog every where. You have to join forces with Traitor Knight, Mordred, Doctor Jeckyll, a kid Hans Christian, and Frakenstein’s Bride. Contending with Jack the Ripper, Mephistopheles, Hoienheim, Mecha Babbage, a bunch of Mannequins, and then the Mist of London just sort of summoned Nicoli Tesla and Darth Arthur to fight too. At the very end Tamamo no Mae and Sakata Kintoki arrive just to exit stage left immediately.

Story of E Pluribus Unum: Medb wants to fuck Darth Cu Chulainn but he’s not that interested. So she decides to fuck up Wild West America instead. Making Beowulf the Warden of Alcatrez, Fergus mac Roich the Heavy, and then kidnaps Rama’s Wife before mortally wounding him. Also she has to fight against Lion Headed Mecha Edison, Helena Blavatsky. The two of which are using  Karna, Son of the Sun as the Bouncer. You convince a germ manic Florence Nightingale to aid you, pick up a wounded Rama on the way, as well as Robin Hood, Billy the Kid, young  Elisabeth Báthory again, Geronomo and Nero who is trying to be an actress to fight them all. Also Scathach, Fionn Mac Cumhill and Diarmid are there too. But they just do things at random and Li Shuwen randomly shows up too.

Story of Camelot: What if the entire round table was just a bunch of psychopathic zealots who worthship the ground Arthur walked upon. And then got into a fight with Ozymandius and Nitrocris for the lulls while launching a magical tactical nuclear strike on the entirety of Crusader State Middle East. All the legends of Hassan is trying to stop them but Arash is there too. Tawara Tota is also there to distribute a shit ton of rice. Nothing you do here really matters. But Bedivere shows up to aid in the lackluster ending. Xuanzang Sanzang is also there.

Story of Babylonia: Not Enkidu answers to giant Medusa who is pretending to be Tiamat. Bringing about a massive army of demons and monsters to wipe out humanity in prehistoric Mesopotomia. Leonidas, Ushiwakamaru, and Benkai are doing their best to fight off the hordes. After three Demons go out like bosses before your arrival. Also young Medusa and Merlin are there cause why not? After befriending a woman in a tiger kigarumi, Quetzacoltal, Ishtar, and Ereshikigal. You find out defeating giant Medusa was a ploy to summon the real Tiamat and shit goes down. You eventually drop Tiamat into the Underworld where the First Hassan dewings her after which Ishtar, Ereshikigal, and Gilgamesh work together to defeat her. Ushiwakamaru is captured and comes back as an evil version of herself but with the aid Nekai and Quetzacoltal going out in a blaze of glory you defeat them all.

Story of Saloman: Every servant shows up to fight off Soloman and his Demons, turns out Soloman is the daemon Goetia possessing the corpse of Soloman. And the true Soloman is actually your acting director and base medical doctor. After your classmate sacrifices herself you defeat Goetia and Soloman decides he’s good for now and peaces out taking Goetia down with him and restoring humanity. Bringing your classmate back to life in the process.

But wait THERES MORE! The remaining Demons who survive the Goetia fight decide they’re mad they lost. So create some singularities to air out their grievances. Trapping you and the staff of Chaldea in a time space continuum until you hunt down and take them all out.

Story of Shinjuku: The League of Evil comprising of James Moriarty, Yan Qing, Darth Emiya, the Headless Horseman riding the Spirit of Vengeful Wolves, and the Phantom of the Opera take over 1990s Shinjuku for the fun of it. You have to enlist of the aid of James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, Darth Jeanne D’Arc, Darth Arthur Pendragon, and Edmond Dantes. Turns out Moriarty that was your ally was actually the true Moriarty and the one leading the League of Evil was the Demon you’re looking for. Summoning the power of all Fictional Detectives you defeat Moriarty. I shit you not.

Story of Agartha: Welcome to the Center of the Earth. Where the vast open plains are ruled by Darth Francis Drake, Penthesilea, and Wu Zetian. You are joined by Astolfo who takes the form of a cute anime girl but retains his gender, Chevalier d’Eon, and a young Fergus. Fighting the Queens and their respective empires with the aid of...sigh, Christopher Columbus. Surprising no one, Columbus turns out to be the true villain and with the aid of Shahrazad and a Demon almost Colony drops the Center of the Earth on top of the actual Earth, Age of Ultron style. But the power of friendship you win. Also Godzilla Heracles is running around.

Story of Shimosa: What if just after or before the Warring States period: Ashiya Doman, Yagyu Munenori, Minamoto no Raiko, Tomoe Gozen, Mochizuki Chiyome, and Shuten Doji showed up to fuck everything up? Including corrupting Hozoin Inshun just to be absolutely asinine? You get the power of a time traveling woman using the legend of Miyamoto Musashi to get into shenanigans. Also obtaining the aid of Fuma Kotaro and occasionally a robotic mecha Kato Danzo. The Demon sort of just appears backing Ashiya Doman.

Story of Salem: The Salem Witch trials but if done like the VVitch in a horror film manner. Not so much about the battles but about the atmosphere. As you, your classmate, Robin Hood, Charles Henri-Sanson, Nezha, Mata Hari, and the witch, Cirice posing as Medea for a few seconds there. Have to pose as a traveling circus of storytellers and entertainers. While the suspicions of the towns people grow darker. Ghouls and spirits begin to haunt the night. There are executions and the Demon turns out to be the one you least expect. The soul of a child is used to open up a gateway for an Outer God and shit goes down.

But wait there is even MORE!

Story of Prologue: You’ve hunted down and killed the demons. And now the world is back to normal. When a new force arrives to take over Chaldea in your stead. One of those new arrivals brings along an army to slaughter Chaldea and activates the end of the world by way of Alien Invasion. You get out of there in the nick of time via a magical meguffin mobile and now have to track down Lostbelts. Each one controlled by a King, a Master who was your former colleague who previously got blown up and now is now revived by the Aliens, and their servant as well. Good fucking luck chuck!

Story of Anatasia: Russia is fucked. Russia is SO FUCKED! That its been stuck in an Ice Age since the reign of Ivan the Terrible. The Russians are forced to use a magic to turn them into anthropamorphic beings and have been surviving barely due to the machanations of Saleri, Ivan the Terrible, Anastasia Romonov, the Master of this Lostbelt, and a particularly sadistic fox woman. With barely anything to go on and running out of fuel. You have to venture out into the eternal Russian Blizzard to get the aid of one of the locals, Avicebron and Darth Atlanta to defeat Anatasia, Ivan, and tear down their cosmic eldritch tree to restore humanity in that sector.

Story of Gotterdammerung: You made it out of Russia and into the Netherlands, where it seems on the cusp of Ragnarok. You are immediately facerolled by Sigurd being possessed by Sutr. Who is under the command of a master there. Enlisting the aid of Napoleon Bonaparte you fight back against Frost Giants, Valkyries, and Sigurd. Also enlisting the aid of Brynhildr to do so. You also have to contend with a girl made up of several goddesses and Scatach taking on the manter of Skadi.

Story of S I N: Out of the frying pan and into the China if it never left or evolved beyond the Qin Dynasty. Except for the Emperor who has become a giant space base, artifical intelligence reaching immortality. After having close calls with mecha centaur Xiang Yu, Qin Langyu, an older Li Shuwen,  Lanling Wang. The Emperor sees you teaching peasants how to read and coloney drops a piece of himself on the village. You send Spartacus to punch to meteor...I shit you not. And with the aid of Mordred, Jing Ke, Red Hare, and Chen Gong. You impress Emperor Qin to come out of his shell and reveal his butterfly god form. Also the Master in this Lostbelt is actually a fucking vampire.

And that’s all I’ve gotten to so far.

[airplanelanding]

For the hug thingy...14👀 merthur

OKOKOK LOOK AHHSHGJFJF I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!!!!!!!! BUT ITS HERE ITS HERE I FINISHED IT

Admittedly, I struggled with it, and I got rly nervous that you wouldn't like it, but I hope you do!!!!!

Fic is below the cut! [I have also posted it on my Ao3!]

Merlin took a deep breath as he leaned against the reception desk of his hospital. It was quiet… Not that he’d dare say it out loud—it felt wrong to even think. He tugged at his scrubs a bit, adjusting them with a frown.

He loved the nightshift as much as he hated it. In his hospital, it was such a coin flip chance of whether they’d be rushed or silent at night.

He found himself immensely grateful for the calm night.

There had been a shift in the air that morning, a tug on his magic, almost a—a call… It was strange, and it made him wonder if maybe… Maybe it was time. Nothing had happened, though, and while he still retained hope, he found it dwindling. Perhaps he had been wrong, perhaps he’d not felt a shift. Maybe it was just his wish to see him again, that made it seem as if it were finally time.

Merlin worried his bottom lip between his teeth and looked over to the clock on the wall. 01:23 A.M.

Right, gods new and old, it was too late… Early, whatever. The sorcerer sighed loudly and turned around to smile at the receptionist.

“Been a long night,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“Hello to you too, Ambrosius,” the Lady, Cherie, chuckled softly. “You look like shit—no offense, you just look exhausted. Have you taken even a single break this shift?”

“Who needs breaks when you have coffee?” Merlin retorted, winking as he ran a hand through his hair. Ugh, it was dirty. He needed a shower… “I only have five and a half hours left and I’m off. Let’s consider this my break, since I’m not doing anything.”

“Not considered a break when there’s nothing to do anyway,” Cherie raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been basically empty all night.”

“Oh, we talking about the night?” One of the new hires—an intern, if Merlin recalled—chimed in as she walked by, stopping to chat. When Merlin and Cherie nodded response, the younger woman let out a relaxed sigh. “Yeah, it’s so nice! So nice… Can’t believe I got lucky enough to be on rota for such a quiet night. The others are going to be so jealous.”

Merlin inhaled through his teeth, cringing as she spoke, and Cherie let out a small gasp. The intern looked between the two in confusion.

“What? What did I say?”

“Oh, honey…” Cherie murmured, shaking her head slowly. The intern let out a worried noise, her eyes widening.

“What?” She repeated, visibly anxious. Merlin just let out a sigh and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s alright, you didn’t know…” He assured her, before dropping his hand and looking to the doors with a grimace. “You never say quiet in a hospital—I’m afraid you just damned us to a hectic rest of the night.”

Her shoulders droop in disappointment. “That’s a real thing? I thought that was just for drama in television shows… Oh, god, I’m sorry, I didn’t—oh, god, I was just excited.”

“Don’t fret too much, we’ve all been there,” Merlin told her. She looked at him with hope in her eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Go grab yourself a coffee before things get crazy, you’ll need it.”

The intern nodded slowly, and with a final apology, she hurried off to get a coffee. Once she was out of sight, Cherie and Merlin looked at each other once again. The sorcerer chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“I think you made her feel worse, somehow, rather than better,” Cherie told him, raising an eyebrow with a grin. Merlin just shrugged.

“Maybe it won’t even change anything this time,” he suggested, “it doesn’t always, after all. Maybe we’ll get to keep the peace…”

No later than he said it, did they hear sirens approaching. Merlin groaned, dropping his head onto the reception desk. “Damn it all,” he muttered.

Finally, five fifty-seven in the morning, Merlin walked up to reception again. Everything had finally just calmed enough for him to take a break… His magic buzzed beneath his skin, screaming at him for reasons he didn’t know. If he thought he was exhausted before, though…

He barely noticed the shift in the air as he turned to greet Cherie again. He was so tired, though, he didn’t pay it any mind.

“I’m… back,” he yawned, stretching his back out.

Cherie gave him a tired grin. “Welcome back, Merlin. You look even shittier than before.”

“Mm, thanks, I feel shittier than before,” he responded with a smile. As Cherie laughed, Merlin’s brows furrowed in confusion. The air felt off. Stronger than before, almost overwhelming now. His magic was practically vibrating with an eagerness he hadn’t felt in it since…

His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened. He absently noted Cherie asking if he was okay and nodded before looking to the ceiling. He knew she couldn’t feel the change, why would she? Merlin refused to turn towards the entrance for fear of not finding what he wished to. Shouting echoed from outside the doors, and his heart leapt in his chest.

It was happening. The time was here. His magic had been right. He could feel it. There was no other explanation! His King had returned… Oh, please let him have returned… He didn’t know if he could take another false alarm.

“Sir! Sir! You need to stop—resisting! We are trying to help you!” Merlin heard a man call in as the door swung open loudly. There was sound of a struggle, and Merlin’s anticipation grew. He looked to Cherie, to see her staring slack-jawed in the direction of the entrance. And then…

“Unhand me! I said, unhand me this instant, you fool! Do you know who I am?!” The forever familiar sound of his native tongue flooded Merlin’s ears, the voice speaking such old words almost more familiar than the language itself. His heart racing, Merlin spun to face the entrance.

His stomach lurched and a borderline hysterical laugh ripped from his throat when his eyes landed on the blond man in full armour, dripping wet, and shouting in Old Brythonic at the A&E entrance. The two policemen holding him by the arms were fighting to keep him restrained as he tried to tear himself from their grip, shouting a plethora of swears Merlin always knew Arthur knew no matter how much he denied it.

Their eyes locked and a relieved grin covered Arthur’s face as he stopped fighting. “Merlin!” He exclaimed, “Merlin, tell these buffoons to release me!”

“What language do you think that is?” Merlin heard Cherie ask. He didn’t answer though, he just grinned widely.

“Let him go, he’s distressed over being restrained, he’s not a danger,” he told the police, trying to keep his voice level. The policemen looked at each other warily, and Arthur gave Merlin a confused look as he spoke. Then, with a shrug each [probably deciding they don’t get paid enough for this], the men holding Arthur’s arms let him go. The King muttered something under his breath and rolled his shoulders back, turning and glaring at the paramedics. He relaxed significantly now that he’d been released, and spotted someone he knew.

Merlin took a shaky breath, thrilled yet close to tears, almost disbelieving his eyes and ears.

“Is it really you?” He asked, holding eye contact with Arthur, his native language rolling off his tongue with ease, despite his years of only being able to speak it to himself.

Arthur nodded slowly, and Merlin barely registered Cherie asking him what was happening. He would have felt bad for ignoring her had his husband not literally just risen form the dead.

“I’m not sure who else it would be,” Arthur responded, and oh… Oh, Merlin missed this, missed him. “Not Gwaine, definitely not Gwaine.”

Merlin let out a laugh, approaching Arthur, shaking his head. “You’re actually here, oh, you’re here!” He placed his hands on Arthur’s face, cupping his cheeks before letting go of him and moving a hand to the pulse point on his neck.

“What are you—”

“Oh, your heart…” Merlin cut him off, his voice a murmur as he fell so easily back into speaking his old, now dead, language. He held his three fingers against Arthur’s pulse, taking a deep breath to compose himself as he felt the steady beat of a heart beneath his hand. Tears stung his eyes despite his will not to cry. He dropped his hand and took a step back to really look at Arthur.

“It’s really beating, you’re really here… Gods, don’t let this be a cruel dream…” Merlin near begged as his eyes scanned his lover’s body, taking in every inch. He was alive.

“Merlin.” Merlin’s eyes snapped back up to Arthur’s face when he said his name, “It’s not a dream, cariad. I promise, I am here, and I am not leaving again. I will never leave you again.”

Merlin’s bottom lip trembled as Arthur opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. He felt the tears threaten to spill, and with a sobbing laugh, he launched himself at his husband, throwing his arms around his neck tightly. Arthur stumbled back slightly with the force of impact. He laughed softly as he regained his balance and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist, returning the embrace.

“I have no idea what’s happening, but it feels romantic,” Merlin heard one of the policemen mutter off to the side, in modern day English.

It was only at that moment he processed just how much Arthur was going to have to learn now that he was back. Though, perhaps he could find a spell to help him in the language department… It would make things much easier. Though, he’d have to think of something to tell Cherie later about it all. Ah, that was a problem for future Merlin… He could deal with the witnesses after a few hours with his finally returned King.

