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thebibliomancer · 5 years ago

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #212: Men of Deadly Pride!

October, 1981

Here they are -- the new Avengers!

But not the New Avengers (the difference is that the hairy monster they have is Tigra instead of Wolverine).

And they are having difficulty.

I don’t know what they did to piss off Galadriel over here (I mean yes I do, she says it right on the cover) but she is kicking their asses.

A dark queen indeed.

Not much to actually say about the cover. Uh, the composition looks neat! There we go. A thing.

So lets jump inside.

Where in a moody dawn scene, Jarvis walks alone through a nearly empty Avengers mansion, little knowing he is being stalked until

RAWWR! IT IS CAT!

Tigra jumps out to do him a startle.

C’mon, Tigra. Be nice.

You’re the only Avenger actually staying in the mansion so try not to terrorize the butler.

And he was bringing you a glass of milk for your breakfast!

Although he says that he’s dealt with a lot of unsettling things and he’s learned to maintain him composure. He didn’t even spill a drop.

Jarvis: “I must say, madame, that I find you rather more unsettling than our previous resident Avengers!”

Tigra: “Oh? You a cat-lover, Jarv?”

AND DON’T FLIRT WITH HIM EITHER TIGRA GEEZ

Poor Jarvis is even allergic to cats which seems to include giant cat women.

Jarvis asks how she got this way, prompting Tigra to give a very laconic backstory that once there was a human Greer Nelson who got almost dead and then the cat-people saved her life by turning her into a cat-person.

Tigra: “And, so, here I am, one pretty kitty! But, c’mon, Jarv, does it matter how I got this sexy?”

Jarvis clarifies that he meant how she got this way as in her upbringing. Like, why you so rude.

I guess I’ll just be grateful that this is just playful Tigra flirtiness as opposed to ‘i must make out with someone 24/7 oh hey a supervillain sure I’ll make you with you’ hypersexuality she’d have while on the West Coast Avengers, in the future.

Elsewhere, Tony Stark is decompressing from his one night stand, Teri. Admiring her very comfy couch, grateful that she’s still asleep so he can sneak out (Tony, you cad), and lamenting being on the wagon. When all that’s left to drink is scotch, bourbon, and half a can of warm, flat Dr. Pepper, you drink that Dr. Pepper if you’re Tony Stark.

Tony calls his secretary to have a janitorial crew clean up after the party and to send up a dozen roses for Teri.

And then he flies out the window as Iron Man, the Man Who Kisses and Runs! as Teri wakes up and is like ‘hey tonykins what the hell was that whooshing sound?’

Tony, you cad.

And elsewhere meanwhile, Steve Rogers wakes up promptly at six o’clock in the damn morning bright as the sun and raring to go. Disgusting. Truly disgusting.

I joked about Steve getting up at 6 to run ten miles and whatever because of him criticizing Beast that time but its sickening to see it in action.

Anyway, after he damn sings in the shower like the perky morning man he is, he bounces out the window to the first Avengers meeting since the roster shake-up, musing how little they know about Tigra and how he’ll have to keep an eye on her because he doesn’t know if she’ll crack under pressure or not.

And then onto, ok wow, we are just having full pages of individual Avengers going about their mornings.

So we’re onto Normal Human Man Dr. Donald Blake reaching the end of the night shift he just pulled at a hospital.

Nurse Wilson pretty blatantly flirts with him (thinking to herself “C’mon, doc! Notice that I’m a woman! I dare you!”). Normal Human Man Dr. Donald Blake doesn’t seem to notice but his thoughts are on her, wishing he could take her out for lunch but that he has important Avengers business.

He then taps his walking stick and transforms into Thor and flies off towards the mansion.

And that brings us to Cresskill where Janet van Dyne aka the Wasp and Hank Pym aka Yellowjacket are going about their morning.

Befitting her blase attitude last issue, Jan just wants to stay in bed longer and cuddle but Hank is desperate not to be late to his first meeting as a newly active Avenger again.

So he’s in costume and ready to go while she’s still choosing which of her many many costumes to wear. Albeit with the ulterior motive that she’s trying to look good for him. She does put in like 90% of the effort into the relationship.

So she’s narrowed her choices down to a red and blue costume and a green and purple outfit that looks like maybe she raided the Green Goblin’s wardrobe. She asks Hank to decide for her.

And he does. In a sense.

He blasts the green and purple number to shreds and yells “Wear the other one!” and when she protests the destruction of her stuff he goes “So what? Like you said you’ve got lots!”

Hmm. We haven’t seen Hank in a while. And he didn’t talk much last issue what with all the Moondragoning. But he’s taken a bit of a level in being a jackass.

And then on the ride to the mansion, the limo gets stuck in traffic.

Yellowjacket: “That does it! You can ride in your blasted chauffeured limo so your two-hundred dollar hair-do doesn’t get mussed -- but I’m flying to Avengers Mansion under my own power!”

And then he ditches. He ditches hard. Leaving Wasp to fly after him begging him to wait.

You’re a bit of a rude, Hank.

Like Hank feared, the two do arrive late to the meeting and he is gently ribbed by sudden class clown Captain America.

Captain America: “Well, look who’s finally here! Now the Wasp has arrived with her new partner -- uh, Yellowjacket, right? We can get started!”

Is funny joke. Its been a time so they’re pretending he’s a new guy and ha ha he’s being described as Wasp’s partner instead of vice versa. What an upset.

And it is an upset. Tigra notices what the other Avengers seem to miss, that Cap’s joke just pissed Yellowjacket off.

And its not helped when Cap mentions that its time to elect a new chairman but Iron Man interrupts to say that he and Thor have agreed that its better for Cap to remain chairman. They did just reorganize the roster and all. Some stability is fine.

Thor: “We choose to waive the elections! Such is our right as founding members!”

And this sets Yellowjacket right the hell off.

Yellowjacket: “Is that so? Well, I resent not being consulted! As the Ant Man I was a founding member, too!”

Iron Man: “uh, of course Hank... you and the Wasp! But you came in late... we’d already decided...”

Yeah! The Wasp too!

But Yellowjacket has some kind of insect in his bonnet and he yells that he’s done being forgotten and treated as a has-been while Janet just silently cringes. She wonders what’s happened to the man she loves. And why he won’t let her reach him anymore.

The meeting continues but the scene transitions.

To a cottage in an isolated glade among the wooded hills of Virginia. Where the olde talking power couple of Gorn and Linnea wake up. Linnea wants to lay in bed with Gorn a while longer but he decides NAY TIME TO GET UP NOW.

Hey wait.

Hmmm.

I’m sensing... thematic parallels. I’m sure its nothing, though.

Anyway, Gorn is tired of living a quiet idyllic life in a beautiful glade with a woman who dearly loves him, as they’ve done for ten thousand years. His dander is up and he wants battles to fight and glory to win! He’s tired of being safe in the glade, protected by Linnea’s power. He’s a warrior, not a farmer!

(I see no evidence of farming around the cottage, just saying)

And since its either be ditched or go with him, Linnea decides to go with him.

Gorn: “You are beautiful in that gown, Linnea. Men shall again call you Elf-Queen as they did in ancient days!”

Linnea/Elf-Queen: “They also called me witch and devil-spawn! They are ever so cruel to my kind!”

Gorn: “Aye, and once we fled them! This time, if we must, we shall fight them!”

Ah, geez, Gorn. The cover implies this won’t go well for you.

So Gorn and Elf-Queen, him on foot and her on horseback) wander into Washington DC literally looking for trouble.

But before trouble, something to eat. Looking for an inn, they wander into a random restaurant.

Gorn, being Gorn, immediately starts yelling at the maitre d’, who he assumes is the innkeeper.

And here’s a bit of an interesting and not often used touch. Even though all speech bubbles are rendered without <> as is sometimes used to denote someone speaking a different language, Gorn and Elf-Queen Linnea are in fact speaking an ancient language.

Nobody can understand a thing they say.

And they can’t understand modern English.

This is a perfect setup for some farce.

Gorn ends up just yelling that he wants food and the maitre d’ gets the gist even though he doesn’t understand the words. This is Washington DC. A lot of people from other countries wander through. So he shows them to a table.

Linnea and Gorn decide that the maitre d’ is probably the innkeeper’s idiot brother. I mean, that’s probably why he can’t understand normal language, right?

And there’s more culture shock to be had. Linnea is realizing how differently dressed everyone is in this era. None of the men are even wielding swords!

Elf-Queen Linnea: “And the women, Gorn -- ! The way they’re dressed --! Like -- like harlots!”

Gorn: “Aye! Hmmm...” -totally staring at a butt and not paying attention-

Linnea: “Gorn... ?! I-if we stay here... would you like me to dress so? I do not know if I can learn the ways of these women... but for you my love, I would try! Gorn... ?”

Gorn: “Mmm...” -still not paying attention-

Linnea: (Oh, Gorn! For ten thousand years we have dwelt together in solitude, as one in our love! Am I to lose you now, here in this city of temptresses?)

Hmmm.... this reminds me of something.... but what?

A Barry Kaplan interrupts her inferiority anxiety by coming up and trying to hire her as a fashion model.

And neither Barry nor Linnea can understand each other still.

But she senses something of his intentions and warns him that this isn’t a good idea since she’s sitting next to a warrior and all.

Barry is like ‘maybe if I try other languages?’

And then Gorn notices. And Gorn is displeased.

Gorn: “NO ONE TOUCHES GORN’S WOMAN!”

Barry: “I warn you, I’ve had six jiu-jitsu lessons!”

