Sade Olutola
pixel skylines
Cosimo Galluzzi
𓃗
d e v o n
izzy's playlists!
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we're not kids anymore.
🪼
roma★
EXPECTATIONS
if i look back, i am lost
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official daine visual archive
shark vs the universe
Product Placement
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
noise dept.
seen from India
seen from Argentina
seen from Russia
seen from Germany
seen from Romania
seen from Germany
seen from South Africa
seen from Algeria
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Russia
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia
seen from Morocco
seen from Finland
@incredibly-loyal
A Knight is sworn to Valor, His Heart knows only Virtue, His Blade defends the Helpless, His Might upholds the Weak, His Word speaks only Truth, His Wrath undoes the Wicked. ~ Credit to @fatedestined
Independent & Semi-Selective Lancelot du Lac ~ penned by REX
RULES // ABOUT // VERSES // MEMES // META
Arthur Pendragon RP blog @arthur-rex 👑
Follows back on @silvasabadboy / OOC blog @sparringett
sorceress-queen:
arthur-rex:
“You’ll have a chance to get to know them during the tour, I am sure.”
Arthur exchanges a brief glance with his PR manager as she makes the announcement. Lancelot rubbing shoulders with the other bandmates while they toured the States? What an idea. Well, Percy and Elyan will definitely make him feel welcome while they hit the road on the travel bus. Gwaine too, in his own mischievous way. The guitarist snorts as he thinks of his drummer, out now in city with the roadie, Merlin. Probably enjoying the sights and the nightlife.
There was so much the capital had to offer. During the summer of 2006, Lance often regaled Arthur with tales of the things he got up to in Madrid.
A fond smile makes its way onto Arthur’s face as he imagines Merlin feeding his new partner churros dipped in chocolate, the pair of them seated outside a café in the Mediterranean sun.
Returning to the present, the warmth in Arthur’s expression reaches his eyes as he looks over to Lance. There is no need to tease or be deceitful, not with how everything is turning out. The brush of Morgana’s thumb over his knuckles gives Arthur confidence… and surely, Mogs knew what that actually meant, in terms of her receiving his appreciation, later on.
He wraps an arm around her waist, turning to face the rest of the household.
“Welcome to the band, Lancelot. In fact, welcome all of you. Tickets might have already sold out, but we’ve got space to invite a few VIPs along, right?”
Catching Granny Enid’s eye, the rock star grins and winks.
“I’m sure the kids would enjoy a short trip abroad during the school holidays next year. See what their dad does for a living?”
There certainly appears to be some excitement in Iggy’s face at the suggestion. Sure enough, she’s soon scampered over into her mother’s lap and heard distinctly asking Mogs for a guitar of her own.
Mordred meanwhile makes his way more cautiously over to Arthur.
Relaxing his stance, the father adopts a less forceful presence, letting his son know - he has no intention of making him feel overwhelmed, confused or otherwise emotionally compromised. Arthur never wanted such experiences for his own children. Never wanted them to experience countless households of that… kind of behaviour.
They end up playing some Lord of the Rings Online on Mordred’s game console. Mor plays some kind of sorcerer elf character. He talks his dad through the gameplay and setup, and soon Arthur has created his very own avatar - and is busy hacking away at orcs with a pretty decent sword.
They have fun.
*****
The seasons change. Fading autumnal heat gives way at last to the chill of true winter. Granny Enid spends her free time knitting all the adults a set of matching scarfs and mittens. She smiles as she works, and informs Arthur when he comes over to sit with her one evening, that no matter how rich the younger members of her family got, no amount of money could buy something as good as home-made family gifts.
And Lancelot does look particularly fetching with the green wool wrapped around his neck and thrown over his shoulder, Arthur has to admit.
They take it slow, slower than perhaps Arthur would have liked, but the closeness of the bond Morgana and Lancelot begin to cultivate is made all the more special for it. Arthur has to remind himself that Lance is starting off without the history he and Morgana shared - through years of college, band practices, gigs and intimate afterparties. Theirs had been a volatile, passionate love, but it had sustained them throughout, and most especially when the pressure during the band’s eventual rise into fame and international stardom peaked.
Watching how Lancelot courts his would-be lover, Arthur has to admit, there is a lot he could learn to do better. The Spaniard is gentle and softer in his approach, coming back from his work at the gym with flowers one time for Morgana (and a soft smile in Arthur’s direction). Arthur later finds a single red rose had been removed from that bouquet. Lance had left it on top of his guitar case.
Iggy’s tuition in guitar goes well. She learns the basic chords and scales within a few weeks and then, how to strum, pluck and combine the two techniques. Once she’s mastered how to read online tabs, there’s no stopping what she chooses to learn: songs by Metallica, by Nirvana and Led Zepplin quickly become part of her repertoire. Arthur is very proud.