“I’m glad to be back—wherever this is,” Arthur muttered, and Merlin finally pulled away from the hug just enough to look at his face. He smiled, genuinely, as a few tears slipped down his face, and pressed their lips together gently. Gods, he missed him so much… When they parted, he let out a sigh and rested his forehead against Arthur’s.

“I’m glad you’re back too…”

[wizardouxie]

Do you have any more Morgana and Douxie headcanons? All your other ones are absolutely adorable and I just can’t get enough 🥰🥰😫😫

Ahhh I can do the mini story series format again! Hope you enjoy them anonnie ~

Torn Apart

One time Douxie accidentally tears one of Morgana’s dresses and he completely freaks out

He takes it back to his room and is like ‘what do I do what do I do what do I do’

Adrenaline kicks in as he realizes that Morgana and Merlin could come in at any time

So he picks up a sewing book and quickly learn its contents

Thanks to his nimble and talented hands he’s able to sew the rip shut

Morgana originally was stopping by his room to ask where Merlin was

But instead she finds him with her dress

She stands there by the door quietly, observing the whole time

When he’s done he raises it up to see the spot where the rip used to be

“Not bad if I do say so myself, don’t you think Arch?”

The boy turns it around to show his familiar and Morgana finds herself agreeing as well

His handiwork was flawless

As was her dress

She leaves silently with a smile on her face

After all it was absolutely adorable and sweet of the boy to fix the dress himself rather than taking it to the tailor in town

Later that night she wears that specific dress and eyes Douxie, remarking that she appreciates the handiwork of whoever took the time to stitch it

Douxie eyes widen and he laughs awkwardly scratching his neck

She approaches him after dinner and admits that she did catch him redhanded

He starts stuttering and tries to explain himself

Morgana doesn’t let him, and instead shushes him

“All is well! I’m not mad. But promise me that there shan’t be any secrets between us?”

Douxie exhales in relief and nods firmly

“As you wish milady.”

Flower Crown

Another time Morgana impulsively runs away

Like she’s gone all of a sudden and Arthur, no matter how frustrated he gets with her, is still worried for her

Merlin assures him that she’ll come back in due time

Arthur still sends out a search party regardless

But while everyone is looking high and low for the princess of Camelot

Douxie is braiding her hair by the lake

He found her an hour earlier

He tells her everyone is worried and she knows

But she misses the peace and tranquility

Douxie gives into her request of keeping quiet for now and promises that he won’t take her back to the castle yet

So after a while she starts ranting about Merlin’s incompetency as a teacher

And to be honest? Douxie isn’t really processing any of it

He just knows that Morgana needs to get it out of her system and get it out she does

When she’s done, Morgana looks down into the pond and is surprised to see flowers in her hair as well

Douxie finds her expression unreadable and panics

“Sorry were the flowers too much? I can take them out if you’d like,”

“No, not at all! They’re beautiful actually,”

She looks back at Douxie and finds herself amazed at the little circlet on his head

“What is that, the headpiece which rests upon your head?”

“Oh this? It’s a flower crown! I like to make these for Archie and I when we’re bored,” he explains

She tilts her head

“May I... May I have one? They look simple yet gorgeous,”

Douxie smiles

“Of course! I shall make a flower crown fit for the princess.”

Raven

They send each other ravens to message each other

One day Merlin sees the same raven flying back and forth in front of his window

He gets irritated and intercepts the mail intended for only Douxie’s eyes

“He is a little bit sensitive about his hair, isn’t he? It’s starting to grey, poor soul,”

Merlin is, in fact, very sensitive about his hair, and bans them from using the ravens to send each other letters

Morgana and Douxie whine, because how else are they going to communicate without being heard?

As revenge, they enchant Merlin’s raven to talk back at him

Aka we have a new talking parrot

“To King Arthur you shall go,”

“NO!”

Merlin is Confused

Since when??? Could his raven SPEAK???

He goes to Morgana and Douxie who are practicing their basic spells

They stare at Merlin in confusion and he looks at his raven

The raven speaks their names and they feign a look of surprise

“It can talk? For how long could it do that?”

“Is this your familiar?”

Merlin shakes his head, unaware that they are the reason it can talk

“Yes, I don’t know, and no Hisirdoux, it is not, but it refused to send a letter to your brother,”

“Can’t you just speak with Arthur in person? You two are closer to each other than I am with him,” Morgana snorts

“Sometimes words on paper speak louder than in person,”

“HYPOCRITE!” the opinionated raven shouts

Merlin gets embarrassed because he knows his apprentices are about to bring up his prohibition of sending ravens to each other and leaves promptly

They get back their privileges a week later

The raven never stops talking however; Morgana and Douxie had way too much fun with it to turn it back to normal

[fishoutofcamelot]

I saw your r recent contribution to the post about hard vs soft magic systems and I agree wholeheartedly. You also mentioned having a bunch of worldbuilding and stuff about the magic system, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to share some?

(For reference, this is the post in question)

Certainly! While the worldbuilding/magicbuilding hellscape i was describing in the notes is actually in regards to an original-content wip I've been working on, i also have a LOT of headcanons regarding the BBCM magic system too! (Do not ask about my wip's magic system, because i won't be able to shut up about it)

WARNING: long post ahead and mobile won't let me include a cutoff/read-more line. If you're not interested, get ready to scroll down like your life depends on it (and it does).

So! First things first. Here's what we know about the BBCM magic system:

Magic requires spells, most of the time. This seems like a no-brainer, but still an important distinction. There are a lot of magic systems that don't require vocalized spells - Avatar: the Last Airbender, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Ninjago, to name a few. Spells are rather common for wizard/witch/medieval fantasies, and are typically used to control and channel the intent of the magic. This suggests that the magic of BBCM is some kind of force or energy that needs spoken commands to control.

Spells are repurposed words from Old English, aka the language of the Old Religion. (Let's ignore the obvious anachronistic nightmare of the fact that Old English is exactly the same language they would've been speaking in this time period.)

The use of a spell causes someone's eyes to flare gold, plus that fancy wooshing sound effect that Arthur miraculously never hears. This suggests that magic somehow changes your physiology, although it could be also just be a side effect of channeling.

However, magic doesn't always require a spell. Though never fully explained, it appears to be something only innate magic users are capable of - Merlin, Morgana, Mordred. It is something less controllable than spellwork, typically governed by moments of strong emotion rather than logical intent.

The show consistently flip-flops between the idea that magic is something you're born with, and that Merlin is rare for being born with magic. It's never clarified just how someone acquires magic. Gaius asks Merlin where he studied, suggesting that it's something you can learn, while Balinor claims that you either have it or you don't. Though not confirmed fact, i suspect it's similar to how it works in the show Supernatural. There, some witches are natural-born, while others are taught (and some get their powers from spooky demon deals).

It has a life-for-a-life policy. Basically like the Law of Equivalent Exchange from Fullmetal Alchemist, a life cannot be created without another one being sacrificed first. This rule only canonically applies to creating life/the Cup of Life, and any other possible applications aren't addressed.

This rule apparently doesn't apply to animals, as Merlin brought a dog statue to life without killing anyone (that we know of), and Valiant's shield had three live snakes in it. However, it's possible that lives were taken as payment in the process of animation without Merlin's knowledge, but it never happens on screen so we don't know. So either a) animals don't have souls to exchange in the life-for-a-life policy, b) they do but it happens off-screen, or c) those animated animals aren't actually alive.

The Cup of Life infuriates me from a magicbuilding perspective. Ignoring the obvious question of how it came into the druids' possession, its existence isn't clearly defined. Does it require the fancy rain ritual that Nimueh gave it, or was she just extra? Why does drinking from it give you life, while bleeding into it makes you undead and also mindlessly obedient to the sorcerer who made you as such? Were there life-for-a-life consequences for creating an immortal army? Wtf happened on the Isle of the Blessed to allow Merlin to "master life and death", and what does that even mean? All valid questions that never get answered.

Spells sometimes need need a 'source'. Think the staff from "The Tears of Uther Pendragon" and Morgana from "The Fires of Idirsholas." It is unclear what makes these spells different/special.

There is a power hierarchy. Some spells are too powerful for some practitioners to cast, although the reason for this is unclear. Does it drain you of energy/life force? Do you exhaust/overwork your magic muscles? Do you get a little pop-up that says 404 Magic Not Found? Unclear.

Magic is something that can be trained and improved. For example, Morgana gradually became more powerful over time. Merlin naturally had a lot of power straight off the jump and just had to discipline it, but he's a ~special~ case so he doesn't count.

There are some subsets of magic that are definitively born traits. Morgana is a Seer, possessing this capability even before her magic manifested. Likewise, Merlin is a dragonlord, which he inherited from Balinor. Although Balinor did mention that it wasn't a sure thing he would have the ability until he faced a dragon, so there may be some variation in whether or not someone lucks out in the Magic Gene Pool. This may suggest that natural-born magic is hereditary, as both Morgana and her sister Morgause had it. Vivienne and Gorlois both probably didn't have it, otherwise you'd hear Uther bellyaching about it, which raises the question of where they got it? A grandparent, perhaps? Maybe they both carried a recessive magic gene or something...

Unless you're Merlin, magic can be taken away by the Gean Canagh. It's not explained how this is possible, though, as it's never explained how you acquire magic in the first place. But Merlin never lost his magic because he's "magic itself" which if you ask me is just a deus ex machina wrapped inside a headache wrapped inside a heaping load of chosen one bullcrap. But it's canonical lore, so we have to consider it.

Despite my previous complaints, i actually find the idea of Merlin being "magic itself" rather intriguing. Is he a creature of magic, like a dragon or a questing beast? Is his body made of magic, like how a statue might be made of clay? Does it run through his veins like blood? If this is the case, then why didn't he suffer more severe ramifications for losing his magic? Why didn't it kill him? How did it restrict his magic in the first place? Placebo effect? The fanon explanation is that he's "the living embodiment of magic" but that makes my bullcrap richter scale shoot off the charts because that makes NO sense whatsoever. "Son of the earth, sea, and sky?" What does that MEAN?

There is a vivid link between magic and the Old Religion, which has its own beliefs and rituals and deities. Primarily, the Triple Goddess. The Triple Goddess is actually an existing deity in Neopaganism and Wicca. This also suggests the existence of the Horned God, another entity from neopagan lore and her masculine consort/counterpart, but that is never confirmed.

WHO. OR. WHAT. IS. THE. FREAKING. DOCHRAID. She's described as a creature of magic, which suggests that humans/humanoids can be creatures of magic, fueling my theory that 'Emrys' isn't human.

Destiny exists. It is unclear who creates/writes destiny, who controls it, who or what is privy to knowing about it, and what that means for the concept of free will.

The crystal cave is a thing, i guess. It's the heart of magic, is haunted by Taliesin, and is filled with prophetic crystals. I actually skipped the episodes that involve this stuff because i disliked them, so i don't know much about the Crystal Cave. Apparently ghosts can manifest there tho???

The veil is a thing too. It is unclear how some spirits can retain their human figure and mentality, like Balinor and Uther, but others become dorocha. I imagine its also like Supernatural - being a ghost for long enough will drive you insane, and though it takes a while all spirits eventually turn into dorocha.

Creatures of magic exist. These are normal creatures who have magic imbued into them somehow.

Okay, i think that's everything we know. It seems like a lot, but keep in mind that all of those rules are VERY nebulous. But that at least gives us a jumping-off point!

So here's my working theory/headcanon.

Magic comes from a connection to the spiritual energies of the Triple Goddess. Kinda like a third eye, and for the sake of simplicity that's what we'll call it. The druids have adapted a way of life that revolves around faith and magic, likely in an attempt to cultivate and one day attain this Third Eye. Like Gaius, who trained with the High Priestesses, you can study and practice and discipline yourself into acquiring it.

Magic is a cosmic force owned by the Triple Goddess, accessible to anyone with the Third Eye link. Imagine the Triple Goddess as a milkshake and the so-called Third Eye as a straw. The studying and training that people dedicate their whole lives to is basically just looking for/building a straw.

However, some people are just naturally born with a straw in hand, but require practice and study to be able to properly use it. Or like Morgana, it takes a few years for them to even find it/activate it.

Spellcasting is essentially just sucking through the straw, and the vocalized spells gives that Magic Milkshake some purpose/intent/shape.

The bigger the spell, the more Magic Milkshake is required. Some people have bigger/wider straws than others, so magic comes easier for them. But with enough training and practice anyone can widen their straw/strengthen their straw-sucking muscles to cast with the big leagues.

The Gean Canagh devours your straw/Third Eye. Perhaps you have to rebuild a new spiritual connection from scratch, or perhaps it permanently severs any and all connection to the Triple Goddess. Like getting excommunicated from the Church, only worse.

The Crystal Cave was/is the Triple Goddess's home, but she's out of town on a business trip atm so she left the spirit of her most loyal follower, Taliesin, to look after the place. It's super powerful and has all those cool crystals because it's hella steeped in her magic juices.

While most magic users get a standard-issue straw, others get Fancy Premium Membership Straws. Normal joe shmoes like Gilli have plastic straws, while a Seer like Morgana has a metal one or something (can you tell this metaphor is starting to get out of hand?). Those Premium Straws are only hereditary in nature. So there's a Seer Straw, or a Dragonlord Straw, or a Disir Straw, but it's also not a sure thing you'll even inherit it at all. It's all luck of the straw draw.

Creatures of magic aren't just animals that possess straws, though. They've been made/produced using magic rituals and processes and spells. Like Nimueh's afanc, nathairs, wraiths, shades, etc. So probably like a thousand years ago, some especially powerful shmuck came by and invented dragons. Which leads me to an important question: WHO THE HELL THOUGHT THE DOCHRAID WAS A GOOD IDEA.

Im reluctant to say these creatures were invented by the Triple Goddess, though, for reasons I'll get to in a moment.

So this still leaves the whole Cup of Life, life-for-a-life policy thing to be explained. I do believe that the policy is universally applicable to the creation of souls, and i do believe that animals have souls too. But individuals get their souls exchanged for those of equal value. So every soul has a certain weight to it, and you need to exchange souls of equal weight to create one. So when Merlin brought the dog to life, some random dog somewhere dropped dead against his knowledge.

Creating undead armies involves killing them and then resurrecting them. That's what 'undead' means. Zombies. So yes, to raise an immortal zombie army, Morgause's spell probably caused a bunch of people around the world to mysteriously drop dead.

Which leaves two last things to explain: destiny and Merlin.

Destiny is, i think, a combined effort between human choice and supernatural predeterminism. That is, for the most part humans make their own choices, but there are occasions where the Triple Goddess has to step in and do some course correction. Uther starting the Purge was free will, but Arthur and Merlin's destiny was an act of divine damage control. The Triple Goddess sets destiny into motion and informs a chosen few about it.

Okay SO. That leaves Merlin. And this is the bit im kinda excited about.

The Triple Goddess is a reservoir of power, a cosmic force of spiritual energy intrinsicallu linked to the fabric of the universe. People can spiritually reach out and tune into/channel her supernatural frequencies. But as a milkshake cannot suck itself through a straw, the Triple Goddess likewise cannot cast a spell. She can influence destiny, but she can't physically cast any magic on her own. That's why she didn't create the creatures of magic.

So a few years ago, Uther hecked up big time. And people of magic, the Triple Goddess's followers and acolytes and straw connections, were dying in droves. I can imagine that all those Third Eye tethers snapping en masse was painful for her to go through. She relies on the tethers to remain connected to the real world, and if all the tethers snap then she will be cut off from Earth altogether. And Earth requires magic to continue existing/thriving, so that's kind of a no-no.

So, the Triple Goddess knew that the only way to save the world was through divine intervention. Thus began the destiny of the Once and Future King and Emrys. She knew humanity is bigoted so there was bound to eventually be a repeat of Uther, so she made OaFK resurrectable, so they could keep him on the bench in case anyone ever needs him again.