Wow!

So Gorn gets up from that and just bodily lifts the guy over his head (Barry lamenting that he dropped out before jiu-jitsu lesson seven). But if you get the barbarian or warrior dropped into a modern setting trope they’re usually just way better than any soft modern man. So its funny to see this random dink get the better of Gorn, even if its just the preamble to what would have been Gorn delivering a thorough beatdown.

Its just not what you expect to see in this story.

Linnea magics Barry out of Gorn’s hands, trying to defuse the situation but Gorn interprets the situation as her ‘unmanning’ him.

Gorn: “Why, Linnea? Why do you seek to unman me? Is it not enough that your power has preserved my youth and kept me for centuries? Must you now interfere in my battles?”

Linnea meekly apologizes.

And then the maitre d’ comes pissed off that this loud, shouting weirdo started a fight and is going to call the police on them. Until Linnea goes ‘oh right we should pay for the damage we caused’ and gives the maitre d’ a gold and diamond necklace.

And the maitre d’ mentally goes cha-ching and reroutes an order about to be served to give to the big spending non-English speaking weirdos.

When Gorn and Elf-Queen finally leave the restaurant wouldn’t you know it, someone stole their damn horse!

What kind of city is it where you can’t leave a horse tied to a parking meter without someone making off with it??

Linnea once again is like ‘hey lets go home to our nice glade where nobody ever stole our horse’

Gorn: “It is your home, Linnea, where I am but a guest -- nay, a pet kept by your grace. Ages ago, I was a renowed warrior, honored and feared by nations and kings! If I am to be a man in my own eyes I must regain the glory I once knew!”

And then a cop comes up to Gorn because you can’t just carry a sword around Washington DC.

Gorn: “Eh? His words are gibberish but the intent is clear! This blue-clad warrior issues me a challenge! Have at thee scoundr- AHH!”

And then the cop just maces Gorn.

Its not funny like the talent agent tossing him into a salad bowl because: cops. Its still a little funny because: Gorn.

Anyway, while Gorn is screaming and coughing the cop just slaps some handcuffs on him.

And Linnea magics the cop away from her boyfriend and worries over him.

Given this new horrible thing that has happened to them, another in a line of horrible things happening to them once they left their home, Linnea begs Gorn again to give up this quest to fight a random thing to make himself feel manly.

Linnea: “I am so worried, Gorn! The world has grown so strange! There is so much here that we do not understand! Please, let us go back before something terrible befalls us!”

He again refuses and she asks if he would die for his pride.

So he slaps her across the face.

And after all that she’s meekly gone along with his whims and tantrums and whatever else ways to describe Gorn’s exceptionally gornish way of being, she draws the line here.

Linnea: “Go ahead, Gorn -- stay! Win your stupid ‘glory’! I do not care! Farewell!”

And she just walks away into the sky, twinkle, because she can do that.

When she’s too far to hear he whispers an apology but its too late and he sadly trudges off alone into the city.

Wow, that was six pages of just Gorn and Linnea, Elf-Queen. That’s nearly a fourth of the whole issue! We spend a lot of time with these two new characters!

Back at Avengers Mansion, Iron Man and Yellowjacket prep the Quinjet to fly.

Wasp: “You mean we’re going all the way to Washington, D.C. just because somebody there claims they saw a woman walking on air? What’s new about that? I do it every time my sweetie Hank gives me a wink! Then, again, they do have some wonderful stores there! Last time I went there I bought six fur coats!”

Tigra: “Sounds expensive! I’m lucky! Mine’s built in!”

Iron Man chimes in that the air-walking woman also assaulted a cop so clearly this looks like a job for the Avengers.

But when they finish up checking the Quinjet, Yellowjacket says that he’s discovered the ‘sonomodulator circuit’ on his disruptor gun is acting up.

He’s pretty sure he can fix it but Wasp chimes in with a more different idea.

Wasp: “I’ll just ring up Jeeves over at the East Side Penthouse! He can grab one of those doohickies from your lab there and zip right over in the limo! It’ll just take a few minutes!”

Yellowjacket: “You love doing that, don’t you? You love taking every opportunity to flaunt your blasted money! Well, I don’t need your butlers, your cars or your money -- and I don’t need you!”

And Wasp runs off crying that she only wanted to help. Yellowjacket storms into the Quinjet telling the other Avengers to forget Wasp and get going.

Making the other Avengers feel very awkward about witnessing this fight. Cap even feels as if he should do something but doesn’t know what since its a personal matter.

A suggestion? Mandated couples counseling since this kind of thing could affect the team, will be the reason you give? Like. This clearly is something that’s going to cause trouble. Get ahead of it, Cap.

Meanwhile, back in Washington D.C. because yes Gorn didn’t just walk out of the book forever alone. He walked into a very honestly uncomfortably stereotypical gang who decide hey maybe we should mug that guy with the sword, it’ll probably pawn for something.

Gorn still can’t understand a thing anyone says but they’re carrying weapons and finally here’s a situation he understands. And finally he also doesn’t get played for a chump. He just wades into the crowd of six and starts laying them out with his bare hands.

This is what you’d typically see for a warrior type dropped into modern world thing.

Oh and then the cops hear the fight and go hey its that guy with the sword that there was an APB about.

And Gorn goes, hey its guys wearing the same livery of the guy that got me with that stinging vapor. Time to run at them with a sword.

So they shoot him five times.

And he dies.

It turns out that Linnea has been watching Gorn from a distance this whole time, apparently unwilling to actually ditch. So she sees him get gunned down.

She floats down from the sky to his side and realizes that he is already dead. The cops mistake sky woman for an angel (but there was an APB out for Gorn so why didn’t the flying woman warrant a mention?) but if Linnea is, she’s an avenging one.

She turns on the cops with her magic and makes them sink up to their necks into the concrete.

Elf-Queen: “Are you begging? It is for naught! He’s dead! DEAD! My love is dead -- and this city, this world shall PAY!”

And she turns her magic on Washington D.C., blasting a building and a helicopter, lashing out in grief at the world that killed her dickbag boyfriend.

This is when the Avengers finally arrive to the Plot, in this Avengers book.

The Avengers just see someone breaking property and go to stop her.

Captain America: “Avengers... attack!”

Of course, Tony being Tony, and kind of a loose man immediately gets distracted at the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Iron Man: “Excuse me, miss! Couldn’t we discuss whatever’s bothering you... say, over dinner at the diplomat club?”

Its... not a bad idea. A little bit of empathy. Its just his motive that’s bad.

And also, his inability to speak ancient languages. Elf-Queen still can’t understand a thing anyone says. She does think a flying man in armor is something Gorn would have liked. But that just makes her mad.

So she magics a railing to wrap up Iron Man.

Thor grabs Elf-Queen from behind, pulling her arm behind her back. Its strikingly reminiscent of the Standard Female Grab Area trope but Elf-Queen doesn’t believe in that trope.

Elf-Queen: “You are strong, jackal! Your strength might have been enough to hold even me -- had you not presumed I was as frail as I appear!”

And she throws Thor into what is probably a monument.

Hmm, Iron Man and Thor got dunked so far because they really underestimated this woman because she’s a woman. Maybe don’t do that?

Meanwhile, Yellowjacket is thinking that this is his chance to prove what a star he is, if he’s the one that takes the threat down with his disruptor blast.

While Elf-Queen distracts herself with the dropped Mjolnir, Yellowjacket tries to shoot her with his disruptor from behind.

But it shorts out again!

Maybe he should have gotten the replacement part instead of trying to jury-rig a repair!

Elf-Queen senses the power in Mjolnir and tries to pick it up to better smash the world but finds she can’t lift it.

She guesses that there’s some enchantment on it since it doesn’t crumble the ground beneath it.

So she magics the ground to form a hand to grab and lift Mjolnir.

And then she hits Thor in the face with his own hammer. Hah.

Another for the list of silly Mjolnir loopholes.

Linnea monologues about her backstory because. Look. She may not be a villain. And people may not be able to understand a word she says. But people in comics have to comic.

Elf-Queen: “I am Linnea, called Elf Queen and great is the power I was born with! It transported my love and me across the ocean to this land ages ago in search of solitude! It preserved our youth! It kept us hidden when civilization spread its taint hither! The forces, forms and sustenance of the world bend to my will -- but all my power cannot help my Gorn now! Now, my gift serves only as a means for vengeance!”

Iron Man manages to tear free of the railing wrapped around him just as Tigra loudly pounces at Elf-Queen.

And Elf-Queen just gestures and sends Tigra flying into the air. High, high into the air. So high, so into the air that Iron Man has to fly after her to make sure Tigra doesn’t end up asphyxiating in space.

With all of the other Avengers out of action (or standing around uselessly like Yellowjacket), Elf-Queen turns out wrath on Captain America.

She blasts a building, sending a whole wall at him.

Cap dodges through the rain of rubble and berates himself. He realizes that he should have attacked sooner but he’s been holding back, trying to figure things out.

She’s speaking a language that doesn’t sound like any he knows of. Her clothes seem to be of ancient design. And he’s wondering if she maybe just popped out of the past, somehow surviving from some age undreamt of.

And hey, relatable, kinda. He spent decades in suspended animation.

Elf-Queen throws a lake of fire between her and Cap and Cap figures hey she’ll expect me to go around. So he jumps over it, doing her a startle.

Cap: “Good! I took her completely off guard! This is a perfect chance -- to show her that we want only peace!”

So he stands in front of her, hands to his side, palms showing. Showing no aggression.

Elf-Queen: “You did not strike when you had the opportunity! I could slay you easily now! Unflinchingly you face death! How like... my Gorn... my brave warrior!”

The fight could have ended here. Could. Could have. Could’ve.

Because Yellowjacket has been focused entirely on fixing his disruptor this whole time and has not paid any attention to how the fight has been going.

So when he gets the disruptor fixed, he doesn’t think ‘oh hey Cap is standing there and nobody is currently fighting!’ he thinks ‘wow this is a really easy shot’ and shoots Elf-Queen in the back.

And turns out that Linnea - a person who can toss Thor around - can also weather a disruptor. So she’s just mad. Furiously.

She figures that Cap’s courage was just a bold ruse. So she’s going to kill him. AFTER she throws a car at Yellowjacket.

Yellowjacket: “Oh, no! My sting’s shorted out again! No time to dodge! I’ll be crushed!”

But before Hank can be crushed like some kind of insect, can’t really think of a specific example, he is saved by Jan, who comes out of nowhere and blasts the car away with all of her might.

And apparently car blasting is under that umbrella.

But it takes it out of her and she weakly flutters to the ground.

Hank has mixed feelings about not being dead.

Yellowjacket: “You -- you saved me! You shattered the truck with your bio-electric sting! You saved me! You! She must have followed us down here... probably chartered a plane! She followed us down here, and when I was dead meat for sure, she saved me! Why her? WHY?”

Where are you in your life where you have to ask that, Hank?

Elf-Queen is like well that just happened but I’m just going to try to kill him again.

But Cap jumps in front of her again and very assertively non-aggressives.

Captain America: “Don’t do it! Don’t you see? It was a mistake -- an accident! If only you could understand me! Don’t kill him!”

Elf-Queen: “You dare stand in my way? Can you not see the rage in my eyes?”

But nonetheless, she subsides. The Avengers all re-assemble, ready to rush her but Cap tells them to stand down.

Elf-Queen Linnea starts crying and just walks away from the team.

Feeling a bit awkward, Cap decides to follow her to see what’s what. And they find her crying over Gorn.

Thor: “A fallen warrior! Her husband, perchance?”

Captain America: “Somehow I -- I think I knew! I mean... I’m not surprised! She seemed... grief-stricken!”

Iron Man: “I -- I wonder how this all came to pass?”

They’ll probably never know. The shot isn’t wide enough to say for sure but I think that if the Avengers saw, they’d say. I’m pretty sure those cops Linnea sank into the concrete have finished sinking. So it goes.

Cap says he’s sorry for what happened, knowing that his words will probably mean nothing to her. Language gap and all.

Linnea: “I hear compassion in your voice, brave champion! Is there such a thing in this cold, cruel place, save in your own heart? I cannot forgive your world for what it has taken from me.. but, for you, who are so much alike my beloved... for you, I will go in peace... for now!”

Yeah. She’s never coming back.

This is her and Gorn’s only appearance.

So despite Tigra wondering if she’ll be back and despite Iron Man’s suspicion that she might be a mutant, it doesn’t matter.

She’s done her role in the narrative and she’s gone.

But as the Avengers try to figure out what this was all about, Wasp looks at Yellowjacket with worry. For the issue ends with him still consumed in bitter thoughts and oblivious to Wasp.

And the big next time teaser says COURT MARTIAL! so. Yeah.

We’re coming on to a storyline that anyone who knows at least two things about Hank Pym knows. You probably already know it or will be able to guess it.

I was familiar with this story but only the moment where Hank shoots Elf-Queen in the back and makes things worse for himself. I hadn’t absorbed via osmosis how much of a shit he was being throughout. And nobody ever talks about Gorn.

Which is a shame.

The title of the issue comes right out and connects the obvious dots.

“Men of deadly pride!”

And that can only be Hank Pym and Gorn.

Much of this issue doesn’t actually feature the Avengers. There’s this long stretch in the middle that just has Gorn and Linnea leaving their home, traveling to the big city, Gorn’s attitude getting worse and worse, and finally his death.

Its clear enough that Gorn represents Hank Pym.

Hank rails against Janet for flaunting her money and emotionally withdraws from her and even becomes angry with her. He rankles at the idea he might be perceived her partner instead of vice versa. Feels he’s not being given the respect he deserves.

While Gorn resents that Linnea is the one caring for him. He emotionally withdraws from her. He perceives himself a pet to her. That he was once renowned and desperately needs to regain his glory.

And he just gets angrier when Linnea has to rescue him from his dumb mistakes.

Much like Jan had to rescue Hank in this issue, something that basically made Hank check out of the rest of the issue.

I don’t know what Gorn may have been like ten thousand years ago that Linnea sees him in Captain America most, but he’s a shadow for Hank Pym.

And what’s interesting is how the story looks at Gorn and his machismo. His obsessive preoccupation with proving himself. The story highlights the problems he creates for himself eventually leading to his death. It shows a person that just can’t live in the modern world.

And then the story looks at Hank Pym. One of the 60s style manly men holdovers. Paints him in much the same light. And seems to ask. “Can you live in the modern world?”

The question is in the air.

Its not particularly deep symbolism. But it surprised me that nobody ever mentions it.

Interestingly, if Hank is Gorn then Jan is Linnea. Their personalities are different enough that this might seem strange.

But they both draw the line in a similar place with their partners.

And there was a What If? based on this issue What If? #35 where Hank did die, much as Gorn did. And Wasp became an avenging angel of her own. Taking the identity of Black Wasp and brutally attacking criminals.

She even contemplates letting Cap be killed by falling debris, blaming him for Hank’s death.

All I can say is that this has been one awkward first day for Tigra.

Follow @essential-avengers. Like or reblog this post. Stay tuned for more of this sort of thing.

#Avengers #Elf Queen and Gorn #Yellowjacket #the Wasp #Captain America #essential avengers #Thor #Iron Man #Tigra #essential marvel liveblogging #tigra has a very cat first day #Jarvis not even drop #some thematic similarities happen and they're unfavorable to hank #captain america uses that empathy #its super effective #shooter ain't wasting any time

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green-blooded · 5 years ago

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So I watched Into Darkness and wrote out my reactions to it... Again, it's going to be negative, so if that'd bother you, please don't read! All Star Trek fans are legit, even if this is a portion of the canon I don't like.

A brief summary of my reaction:

And it's a Star Wars opening. This is a scene from a Star Wars film. The sound effects even sound like Star Wars. LIKE. I love Star Wars, but this isn't supposed to be Star Wars please stop.

I mean why should we give Uhura any characterization other than liking Spock. That would take effort or something.

I'll admit that I like Spock hanging out in a volcano wearing a disco suit. It's where he belongs. It is his home now that they blew up Vulcan. ('Cause it's a volcano, get it.)

Hey, hey omg they are almost doing a philosophical thing with Spock being willing to die for the needs of the many and McCoy yelling at him, then telling Kirk that if the situation were reversed, Spock would let him die. It's almost a Star Trek!

They're letting McCoy have lines. Wooow. I don't expect it to last.

Um... suddenly I'm in an episode of Black Mirror or something? I don't... wait holy shit that's Mickey? Who gives a shit about Sherlock, that's MICKEY. I didn't know he was in this!

Oh good, Kirk is having a threesome with alien twins. Cool. Love this. Love it. Great characterization.

OH GOOD more bickering between Spock and Kirk that is absolutely the worst and I hate it. :)

I just want McCoy in scenes. :( I just want Uhura with her own story. :( I just want to not look at Sherlock's face. :( Oh look, Mickey's already dead. :(

I don't... get Spock's characterization in these movies. I don't get what Kirk and Spock's friendship is. I don't... feel anything about it. I actually really love Kirk and Spock's friendship, and not having it work for me is a huge void, right up there with McCoy having lost his role in the trio.

So much of the sound design is Star Wars-y. It's really, really bugging me.

Chris Pine is such a likable guy. I really do enjoy when he's on screen. I don't like some of the characterization that he's been saddled with, but I like the character just fine outside of him being called Kirk.

... The conflict that made Kirk not the captain of the Enterprise and Spock not the first officer lasted for like five minutes and had no consequences wow.

OH MCCOY IS GRACING MY SCENE AND HAVING MORE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS THAN ANYONE ELSE AGAIN WOW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EXISTING. I really do enjoy him fretting over Kirk. It is really cute.

Ugh, please stop having Kirk take the place of McCoy in the arguments with Spock. I hate it. It does not work, especially with McCoy not taking Kirk's role of being mediator. It's just bicker bicker bicker but without actual ethics really being brought in because?????? WHO KNOWS. Why'd they have to mess up the trio? That was the easiest thing not to mess up.

Here's what it is. The conflict between Kirk and Spock in AOS is a pissing contest with the standard TWO MEN CAN'T JUST BE FRIENDS THEY HAVE TO BE COMPETITIVE. While the conflict between Spock and McCoy in TOS is ethical and moral differences with a core of (admittedly complex) friendship. Just. Let men be friends and have real disagreements instead of just trying to play Alpha Male.

As I'm typing this, they're doing the same with Kirk and SCOTT of all people????????????? This is so not Star Trek ugh. Let people be nice to each other what the hell. Kirk is such a nice person. Let him be NICE. Let Spock be NICE. They only one they made nice is McCoy, and they only managed it giving him 0% of his edge. He's just cranky instead of a super intelligent and philosophical guy who is also Real Southern and ready to argue.

... He just made Chekov his chief of engineering? What... are... who... why is everyone on this ship twelve.