Where does Merlin/Emrys fall into things?

Well. The Triple Goddess knew that saving her people and the world would require an immense magical undertaking, something no ordinary magic user would be able to pull off. But she has the power, if only she could use it. But a human can. So the Triple Goddess decided to be reborn into the body of a dragonlord's son. Merlin. Emrys. Magic itself.

Of course, this whole Being Born As A Human Thing is tricky, and as anyone familiar with reincarnation knows, you don't usually recall your past lives. So she became Merlin, unaware that he was ever the Triple Goddess. (Although she did add a clause saying she'd be destined to remember her past life eventually, which got hecked up for reasons ill explain later)

That's why so many creatures of magic/magic users recognize Merlin by his presence, why thr druids carry such reverence for him. Whereas the sidhe and other individuals don't recognize him, because they are blinded by heresy. They may have a spiritual connection to the Triple Goddess, but do not use her magic as she intended, and she's too busy wearing jaunty scarves to excommunicate them herself.

Why get the Once and Future King involved when she could just save everyone herself? Well, the Triple Goddess prefers to let the humans keep their agency and save themselves, and would rather remain in the role of protector/helper. Its just her nature.

But if that's the case, then why did Arthur's destiny fail? It's simple: Kilgharrah.

Remember what i said about the Horned God, counterpart to the Triple Goddess? Yeah, that's Kilgharrah. Like the Triple Goddess, he's another power reservoir, but he's jealous because people worship her and not him. He is against everything she does and actively seeks the destruction of the Triple Goddess's magic/influence for Jealous Evil Reasons. To stop him, the Triple Goddess enlisted some of her followers to bind him into the body of a dragon (perhaps this is how dragons were created) so he would never be able to do that. Years later, the Purge happened and "Kilgharrah" got locked away, further cut off from his power.

When Merlin walked in, unaware that he used to be the Triple Goddess, Kilgharrah seized his chance at revenge and manipulated Merlin into setting him free. Then, once free, he decided to lay claim to the power vacuum left by the Triple Goddess's quasi-absence. He began controlling destiny in whatever limited capacities he could, using magic of his own to permanently bury Merlin's knowledge of his past life. Then he ensured that Arthur would die and the Triple Goddess's magic would never return. But since he doesn't have FULL control over destiny (his powers are still limited by his dragon form, after all), he couldn't rewrite the bit where Arthur gets benched in Avalon. He's probably conspiring with the sidhe to ensure Arthur stays trapped there forever, or else he would've come back a long time ago.

As for how the Gean Canagh took Merlin's magic...well, yes, it devoured his Third Eye straw, but those are created by a strong spiritual connection to the Triple Goddess. And since he's literally the big TG himself, all he had to do was find himself again (by returning to his old home, the Crystal Cave) to recreate a new one.

Over the last 1500 years, Kilgharrah/the Horned God has been steadily accruing followers and worshippers in the hopes that one will become strong enough to release TG's bonds on him. Then he can kill her once and for all and claim full dominion over the universe, with the sidhe to support him.

I imagine that's how Arthur's resurrection would happen - Arthur and the rest of the dead Round Table are in Avalon when they learn about the treachery and plot to kill Merlin/take over the world, and spend the next few hundred years fighting their way out of Avalon.

Okay, I think that just about covers it. God, that was long. Any questions?

[fuckyeahharryhart]

THE ART OF SEDUCTION  PART 2 Harry Hart Fan Fic

KINGSMAN III: REDACTED (Main Fic)

HARRY HART/ ORIGINAL CHARACTER M/F

WARNINGS: Mature, lust, light D/s, sex. Very explicit, but tasteful.

Words: 16800 (it’s very long)

SUMMARY After their initial encounter in the manor lounge, Kingsman quarterly reviews find Harry Hart and Gwendolyn alone together again. This time in Harry's office. What starts out innocently enough turns into a challenge of wills, tradecraft, trust and surrender.

NOTES: This is part of my main series for KINGSMAN 3, but since this is the erotic part that many of us enjoy the most, I decided to also separate it so it's easy to find and read on it's own. If you're looking for the whole story, check out my other fics. Still in progress though.

-----

Harry Hart was a man not easily distracted. If a task required his focus, there was little of the outside world that could pull him away. There was even less temptation in his internal world, where he was the master of his thoughts and emotions. But recently, the image of Gwendolyn, watching her as he pleasured her with only his eyes and the suggestion of his hands, squeezed its way to the forefront of his mind, even with all the walls he put up against it. She made him question the identity he had inhabited for so long he didn’t know if he had the capacity to be anything or anyone else. Was he be a man who could be with a woman half his age? Who happened to be the daughter of his closet colleague? One who had sacrificed himself to save Harry’s life. The thought was unsettling.

An obvious rationale against getting involved was the age difference. He was almost exactly twice her age. Which wouldn’t be inconvenient in all circumstances. But recently, the thought of Gwendolyn watching him when she was younger had him feeling disconcerted. She apparently had spied on him, along with her own father for years. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or disturbed. How old was she when she hacked the Kingsman network? A lot of information, sensitive information had been transmitted through those comms over the years. If she had access to his files, she would know more about him than anyone else on earth. Had she gone through his files? She had never brought up any of its contents. That didn’t mean she hadn’t seen it. The possibility was discomforting.

She had mentioned she young when she started learning computer technology. But she had also mentioned that she wasn’t able to spy on Merlin until she was a teenager. Tracing though her father’s computer network helped her survive her teens. Age difference had less significance when one was almost 60 and thirty. Though some may not find it appropriate, it was essentially, the business between two fully mature adults.

But a thirteen year old girl spying on a 26 year old man? He had never known her at that age. He didn’t even know she existed. But what kind of observations of him had she made at that impressionable age? It was not just a difference in age. It was a difference in maturity and mindset. Gwendolyn mentioned that she had taken a particular interest in Harry because he was her father’s closest colleague. Had she placed him in some kind of surrogate father role? Or was she hanging on to what was no more than a teenage infatuation?

Though by all appearances, Gwendolyn seemed perfectly stable, mentally sound. No evidence of PTSD, no emotional scarring that hindered her personal performance as an agent. She was more taciturn and reserved than most, but same could be said of Harry. She was surprisingly well adjusted for having such a harrowing past.  Was anyone able to adapt that well after that kind of tragedy?

Mostly he feared that she was attracted to him because of displaced feelings for her father. Not that she saw him as a father figure, but perhaps she was filling an emotional void that was left when her father died, using the person who reminded her of her father the most. She certainly didn’t treat him as she would a father. She often seemed to suggest she was interested in Harry beyond a professional relationship. He was finding it harder to resist and at the same time more troubled at the the thought.

He was certain that she was attracted to him. All the signals were there. The subtle touches and physical contact she made. Her hand on his forearm to politely ask for his attention. Fixing his tie if it was crooked or smoothing stray hairs that got caught in the wind. The pleased smile that she always gave him when he appeared. The way she would end up by his side with this tea the way he always prepared it.

Then doubt would creep in. A lack of confidence that he rarely had to contend with. Was she the one initiating contact, or was it he? He couldn’t recall her actually actively seeking him out. He always was the one to come into her space, whether it be running into her on the shooting range, or joining a briefing, or finding her in the sitting room for afternoon tea. She was always the one who was there first. There was no way she could have possibly predicted his location for all of those times. She was an excellent spy, but that was mind reading level. Perhaps he was the one that was making himself available to her.

He knew she was fond of him, respected him, and at times admired him and equally found him exasperating. She was a little bit of a flirt when the mood struck her, but so was Eggsy and he was married. Had she actually made any overt moves that suggested she was interested in him as more than a mentor and a friend? Anything more than the harmless flirtation all the Kingsman engaged in? One would think the agents were ALL sleeping together at times, overhearing some of their conversations. On the rare occasions that she participated in these sessions, he discovered she could throw down as well as the best of them. She had never been that suggestive with him directly.

He prided himself on being a man without internal conflict. A man who did not doubt his words or actions. Then Gwendolyn had appeared, carrying doubt in one hand, conflict in the other, and handed him both.

——

It was late evening at Kingsman HQ. Harry leaned back in his office chair, interlaced his hand behind his head, stretched out his shoulders, unfolded his legs and let himself ease into a slightly less decorous position. It was quarterly review season for Kingsman agents and support staff. That meant long days for everyone, but most of all for him now that he was, in addition to Galahad Sr., part time Arthur as well.  Most everyone had already completed their reviews. The expected issues reared up. The standard responses were given to placate.

How long was Harry going to be playing two roles, Galahad Sr., and Arthur? Weren’t they going to do something about the two Galahad situation? Would agents be assigned new titles since most of table was empty?  Some of the agents had put in request for different names. Would new recruits have to go through the standard process or were they foregoing that tradition because of the dire need for new blood? They had questions about the new faces currently filing spots on the Kingsman’s roster. How long was the cowboy going to stay? It wasn’t going to be permanent, was it? How much sense did it make to have an Agent Tequila at their table of Knights. Shouldn’t he be required to take a new moniker as long as he represented Kingsman? And where did Gwendolyn fit in the scheme of things? Was she the new Merlin? She definitely could be. In time, she could almost be as good as her father. But she was also indispensable in the field as well. Would a new role be created for her? Would they just keep calling her Gwendolyn? Was she a permanent addition? Was she going to be assigned a code name?  The kingsman agents worked best with a grounded foundation. Which had a place for everything and everything had its place. Including all the agents and support staff. An organisation based on decades of tradition, customs and heritage was understandably thrown off when unknown variables suddenly appeared without established roles, boundaries, and expectations.

Harry had his own similar questions as well. He wasn’t sure what to do about Gwendolyn. The last time he had broached the subject of what she was looking for at Kingsman and what her future plans were, he suddenly found himself talking about the details of her next mission he had set up in Portugal. She could skilfully divert almost any conversation in the direction of her choice. It was both charming and exasperating. He was charmed at her skill and exasperated that even he could not resist swerving the conversation in her direction.

She seemed to be wary of any thing that committed her to the future. Not with her work. As an agent, her best work was in planning. But, rather in her personal life. On the occasions that it had come up in conversation, she elegantly avoided talking about her future, what she had planned, what she wanted, or if she had goals for the following years. Most Kingsman were upwardly mobile, looking for advancement. They were ambitious and had designs, targets, aspirations. Whereas Gwendolyn seemed to have little concern for what lay in her future besides the next mission. Harry didn’t know if it was so much living in the present or avoiding future disappointment.

His mind began to wander outside the borders of propriety. The way she looked on the evening they shared in the Kingsman’s lounge took residence in his head. Innocent and seductive simultaneously. Naive yet lustful. It seemed to take up physical space. Moving thoughts aside to make room to stay in the forefront. He desired her. Intensely. She was a study in contradictions. At first glance she seemed like a sweet, lovely young lady. But as he knew first hand she was a skilled operative, an expert in weaponry and tactics, marksmanship, with the ability to think on her feet and engage in even the most unlikely scenarios. Her ability to disengage her emotions in the field would be a stark contrast to her thoughtfulness and kindness in her everyday interactions. Usually reserved and reticent, she could be so direct at times, so forward, that it was unnerving.

He often recalled that night during the times he could not will his arousal away. Rather than satisfying him physically, it seemed to stoke his need for more. Would it ever happen again? Or was it simply a curiosity, an amusing thrill for her that was now satisfied.

He was sitting in his office, long after the other Kingsman agents had gone home, contemplating just that, when she appeared in his doorway.

------

“I was just finishing up.” She help up her last field report. “I emailed you the file. But here’s a printed copy in case you need it.”

Harry held out his hand. Gwendolyn walked across the rug, her heels slightly sinking into the nape and passed the papers across his desk. She wasn’t wearing a Kingsman suit, but she looked very Kingsman nonetheless. The hem of a dark blue and green tartan kilt brushed her legs, the pleats ending just above her knees.  She had matched this with a navy velvet blazer with grosgrain trim, a ruffled white blouse and black court shoes. A navy ribbon was tied around her neck in a small bow, the long ends falling along the front of her blouse. And matching black knee high stockings that he chose to ignore. Her long black hair was done in waves, gathered and pinned at the nape of her neck. Her makeup was, as usual, undetectable, except for a wash of color on her lips. A soft rose red.

He reached for the papers and felt a moment of friction when their fingers grazed. Had she felt the same? He thanked her and set them aside on top of the ever growing stack of reports on the edge of his desk that had found  residence there ever since he had taken over as a temporary Arthur.

He gestured toward the comfortable deep chestnut leather upholstered arm chairs in front of his desk.

“Please, take a seat.”

She walked around to the chair on her right, tucked her kilt under her as not to wrinkle it and sat properly, but comfortably. She smoothed down the front of her blazer. Knees together and slanted to one side, simultaneously elegant and demure.  Her hands were folded lightly over her thighs. She sat up straight with her shoulders back and a firm set to her chin. It reminded him of how she looked that first night, when she was recounting her story.

She looked at him with another one of her inscrutable expressions. Of no significance or consequence. Her face was pleasant, attentive, but revealed absolutely nothing. She could be in her head committing murder or rescuing kittens. She had it down to an art form. She was waiting for him to speak first.

He sighed inwardly. Now that she was here and he had her attention, she had no legitimate reason to leave as this meeting was scheduled in advance and she had nowhere else to be.

“How are you feeling?”

He kept the question purposely vague. Left it open for her to interpret as she would like. He was curious to see what direction she was going to take her answer. All of a sudden, the sight of her, prim and proper in her kilt and blouse, aroused him. He felt himself stir and he adjusted his position accordingly.

“How so?” she asked.

Harry gestured with his hand, palm up and swept it toward her. The floor is yours.

——

She sighed to herself. She was pleased to be seeing him this evening. She had even dressed specifically in the demure, ladylike, but still alluring style that she knew he preferred. Especially with the other agents mostly gone, she would have him without interruption. Often, during meetings in his office, a knock on the door would interrupt them and distract her from whatever part of Harry she decided to concentrate on for that meeting. Whether it be his hands, his eyes, or even the dimples that would appear when he did his half smile of pressing his lips together with amusement. She had once even spent a full hour staring at his forearms, and imagining she could feel them under the wool of his suit. She had purposely scheduled her review for the end of the day, hoping they could have some time without her concentration being broken every five minutes. Maybe even share a drink. Though she hadn’t had a drink with him since the night she tried to play a game of eye contact with him and he played with her, an entirely different game altogether.

Everyone seemed to want to know what she wanted for the future. She would prefer in the future that they stop asking her this question. Plans were an indulgence she had no patience for. She had absolutely no desire to voice a want or a need that she had no control over. Why did everyone seem to insist that she define everything in her life? Define her role, her place in Kingsman. Was she here indefinitely? Define her work. Was she a field agent or was she tech support? Why didn’t she have to wear the Kingsman suit if she didn’t want to. Define her past. And an evening in which she had hoped would include some harmless flirting and maybe staring at his mouth, was now turning into a discussion about her feelings.

Why couldn’t she just do her work and let it be that? She was an exceptional agent and handler. She took after her father when it came to tech support. She had the skills to perform many roles. They couldn’t accept that she had no plans.  She had but one goal, one mission, and she completed it. To get to Kingsman London and take her father’s place. Well, two, if she was being honest. Second, to meet her father’s friend and colleague, Harry Hart. That made two things that she planned and had accomplished.

She was mostly content ensconced in the daily grind that was life as a Kingsman agent. And she had Harry Hart when she wanted someone to share company with. If she was feeling a little more amorous, she was more than satisfied imagining being with him, but only when she was alone in the privacy of her own bed. After he had watched her pretty much imagine herself to climax while he played with his scotch glass like it was her, anything more than the most harmless flirtation, threw her off kilter.