Is it just me or do they write Spock as an android instead of a Vulcan? Like... he knows how Humans work. And yeah, he sometimes plays up being non-Human on TOS, but... it just seems so overdone. Maybe I'm being too picky idk.

I continue to hate the Spock/Uhura stuff wow.

Take McCoy On Away Missions He Has No Business Going On Like Real Star Trek!!!

Oh my god even the shuttles are fucking huge. Why are all these ships so big inside? It makes everything feel much more sterile and difficult to believe.

The McCoy and Sulu interactions are A+.

Oh good, now Uhura is having a McCoy argument with Spock. Don't let McCoy have any role in this whole movie, that's fine. I mean the Bread and Circuses talk about Spock wanting to die was way better and took less screentime, but that's fine. That's fine. Let's just bluntly talk directly about Spock's Feelings instead of any kind of subtlety. God I really hate the writing.

Wow, we almost had one (badly written) conversation without an action scene. Phew, they fixed that.

Why does every iteration of Star Trek feel the need to completely redo Klingons from scratch?

Oh no, they almost have diplomacy where Uhura got to show off her skills, couldn't have that. Time for an action scene!

Every interaction Kirk or Spock has with another man in this whole fucking movie is aggressive for no reason. And even in this alternate universe, McCoy refuses the toxic masculinity. This is why I love him. He just wants to be everyone's mom friend.

DID THIS MOVIE JUST IMPLY THAT KIRK FUCKED CHRISTINE CHAPEL I FUCKING WHAT THE FUCKING WHAT WHAT WHAT NO STOP SHE IS NOT A NAME DROP FOR YOU TO MAKE THE FANS HAPPY SHE IS A CHARACTER THAT I LOVE AND I DEMAND RESPECT BE PUT ON HER NAME AND SHE AND KIRK DID NOT FUCK AND IF THEY DID HE WOULD REMEMBER IT

Oh hey they did send McCoy on an away-- what? Did he just... flippantly refer to a Gorn? That's... they didn't... whatever. McCoy demanding to be left behind to die for the good of someone else just flies by unnoticed but it was a big deal for Spock. Okay.

Ok, the reveal that this is about Khan is more than an hour into the movie. Which is a reveal everyone knew before the movie came out and also a character that we're all familiar with. So I just kinda feel like every minute of the movie so far was just wasted on backstory. Again!

(McCoy should be in this scene where they confront Khan but whatever.)

Hey, AOS? We already know that Khan is a fucking monster, so trying to get us to feel sorry for him as if we don't know this is weird as hell. Like, these ethical quandaries it's trying to bring up are not working for me at all, because... if you're going to base this on TOS, you can't just pretend nothing in TOS happened!

Also love these reveals where I'm supposed to care what ship just showed up, but they're shining lights in my eyes so I can't even see what it is!

Nimoy was on my screen time to start paying attention again. I definitely kind of zoned out for a while there. I think I missed like five consecutive action scenes.

Again, why are we getting a reveal about Khan being evil? We... we know this. Even people who don't watch Star Trek know he's a bad guy. Why do we need Nimoy to tell us this? We're an hour and a half into the movie and still getting reveals that we should have known before the movie started!

~ This Is Dumb ~

Oh my gosh Khan betrayed them wow i didn't see that coming

Wow look at this disaster that shows why a huge fucking ship with endlessly huge corridors is maybe a bad idea because we're in space and gravity failures means everyone would fucking die. I hate this pointlessly large interior oh man.

How long do I have to watch the Enterprise fall apart before something new happens? This movie could be like half an hour long if we just cut the pointless action scenes.

Okay, time for the only actual reveal in the whole film; Kirk "dies" instead of Spock. It might be good if it didn't go on too long and make the Sad Music swell. They did hire good actors, so you'd think they'd let them use their Acting Skills instead of making it sappy and dumb with bad cinematography and overwhelming music.

So, for one thing, McCoy should be getting to Engineering to see to Kirk when he gets out, not Spock. For another thing, there is no history between this Kirk and Spock that makes this moment meaningful. Maybe it would be kinda, if you don't have Wrath of Khan (which I don't even like!) to compare it to where we have three seasons and two movies of history between two people who are actually friends! Kirk's actual friend in these movies is McCoy, WHO SHOULD BE THE ONE CALLED DOWN HERE THIS IS A MEDICAL SITUATION.

Like, it's great that you're feeling, Spock, but I'm sure not. This is so dumb.

NOW UHURA'S HERE. WHERE IS MCCOY? THE MEDICAL OFFICER AND FUCKING FRIEND OF KIRK?

Oh god did he just yell khan no this is so dumb this is so dumb now i AM crying this is so dumb

Love that they took the Khan storyline and drained it of any relevance by not really getting into the whole eugenics aspect.

Oh now I get to see someone who actually was Kirk's friend reacting to hsi death. Thanks for finally getting to something meaningful, movie. Oh man, I almost felt something, because Urban is a pretty good actor and McCoy's friendship with Kirk is the only relationship I care about in the AOS, but then there was a tribble and ruined it, so.

This fight between Khan and Spock is dumb, just. Dumb. It's dumb. This is dumb. Why does every action sequence go on SO LONG.

Spock's rage toward Khan makes no sense. He and Kirk barely tolerate each other in these movies, I don't get it.

McCoy and Kirk are really cute in these movies. That's all I have. Of course, we can't let McCoy talk too much, because this is the Kirk and Spock show.

OH GOD THE TRANSITION TO THE OPENING SPEECH WAS SO BAD I'M LAUGHING SO HARD.

Oh thank goodness, this movie is over. I am hoping I'll like Beyond, because people have said this one might not be awful. Probably going to wait until tomorrow because it's nearly midnight and I want to be in a better mood when I watch it.

#negativity #the funny thing is i think i might write more fanfic in aos-verse but #not because i love it like i love the other star treks #but because there are some good things that i want to explore which they do not explore

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isaackuo · 2 years ago

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Yeah, it's an unfortunate pattern. And it's not so much that they get killed off, it's how. After all, the two white guys also died in Aldani - but look at how much attention was payed to them, compared to blink-and-you-miss-it Gorn's death.

And I get that out of the three conspirators in Narkina 5, neither Cassian nor Melshi could be killed off, so Birnok's death raises the stakes. But maybe they could have given Jemboc and Taga a tiny bit more screen time to show them rallying other prisoners and making it out?

Weirdly, Nurchi is on the better end of the scale compared to the others ... at least we get a moment of reflection as the camera dwells on him and Cassian recognizes his friend. Cassian looks long enough to realize Nurchi is dead and there's nothing he can do to help him now.

Oh well, it is what it is. Hopefully character deaths of Blevin, Jezzi and/or Cinta will be handled more like Nurchi than Gorn, if it comes to that.

I've been thinking, as much as I love and adore Andor I don't think I want all Star Wars property to be Andor.

Star Wars is expansive enough to have different genres. IT can be this hardboiled spy thriller and Star Wars can be a space fantasy about wizards with laser swords.

I do want Star Wars stories to be well-written like Andor and I love Andor's approach to nostalgia, which is how Filoni used to handle it.

Just dropping them there for anyone to pick up but not revering them.

If I had nitpicks for Andor though it's that Tony Gilroy didn't want to include aliens in his main plot stories because he just wanted it to remain a 'Human' Story.

This feels like an oversight since the alien characters and civilizations can also add to it, and serve as a metaphor for the Human Story. Especially since this was the era where Palpatine actively killed off a lot of alien civilizations.

(This also makes me sad because I feel Andor won't even touch on the aspect of Ahsoka also actively working on bringing the Rebel intelligence networks together. More than Ahsoka's post-Original Trilogy story the story I wanted more was exploring Ahsoka's time in between Clone Wars and Return of the Jedi.

I feel like Ahsoka's time outside and in the cold is as morally fraught as it is for everyone in Andor. Unfortunately, I feel like Disney has lost its nerve about showing Ahsoka's flaws and/or putting Ahsoka in situations where moral ambiguity and difficult choices are needed).

Also, Andor seems to have an unfortunate tendency to kill off dark-skinned black men. I don't know if this is an instance of colorblind casting but it stood out.

I hope this aspect gets better handled in season 2 of Andor.