She wasn’t quite sure if this evening would qualify as flirting. It seemed to feature a lot of talking. Perhaps this was Harry’s way of flirting. It was quite exasperating. He was really the only person she would even tolerate, anyway, aside from maybe Eggsy. She didn’t want things to be awkward with him. That other evening definitely fell into the awkward territory. Apparently, her father had also been the same, Not with the awkwardness, the “able to tolerate” part. Otherwise, she was more than happy to let fate lead her where ever it wanted to.

In the meantime, she was satisfied with her work. Now even Harry was asking her to define her feelings. Under the guise of a review. But she knew that he wouldn’t ask an open ended question during a meeting with an agent. Not when he had five more agents waiting in line for their turn. Questions that could be interpreted in many ways were inefficient. She had the feeling he was asking her on a personal, “I’m concerned about you,” Harry level. Not an Arthur, “so let’s get this over with,” supervisor level. She decided to skirt around the subject until she could guide the conversation to a more comfortable place. Preferably over a drink.

“You don’t have to worry about me, sir.”  She equivocated.

“I know that.” He replied. He felt himself stir again when she addressed him as sir . “However, you didn’t answer my question.”

Because your question is stupid, she thought. Instead she said.

“I feel like a drink.” That was easy, she thought. She neatly stood up and walked over to his small bar with the crystal decanter of scotch.

“May I pour you one?”

“I appreciate you offering me my own scotch.” He said with slight sigh. “And that was a very weak diversionary tactic.”

“First of all, I asked whether I could “pour” you a scotch. There is a difference.”

Without a reply from him, she splashed a finger’s worth in a second glass. Walking over toward him, she passed it over the desk as well. Her agitation at being questioned when all she wanted to do was listen to him talk so she could stare at his mouth was making her bristle.

“Second of all,” She clinked her glass against his and then raised her drink. “It worked. It got the job done. Here’s to feeling like a drink.” She took a sip.

“This would be the actual diversionary tactic.” She sat against the arm of one of the chairs. Lightly perched on top she said,

“The last time we shared a scotch was when you were schooling me on the finer points of the art of seduction.”

She felt awkward about the whole episode and she dealt with awkwardness by trying to make the situation more awkward for the offending party. Or in tradecraft terms, Detecting Threats and Preemptively Engaging Attacks.

“How did that make you feel?”

Hmmmm. Harry thought. She was walking a fine line, hoping that if he followed, she could throw him off balance and then direct the conversation toward a topic of her choosing.  A good way hide one’s emotions was by making one’s opponent experience stronger ones. If she believed this train of thought would derail him, then it most likely had her flustered as well. So apparently, it had been on her mind, too.

Harry seemed to be deciding something in his mind. She could see him turning something over, pausing, and turning it over agin. She took another sip of her drink and waited for him to speak.

She admitted that she was being unnecessarily difficult. He probably had a long day after the back to back reviews. He was simply showing concern. She enjoyed spending time with him and would usually look forward to meetings where she could be alone with him. Maybe she was frustrated. She didn’t want to say anything that would jeopardise their relationship, friendship, or whatever he wanted to call it. She just saw them as two people who enjoyed each other’s company in whatever way they wanted to.

His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, a micro expression that said he was looking at something he had been trying to make sense of and finally had. The look added on a firm set to his jaw.

“It would be in our best interest if you locked the door.”

It was a statement. Not posed as a question. She wasn’t sure what to make of this voice. Firm, decisive, a little demanding, a little authoritative. It sounded vaguely familiar. Under different circumstances, she would have automatically asked “Why?” But this evening was filled with little pockets of uncertainty. He was changing her game again. He was seeing her diversionary tactic and raising it, but to what?

For a spy, a room with even just one other person turned it into a potential event. An event was a scenario in which the occurrences could be manipulated or influenced for the agent’s own agenda. This was suddenly feeling like an event. The question was, should she engage? She had been trying to divert him so she wouldn’t have to discuss her feelings or why she didn’t have anything planned for her future. Now he was countering her diversion, but in an unknown direction.

If he just wanted to circle back to the review, it would have been an exasperated, “For goodness sake, Gwendolyn. You have your tipple. Now sit your arse down and answer my bloody questions.”

Whenever she was caught off guard, she always reverted back, remember your training.

-----

“Reading a room” in the spy world was deliberately observing a room to understand the overall emotions and thoughts of the persons in it, i.e. herself and Harry. Her assessment would help her calculate the best method of engagement of the situation in said room, i.e. what was turning into a bizarre agent review session. The art of awareness was the understanding group dynamics in small, confined spaces, i.e. Harry’s office, which was actually quite roomy and well appointed. On-the-fly situational judgments and character assessments from mere moments of observation and interaction. The goal to obtain actionable intel. He was just trying to prove that his diversionary tactic was much more effective than hers. It worked. Now she just felt awkward and uncomfortable.

The problem of using strategy to read the room? It was only Harry Hart. And Harry Hart was impossible to read.

Avoid engagement in unknown situations, she thought. The energy of the room had shifted and she didn’t know what to make of it yet. She pushed off her chair and walked over to the large wooden door. She would play along. She didn’t want to disturb the air by stirring it with further misdirection.

The door was like an anchor, a tether that kept her grounded. A single point of focus she could concentrate on rather than speculating on all the reasons why Harry would ask her to lock the door. Why didn’t he just lock it. Why did he want it locked in the first place. Why did he phrase it “in our best interest”? She need to stop with all the questions, and just act until she had a clearer idea of what Harry was up to.

It was frustrating. She could analyze a life and death situation, narrow down the problem, decide on a course of action, engage with the enemy all under direct threat and then act without hesitation. When she tried that with Harry, aside from the first night they met, she kept on slipping down the rabbit hole of “what if’s”.

Just focus on the door, she thought. The door was carved with an intricate design along the edges. Hmmm. She had never noticed it all the times passing in and out of Harry’s office.  Taking much longer than any spy needs to lock a door, she turned the brass knob above the handle to the right. It made a little click as the locking mechanism fell into place. The tiny sound seemed to echo through the quiet air. Without knowing why, she slid the bolt into place as well.

Could it be possible he was actually upset that she kept disregarding his concern? The last thing she wanted to do was upset Harry. She had always been able to veer around answering his questions if she didn’t feel like the question was a necessity. He had been so tolerant with her episodes of obstinacy. Had she pushed his patience too far? Was he going to scold her in private? Disappointed Harry was worse than upset Harry.

After Harry heard the bolt lock into place, he continued.

“Come over here. Please.”

Though the words were polite, the tone indicated that it was not a request. He spoke with a new inflection. His words carried a note that others most likely would miss. But she had been getting better at discerning the different shades of his voice.

She pressed her lips together. Before she turned around, she wanted to find the right expression. None of them fit. She composed herself the best she could, took a few deep breaths and relaxed her shoulders. She relieved Harry the trouble and scolded herself lightly. They went through so much classified information in this office, she was surprised it wasn’t a vault. Harry was just going to go over sensitive information and needed privacy with no risk of interruption. Whatever she was feeling was just her, not Harry.

Or most likely, she was going to turn around after spending all this time analysing the situation, he was going to smile and say.

Now that is what I would call an effective diversionary tactic.

That would be such a classic Harry Hart thing to do. Believing herself to be more presentable, she turned around and what she saw startled her to the extent that she dropped the small handful of confidence she was able to collect.

-----

Harry was in his white dress shirt and was in the process of rolling up his sleeves. His jacket, set aside on a hanger so as not to wrinkle, hung from a hook on the wall behind him. He was just in the middle of removing his set of gold cufflinks. One of his sleeves was already open at the wrist. The link was sitting on the desk in front of him. After he freed the second link, he picked up the first one and placed them both in a small silver tray. Whose only purpose might be, she thought, to make sure his cufflinks were safe and never separated.

Now this was unexpected. Don’t disturb the air. Determine the before you engage. She talked herself through the walk from the door toward his desk. She paused at the two chairs with a question. He tilted his head in his direction. All the way, it said. He was rolling up one sleeve as she walked.

As she stepped around, he rose from his chair. She met him on his side of the desk. She realised she’d never been in this proximity to Harry in his office. In this space. His space. He was always behind the desk. Agents sat in a chair. Without fail it was business. Always Kingsman.

She stood in front of him as he rolled up his other sleeve. This was as relaxed, “unclothed” as she had ever seen him on Kingsman property. The most relaxed anyone saw him was without his suit coat.  Oh, for fucks sake. He still had his leather shoulder holster on. With a gun in the sheath.

She was slightly unsure, hesitant, watchful. It was rare that she stood so close to him without a legitimate reason, like reaching behind him for more ammunition on Kingsman’s shooting range. Or trying to tip toe for a book at the HQ library, only to have him appear at her side to reach it for her. Personal space didn’t exist in the field when not being seen was a life or death scenario. More than once had they been squeezed together in extremely tight spots. But there has always been a reason. A legitimate and proper reason.

Here, he was just looking at her. She didn’t try to hold his gaze this time, but she didn’t shy away from making eye contact.  I know what that leads to, she thought. Damn her for bringing it up. She let her eyes move where ever they felt like. And they ran up and down the length of Harry Hart.  All of a sudden, she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“I would like…” he took an undefinable pause. He was deciding on something. Contemplating an idea. He was making a choice. It was as if he needed to complete the thought in his head before he spoke out loud.

He started again, with assurance.

“I would like to bend you over my desk.”

——

She almost choked. 

If she had been drinking, she most definitely would have choked. She almost choked anyway.

What the fuck? Of all of the words that could have come out of his mouth, “I would like to bend you over my desk” had to top the very top of the least likely list. She was completely and utterly caught off guard. A rare sensation for her. She had no trained reaction she could fall back on in this scenario. Her resting heart rate started to rise. A heated flush rushed up to her cheeks. She suddenly doubted herself. Was that really what he said? Or did she just hear him wrong. Did he forget to finish his sentence?

Didn’t he really say, “I would like to bend you over my desk so I can use your body as a unit of measurement to determine the distance from one edge of my desk to the other?

It would have been no less bizarre a request.

Yes, of course she had imagined what it would be like to be with him. What he would do to her, what would he feel like. How he would take her. How could any woman not? He was Harry Hart. But as she knew, shooting under live enemy fire was much different than practice shooting at the range. While she wasn’t under any danger, her body’s response was the same as when she was on her first real mission. It was her fight or flight response. Her automatic physical response to a perceived threat that activated her sympathetic nervous system and triggered an acute stress response that prepared her to fight or flee.

She knew exactly how the fight or flight response worked on a physical level. In this case, Harry was the perceived threat, the catalyst. Upon hearing his command, a sudden rush of hormones began a chain reaction causing the release of adrenaline, which increased her heart rate, blood pressure and breathing rate. It was also however, very similar what the physical body experienced when sexually aroused. At the present moment, she wasn’t sure if she could tell the difference. Not that it mattered. It had the same effect in the end.

She wanted to add a third response, fight, flight, or freeze. She was trained to fight anytime her fight or flight response was activated without hesitation. She knew how to engage with an enemy, depending on the circumstances of the fight. Was it hand to hand combat, a fire fight, urban warfare? She could handle that.  She did not have any training scenario that instructed her on how to engage with Harry Hart when he asked, no, scratch that, when he commanded that she bend over his desk. None whatsoever. Absolutely nothing. She was out on a limb, swinging on all the tiny branches.

The dots were refusing to connect. She was having a very hard time linking the statement she just heard, to the man who said it, to the action it led to. And she was shivering all over. She tried to stop it, but couldn’t and she was very, very anxious about it. Now she knew why earlier she thought that his tone sounded familiar. It was the voice of the man that had sat across from her one evening in the club. Playing what she thought was a silly game of wills. He had a glass of scotch in his hand then, too. He hadn’t said a word during that episode, but if he had, she knew that this is what it he would’ve sounded like. It was Harry’s voice, deep, smooth, powerful, but with an added layer and additional edge.  It was the voice of a man who was going to have sex with her. Statement.

THIS. She remembered. THIS was how he felt that night. He was Harry, but more. Harder, more intense, demanding. And completely assured. And aroused. She was feeling dizzy and trembly as well as anxious now.

Fuck. Scratch that. Holy fucking fuck. Fuck. She added a final one for emphasis. Fuck.

The image, let alone the thought, of her bent over Harry Hart’s desk, him behind her, being taken by Harry Hart, completely rearranged her mind. Nothing was connecting. She, who could control nearly every emotion and resulting physical reaction out on the field, was helpless in his presence. Her imagination could only get as far as being bent over Harry’s desk and then her mind would short circuit.

His mouth was moving. Oh, God, she thought. What is he saying now?

She tried very hard to concentrate on his words, but she was vibrating and didn’t know if his words would land.

“But first,” He said, “I am going to kiss you.” He was looking down at her, curious and amused. “That is, unless you object.”

Her head shook from side to side without any direction from her.  Why would she object? He was only the most perfect, charming gentleman spy and the hottest mentor that she had ever had who was equal parts devastatingly handsome and achingly sexy.

“I can’t hear that.”

What? She thought. Her head shook again before she had the wherewithal to speak out loud.

“I don’t object.” she returned with much more confidence than she felt.

Ohmygod, I am going to be kissed by Harry Hart. The phrase repeated on a quick loop in her head.

No, she thought again, there was nothing that could have prepared her for this as she short circuited again.

——

Harry Hart could tell that nervousness was not usual for her and ascribed her anxiety to both the surprise of the situation and the way it was presented.

He knew that he was to blame for all of that. He had arranged it purposely to do so. His intent was to catch her off guard. Not only off guard, but completely unexpected and totally unprepared. Having your mentor request that you bend over his desk, in his office, in his place of work, was not high on the list of things you expect to happen during an employee review. Especially if your relationship up to that point had been exclusively mentor and colleague. Her bewilderment would prevent her analytical mind from automatically activating and analysing the situation.

She was a secret agent, with work and life experience that could overwhelm a hundred people, let alone one. Her background was steeped in risk, loss, danger, and uncertainty. She had the grit to handle all that life had delivered and come out on the other side. She had the physical control to reduce the effects of shock. It was part her natural resilience, her capacity to adapt, and her training, that conditioned her to act under the most unlikely scenarios.

Part of the exhilaration, frisson, and the charge of being intimate with a new partner was the aspect of the unknown. And if that unknown was unexpected or even slightly shocking, it could elevate the experience. He was certain that a fine dinner and a return back to his flat for an evening of lovemaking would be lovely. But he didn’t want lovely for this evening. There was plenty of time for lovely. One had only a single chance for an unforgettable first time.

He did not know how sexually experienced she was, but from observation he suspected that her experience was not very extensive. First of all, she didn’t seem like the type of person who sought esteem or worth through being sexually desirable or one who found validation through sex. She also didn’t seem like a woman who would find pleasure in sleeping with random people to fulfil a purely physical desire.

All agents could take care of themselves if they found themselves needing physical release for one reason or another. For male agents, he knew that it was an excellent way to fall asleep quickly in the field where every second wasted may be the difference between a successful mission and a failed one. She would have to find her partner interesting and attractive and desirable in some way, or else she would not find the experience pleasurable. Judging from how many people she kept company with, or how little, her standards were very high.

One-night stands were possible. Agents also had a way of charming a person for only a night or an evening. If the chemistry was strong enough, agents most definitely could organise encounters on the side. In his experience, a one night stand was fairly similar to the one before it and the one after it. It didn’t give one enough time to delve into the desires of the other person. Most often, it was a way to find some temporary pleasure and company, if company was even desired. One night stand sex was fairly predictable, making sure whatever technique, position, location had the greatest chance of pleasing both parties, which often were the most standard.

Rarely, if ever, did an agent find someone who they connected with so strongly, intensely and quickly that they could trust them to explore more intimate sexual pleasures.

He found it amusing. Most of Kingsman would be shocked if they knew of his, at times, unconventional views on sex. Gwendolyn obviously was. He enjoyed exploring outside the box in life and in work. Sex was no exception. If both parties were not only in agreement, but in tune and in a space of trust, there was a freedom to be experienced in sex, and there was little he would be opposed to trying with the right partner. But one did not build that brand of trust in a single encounter. It took knowing the other individual on an extremely personal, extremely intimate level.

No agent wanted to seem or feel vulnerable, but to Harry, that was the exhilaration of good sex. It was the only place he would allow himself to feel vulnerable. Vulnerable meant being exposed, open and sensitive. And if that didn’t describe sex, he didn’t know what did. If you knew the fears and desires of a person who was capable of being vulnerable, then the pleasure you could provide them would be unlimited. The most important factor was trust. Something that spies were notoriously bad at. Both at gaining and giving.

He was very attracted to her, sexually and personally. She was equal parts alluring, and seductive, but without effort. She fascinated him. People rarely did. But most of all, as a man who valued his private time and personal space, he found that he sought out her company whenever he had an opportunity. That behaviour was telling. He could picture her in his space, without it feeling like an intrusion. Typically, whenever he had company, no matter how much he may be enjoying himself, there would always be that moment in the evening where he wished his space was his own again.

It felt like she could just be. Be in his space and he would not be bothered by it. Not that she could easily be ignored. The point wasn’t to feel like she wasn’t there at all. It was recognising her presence and not having to feel any kind of demand or expectation for him to do something different or be someone different. Basically, that he could be himself. He could imagine sitting in his favourite chair in his flat, a fine old leather piece, well made, that had held up for years and still had many more years left. He would be reading a book or a newspaper. She would be quite relaxed on the floor with a pile of pillows as that was how she preferred to rest, but near his chair. Close enough where she could bracelet his ankle with her hand, the other hand holding her own book or more likely her smart phone. Close enough where if he let his hand fall over the side of his chair, that he could touch her hair, or cheek and perhaps find her hand brushing against his. Simple touches, not requesting more, not requiring more than just acknowledging the existence of the other person. Companionship. Something he never had truly experienced before.

He sensed this was possible the evening of her little battle of the wills. Well, prior the seduction portion of the evening. She was perfectly comfortable and natural being seated together in silence. He was fairly sure that she had not even spoken a word, though she had communicated much during the time they had shared.

Which was another reason he determined that she had limited sexual experience, but was very sexually open in the right circumstance. That evening helped him decide how he would approach her, how to initiate their engagement, so to speak.

Her surprise when he lifted the challenge up to its proper level suggested that she was fairly new to the game of seduction, or at least in the actual physical practice of the game. He was quite sure she was attracted to him. But most of all, was her willingness to be controlled and allowing him the freedom to control her. That said trust to him. Her reaction betrayed her surprise, but also her desire and her enthusiasm, if not eagerness for the experience. And also, the evidence of her enjoyment that merely the idea of being controlled by Harry, aroused her.

He suspected that she had some slight D/s tendencies, even if she did not consciously recognise it. D/s could be misinterpreted, and often was, but dominance and submission was not exclusively about inflicting or enjoying pain. It was not akin to degradation or humiliation. But it did revolve around humility, or being humble, which was a different affair all together. It was centred on being pleasing ,and thus, giving pleasure and receiving pleasure. If that included pain, well then, it was a mutual understanding. If a man treated a woman well, with respect, if he honoured her and treasured her, there would be little she wouldn’t do to please him. What many people didn’t realise is that the man didn’t choose the woman in D/s relationships, the woman chose the man based on his worthiness.

That encounter led him to believe, as little experience as she may have had, her willingness to stay with the challenge, which some may, feeling embarrassed, would have halted, that she was extreme in ways that she might not recognise. She was certainly extreme in most other aspects of her life. And also, that she had enjoyed herself immensely when faced with an unexpected scenario that surprised her and she was unprepared for. He thought that may have even heightened her response.

The key was, if she was vulnerable, she would be open to receive all of the pleasure he knew he could give her. And seeing her pleasure would be pleasing to him as well.

She may find the situation that he arranged for their first time together extreme and unorthodox, unusual. Her preconceived notions of sex may tell her that this was improper or strange or inappropriate, but he knew, ultimately, that if she allowed him, he could pleasure her in ways that she didn’t even know existed. Just the thought of it aroused him.

He only need to catch her before she was able to put her guard up and behave and react in the way she thought she should, not the way she wanted to. He wanted her to react on a purely instinctual, visceral level. This was one scenario where analysis would work against her, not for her.

He placed his hands to the sides of her face, ever so gently, barely touching, passing smoothly over her features. He could sense the slightest tremor through her entire body. She was still responding on a physical level, not an intellectual one. He didn’t want to give her a chance to think herself out of this situation, so he leaned down and kissed her in the way he wanted to, and in a way he knew she would enjoy.

——

Your knees really do go weak, she thought. With one small step, Harry entered her space. Sexy and commanding in his shirt and shoulder holster. He seemed larger than she remembered. He positively towered over her. Her eyes could not meet his gaze but she knew that he was looking down at her.  He lifted his hands to her face. Each palm cupped the curve of her jaw, lightly, tenderly, almost touching her, but not quite. The warmth of his hands and the heat from her cheeks closed the distance between them. Her skin burned and tingled in anticipation.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she held back a sound that was part sigh, part moan when she felt Harry’s gentle yet firm hands caress her face. His palms, fingertips, knuckles, the back of his hands, traveled every curve and hollow as if memorising her features through touch. He explored her lips, very slowly brushing across her cupids bow with his thumb, barely touching. Gwendolyn couldn't help herself. She parted her lips, her tongue instinctively trying to making contact, before he lightly glided over the soft skin of her cheek.

The wait was excruciating. Harry Hart was going to kiss her. She was going to be kissed Harry Hart. That was her last thought as he bent down and brushed her lips with his own in the most tender of kisses. The contact was soft and warm.

That slightest touch made a shudder run through her body. His hands still gently braced the sides of her face. His hold was exquisite. The anticipation was devastating. His lips parted and his tongue began to press against her with a soft but firm insistence and her mouth opened to him. The woodsy, smokey, slightly sweet taste of scotch still lingered as he kissed more deeply, slowly swirling his tongue around hers. He knew, very well, what he was doing.

Sensation flowed through her entire body, pulses of pleasure reaching every inch of her, prickling her skin. Thousands of synapses were sending messages from Harry’s mouth to hers. They traveled to her brain, which translated her desire in a language her physical body could understand and shot the directive to every last nerve ending.  Hundreds of thousands of electrical connections manifested as lust, as longing, as need. She felt her muscles twitch involuntarily. For this man, she thought, and this man alone. For Harry Hart.

He only had his mouth on hers, his hands on her face and she felt consumed by him. Overwhelmed by him. One of his hands traveled to the nape of her neck and nested his fingers within the twist of hair that was gathered and pinned there. His other hand traveled down her side and pressed into the curve of her waist. Her neck was gently but insistently bent backward. Gwendolyn’s breath caught in her throat. Harry demanded more and she yielded to him, letting his mouth claim hers. His grip tightened, her scalp prickled, but it wasn’t painful. It was just persistent. The room seemed to be spinning in slow motion. She felt herself begin to melt into him.  A shudder ran through her body.

Gwendolyn’s resolve was demolished as his lips crushed hers. She relinquished herself over to him. With a single heady kiss, her self-control was washed away in a flood of passion.

When at last the kiss ended, Gwendolyn’s breath was heavy, her head light, her body trembling. Opening her eyes, time stood still. Gwendolyn saw the corners of his mouth slowly turn into a smile.

She realised their faces were just inches apart. Harry’s golden brown eyes reflected the dim light of his office.  They journeyed along the curves and angles of her face and stopped until she dared to look up and meet him. The warm intensity of his gaze made her heart pound in her chest. Pulsating anxiety mixed with devastating pleasure.

Seconds, minutes, passed as time meant nothing to her. She still didn’t know what to do with her hands. Her hands had hung by her side as if her brain was too occupied with what was happening to her mouth, it didn’t have the capacity to consider what any other part of her should be doing.  She was still afraid to touch him, as if the slightest contact might sear her like dry kindling ready to go up in flames.

As he pulled his face away, his hands were still in place.

“I believe it’s your turn.”

He took her wrists, raised her hands to his face and laid them gently on his skin. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

Gwendolyn’s heart was pounding in her chest as she caressed his face as gently as she could. She trailed her trembling fingertips along his strong jaw, down his neck, feeling the beat of his pulse. He was warm. And masculine. Hard muscle under smooth skin. Back up she traversed, tracing his cheekbones, his brow and the wide planes of his forehead. She lowered her hands to his chest, with only her fingertips touching his shirt.

He opened his eyes, staring at her and smiling softly. He reached up and took her hands in both of his. She swallowed again but it was no use. Her mouth was completely dry. She couldn't have spoken even if she knew what to say.

“Now, you may think that door is locked,” he nodded in its direction, “to keep you from leaving. It is not. It’s merely for privacy. You are not bound here by me, nor by anyone else. I want you to be here, because you want to be here. I may have initiated this meeting, but it’s both of us that are needed, consciously, and voluntarily for it to be worthwhile.

“You may stay, or you may leave. I cannot say that I won’t be disappointed, but that is only because you are flawless, and I want you. But my physical needs are not of your concern if you leave. I have stated as clearly as I can, what this evening will entail. There are no repercussions if you chose to leave. There may be another opportunity at a different time. But do not let the future influence what you decide at this moment” his gaze softened in understanding. “Is that not what you believe?”

One of his hands released hers. He reached up to touch her face again. Simultaneously, there was a hardness and a softness in his eyes that was riveting. Arresting. It took her breath away. And when he spoke, his words were all that mattered. His voice dropped, low and intense.

"There is much I want to show you, to tell you, and to be for you. And there is much I want you to be for me.  But that is not up to me. For you, there will always be a choice. So I will ask you now. Would you like to leave? Or would you like to stay.” He added, “And be with me.”

To Gwendolyn, there was no question. This man, always smart in his suit and tie, freshly shaven, …always a gentleman.  His thoughtfulness, his patience and his nature, a kindness that was at the same time gentle and firm... His face, his eyes, his hands strong and capable. His intelligence, dedication, his passion...

It all added up. The answer was obvious.

“I would like to stay. And be with you.”

She felt the strength of his arms, arms that had already been around her for so many different reasons, envelop her now for only one reason. Allowing herself to finally be close to him, she eased herself against him, laying her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes. She could hear and feel the beating of his heart. It relieved her when it sounded almost as quick as hers. He was affected, too.  He leaned down a little, brushing his cheek lightly against her forehead. Her inhalations carried the scent of his cologne, blended with whatever was essentially him and it was intoxicating. She wrapped her own arms around his torso and she could feel his strength through his familiar white dress shirt.

Harry never failed to amaze and surprise her. She knew that there was more to Harry Hart than the Agent Galahad he presented to the world. She simply hadn't expected the intensity of all of who he was. There was always an undercurrent of harmless flirting. As it was, the Kingsman agents were already uncomfortably close and personal with each other, a little too much for her tastes at times. Other than the evening that she attempted to challenge him to a staring contest, which turned into something quite different, nothing of her experience with him could have prepared her for the Harry Hart she was witnessing this evening.

He was always considerate, proper, polite. A true gentleman. But he was still being a gentleman, she thought, even under these unusual circumstances. Just an extremely forward and sexy one.  She could only judge his actions according to how it made her feel. And so far, everything that he had said and done hadn’t made her want to run out of the room. His words and his actions caused a surge of electricity that flooded her senses, waking every urge, every need, every desire within her.

He was still Harry Hart. He was still a man of integrity. He was just more. But it was so much more he was almost completely different. While Agent Galahad made her feel protected and safe, this Harry made her feel exhilarated in a way that was both thrilling and dangerous. But looking up at him, the familiar benevolence was still there. She could see it in the brown eyes that were staring back at her. Strangely, in spite of the torrent of passion brewing, Gwendolyn felt secure with him. He would look after her. Like he always did. She would let him take the lead.

Harry continued talking to her almost the entire time, explain things so she wouldn’t have to guess. Telling her how he felt and what he thought. In her delirious state she listened to him as if she were in in a waking dream. Aware of everything going on around her, but not being able to react.

He took her hands again and guided her over to the desk. Her heart began to race.  She knew he could feel the shaking in her fingertips. He led her over and first slightly lifted her so she was sitting on the desk, facing him so she could see him as he spoke.

“Regarding the desk. Not as conventional, I must admit, especially for our first time together. But I determined this to be the position that you would enjoy the most and receive the most pleasure. Not that other positions aren’t pleasurable, but I chose this purposefully for you.”

She looked confused.

“I should explain. Please be assured that I will no doubt, find all the ways we will be together, as thrilling as this. Though one must admit, the view, from my perspective lends a certain charm.  Perhaps you think it’s a little impersonal. Not being face to face. I do realise that eye contact adds a bit of intensity to the act. Not to worry.”

He tipped his chin toward the far side of the room.

She turned her head. Fuck. She had forgotten about the mirror next to the door. As exacting that the Kingsman suits were, there was a full length mirror placed next to every door of every office so every agent could make sure he or she was presentable before representing their organisation.

She turned back to face him.

“I will be able to see you, darling. As you will be able to see me. You will also be able to see yourself. And you will also be able to see me watching you. The possibilities are quite endless. I have the suspicion that this is something you will take pleasure in.”

Now this was just too much, she thought. When Harry Hart did something, she had to admit, he sure made it memorable.

Every time she thought that the standard had been set and the situation could not possibly become more intense, something would happen and Harry would level up. She wasn’t sure if she could go up that high. Harry seemed to breathe rare air. He must be breathing something else up where he stood.

He called for her attention.

“This evening should be less talking and more doing. But I want to emphasise that we will be communicating the entire time. I will be watching you, making sure you are ok, that you are enjoying yourself and also looking for ways to pleasure you even more.”

“Do not hide your reactions for fear of judgement or pretend to feel something that you don’t because of expectations you may think I have or that you have for yourself. If you find that you hate what I do with you, you will know right away, and I will know right away.”

He placed her hands on top of her lap and placed his palms on the backs of her hands. He was caressing them reassuringly.

“Now I didn’t select this by random. After observing you for many months, watching your behaviour, listening to you speak, the way you approach your work. And our little encounter in the lounge told me that you would respond more intensely, more physically, more emotionally to a situation that pushed you, that challenged you, that was unexpected. If I was able to catch you unawares, you would be more willing to let yourself explore your own needs and desires.”

Harry was very frank and honest with her.

“Do not fake, do not pretend. You will not be hurting my feelings or offending my manhood or abilities as a lover. I am more than secure in that regard. For some women, no matter how much they may enjoy being taken in this position, they are not able to climax.  If we find that to be the case, I will be able to tell and  I’ll move you in ways you will find more satisfying. If it so happens that release isn’t in the cards this evening... I am also aware that the female orgasm is much more complex than ours. But I am sure we will both enjoy trying and perhaps allow me to opportunity to enhance my repertoire.”

She highly doubted that would be the case, but she was impressed that he was comfortable and at ease enough to bring up a topic that would make most men cringe.

“Also, as I female agent, I understand you are on birth control.”

She nodded. The last thing a female agent needed to be surprised with on the field was her period.

“Being that all Kingsman’s reviews are preceded by a complete physical, I know that I pose no risk to you. Are you the same?”

She nodded again.

“Lastly, that doesn’t mean that you want to be unprotected. I have means here available. I will let it be your choice. A man should be pleased, either way, that it is happening at all. Do you require additional protection?”

She smiled and this time, shook her head.

“This is not me, having you in the way that I want. It is us, being together in a way that enhances the experience, for both of us. One doesn’t work without the other.”

“Do you have any questions that I haven’t addressed? I understand that these are not the most romantic of topics, but I’ve found that if all areas of doubt or uncertainty are handled beforehand, one has that much more freedom to enjoy the experience.”

She shook her head again.

“I want you to relax, trust yourself, and let me help you. Trust me. Trust me to guide you. Would I ever lead you wrong?” His voice was sure. Steady. Firm.