#andor #star wars andor #star wars #thoughts

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mythicide · 7 years ago

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Story from the Trashbin #1 - Camelot, White Sunday

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Fallen leaves in hues of dull yellow and brown littered the roof of a tiny moss-eaten cottage in the deepest part of the Forest of the Five Kings. Empty sticks of maple and oak reached into the sky. An old woman picked at the ground in a small plowed glade with a concerned look on her face. “What’s wrong, mother?” Percival asked. Before she could answer, Percival asked, “Why do you make that face?” The mother sighed while the light-haired young man asked more questions about the potato crop, her knitted eyebrows, and a faint putrid smell that arose from the tilled earth. “It’s weird, why does the dirt smell like that?” “I wish you wouldn’t ask so many questions at once,” the mother said. “I asked fewer questions than last time,” Percival said. “You’ll have to hunt more this winter,” the old woman said. “Why not plant potatoes, too?” Percival asked. “Please,” the mother said, “stop questioning me.” A little girl with an empty basket approached him. “The land has been getting worse, bad,” she said, “we can’t grow crops, and this worries Mother.” “Dindraine, Ignore him,” the mother replied. “Yes mom,” said the girl. “Take whatever roots are left to the cellar.” “This is a bad fall harvest,” Didraine whispered. “Don’t worry, I’ll get enough meat to last the winter,” Percival said. The young man picked up a wooden spear and ran off before the old woman could stop him. He spotted the tracks of a hart, and followed them. He perched himself by the crooked stream. Overgrowth created perfect hunting blinds. As the hart came to the brook to drink, Percival raised his spear. A laugh in the forest caused the hart to jump, and dash away. Upstream, a knight with two squires in armor stopped to let their horses drink. Percival peeked through his hunting blind at the armored men on their burly steeds. The spangling metals mesmerized him, and questions captivated his mind. He snuck toward them. “Brother, it’s midday,” a squire said. “I don’t care, Bors, I’m horny now,” the other squire replied. The knight laughed. Their voices echoed inside their helms. Percival pondered over the knight’s shining ‘skin,’ their deep baritone voices, and the meaning of this new word, ‘horny.’ “The red knight can’t get far, and if you aim to get me naked you’d best do it while the sun’s warm,” the knight said. “Thanks, Gorne, I owe you one,” the squire said. “You owe me two, Lyon,” said Sir Gorne, “and you’ll need to be naked before you can pay up.” Bors chuckled. Lyon and Gorne loosened their surcoats, revealing the metal underneath. What are these creatures, thought Percival. Why would they get naked, thought Percival. As the men undressed, Percival thought, this shining stuff must be their true skin! What creatures have skin that shines? He thought back to stories of watchful guardians his mother had told them at bedtime to make him feel safe. Angels! I am bearing witness to angels! I mustn’t let them strip bare in ignorance of my presence! Percival burst from the blind. He waved one arm with spear erratically and used the other to shield his eyes. “Angels, angels wait!” he cried. Bors turned on Percival with a crossbow in hand. “The devil?” the knight exclaimed. “No, my angels, I beggeth thee, clothe thyselves,” Percival begged. “Drop that spear!” Bors yelled. Percival opened his hand and let the spear fall. Lyon used a lance to hook the spear and took it without dismounting. “Please, my angels, find it in thy hearts to forgive me for looking uponst thee while thee… gotteth naked!” “It’s alright son, you can look, we’re still in armor,” the knight said, “but for God’s sake, speak normal English.” “But, I thought that’s how all the angels speak?” Percival said. “We’re not angels, we’re knights,” Bors said. “What are knights?” Percival asked. “Well, I am a knight,” Sir Gorne said, “and these two are squires who will one day be knights.” Percival’s mouth opened, and asked every question his brain could think. Lyon sighed, fastened his surcoat, and readied himself to leave. “Do you have horns? Can I see your horns? Please? I heard that one say he was horny, are they like antlers?” “Nope, let’s go Bors,” Lyon said, “we have affairs to attend to.” “Wait, don’t take my spear,” Percival said. He reached for the weapon and the three knights turned on him, weapons drawn. “You think the red knight sent him to us to distract us?” Bors asked. “It’s a good assumption, but the boy may just be daft,” Lyon said. “You just don’t want to kill him because he’s pretty,” Bors teased. “You noticed that too, did you, brother?” Lyon replied. “It’s possible, he could be an enemy, or he could just be a boy, cloistered, ignorant of the world outside this forest,” Sir Gorne said. A shrill cry from the forest chilled the knight’s bones. Percival’s mother shot from the forest and threw herself at Sir Gorne’s feet. “Mercy, whatever my son has done, please, mercy!” she screamed. “I know this voice,” Sir Gorne said. Gorne dismounted his horse and stalked toward the woman. The knight lifted the woman’s chin. He shook within his armor and knelt upon recognition. “Drop arms!” Sir Gorne commanded. The young men lowered their weapons. Sir Gorne removed his helmet. His groomed red beard, long glossy red hair, and grey eyes revealed. ”M’Lady of Listenoise, I believed you dead,” apologized Gorne, “Yet you appear as lovely as the day we mourned you, even after over twenty years.” Percival questioned how the angel was able to take the skin of his own head off, and then asked why Sir Gorne treated his mother with such reverence. “Your mother is the widow of Sir Pellinore,” Sir Gorne said. Lyon and Bors dismounted their steeds, dropped to one knee, and removed their helms in reverence. The two tan men had waves of brown hair and brown eyes with dark eyebrows on identical daunting brows. The men were almost indistinguishable, save for the scar on Bors’ forehead and the dark stubble on Lyon’s face. “I am sorry for your sacrifice, m’lady,” Bors said. “Arthur’s knights looked everywhere for you,” Lyon said. “You knew my dad?” Percival interrupted. “Stop it!” his mother cried. “What?” “That!” she said, “Stop asking questions!” “But mom!” Percival whined. “He’s done no wrong; he’s simply inquisitive,” Sir Gorne said. The woman’s eyes widened, as if her worst nightmare manifested as the man before her. “You will not take him from me,” she hissed. “No, m’lady, I will not,” Sir Gorne said, “for you have already sacrificed too many for our knighthood.” “Okay, seriously, what are you talking about?” Percival cried. “Stop it!” she wailed. “Yes, son, I need you to stop asking questions,” Sir Gorne said, “your mother and I must talk.” “But I wanna know, who you are, what mom sacrificed, and how do you take off your head-skins!” Percival asked. “Lyon, Bors, escort the boy to the back of the caravan,” Sir Gorne ordered, “we’ll escort m’lady and her son to safety.” “I won’t return to any castle,” she proclaimed. “Wherever you wish to go, we will take you, Majesty,” Bors said. “I am ‘majesty’ no longer,” she said. “You are the noblest of all women, still,” Lyon said, “and we would serve you to the death.” Sir Gorne walked at the head of the line and insisted the old woman ride his steed. They chatted in low tones while he led the steed in the direction she commanded. Bors lead the spare steeds in the middle. Lyon and Percival walked behind. Percival’s lips trembled. “So, you’re not angels. You’re King Arthur’s knights,” Percival said. Lyon nodded. “There’s an entire castle that belongs to me and mom, and I’ve never even seen a castle,” Percival said. Lyon nodded. “There are lots of castles, and lots of knights, and an entire war going on out there that I never knew about,” Percival said. Lyon nodded. “And I had a dad, and two brothers, and they were also knights, like you,” Percival said, “until the same red knight that you’re hunting right now murdered them all over twenty years ago.” Lyon nodded. “And my mom kept this from me.” Lyon kept still. A long moment of awkward silence forced Lyon to avert his eyes and shrug. “You can tell she doesn’t want to lose you,” Lyon said. “Really,” Percival said, “all she does is tell me to stop asking questions, so it doesn’t really feel like I’m wanted at all, and I doubt she’d be upset if I just left.” Lyon stared at Percival. He admired the long dark eyelashes, the big clear sky blue eyes. He admired the young man’s collar, his distinct Adam’s apple that showed the world he was a grown man despite his naivety. He admired the supple, trembling lips. “Look, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous and anyone would miss you. I mean it. You really stand out,” Lyon said, “it’s just a pity you’re being so childish.” “See that little cottage through the thicket? That’s my home. It’s the only home I’ve ever known. I was always happy here. I never knew about castles, or knights, or that I should be a knight, and live in a castle. And for the first time in my life, I found out my own mother lied to me, and that she’s lied to me my whole life, so for the first time in my life, I don’t want to go home. What’s so childish about that?” Lyon stopped and took Percival’s chin in his gloved hand. Percival’s eyelashes fluttered. The warm soft leather on his chin melted him. The memory of Lyon’s firm, soothing grip provided Percival an everlasting mental sanctuary. Lyon tilted the younger man’s face up to his and stared at his lips. “Your lips are trembling,” Lyon said, “you pout like a kid, whine like a kid, ask incessant questions like a kid.” “Well I’m not a kid,” Percival said, indignant. “Yeah, so how old are you?” Lyon asked. “I was born on a White Sunday twenty years ago,” Percival said. Lyon released his chin with the swiftness of dropping a hot plate. He grimaced. “Damn it,” Lyon cursed Bors laughed. “What?” “Nothing,” Lyon said, “not a damn thing.” “No seriously, what?” Gorne slowed the horses, interested to hear what caused his squires’ outburst. “You were born the exact same day as, well, never mind,” Lyon said. “Oh come on,” Percival said, “you guys are gonna leave me in the middle of nowhere, with my lying mother, so the least you could do is be straight with me.” “Fine. I’m in love with someone at Camelot, and I can’t consummate my love until White Sunday,” Lyon said. “Is that when the maiden comes of age?” Bors teased. “You know damn well it is,” Lyon shouted, “And would you believe this kid has the exact same birthday?” “I’m still not a kid,” Percival protested. “We’re here,” Bors interrupted. The horses stopped. Sir Gorne assisted the old lady off his steed. “I’ll do my best to convince him to stay home,” he said. “I appreciate it,” she replied, “I hope you haven’t awakened his knightly spirit.” “Oh, you have,” Percival interjected. Lyon and Bors groaned and rubbed their faces with the same motion. Sir Gorne waved to Bors, and knelt before Percival. Bors fetched Percival’s spear, as well as another, fine steel-headed spear. “Listen, Percival,” Sir Gorne began, “within you is the lineage of a most excellent knight.” “So let’s go,” Percival said through clenched teeth. Bors brought the two spears to his knight’s side. He looked at the old woman and made a pained face. She choked back tears. Percival swallowed. Gorne presented the spears to Percival. “This spear belonged to your brother, Sir Aglovale, who entrusted it to me. It is yours, by right. The Red Knight is still out there somewhere. He’ll want a place to overwinter. We’ll hunt him down, but should he return to overwinter here, you need to defend your family.” “Why would the Red Knight kill us? Why’d he kill my dad?” Percival asked. The knight shushed him. “Some men answer to angels, and some to demons,” he said, “I couldn’t explain it even if I wanted, just be prepared to take his life if he comes.” “This isn’t his fight!” she shouted. “You mentioned your bad crops,” Gorne said, “the land grows bad. The land and the king are one. Bad men raid food in bad lands. If the Red Knight finds you, he’ll take all. At best, you and your children will starve to death over winter.” “I’ve no problem with killing him,” Percival said. “Good,” Lyon said with an enthusiastic nod, “He really needs killing.” “Don’t underestimate him,” Gorne told Lyon. “Remember, brother, this kid’s father is the only knight who defeated King Arthur himself in combat. Pellinore was so strong, that even the king, wielding Excalibur, could not bring him down.” “My dad fought a king?” "Your dad fought the king,” Bors corrected. “Percival, your dad and King Arthur were friends, but Pellinore whipped the shit out of Arthur. Nobody does that. And nobody just kills a man that can whip King Arthur except the most dangerous of monsters.” “Knights say your brothers were amazing fighters, also,” Bors said, “I can imagine a man killing one of them, but not both.” “So let’s go get him,” Percival said. “No,” Gorne said, “a real knight would stay and protect his family.” “Hunting the Red Knight would protect my family, wouldn’t it?” Percival asked. “A real knight would do as his mother says and not question this!” his mother said. The knights all nodded in agreement. “You just don’t want me to go with you,” Percival said. Once more, the knights all nodded in agreement. Percival deflated. “Worry about hunting deer, rabbit, and whatever keeps your family fed,” Gorne said. Gorne made the sign of the cross over Percival. The men helped each other mount their steeds. The old woman grabbed Percival, ready to hold him if he attempted to run. “Will you at least come back to visit after winter?” Percival asked. Gorne looked at Bors and Lyon. Lyon’s eyebrows raised, his chin shimmied up and down to indicate his enthusiasm for the young man. Bors shrugged. “We’ll return after winter to ensure your mother’s wellbeing,” Gorne said. Lyon looked at Percival with a glimmer in his eye and smirked. Percival liked the smirk. He liked the glimmer. He touched his chin and remembered the feel of the soft warm leather and the gloved hand that lifted his face during the worst revelations of his entire sheltered life. “Farewell,” the old woman said. “Farewell,” the men said. The men rode away. Percival stepped forward. His mother held him. With wilted shoulders, he watched them ride away. “Farewell,” he said. The knights traveled to an overhang where the brook met a shallow creek. They set up a fire hours before dusk. Bors readied a hot meal while the others laughed and shared stories of their sexual exploits. The men shed their armor and laid furs near the campfire “Oh, and brother, you, the whole time, were dressed like the women?” Bors said between gasps of laughter. “You better believe it, Bors, you and me both made fantastic looking women when we were that age,” Lyon said. “I only did it one time,” Bors said. “One time for two years straight,” Lyon said. “Yes, but I didn’t know, then,” Bors said. “Curious about it?” said Sir Gorne. “Only about one thing,” Bors said. “What thing would that be?” Lyon asked with a smirk. “You’re in girl clothes, you see people fucking, you obviously get excited,” Bors said. “Yeah, you do,” Lyon admitted. “But in a girl’s garments, where does all the cock meat go once you’re at full mast?” Bors said. “Up against the belly, popping out the top of the under linens,” Lyon said, “Ladies undies are quite a bit more snug than ours.” Gorne chuckled, and rummaged through a saddlebag. He pulled out a finely crafted miniature waterskin, made from the bladder of a rabbit. “I suspect our banter has finally turned you two on,” Bors said. “It appears so,” Lyon said, “So tell me, Sir, which part of it finally got to you?” “Partly the image of your hard cocks against your bellies in ladies’ undies, and the part where you said they were more snug,” Gorne said. He undid his pants and withdrew his cock. Both squires stopped to stare. Gorne squeezed a drop from the tiny waterskin onto his thumb. He caressed his thumb along the shaft, wetting the frenulum with the slick liquid. He drew circles around the head with a smile. “I like that word, ‘snug,’” Gorne said, “and I like it when you say ‘more snug,’ only I thought less of underwear, and more of men’s asses. I prefer them. They’re snugger than women’s oysters.” “I’m like Arthur,” Lyon admitted, “I like it all, I’ll take it all, whenever I can get it, for as long as I can get it.” “Someday you’ll take so much that your brother can’t find a drop,” Gorne warned. Gorne and Lyon both turned their eyes to Bors. Bors blushed. He stroked himself through the fabric of his trousers. “I did take a vow of celibacy,” Bors said. “And did that vow not include beating yourself off every time my lovers get naked with me?” Lyon asked. “Nothing a few Hail Marys won’t rectify,” Bors said, “but mind your own business or I’ll remind your naked lover that you owe him three.” “Three?” Lyon said. “Considering I’m now obligated to travel back here after winter so you can flirt with that tedious twink, yes you owe me a third,” Gorne said, “so you’re not taking it this time, you’re giving it.” “But you know I prefer it up the bottom,” Lyon complained. “Oh, but you like it all, you’ll take it all,” Bors said. “About this ‘minding your own business’ thing,” Lyon said, “why don’t you?” Gorne reached out and ran his hand hard through Lyon’s wavy brown hair. He coaxed Lyon’s face towards his own. “Be nice; invite your brother to join us,” Gorne said, “for my sake if not his.” “Oh, you dirty old codpiece,” Lyon said. Lyon pushed Gorne into the flame-warmed furs. Lyon gripped the hand Gorne used to tug his cock with both fists. Lyon straddled his knight, bent his knees, and pinned the man’s legs under him. Lyon pressed his lips down and sought the older man’s mouth. He found the lips with a kiss and claimed them. He pulled and squeezed Gorne’s masturbating hand into a rhythm. He thrust his hips to grind the bulge in his pants against Gorne’s balls to tease him with hard and eager cock. Gorne sighed into the kiss. “Is this what you want,” Lyon said with a thrust, “you want me to slide this in your ass?” “Mmm-hmmm,” Gorne groaned in the affirmative. “Take over the handiwork,” Lyon commanded. Lyon released the man’s hand. Lyon undid his trousers, pulled out his cock, and slipped his shaft against Gorne’s. He laced his fingers around Gorne’s and encouraged the man to take both shafts in his lubricated palm. Gorne did so. Lyon thrust into his palm. Slick cocks slipped against each other. Lyon purred at the sensation. He caressed Gorne’s chest and clawed at the tunic. “So what’s this stuff you’re rubbing on our cocks, my knight?” Lyon asked. “A bit of magic Merlin gave me,” Gorne said, “he said it keeps knights safe from sinner’s pox if used every time we sin,” “And you’re letting my brother rub himself without it?” Lyon asked. Gorne looked at Bors. Bors’ hand had disappeared into his trousers. Gorne watched the hump of fabric swivel. Bors’ hips popped upward every dozen or so strokes. “Squire, help me remove my tunic,” Gorne commanded Bors. Bors squatted beside his knight’s head on the furs and untied the knots that kept the tunic in place. He lifted Gorne’s shoulders and slid away the tunic. Bors’ strong hands supported Gorne’s shoulders as he lowered his naked back onto the fire-warmed furs. Lyon stripped his own shirt, and stripped away Gorne’s brown buckskin pants. Gorne looked up at his twin squires with lawless lust. His hand found the little waterskin, squeezed a drop of the slick watery substance into his palm. He looked up at Bors and hooked a finger into the beltline of Bors’ trousers. He hesitated to open his squire’s pants. He looked into Bors’ eyes, admired the scar on his brow. “I want to expose you,” Gorne said. “Please do.” Gorne yanked the front of the trousers down, and Bors’ solid cock fell forward towards Gorne’s face. Bors’ mouth opened, eyes flickered closed. Gorne worked the lubrication all over the shaft, licked his lips, and pecked the head with a diminutive kiss. Bors whimpered, blushed, and took control of his cock. “Any more than that, and it will take more than a few hail marys to absolve me,” Bors said. “Any less than that, and I’d feel rude,” Gorne replied. Lyon took Gorne’s wrist and returned his hand to work their coupled shafts. Bors’ cock was concrete. Lyon’s cock was firm, but the skin remained pliable. Gorne knew Lyon could be as solid as Bors. Gorne’s dry hand returned to Lyon’s scalp to tease his hair. “Go down,” Gorne said. Lyon pulled his cock away from Gorne’s grasp and nipped his chest. The stubble on Lyon’s jaw prickled the Gorne’s skin. He shivered. Lyon took hold of the cock, opened his mouth wide, pressed the slick underside of his tongue against the head, and stuffed the head inside, folding his tongue back onto itself. He wrapped his lips around the shaft, just under the head, and sucked. Gorne growled and clawed Lyon’s scalp. Bors began to pant and whimper. He covered himself back with the trousers. Lyon’s oral experiments kept Gorne too busy to notice. Bors sounded desperate. Lyon unglued his lips from Gorne’s cock with a popping