He didn’t just look at her. He saw her. He saw into her and he knew how much he could be for her. And what she could be for him.

“Is this still something you want?”

She nodded. Her nervousness and anxiety eased into something that felt less uncertain, much more natural and just as intense.  All of a sudden, in her head, everything seemed completely normal. He had addressed all her concerns without even needing to be asked. He made it seem like such a reasonable request to ask her to bend over so he could take her over his desk.

“Yes.” She replied.

There was no man that she trusted, nor respected more than Harry Hart. This was just another part of the same man. And Harry Hart was the sum of all his parts

Anxious with excitement, she was less apprehensive and more eager. She had spent the majority of her life avoiding intense emotions, being in control, thinking rather than feeling and it had served her well as an agent, and she thought, in the rest of her life. But here he was, telling her to let go, to feel, to be vulnerable, everything that she had been trained to resist. Even just the idea of being with Harry set her heart pounding, let alone over his desk. It felt thrilling and dangerous and foreign, but she had to admit she had imagined similar scenarios in her head. But she thought them to be fantasy. He was right though. She really had no defence. When she was stripped away of all her uncertainties, as Harry had done, this was what she wanted. He was what she wanted.

All her misgivings were becoming undone, the knot of doubt and uncertainty in her core, slowly coming untied. Its grip loosened by Harry’s considerate words, his understanding gaze, his warm touch, the press of his lips, his strong hands, by his entire being.

She would follow his lead.

—-

He sensed that she was gathering her thoughts. When she looked up at him, she took a deep breath in and a long breath out. Her energy, though still prickling with anticipation was more settled, less scattered. It hold him she was fully present and she was ready. She was looking to him for guidance.

He would take things slowly, with ease and patience. Always aware of his responsibility, not only as a mentor, outside of this space, but as a protector, here, together. He was asking her to expose all that she was, both physically and emotionally. He needed to keep her safe so she had the freedom to let herself, not lose control, but to realise and release all that she was. And the confidence in him to keep her guarded and secure.

He placed the palms of his hands under her own and helped her slide off the desk and onto her feet. With her hands still in his, he bent down and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger along her hairline breathing in the clean scent of her shampoo and the more complex notes of her perfume and that which was her. The smell was feminine, but not girlish. It was elegant and sophisticated, just as she was. With one last brush of his lips against her own, he kissed her. Pressing his cheek against her hair, he let go of her hands and placed is own about her waist, gently, but deliberately turned her to face his desk. He helped her with her jacket and hung it from a hook behind him. Then just as gently, just as firmly, with one palm between her shoulder blades and the other resting at the small of her back, pressed down on her until she bent over, first from the waist and then hinging from her hips until her entire upper body was lying on the smooth, clean surface of his polished wooden desk. She turned her head to the left, letting her right cheek rest on the wood. She let out a soft sigh.

Never one for rushing, Harry took his time. Making sure there was no hesitation. That the only tension she felt was from anticipation, from desire, and not from doubt or uncertainty.

Also, if something is worth doing, it is worth doing properly. He stepped in behind her, just barely leaning the weight of his hips into her own. He massaged away her misgivings, helping her relax and he rubbed slow circles on her lower back with the palm of his hand. His other hand reached up her spine, searched through her hair for whatever was holding it up. His fingers landed on a pin and he smoothly pulled it out, letting her hair waterfall down around her shoulders. He swept it to one side so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing, though still deep, began to slow down to match the motion of his hand.

He was going to move at her pace, only moving forward until her face, her body, her movements told him, not only that she was ready for more, but that she wanted more. His other hand remained at the nape of her neck, massaging the base of her skull more firmly, with consistent pressure, like waves rolling in and out of the sea. She began to roll her neck slightly to one side, he concentrated his movements there. When she turned her head in the opposite direction, turning her head to the right, resting on her left cheek, he worked on the other side.

The hand on her lower back moved in continuous circles, with slightly more pressure. As he was doing this, he continuously leaned a little bit more weight into her. Only by fractions. So slight she may not even be able to tell. Definitely not having her bear the full weight of his body. Simply allowing her to feel his presence behind her, but not actively pressing into her, or be close enough that she could feel his arousal. He was a patient man and he was enjoying himself thoroughly.

He would have been satisfied, well perhaps not physically, with simply massaging her all evening. Then he began to see the signs he had been waiting for. Just the slightest arch of her lower back. It moved her chest into the desk and tilted her hips toward him. He kept his movements the same. Slow and sensuous. Rhythmic. She began to roll her neck out more, gazing straight down with her forehead resting on the desk, before rolling again to the other side. Still he waited. He heard another sigh as he continued to move his hands over her. Her breath began to quicken once more. Then she gave him what he wanted from her. She pushed her hips back, just the smallest bit toward his pelvis, until she was arching and lifting into him, completing their contact. And her hands. When they first began, she rested her arms shoulder height, bent at the elbows, like one does when sleeping face down. Her hands were soft and relaxed. As she leaned back into him, she made little fists and drew her arms under her, so she could bear weight on her forearms, helping to push her back. And still he remained with his smooth firm circles. He wasn’t waiting for her to want him. He was waiting for her to need him.

When she actively began to seek contact by moving her hips toward him with the same circles that he was making on her lower back, he stopped and pulled away from her. But kept his palm on her back, not moving, just a firm downward pressure. Stay still. She started to lift her head and turn back, but he shushed her, murmuring words to sooth her and keep her relaxed. Her body eased back onto the desk and she stilled, though her breath remained fast and heavy.

Once she had done as she was told, he unbuttoned her kilt. Reaching underneath her, he felt for the buttons that secured her tweed kingsman tartan skirt. He felt her tense at this new progression so he spoke low and softly, how beautiful she was, how lovely she looked, to see her on his desk, that seeing her need aroused him. That she was perfect. As he spoke, he unbuttoned the two that secured the waistband. The last one that secured the overlap and lastly, unclasped the large pin that kept the kilt from blowing open. He had worn them before and was very familiar with their placement.

Not until she relaxed again, did he continue to unwrap the skirt from around her body.

“Lift your hips.”

She did so and he pulled the kilt from underneath her. She was lovely. Even more so just half unclothed was extremely arousing. Having her top half clothed only accentuated the bareness of her bottom half. He hardened at the sight of her, over his desk, half naked, simply waiting for him, allowing him to pleasure her and needing that pleasure.

His chair was already pulled out. He grabbed it by the handle and rolled it in front of her, well, behind her.

She lifted her head slightly, turning back at the sound of movement, when she saw that he meant to take a seat. Her eyes widened. He gave her a small half smile, half smirk like she gave him the night of the scotch glass. He spun his finger in a circle. Turn around. She did so, closing her eyes and resting her cheek to one side. Understanding that was she simply to wait, she held still and quiet. There was no doubt or uncertainty on her face by this time. Only desire, only need.

He walked away for a moment to reach the rest of his scotch when he looked back toward her. The sight of her with her eyes closed, her little fists and arms still tucked toward her chest was both breathtaking in its sensuality and heartbreaking in its vulnerability and trust. Taking a swallow of his drink, he set down his glass on the desk to her side, far enough away that it wouldn’t get knocked over if things got a little too heated, but close enough for him to still reach.

She was still covered with a black lace thong, minimal but still covered and her stockings, which he no longer had to ignore. Placing one hand on her hip, he pulled the chair closer underneath him and relaxed into it. He could feel the tremor of her excitement trembling along her thighs. The tiniest shiver continuously ran up and down the length of her legs.

He was confident in his skills as a lover. Years of practice honed his technique, just as it did with the rest of his training. But he sensed that he was going to get just as much pleasure from this as she was going to receive from him.

The smooth palm of his hands ran lightly down from the tops of her hips, over her bottom and down her legs. His fingers traced a line up the inside of her legs and thighs, almost touching her center, barely, like a pulse of air, floating up the line of her backside to the top of her hips. He repeated this movement, with unlimited variations, pausing in certain areas to linger, rubbing soft circles with his thumb, palming her flesh with his entire hand. He would purposefully hover over her core, almost touching every time, but moving on before she could close the space by shifting her hips. He was pleased to find that she was more than wet. Her need left her almost dripping and pulsing as she further open her legs for him. Muscles twitching and contracting involuntary when he skimmed over a sensitive area. She was responding the way he had hoped and expected and he was pleased.

He saw that her desire for contact rise through the almost constant leaning into his touch, his hand, his fingers. He continued to layer sensation upon sensation upon sensation. He rested the side of his face against the back of her thigh. She tensed suddenly at this unexpected change, but again, he just continued to touch and caress and stroke as if nothing had changed and felt her relax back onto the desk. He felt her start again when he added his mouth, his lips, his tongue, but then immediately her surprise transformed into yet again, pulses of desire. Her small moans and sighs were coming at a regular frequency, little cries that told him she was ready for more.

He decided it was time to intensify. Grazing at her opening with the back of his knuckles, wet through the mesh of her thong, he continued to use his mouth just to the side of his hand. Concentrating the sensation to this smaller area, but not specifically giving her the contact that she ultimately desired. He kissed and tongued and sucked the flesh around her, all over, everywhere but there.

Part of the pleasure of sex was the feeling of wanting, the process of asking, begging and the anticipation of waiting, ultimately knowing that gratification will come, but the tension of not knowing when and how, enhanced the wait.

He slid his fingers under the thin waistband of her thong and with aching slowness began to pull them down her hips, over her bottom and half way down her legs, to the top of her stockings. All of her trepidation, hesitation was gone. All that was left was her desire for him. For him to have her in all the ways he wanted and imagined. She let out a stronger moan of anticipation. Her thighs pulled the tiny slip of material tight across the distance between her legs, her need to continue to spread herself wider for him kept them from falling down.

Without the whisper of fabric between them now, he began the brush her lips with his knuckles, circle her with his thumb. At the direct contact, she cried out loudly. The sound of her continued to arouse him, but as he did before, he set his own arousal to the side, not ignoring it, but ignoring the desire to do something with it, to act on it, which would be to take her here and now and simply thrust into her until he came. Rather, he used that power and channeled it into every inch of her that he could possibly reach. His own desire, knowing it would not yet be sated, hummed in the background. He continued to pleasure her with his hands, just as she imagined he had with a glass of scotch in his hand. By her movements and her throaty whine told him that she recognised the movements, she was now literally feeling him with her own body, not just imagining him. When he finally slid a finger inside her, he felt her tense around him. He could feel her wetness grow.

But this time, he added his mouth.

——

Something inside of her had taken over, not only was Harry controlling the waves of heated pleasure crashing over her with increasing intensity, she was responding with a freedom and a willingness to surrender to his expert touch. Not holding back her need for more, to be touched more, to feel more of him. She was fully turned on and if he wanted to take her while she was in a panda suit, she would ask him where she could change. She was open to him and did not hesitate to express what she felt in response to what he was doing to her.

When she realised that he was using his hands, his fingers just like he was the night in the lounge, she was afraid that just the idea of it happening for real, might push her over the edge. Her mind kept flashing back to that evening, and even as she felt his fingers around her, touching her, circling her and then, oh God, finally, slipping into her, she could see his knowing stare, his cockiness at seeing her pleasure. But to see him in her mind and then feeling him behind her was intoxicating. She felt tipsy, like she had too much of Harry Hart, but she still wanted more.

She moved against his hand. She squeezed his finger as he moved it in tiny pulses deep within her. She was crying out with every breath now. Small whimpers of need, moans of pleasure, at times almost screaming with it. She couldn’t help it.

And then she felt something change. Not quite change. She felt something more. Something soft and hot as wet like she was. It was his mouth and she almost died when she realised it. If he didn’t stop what he was doing back there, she was going to come. She could feel it growing like a garden he was tending to with his lips wrapping around her own erect little bud. His velvet tongue sliding into her body, using his mouth, tasting her, devouring her. He was everywhere now. Though his hands, his mouth, his lips and tongue were concentrated on her most sensitive areas, she felt him with every surface of her body, with the tip of every nerve. With the same continuous movements, over and over he continued to suck, rub, circle and pulse, until her body started to tremble and tense and release and tense even more.

Even as her orgasm grew momentum like a wave moving to shore, Harry pulled away before it could crash until he saw that the wave had retreated back into the sea. But he maintained contact with her. He cupped her between her legs with his palm. Not moving, not sexually, but almost like he was hugging her or holding her until she settled. She didn’t have enough time to find it odd before she began to enjoy the pressure and the heat in an almost soothing, calming way. It was a touch that told her he was there.  Just in a very personal way, in a very intimate area.

If she had been standing now and he told her to bend over his desk, she would have hit the wood so hard and fast that she might have knocked herself out. As it was now, her entire being was waiting for it. Asking for it. Begging for it.

She felt him rise from his chair. His hand was still cupping her gently.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. There was a smile in his voice.

If she had the voice to call him a cocky bastard, she would have. Since she didn’t think she could actually form words, she replied with a sigh that turned into a moan.

“Good.” He paused. “Are you prepared to receive me?

Oh, god fuck, why did he have to say it like that?

Just the way he said it made her clench involuntarily. She nodded her head. She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to speak because her throat was so dry she couldn’t make out any words. Luckily, this time, he took her lack of words, more as speechlessness in the moment, rather than reticence about the near future.

There was another whisper of a zipper being pulled down, a rustle of movement.

“So you’re not surprised.” He said.

She was confused for a split second. Surprised by what?

He reached for one of her hands and guided it toward him. She lifted up onto one elbow so she could brace herself. He placed her hand on his erection and then wrapped his hand over hers.

Fuck. She was screaming internally now. I’m touching it! He just put my hand on it. He’s in my hand. I’m holding him! Calling it “it” like she couldn’t even think that she had her palm around that part of him. She wrapped her fingers around as much as she could. Holding him felt like holding an iron bar wrapped in something smooth, pliant and warm. Not just warm. Hot. Her hand was burning. She wasn’t just surprised, she was slightly shocked. He was big. He was more than big. Thick and heavy. Has he been walking around with this the whole time? She had never had something that size inside of her before. Holy shit.

All the adrenaline surged again into her blood stream, her heart beat quickened and her blood poured into her core. What was left flooded her cheeks. Apparently, her body had no doubt she could accommodate a man of his size. Her hips were moving back to take him inside of her. One hand halted the move of her hips.

“Be still.” He said. “Allow me”. It was his way of telling her he was in control.

She stopped, but as she tried to spread her legs even further apart, thinking of the sheer size of him. He didn’t say I couldn’t move this way.

——

Harry didn’t want her moving back onto him. He would penetrate her properly, at the right pace and speed, with the right adjustments so his entry wasn’t painful for her. Women, in their haste, in their desire to please, and their eagerness for more, or excitement at his size, would often try to take him all at once, faster than they were ready for, making the experience unpleasant. It would burn and they would accept it as something to bear through, with the pain still lingering even as most of it subsided. Or men, focused on only their own need, would force themselves into their partner without finesse or technique. It was not that he was huge, he was just larger than average. He felt bigger to them because he knew how to use his properly.

She had shifted her legs wider. He had told her to be still, but he would let that slide since he did want her spread as wide as possible. She was definitely wet enough for both of them. More than enough for him to cover all of him. She cried out very loudly, when she felt him slide, not into her, but along the length of her as he coated himself. He could see that she was trying not to press into him.

Good girl, he thought.

He took his time, finally enjoying her slick hot wetness, the velvety the feel of her against his entire length. His own desire threatened to take over. How quick and simple it would be now. One quick, hard thrust and he would be fully into her. He twitched at the thought, but held fast, thinking, if a man treats a woman properly, he will have all the pleasure he can desire and more.