suction noise. “Would you like to get down on this, brother?” Lyon asked. Gorne’s cock throbbed and dribbled precum at the thought of both twins joining forces to tend his climax. “Yes,” Bors said. “Come do it,” Lyon dared. Bors went down on his hands and knees and hovered over Gorne’s hips. “You’re really gonna do it this time,” Lyon said with shock. Lyon squeezed a drop of precum from his knight and held the cock out towards Bors’ mouth. Bors licked his lips and rolled the head into his mouth. Lyon released the shaft, careful not to touch his brother. Gorne moaned. “Okay, I don’t know what the hell got into you, but keep doing that,” Lyon said. “Fuck yes, keep doing that,” Gorne echoed. Lyon grabbed the waterskin. He coated his fingers with the slick water. A few strokes under his knight’s balls with his thumb drew his knight’s attention back to him. Bors swirled his tongue around the head while Lyon worked a lubricated finger into his knight’s ass. Gorne began to buck and groan as the finger inched inside him. Gorne looked back and forth between the two twins. “Fuck me, fuck me, please boys, fuck me,” Gorne said. “Uh, Bors?” Lyon asked. Bors came up for air. “Go ahead,” he said. Bors went back down. Gorne grabbed Lyon’s hips to draw his cock closer. “You need some of what got into your brother,” Gorne whispered. “Hell, I don’t know what got into my brother,” Lyon said. Gorne smirked and said, “he’s thinking about White Sunday.” At the mention of White Sunday, Bors breath caught. He sucked too deep, and choked. He came off the cock coughing. Lyon startled, and glared at his brother, prepped to thrash him if he courted either of his targeted ‘damsels’ upon White Sunday. “I’m not!” Bors said. “Oh, you know you are,” Gorne teased. “I know when my twin lies to me,” Lyon said. “I’d never,” Bors stuttered, “the young men are attractive, but…” “Brother,” Lyon interrupted, “let’s show Gorne what we’ll do to those two when we get our hands on them.” Bors smiled in silent conspiracy with his twin. “Yes, let’s do,” Bors said, “it’s the least we can do since he’ll never get to play with us after that day.” “Hey wait one minute,” Gorne protested, “you can’t exclude me come White Sunday!” “You can be a spectator,” Bors offered. Gorne blinked at Bors, dazed. Lyon laughed. All three men were riled with jealousy and ready to tear into each other. Lyon raised Gorne’s spread legs and rubbed his hard cock against the wet ass. Gorne scrambled to adjust. Bors slurped down Gorne’s exposed cock, then grabbed Gorne’s wrist and brought their hands to the bulge in his trousers. “We’re not gonna leave you out, my Knight,” Lyon said, “he’s just getting you back for teasing us. So, how deep do you like my cock?” Gorne caressed the hump in Bors’ pants while Bors wrote in runic with his tongue. Against the throbbing head, he spelled out, letter by letter, “hail Mary, full of grace.” Gorne whimpered for more, and told his squires he wanted the whole cock inside him, deep as it could dive. Lyon pressed himself against the entrance. The hole gave way, allowing half an inch of cock inside before Gorne flinched. Gorne clenched his teeth, and Lyon eased the pressure. The cock pressed inside at a steady pace. Impatient Gorne pressed his ass against Lyon, grunted, and shimmied. The added force sped the cock’s intrusion. Lyon hissed and thrust and groaned. Gorne slipped his hand into Bors’ trousers to stroke his cock. A mouthful of cock muffled Bors’ moans. The twins were engrossed in their fantasies of White Sunday. Gorne stared down the pair of dark brown eyes that looked up at him from his suckled cock, then stared up at the writhing, tan body of the twin. Gorne stared until his body tensed and orgasm blinded him. He howled. Bors grimaced at the taste. Bors cleared his throat. Lyon bucked deep and hard and cried out. His body locked against Gorne’s. He strained. Gorne felt Lyon’s cock jerk and spasm inside him. He reached up with both hands and rubbed Lyon’s scalp. Lyon’s tense body went limp. He pressed his head into Gorne’s hands like a loyal pet that craves its ears rubbed. He rolled his head around, and Gorne kneaded every inch of his scalp. Lyon pulled out and collapsed beside Gorne. Gorne reached for the unfinished squire. He looked reluctant. “What’s wrong, brother?” Lyon asked. “You didn’t warn me that it would be bitter… and hot,” Bors said with a scowl. Lyon snickered. Gorne apologized and motioned for his squire to join them in a cuddle. Bors joined them. Gorne fidgeted with his squire’s pants. “This could have been more fun with five men,” Gorne mentioned, “because I could see you already having your pants off and finishing off with another beautiful blonde man. That would be amazing to watch.” Bors flushed, halted Gorne and requested that they snuggle until he finished. Enveloped in burly arms, Bors closed his eyes and beat himself off. His moans were music to Gorne’s ears. “I love watching your face when you do that,” Gorne said, “tell me what you’re thinking of him doing with you?” Bors opened his eyes and looked into Gorne’s grey irises. He rolled his head to the side and nuzzled his noze into the silky red hair, and whispered into Gorne’s ear. “I was thinking about you, actually,” Bors whispered, “I just can’t bring myself to look at you when I do it, it’s too much to bear.” The sun set on the three. Lyon fell asleep with his arm along Gorne’s waist. Gorne insisted that Bors be mouth to mouth with him when he climaxed. Bors rolled to face Gorne. They kissed underneath the evening’s first stars, and Bors spilled between them. They were spent and exhausted, and slept mouth to mouth. Meanwhile, Percival sulked in the corner of the little glade. He held his brother’s spear. He ran his fingers along the edge, rolled the shaft in his palm, and admired the weapon in peace. His mother and sister fidgeted, unsure what to do without his questions. “Percival, I love you,” said his mother, “if I lost you, I would die of a broken heart.” Percival stood and left. “Brother, don’t go,” his sister asked. “I need to hunt,” he excused. He walked through the forest, back to the brook. A flutter of crimson escaped his eye. He searched the trees for a woodpecker, or perhaps some other red bird. He saw the flutter of red again. The hair on the back of his neck stood erect. Concealed behind barren branches, A bit of red fabric, a pennant atop the Red Knight’s lance fluttered in the setting sunlight. The knight was otherwise masked by thick brush. Percival snuck away. He went straight home. He looked over his shoulder where the blood red pennant fluttered. He took his sister from the glade and hid her in the loft with his mother. He closed the door and guarded it with his spear. The warhorse hurtled through the line of trees into the plowed glade. Its hooves kicked up the tilled dirt. The sinister knight wore blood red armor. His thunderous steed halted. His heavy steel boots mashed into the soil, and tore the earth where he walked. He spied the root cellar, drew his crooked sword, and descended. He reemerged with four huge sacks of roots and grain. He flung them over the back of the warhorse. He approached the front of the house. He paused when he saw the signature tracks of Gorne’s regiment. The red knight looked to the front door. Percival peeked out at him. Percival’s knuckles showed white around his brother’s spear. The Red Knight turned his back to the cottage. He mounted his warhorse and spurred it to follow the tracks. Percival gasped. “He’s gone?” his sister asked from the loft. “He is,” Percival said. “He took all the food,” she said, as he started out the door. “Don’t leave!” his mother whispered. “He’s hunting my only friends,” Percival said. “That’s no business of yours,” his mother said. “Yes it is,” his sister interrupted, “the red knight brings blood magic, and it rots our land.” Percival wanted to ask, but he refused to speak. In the few silent hours since the knights departure, Percival realized that he could learn all he wanted by leaving a long, uncomfortable silence in place of his questions. His sister soon broke the silence. “The Red Knight stole a chalice from the king,” she said, “It looks like a cup, but it isn’t. It’s an angelic artifact for blood magic. The Lady of the Lake told me the chalice is hers and she needs it back because it holds the magic that ties the health of the King to the health of the Land. When the red knight wounds the land, the king suffers.” “You can’t know all that,” said the old woman. “The Lady of the Lake chose me because a chalice showed her that I die a virgin. Her sister’s chalice shows her that my mitochondrial DNA does not appear in its database. I don’t know what it means, but she says database means book, and that when the time is right, the angels will take you with them if your name is not in their book of bad people, and my name isn’t in it. That’s all they want me to tell you. But I know you’re fixated, and I’m happy for you, even if they don’t want me to say so,” said Didraine. “You have always been one weird, crazy, weird-crazy sister,” Percival said. “I know you won’t come back,” she said, “so goodbye.” “I’ll be back with his head,” Percival said. He chased the knight into the sunset. The cottage rang with the cries of the broken hearted old woman as dusk fell. The warhorse crashed through the forest. Percival chased the sound. The warhorse’s thunderous run turned to a trot at dusk. Twilight turned into night, and the trot turned to a slow walk. The orange harvest moon gave little light for a walk. Percival smelled smoke and heard the gurgle of rushing water. He saw a flicker of campfire light in the distance. The warhorse stopped. Percival froze. He heard the red knight dismount, heard him fidget with his trappings and armor. The red knight crept toward the firelight. His minimized armor made no clatter. Percival heard him draw his sword. He realized the knights camped too close to the creek to hear either of them coming while they slept. Percival reached the camp first. He saw the three naked knights nestled together for each other’s warmth. He did not want them to know he witnessed their nudity. Percival hid, and tossed rocks at the sleeping knights. The knights batted at the rocks in their sleep, but would not be roused. Blood red leather and metal emerged from the darkness behind the tree line. The red knight crept toward the naked bodies with drawn sword. In his moment of bravery, Percival leapt from the shadows, and knocked the crooked sword into the fire with the butt of his brother’s fine spear. The commotion roused the sleeping knights, who jerked awake just in time to witness the