A gentleman, even during slightly kinky sex, Harry continued to pace himself. After he was just as slick as she was, using one hand to guide himself, the other hand pulled her bottom on one side, pulling her flesh away from her opening, and then the same to the other side. Holding his head firmly against her center, just the slightest pressure making her whimper and moan. He twitched again at the sound. Using his other hand to keep her pulled open, he slowly pressed into her, with a slight downward movement. He didn’t want to surprise her by slipping into the wrong hole. Once he made a little movement, he pulled out and repeated, making sure her skin wasn’t caught and dragged with him. He repeated this movement over and over, making sure she was sufficiently wet the entire time. On one of these pulses, his head slipped fully inside of her and locked into place. He stopped and let her simply feel him inside of her. She writhed before him, obviously stretched wide. He was most likely a size she had never taken before. She was very tight, extremely tight and even still squeezing him even harder, causing him to involuntary move inside of her as well. While he was still, while she was getting used to him inside of her, he took the time to just enjoy her in this space, in this position, being with her like this and being able to witness her surrender. It was truly an exquisite sight. He let his eyes travel over the soft skin of her back, the inward curve of her waist, the swell of her bottom. And the sight of him entering her, seeing her spread wide as she took him inside of her.

When her body began to relax and soften, making sure she was wet, using his hand to pull her open wider until he could push himself farther into her. Stopping when she again, cried out, this time louder, with more arousal, more pleasure, more intensity in her voice. Her spasms were more intense and this time he had to concentrate not to let her push him over his own edge. He kept himself in check, not thinking of something else, not distracting himself, but letting his own desire hum in the background. She had taken most of him. The only furrow in her brow was from pleasure that was close to pain, but not pain itself. He didn’t sense her tense or brace at all.

He glanced forward at the mirror and saw himself taking her. All men should be able to experience a woman like this, be with her in this way. But unfortunately, most men were only concerned with their own needs, never knowing the pleasure that one can receive, the possibilities that exist when a man properly attends to his woman. He always heard complaints about men’s wives or girlfriends, that they didn’t desire sex, or were frigid. He assumed that most men didn’t know how to satisfy a woman, and therefore, left without the opportunity for a true intimate physical relationship.

Simply attuning to the needs of a woman, no matter how reticent or hesitant, if they were assured, listened to, both their words and their actions, felt safe and protected and respected in a man’s company. Like Gwendolyn, could give and receive pleasure most men and women only fantasise about.

When her body told him she was ready, he made his final push into her. She received him like she was a wave on the ocean, her body fluid and relaxed and responsive with no resistance.

Perfect, he thought.

“Gwendolyn.” His own voice was now deep and rough and low. “Look in the mirror.”

When she looked up, he felt her spasm around him. At first she simply gazed at herself like she was an entirely new creature that she had never seen before, unrelated to her. So he pulsed a little within her and as he did so, she watched herself react in pleasure. He did it again. She responded.

He would have continued to move, but he held still with his entire length inside of her. He simply let her experience the intensity of purely having him inside her. Still. Motionless. While she had him inside of her, still looking in the mirror, she looked up at him, seeing everything. The way he stood close behind her, the flex of his forearms as his hands gripped the sides of her hips, his shirt, tie removed, unbuttoned down the front. The way his blood pulsed in the side of his neck, and then up to his face. To his eyes. And this time she caught his gaze and held it. Now her experience was heightened by this additional contact.

Sex wasn’t always about thrusting, hard and fast. Granted there are times when that movement takes precedence, but if that is all a man has under his belt, so to speak, he is denying himself and his partner a whole other world of pleasure. As he expected, just the stillness of him inside her, allowed her to experience him in a way she had never felt anyone else before him. For, through this kind of pairing, for the receiving partner, there is no other sensation that is akin to taking someone inside of them, of being opened and of being filled.

Their eyes were still locked. When she started to subtly roll her hips into him, he spread her one more time, from her bottom and from underneath, between her legs, pushing in so he was in contact with her little bud. Every inch of skin that had the possibly of touching him was firmly connected against him. There was plenty of her wetness to spread all around these areas that touched. With this contact in place, he placed his palms on her outer thighs and closed her legs around him as he pressed into her, his legs now behind and bracing hers. She would be in a better position to instinctively squeeze her knees and thighs together during climax, and have more contact with the front of his body.

Not quite so much thrusting, as it was rocking with her, he pushed against her without pulling out her, never losing the skin to skin contact between the front of his hips and the backs of hers.

She was calling out freely. He was glad it was late and there was no one to hear her except him because she sounded as beautiful as he thought she would. She held his gaze until finally, the pleasure was too much for her that she had to close her eyes. He kept his pace steady, only changing the angle of his movement inside of her, or rotating his hips into her in a circular motion, just as he did with his thumb, but this time with his entire pelvis.

---

Oh my dear god. She thought. Or did she scream it? She couldn’t tell. She was positively panting now. Oh, fuck. Oh, god. She felt as any control over her mind or her body was given over to Harry. She was completely helpless do to anything other than let her entire body tremble as waves of pleasure crashed over her. This time, rather stopping, he rode the waves to intensify them, until her the whole of her began to tense, her grip on to him tighter and her pleasure bore down on her. With one firm and final motion that now she pushed back on to fully, grinding her hips against him. Her orgasm began as she helplessly cried out his name over and over. Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes and dampened her cheeks. She shuddered and arched back against him as she was overcome by a pleasure so intense it was almost painful, almost too much for her to bear. How could she ever have considered walking away from this? From this feeling, from this man. It was unthinkable. She spasmed against him longer and harder than she ever had before. More than she thought was physically possible. And, oh my god, still, it kept coming. She kept coming.

It was Harry. She had no doubt that no other man could have brought her to this level of pleasure, this state of existence, as Harry Hart. Not only because of the things he was doing to her physically, but because of who he was. Because of the man he was. Because it was him she was giving herself to. He was still fully inside of her, pushed up against her as deep as possible. She trembled around his entire length as she writhed in ecstasy. Over, and over and over. She was still crying out his name even as the last swell of unimaginable sensations crashed into her.

-----

When he felt her begin to climax, he thrust fully into her and held himself against her, but he released her hips so she could now move as freely as she wanted to. While she was overcome, he concentrated on her pleasure, how she looked how she moved. How his name sounded on her lips as she screamed because her experience was so intense it needed even another way to find release. The look of pain on her face, that was not from pain, but her desire finally realised fully and completely and thoroughly. He felt her pleasure just as deeply, but he didn’t let himself physically release, not yet. Not until the last spasm wracked through her. Not until she was done. It was a pleasure that was pain for him as well. Even though he wanted to close his eyes against it coursing through him, he kept watch on her, memorising every angle, very curve of her body, every expression on her face.

As she slowed and her body calmed, still inside of her, he folded his body over her own. His chest against her back. His face next to hers. He kissed the side of her face, her cheek, the line of her jaw. He smoothed her hair away from her forehead and rested his mouth there. Her skin was flushed and hot against his lips. He felt the wetness of her tears. Tears that she had never let herself cry in sadness or vulnerability, not in his presence, now dampened her cheeks when she let her self be overcome by him. He rested against her like this for as long as he was able after she had relaxed.

Her eyes remained closed. He brushed the side of her face with the back of his hand. With the intent to move with her permission, he asked.

“And my dear, how are you feeling, now?”

She responded simply, with such emotion, such feeling, the vulnerability and with notes of tenderness that he had never heard from her or ever heard in her voice.  With no defence she simply whispered his name with as much feeling and warmth as a thousand fires.

“Oh, Harry…”

It was all she said. But the sound of his name from her lips, in all of her vulnerability. That it would be his name that she would say first, touched him in a way that he had never been touched. In a place he had never been touched. It said to him, he was here in this moment with her. That, as he knew this experience was not about him, she recognised that her experience was not only her’s alone. That it was also his. And he knew this was the kind of connection that he was always searching for in relationships and in sex, but never felt at this level.

All of this manifested in his body as pleasure. For a man, one of the times he is most vulnerable is during sex. Most men will guard themselves and never achieve the full state of arousal that vulnerability will invite. However, if he is able to express that vulnerability, it will be the purest, most pleasurable sex with the most intense climax he will ever achieve. For Harry, that time was now. The experience was his. Every single fibre of his being, not just his length inside of her began to move both with her and within her again. Her cry only fanned the flame of his desire.

He wanted to feel her skin against his. He reached underneath her to unbutton her blouse. Realising what he wanted she lifted her chest to help him. Harry continued to unbutton the rest of his shirt and flung it to the side as he never did. The same time, Gwendolyn’s blouse slipped over the side of the desk. He leaned completely over her, feeling her nakedness as much with his entire body as he drank it in though his eyes. He slid one arm underneath her, his forearm around her chest, holding her even tighter into him as he pressed his himself into her bare back and shoulders. It was as if the closest he could get was still not close enough. His need was immense and the feel of her, being inside of her overcame him. He let himself thrust into her, giving into her and giving himself to her.

——

This was different, she thought. Harry was different. Even more different, if that was possible. It seemed like the more time she spent with him, the more of him was revealed and every time it was a revelation. He wasn’t simply finishing. This was much more. The feel of him was huge. Not only the part that was inside of her. Whatever he was feeling was huge, for him. When he was giving her pleasure, he remained in complete control. Impressively, so. Not that he wasn’t in control now, but there was a new element, a sensitivity, a receptivity. It was a willingness to receive as well as give. She knew that he enjoyed every moment with her, but this was different from enjoyment. Even more than lust or passion, though those were the physical elements. It felt like devotion. If cherishing someone could take on a physical expression, it would feel like this. She was moved by this even more than when he had his full attention on her physically and mentally. Before, he was making sure she had a wonderful, memorable experience. Now, he just wanted to experience her. Was it that she was losing herself to him? And him in her?

This was being together, she thought, before his movements, the feel of him, the heat of his skin against hers both inside of her and out, both pressing their entire length in to her an against her, carried her off with him. He rocked into her with a brutal passion, making her cries sound from the base of her throat.  His own jaw clenched in silence as she found herself responding just as fiercely, insisting, demanding more from him as she pushed her hips to meet his.

——

His other hand was everywhere. He wanted to feel her beneath his palm, her hair, her neck, her back, her side, her legs, her bottom. And the more he felt, the more he ached for her. The space between them was stormy, tumultuous, both experiencing from each other a pleasure that was so powerful it was almost violent. It wasn’t simply pleasure. A sensation so forceful, so overwhelming, it was at the cusp of unbearable. It was otherworldly. When he pushed her over the edge once more into her climax, as she convulsed helplessly against him, she cried out his name again and again with total abandon, just as fervently as before. The sound of his name from her lips, the way she pulsed around him and against him as she cried out, made him call out his own desire for her. It drove him far, far outside what he thought was his edge and crashed into heights of pleasure that was close to death. Together, they rose up and rode each swell and they came together. Over and over and over far beyond the realm of what they thought possible.

As it was, on that evening, two of the most guarded, reluctant and isolated hearts at Kingsman, lost, and then ultimately found themselves in each other.

----

I pretty much wrote all of my fanfic so I could justify writing this part about Harry Hart taking Gwendolyn over his desk :) Hope you enjoyed! Comments are always soooo appreciated. Especially for a newbie writer. Was it too long? Would it have been better in chapters? Cheers!

[sanctummilitis]

ARTORIA/ARTURIA PENDRAGON (SABER) ♚ MISTIFIED

bats this out a little later than planned, but that still means plenty of time for chaos. in corroboration with some others, Saber had been in the process of investigating the fundamentals of Spirale, so she’s not about to let this slide by. though she’ll be venturing out into the unknown, her powers won’t be affected, there might be more pressing issues for her to contend with.

RESIDUAL DATA IMPRINTS

♔ A good majority of the data imprints will come from Zero and Stay Night. Saber herself will be learning of the events in the Fate and Heaven’s Feel routes, on top of Hollow Ataraxia. All of this will hardly be a surprise to her, given things come Grand Order, and she’s long ago confronted the fact that Saber Alter is a thing. But now she can tell Shirou he’s the best version of himself with a heap of evidence. ♔ The fight with Lancelot during the last night of the Fourth War? The confrontation with Gilgamesh in front of the Grail? Absolutely. ♔ That said, imprint of her original life will be a thing. Times during her travels as Lily with Merlin and Kay, or her and Gawain’s fight against Vortigern, for quick examples that spring to mind.

SENTIENT DATA IMPRINTS

♔ IRISVIEL VON EINZBERN — NON-LETHAL Instead of dredging up Kiritsugu, Irisviel will represent the emotional rollercoaster thatn Zero was for Saber where her Master(s) was concerned. Though the one person that she could look back to the War and not feel her insides writhe with disdain, Irisviel is a testament to just how powerless Saber was left feeling by everything that went down. ♔ GILGAMESH (ARCHER) — NON-LETHAL Can’t have Mashu be faced with the guy with unrequited feelings and not do the same for Saber, can I? He’d be lethal but it might be a little overkill, so he’ll be toying around until his patience runs out. ♔ DIARMUID UA DUIBHNE (LANCER) — LETHAL Taken from the point of his death, when he’d become convinced that Saber had colluded with Kiritsugu to take out Kayneth and himself by underhanded tactics and spent his last breaths cursing her. The manifestation of that hatred and betrayal is out to haunt and make Saber pay for what he believes happened that night. ♔ ARTURIA (SUBVERSION) — LETHAL For the sake of anyone who wasn’t around during Subversion: Arturia was an ordinary schoolgirl native to Spirale. After their father’s assassination, Arthur worked his way through the police ranks to seek out the culprit, while Arturia attended middle school, her brother always watching out for her from a distance. The second part of the event saw a deteriorating Arturia desperately searching for Arthur before they could be sealed, armed with Saber’s phone and Excalibur: this is the imprint that will manifest. Though she won’t have Excalibur instead of Saber, her blade will share its appearance, dyed in the darkness of tainted miasma, not unlike Berserker Lancelot’s, and an eroded mental state to match.

capping at 3, castmates exempt. if anything takes your fancy or you’d like to plot anything specifically, i’m more than happy to jump in and figure things out.

[brighter-side-of-the-coin]

Merlin Fic Rec - Canon Era Longshots

Some longer Merlin fics I couldn’t put down the first time I read them ♥ (All canon era, >20k words)

Sweeter Dreams by Tierfal (35k)

Following a rather different ending to 2.10 ("Sweet Dreams"), Merlin and Arthur head to Olaf's kingdom of Valden to put things right. In the process, Merlin racks up an impressive series of treasonous crimes: insolence, incompetence, tripping while running for his life, and accusing the crown prince of snoring are only the beginning.

Crave the Brush of Spring by elissastillstands (112k)

There is no safety in Morgana's arms. Morgana makes her angry, and afraid beyond that, because Gwen thinks of Morgana with her unrelenting, cruel righteousness and feels something stirring in the space beneath her ribs, an echo of the fury she has buried since she came of age. She thinks of Morgana, and her tongue breaks, and her skin feels too tight and too small to contain her.

It is Ygraine who asks Nimueh to help her conceive a child born of magic, and though she knows what will come to pass, Nimueh is powerless before Ygraine's desires.

Decades later, that same child rules over a Camelot haunted by its past. The kingdom is besieged from without by a powerful Morgana seeking justice, and from within by its own broken laws. Gwen and Merlin stand at Arthur's side in his bitter war against his sister, but as their secrets come to light, Gwen must grapple with her gravitation towards the woman she once served. In the face of the slow dissolution of her world, Gwen finds herself confronting what she has long tried to bury in the name of loyalty: the power of grief, the force of anger, the weight of women's love and women's hunger.

the time is drawing near now (yours to claim it all) by ariadne_odair (58k)

Camelot holding a tournament is never good news for Merlin. Visitors to Camelot inevitably mean trouble and when one of those visitors sets their eye on Arthur, Merlin isn’t sure if Arthur is at risk of being seduced or something more ominous.

Uncovering a murder plot isn’t nearly as scary as confronting his feelings for Arthur, but at least Merlin hasn’t been kidnapped. Yet. Or revealed his magic to Arthur. Yet.

His destiny may have other ideas.

If Thou Wolt Haue it Red by Skitz_phenom (33k)

Affected by a rather nefarious - if delicious - bit of magic, Merlin is forced to navigate the complications of keeping a step ahead of Arthur (lest he ask the right questions), getting to the bottom of who's responsible (and why they'd want to trouble Gwen) and perhaps trying to understand why some of the truths he's working so diligently to avoid might not be the ones he expects...

The World I Built for You by Fulgance (32k)

If I told you to execute Mordred, would you do it? Merlin wondered, losing himself in the blue of Arthur's eyes. Can I save you like this, even if it damns me?

Bucket up, all for Luck by ImperialMint (29k)

Merlin didn't really expect it to take five Knights, two old men, a woman and a horseshoe for his plan to work, but then again the extent of his plan had been more along the lines of an adamant 'I'm not in love with Prince Prat (except, really, I am)' than an actual plan.

The Serving of Servants by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle (81k)

When a new position is made in the royal household to oversee the servants, Arthur didn’t think much of it. It was only days later when he noticed the mysterious injuries appearing on frightened servants that the prince decided to go undercover and to find out what is going on.

Meanwhile, Merlin thinks the newest servant is a mess.

Or

Arthur learns what it is like to be a servant and learns some interesting thing about his own servant.

Alone, Until I Get Home by emmbrancsxx0 (57k)

During a trip to Forest Sauvage, Merlin learns of a plot to overthrow Arthur and bring war to the five kingdoms; and Arthur learns that Merlin has magic.

To Save a King by WordsAreTrulyBeautiful (60k)

Altering the future is a dangerous game, but when a new prophecy comes to light, Merlin must travel to a long deserted land to save Arthur's life. His magic and his heart be damned.

Little Thief by scribblemoose (30k)

When Leon's still suffering from the dragon's attack several months later, Merlin is anxious to help. Meanwhile Arthur goes hunting, Merlin dabbles in things that he shouldn't, and they find themselves on a quest with an unusual companion....

Before the Sun Breaks Another Day by accordingtomel, adelagia (109k)

Three months after her disappearance, Morgana returns to Camelot with a hidden agenda, but she's not the only one keeping secrets, and a series of unintended revelations forces her, Merlin and Arthur on an intertwined journey of revenge, redemption and love.

In My Veins (Cannot Get You Out) by rebeccaann08 (halesmoon) (24k)

When Merlin uses the Cup of Life to make Arthur invincible, something goes wrong. Arthur is immortal, but now Merlin is dying.

[reading-while-queer]

Hi, I was wondering if you could recommend any LGBT fantasy that isn’t based in a highschool? Thanks

Hi! Thanks for sending in this question, I would be glad to!

Books I recommend: Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo (Review) Ensemble cast of criminals pull off a heist in a magical original setting, during the rise of a fascist regime. YA.

With Roses in Their Hair by Ennis Bashe (Review) (Read Here) Lesbian retelling of Tam Lin in a fantasy/dystopian setting. Adult short story.

Peter Darling by Austin Chant (Review) A trans and gay reimagining of Peter Pan. Adult.

Quoria by Calhoun Crimin (Read Here) An early 20th century-inspired fantasy setting starring a con man-turned-detective who gets in way over his head solving magical crimes. YA appropriate.

Amberlough Dossier by Lara Elena Donnelly (Review) Speculative rather than strictly fantasy (it takes place in a non-magical original 30s-inspired setting), the series is about spies and revolutionaries facing the rise of fascism. Adult.

Heartwood ed. Joamette Gil (Review) A collection of non-binary comics from various authors, all with fae inspiration. YA appropriate.

Huntress by Malinda Lo (Review) Two girls must go on a journey to the city of the fairy queen to restore the balance of nature. YA.

Nimona by Noelle Stevenson (Review) A fantasy comic about a shapeshifter, and the villainous Lord Blackheart she works for. YA appropriate.

Taproot by Keezy Young (Review) A gardener who can see ghosts gets involved with something bigger when his ghost friends find themselves transported to a creepy forest on another plane of existence. YA appropriate.

Books I’m excited about (but haven’t read): Cinderella is Dead by Kalynn Bayron (Goodreads) It’s 200 years after Cinderella found her prince, but the fairy tale is over. Teen girls are now required to appear at the Annual Ball, where the men of the kingdom select wives based on a girl’s display of finery. If a suitable match is not found, the girls not chosen are never heard from again. Sixteen-year-old Sophia would much rather marry Erin, her childhood best friend, than parade in front of suitors. At the ball, Sophia makes the desperate decision to flee, and finds herself hiding in Cinderella’s mausoleum. There, she meets Constance, the last known descendant of Cinderella and her step sisters. Together they vow to bring down the king once and for all–and in the process, they learn that there’s more to Cinderella’s story than they ever knew… YA. (Blurb from Goodreads)

Stealing Thunder by Alina Boyden (Goodreads) By night, Razia Khan is one of the most sought-after dancing girls in the desert city of Bikampur. Later in the night, she is its most elusive thief. When Razia finds herself dancing for the maharaja's son, the handsome prince Arjun, she knows that she's playing with fire. As a trans girl, known as a hijra, she can never be a wife to any man, and as the former crown prince of the Sultanate of Nizam, she guards her identity carefully, lest her father's assassins find her. But in the dragon-riding prince of Bikampur, Razia sees not just a ticket out of the gutter, but a kindred spirit. (Quoted from NoveList)

Once & Future by Amy Rose Capetta (Goodreads) When Ari crash-lands on Old Earth and pulls a magic sword from its ancient resting place, she is revealed to be the newest reincarnation of King Arthur. Then she meets Merlin, who has aged backward over the centuries into a teenager, and together they must break the curse that keeps Arthur coming back. YA. (Quoted from Goodreads)

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst (Goodreads) Betrothed since childhood to the prince of Mynaria, Princess Dennaleia has always known what her future holds. Her marriage will seal the alliance between Mynaria and her homeland, protecting her people from other hostile lands. But Denna has a secret. She possesses an Affinity for fire—a dangerous gift for the future queen of a kingdom where magic is forbidden. YA. (Quoted from Goodreads)

Pet by Akweke Emezi (Goodreads) In a near-future society that claims to have gotten rid of all monstrous people, a creature emerges from a painting seventeen-year-old Jam's mother created, a hunter from another world seeking a real-life monster. YA. (quoted from NoveList)

Spellhacker by M.K. England (Goodreads) Magic was a natural resource until a corporation used a magical earthquake as an excuse to make magic a controlled substance - and an outrageously expensive one. Diz and her friends run an illegal magic-siphoning operation, and are about to pull their last heist. YA. (Paraphrased from Goodreads)

Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James (Goodreads) A mix of fantasy and African history and myth. Tracker is sent to track down a boy who disappeared three years ago, and must break his rule of working alone, joined by a shapeshifting man/leopard, and other strange characters. Adult. (paraphrased from Goodreads).

The City We Became by N. K. Jemison (Goodreads) An evil stirs in the underbelly of NYC, threatening to destroy the city and her 6 avatars. Adult. (paraphrased from NoveList)

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune (Goodreads) Linus Baker leads a quiet, solitary life. At forty, he lives in a tiny house with a devious cat and his old records. As a Case Worker at the Department in Charge Of Magical Youth, he spends his days overseeing the well-being of children in government-sanctioned orphanages. Adult. (Quoted from Goodreads)

Ash by Malinda Lo (Goodreads) In this variation on the Cinderella story, Ash grows up believing in the fairy realm that the king and his philosophers have sought to suppress, until one day she must choose between a handsome fairy cursed to love her and the King's Huntress whom she loves. YA. (Quoted from NoveList)

Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan (Goodreads) Each year, eight beautiful girls are chosen as Paper Girls to serve the king. It's the highest honor they could hope for...and the most demeaning. This year, there's a ninth. And instead of paper, she's made of fire. YA. (Quoted from Goodreads)

Shark by Kevaughn Ryder (Goodreads) Silver Shark, youngest of the royal family of Near Shallows, has been having strange dreams for many nights. He barely remembers them, except for a handsome man with a beautiful smile.On his first trip to the surface, Shark is horrified to discover that the man is human; a creature feared and hated by those of his underwater kingdom. In his confusion, Shark commits unspeakable treachery: he saves this human from drowning. Age range unknown. (Quoted from Ryderworlds.wordpress.com)

Everfair by Nisi Shawl (Goodreads) Everfair is a wonderful Neo-Victorian alternate history novel that explores the question of what might have come of Belgium's disastrous colonization of the Congo if the native populations had learned about steam technology a bit earlier. Fabian Socialists from Great Britian join forces with African-American missionaries to purchase land from the Belgian Congo's "owner," King Leopold II. This land, named Everfair, is set aside as a safe haven, an imaginary Utopia for native populations of the Congo as well as escaped slaves returning from America and other places where African natives were being mistreated. Adult. (Blurb from Goodreads).

The Deep & Dark Blue by Niki Smith (Goodreads) After a terrible political coup usurps their noble house, Hawke and Grayson flee to stay alive and assume new identities, Hanna and Grayce. Desperation and chance lead them to the Communion of Blue, an order of magical women who spin the threads of reality to their will. Middle Grade. (Quoted from Goodreads)

The Deep by Rivers Solomon (Goodreads) Yetu holds the memories for her people—water-dwelling descendants of pregnant African slave women thrown overboard by slave owners—who live idyllic lives in the deep. Their past, too traumatic to be remembered regularly, is forgotten by everyone, save one—the historian. This demanding role has been bestowed on Yetu. Adult. (Quoted from Goodreads)

Crier's War by Nina Varela (Goodreads) After the War of Kinds ravaged the kingdom of Rabu, the Automae, Designed to be the playthings of royals, took over the estates of their owners and bent the human race to their will. YA. (Quoted from Goodreads)

A Taste of Honey by Kai Ashante Wilson (Goodreads) After meeting a handsome Dalucan soldier, Aqib bmg Sadiqi, a fourth cousin to the royal family and son of the Master of Beasts, struggles with his family's expectations and the love he feels for Lucrio. Adult. (Blurb from NoveList).

[mischiefandspirits]

Knights of the Magic Table

Because my response to this turned out too long. Here’s to you @starlightandsunshine!!!

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Arthur was around four when he developed magic. Uther found out quickly, but he could not hurt his son. Instead, he warned his son about the dangers of magic. He told him that he’d been cursed with magic by an enemy of Camelot and that it would corrupt him if he used it. It was the only way he could think of to protect his son from the darkness of magic. It hadn’t occurred to him that his son might grow to fear himself, to think he might be a monster.

Merlin, of course, had magic all along. Arthur discovers it when Merlin pulls him out of the way of a sorceress’s dagger because he can feel the magic wrapping around him to slow down time around them. But Merlin had saved him. Why would someone with magic save the Prince of Camelot? So he keeps quiet. He just about manages to convince himself that maybe it had just been his own magic he was feeling, when Valiant says, “I didn't summon you!” Arthur immediately realizes that of course he didn’t, Merlin did. He stills stays quiet though because Merlin had saved him again. Why? There must be some sort of plan!

So he waits and watches. When Merlin tries to expose himself as the one who left the poultice, Arthur talks down his father. Not because he doesn’t think it was Merlin’s, but because he knows Merlin’s not the one who caused the plague. It had been too distressing to him and surely the one who cast it wouldn’t burst in to tell the king they were the sorcerer.

Then Merlin drinks poison for Arthur and he can’t keep quiet anymore. Once Merlin is healed and Arthur is out of the dungeons, Arthur drags Merlin to a hidden corner of the castle and confronts him. There’s anger and fear all around, but in the end, Merlin’s still at Arthur’s side and Arthur gets to see Merlin’s magic book. He still refuses to do magic on purpose, but he reads through it just in case.

Lancelot had developed magic when he was older -- sixteen -- and his magic was weak. That was okay with him though as he dreamed of being a knight of Camelot and had no use for magic. Then he met a warlock with actual power serving the crown and he decided perhaps he might learn some actual magic after all. He was still weak, but he was a knight at heart so he focused his magic towards that. He could make his sword just a little sharper, make it hit a little harder and cut through things it maybe shouldn’t. He could make his armor a little stronger, let it take blows for him that should rattle his bones. He could trip up his opponents in ways that he couldn’t with his own reflexes alone. And that was good enough for him.

Gwen and Elyan developed theirs around eleven like most warlocks and witches. They hid it from all but themselves and one other. They managed to get some control of it, but Elyan still left Camelot, too afraid he’d be caught up in a hunt. Gwen stayed though as she couldn’t bring herself to leave her father or friends. She feared every day, especially as she was the personal maid to the king’s ward, but her love won out in the end.

When she was accused of healing her father, she was shocked. She had tried to heal him -- she knew she’d be accused of magic, but she would gladly trade her life for his -- but she didn’t know enough magic so her attempts had failed. She certainly didn’t know how to do anything with a poultice. Then she heard Merlin murmuring words of magic when he was dying of poison and realized the truth. She stumbled over figuring out how to tell him, but in the end, he found out by accident. She’d been trying to heal Morgana of her sleeping illness (which was later revealed to be the work of a sorcerous physician) when Merlin -- lovely idiot that he is -- barged into the room without knocking. They’d found relief in each other, then Merlin revealed something she hadn’t been expecting. She, in return, gave her own shocking news.

Leon wasn’t sure exactly when his magic had developed because it was thankfully subtle in its appearances. Wounds healing faster than they should. Deadly blows just missing their mark. Little things that would make his fellow knights think him lucky, but not enough to think him magic. He was sixteen and on a break from his squire training to visit his home when he realized he wasn’t just lucky. He’d been practicing in a courtyard when he’d accidentally cut his hand. Gwen -- only twelve at the time and still living with her mother on his family’s estate -- had been walking by with some laundry when it had happened. She had seen and came over to see if he’d needed help. The cut, just a tiny scratch really, had closed up in front of their eyes. Like magic, he realized with a panic.

Gwen had talked him down, revealing her own magic in the process. He soon after learned her brother was the same. When he worried over what kind of knight he would be with magic, she pointed out that so long as he used his magic for good and never gave in to the darkness like those sorcerers who attacked Camelot did then he would be a great knight. Years later she would come to him with even more comforting news and he felt the hint to a brighter future when he stood before his prince with no secrets between them.

Gwaine wasn’t a warlock, exactly. Because his magic was the result of his father. The Green Knight, a being of Annwn who had once been in service to the Fisher King. When his King had become injured, his father, like many others, had moved on. His father had ended up in the neighboring Kingdom of Caerleon. After many years of serving the kings of the country, his father fell in love with his mother and gave up his power to become human and marry her. Shortly after he was born, his father died in battle. Even still, Gwaine had inherited some of his power. He was stronger than he should be and didn’t hurt easily. Blows bruised when they should have broken bones. He got cuts instead of gashes. And best of all, he could drink three times as much alcohol as another man of his size.

He knew immediately that Merlin was magic. Something in his father’s genes told him Merlin was something special, though he couldn’t place it. A bit of alcohol in Gwaine had both their stories coming out.

Elyan had sworn he would never return to Camelot when he left. He stuck by that, even when his father passed away. He learned how to control his magic, discovered ways to weave it into his metalworking to create weapons and armor that were stronger than any others. But then he’d been kidnapped and his sister had rescued him. Along with her was a pair of warlocks just like them. A pair that included the Prince of Camelot.

Percival had grown up in a small village in Essetir that often had druids passing through. From them, he learned little tricks. He could make flowers bloom early and make lights dance in the air. He learned how to make wood catch fire no matter how wet and how to talk to others with magic using his mind. When Cenred’s men destroyed his village, he learned a few other tricks as well. He learned how to ask trees to trip people with their roots and how to ask a river to calm enough for him to cross it. Not long after, he met Lancelot and they shared stories and magic. When Lancelot was called to Camelot to fight an immortal army from Essetir, Percival gladly joined him.

It was at the Ancient Round Table, standing alongside honorable men and woman with magic, that Arthur finally realized that perhaps it wasn’t the magic that made people dark, but simply the power and how they chose to use it.