Red Knight’s execution at Percival’s hand. The Red Knight wheeled to see what struck him. Percival speared the Red Knight’s hip. Metal rings burst as the steel blade bit through the mail. The Red Knight felt staggering pain as the spear cleaved his hip and tore through his bowels. The red knight screeched. The spear shaft protruded from a bloody hole in his red mail. He fell to the furs, unable to stand. Lyon reared up and tore the helm from the knight’s squealing head. Lyon grabbed the crooked sword from the flame, oblivious to the blistering of his hand. He bored the searing blade into the Red Knight’s exposed face and roared, naked in the firelight. The sword sliced into the Red Knight’s cheek, cracked the bone, and pierced the brain. Flesh sizzled against the blade. The red knight’s body froze. When certain of the red knight’s last breath, Lyon released the blade and shook his hand furiously to cool the burn. Bors fetched a pot of cold water from the creek. Percival’s porcelain face glowed in the light of the flame. Gorne observed that Percival’s eyes fixated, not upon the corpse of the man he just killed, but upon the naked and blood-flecked body of his sinewy squire. Gorne slipped into his buckskin pants and examined the body while Bors treated Lyon’s singed palm. “Get Lyon dressed,” Gorne commanded quietly. “Yes sir,” Bors whispered. “Percival, come here,” Gorne barked, “and explain why you spied on us.” The young man’s glow grew brighter with every step he took towards the fire. “He was going to kill you in your sleep,” Percival said. Percival glanced at Lyon. Gorne nudged Percival and pointed to the corpse. “He removed his faulds to sneak up on us,” Gorne said, “faulds cover the hips but they’re noisy. Your spear would not have touched him if he’d worn them.” “He’d have worn them if he intended to fight like a real man,” Lyon said, “so don’t feel guilty.” “I don’t feel guilty,” Percival said. “Don’t you?” Gorne asked. “Defending the helpless is a noble reason to kill,” Lyon said. Percival’s eyes were once again fixated on Lyon. They were all aware of his stare. Percival flushed. Lyon jerked his trousers closed and addressed Gorne. “Besides, I delivered the final blow, so Percival’s innocent,” Lyon said. Gorne directed their attention to the spear. He worked the mail lose, grunted, and extracted the spear from the corpse. Coagulating blood coated a foot of the spear’s tip. Gorne presented the spear to the others. “I know you’re not trying to tell me that this wouldn’t have killed the man,” Gorne said. Bors made the sign of the cross. “Thank God, brother,” he said, “your deathblow was an act of mercy.” “It’s mercy you’d be knighted for when we return to Camelot,” said Gorne, “but Arthur will want to meet the man credited with the death of the monster that murdered his best friend.” The three of them looked at Percival. Bors’ face whitened. Percival jumped, ecstatic to hear he would visit Camelot. “We’ll all get kicked off the round table,” Bors said, “maybe we deserve it.” “What do you mean?” Percival asked. “When you tell them what we were doing before the Red Knight attacked, we’ll never hear the end of it,” Lyon said. “It’s stupid to punish you for sleeping,” Percival said, “and I’m not a kid!” Bors, Gorne, and Lyon exchanged glances. “How much did you see?” Lyon asked. “Well, I saw you and him naked, so I hid,” Percival said, “I didn’t want you to know I saw you naked.” “How long were you watching us? What else did you see?” Lyon asked. Percival explained everything. “I’m sorry I misjudged you,” Gorne said, “I thought you had disobeyed your mother, followed us to the camp, and spied on us all evening.” “No, I only chased the Red Knight and found you sleeping,” Percival said. The men heaved a collective sigh of relief. “We should get him and his fall harvest back to his mother before she worries herself to death,” Bors said. “You’ll just try to leave me there,” Percival accused. “No, we’re required to take you to Camelot, now,” Gorne said, “because you did our job for us, plus you’re of noble blood.” Lyon smiled and groaned at the stars all at once. “Brother?” Bors asked, “Do you so dread the young man’s questions? I thought you’d be excited to have Percival with us!” “I am, truly,” Lyon said, “it’s just my hand hurts.” Bors lifted his eyebrows at his brother and cocked his lips, certain that Lyon lied about his enthusiasm. “You never admit to pain,” Bors muttered. “Percival,” Gorne interrupted, “I’ll train you to become a Knight, on the condition that you think before you ask questions, and by that, I mean don’t ask so many questions.” Percival agreed, and vowed to himself in silence to never ask questions again. Percival took Lyon’s hand and examined it, rather than ask how bad it burned. Lyon’s rough face softened at the touch. “What, hey,” Lyon said, “no really, it’s not that bad.” “Don’t touch,” Bors ordered, “Percival, go fetch some cold water.” Percival left with the pot. “Why’d you send him away?” Lyon asked. “You know damn well why,” Gorne interjected, “As long as he’s with us, you boys gotta cool your cocks.” Lyon rubbed his own face with vigor. “This is no goddamned fair,” Lyon groaned into his palm. “Hey, fuck you,” Gorne said, “this sucks for me the worst!” “How can it suck for you worse than me?” Lyon asked. “’Cause I’d planned to fuck the everloving hell out of you every night from now to White Sunday,” Gorne whispered, “don’t lie, I’ll never see either of you again after that little deadline, with you boys busy chasing twinks!” “You never know, Sir Gorne,” Bors said, “My brother still owes you two.” “Two what?” asked the innocent voice behind them. “Nothing,” they all said. “Oh, of course, if I ask, you don’t tell me, if I don’t ask, you never shut up,” Percival said, “here, let me.” Bors took the pot out of Percival’s hands and poured the water on the ground. Percival bit his lip, refused to let himself ask. “I could’ve used that water,” said Lyon. “Let it burn, brother,” said Bors, “now help me dig a hole.” Bors and Lyon buried the red knight’s body while the others slept. Gorne woke at sunrise and fetched the warhorse. Bors awoke to a light in his eyes. The sun glinted off something on the warhorse. Bors dug into a compartment on the saddle, and found a golden chalice. He recognized it as a chalice stolen from King Arthur’s own throne and alerted Gorne. “Arthur’s ceremonial chalice,” said Gorne. Percival awoke, remembered his sister’s words, and grabbed the chalice. The moment the cup touched Percival’s hand, a disembodied voice spoke. “Y-chromosomal DNA not recognized. Issuing emergency protocols.” “Who said that?” Bors asked. The creek swelled. Lyon awoke. The shape of a feminine body rose from the surface of the water. “The Lady of the Lake!” Lyon said. Lyon and Bors ran to the creek. Gorne stared. “My sister mentioned a lady of the lake,” Percival said, “I thought she was crazy.” “Bors and Lyon say they were raised by the Lady of the Lake,” Gorne replied, “she’s practically their mom.” “Hey! Bring the harvest!” Lyon shouted to the knight. Gorne and Percival took the sacks of roots and grains to the creek edge. The Lady of the Lake promised to return the harvest to Didraine. “That’s my sister,” Percival said, “she said you wanted your chalice back.” Percival offered the chalice. The Lady of the Lake took it and turned it sideways. At this angle, it looked less like a cup, and more like a complex series of ring dials. The ring dials spun. The boys were awestruck. “This chalice is an integral part of my ship,” the lady said, “this one is compatible, but it is from the wrong timeline.” “I’m sorry mom,” Lyon said, “but I don’t understand a word you just said.” “There are other ladies of other lakes,” she said, “we all need a chalice, but this one is not mine. Find the lake lady who needs this one, and give it back to her.” “Anything you ask,” Bors said, “we’ll do!” With that, the harvest and the lady disappeared into a bubble into the creek. “Dindrane will be fine,” the lady said, “I will tell her you must hurry to Camelot before the first snow. Keep close to water. Farewell.” A bridge of natural stone rose out of the creek to aid their crossing. It took a fortnight and three days ride to reach Camelot. The men told Percival stories about Camelot. They taught him the rules of knighthood, how to wear and maintain the Red Knight’s armor, how to use a sword, and a crossbow. They taught him how to dress and mount his warhorse with armor. He listened without question. Even as they passed the great tower and court on the isle of Shalott, Percival asked nothing. The last morning of their journey, they brushed their steeds and shined their armor. “Make it shine, boys. Impress the people of Camelot,” Gorne said. The men donned their polished armor over their thickest quilted clothes and rode hard to the south. Bare aspen trees surrounded the riverbanks. They crossed hills covered in light snow and dry flaxen barley. Once atop the highest hill, Percival looked into the valley and witnessed the opulence and splendor of the many snowcapped towers of Castle Camelot. The great drawbridge stood agape. The open gates signaled peaceful times. The river bent behind the castle, and emptied into the vast Lake of Avalon. Willow woods wept into the lake. The lake stretched to the horizon between the aspen forests and meadows blanketed in snow. The evening sun sank towards the lake as the sun’s reflection rose to meet it. Evening shadows crept up the towers in unison. Smoke rose in little streams from inside the wall with promises of warmth, hot food, and comfort. The watchmen rushed from their towers to spread news that Sir Gorne returned with the Red Knight in tow. Peasants gathered at the gates to welcome their champions home. Snowflakes and sunset pelted the shining armor as the knights rode at a gallop across the drawbridge, painted in orange fire and white flecks. Castle Camelot greeted them with warmth and cheers. Lyon and Bors maneuvered their horses to surround Sir Percival. Percival felt protected, and loved. The peasant’s appreciation warmed his heart. He collected several of the lilies. Lyon laughed, and offered him another. Percival kept it separated, closer to his heart. “Welcome to Camelot,” Lyon said, “how do like it?” “Camelot,” Percival lilted, “I am certain that this place is now, has forever been, and will forever be, my true home.” Lyon smiled. “That’s exactly how I felt,” he said.

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#Knights #Gay #Percival #Parcival #Bors #Lyon #Lyonn #Gorn #Gorne #Camelot #Arthur #Arthurian #Legend

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