He promises to buy her a customised Gibson Les Paul when they actually get to America, one that Jimmy Page might have played perhaps. There were a few connections between rock artists, and Arthur is minded to leverage one or two for his daughter.
Before the tour, however, comes the New Year.
Lance had found a venue for the adults to party in, one he tells Arthur has been properly vetted for guests and people in the business. The Knights of Albion are as famous in Spain as they are in the UK. They’d finished their European tour in this city, and even now, Morgana and he had to be careful exiting and entering Granny’s house - to avoid the paparazzi gaining wind of their location.
Sitting on a stool directly in front of Mogs, Arthur sighs. Deciding to ignore her endless chatter (she appears to be a little nervous) he picks up a tube of her brightest red lipstick, twisting the top to bring up the sticky nub.
“Lance knows what he’s doing. He’ll have bodyguards monitoring the club entrance. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them are students from his gym. You know that’s what he does, right? He’s a personal trainer.”
Leaning forward, he focusses on her lips, eyes set in deep concentration as he applies the makeup. He doesn’t realise he’s wrapped a hand around Morgana’s neck to steady her movements until the familiar vibration of her swallow is felt under his fingertips.
Arthur smiles.
“Now, hold still. I don’t want to mess this up.
@sorceress-queen
____
Morgana stops her nervous rambling when her lipstick is brought closer to her mouth; however, she finds it difficult to hold steady until his hand wraps around her neck.
The rock star’s PR manager swallows, trying to keep her thoughts from spiralling into all the other times he had a hand placed there under rather different circumstances.
Locking her eyes with his, her cheeks turn to a colour similar to the lipstick he is applying to her lips; she has always found the way he would lose himself in concentration attractive, especially when that task involved her, and now is no different.
Morgana hums in appreciation as she picks up her hand mirror to see his handiwork. “Not bad. You are getting better at this.” She smiles at her partner and then pecks his cheek with a soft giggle passing her mouth at the sight of the mark her painted lips leave.
“Perhaps, I could do yours as well.” She knows his dislike of such, but she lives on teasing Arthur, and besides, they both know that she would not go as far as to actually put make-up on him. The only people who would ever be able to get him to have make-up on would be their children, Morgana is sure of it.
“Or get as close to doing so as I can.” The raven-haired beauty looks cheeky as she leans in and gives him a proper kiss on the mouth before she leaves to finish getting ready for the party with a happy skip to her steps.
She passes Lancelot on her way and leans up to give him a fleeting peck. Staining her lipstick on him as well.
Mogs finishes getting ready for the party at a comfortable speed, having Iggy there to help her choose what to wear and even with styling her hair, the same hairstyle, naturally, has to be done for the young girl as well.
Morgana chuckles when she catches her daughter trying and put on lipstick (the brightest pink she could find) while she has been busy putting in her ear piercings and earrings; having her hair up in a braid allows such to be seen and not hidden under her dark mane.
“And I am all done. Are you, Iggy?” She asks, making one last adjustment to her daughter’s blonde hair with a smile.
“Yes, mum. Now I look as pretty as you do.” The girl grins as she gets off the chair and embraces her mother.
“No, you are prettier than I am.” She says and pulls the giggling girl closer.
“We better go. I have made your dad and Uncle Lance wait for me enough as is.”
“Mummy, how long will you be gone for?” Asks Mordred standing in the bedroom doorway, a half-eaten biscuit in his hand. Whilst Iggy has been busy with Morgana, he has been in the kitchen with Granny and Lance, baking sweets.
“We’ll be back by the time you wake up,” Morgana assures, kissing the top of his head. “That looks delicious. Is there any still left for Iggy and me?” She teases, making her son smile up at her.
“I saved some for you, the best ones.”
“Thank you, Mor!” Morgana smiles at him and walks to the kitchen with Iggy, who happily shows off her new braided hairstyle and the pink lipstick to the other adults in the room. Although the make-up disappears as Igraine eats the biscuits placed on a separate plate by her brother, who hands their mother one.
“Thanks, dear.” Mogs tears off a piece and eats it, praising her little baker before it is time for her to leave with Arthur and Lancelot.
“Be good, kids and have fun.” Morgana lingers in the doorway, reluctant to leave her children behind for a whole night to go to a party but relaxing at the look, Granny Enid gives her.
Everything will be alright
She thinks to herself as she watches the kids wave with their cheeks full of sweets. Morgana waves back, smiling at them before she departs with Lance & Arthur.
“Vamos, sí. Hasta luego.”
Swiping right, the man of the hour smiles as he looks up from the screen of his smartphone.
Just in time to catch the kiss on his cheek. Mogs’ painted lips leave a pretty mark on his skin and Lancelot is minded to let it stay. Something to flaunt to Arthur, perhaps. All in good spirits, obviously. Speaking of spirits...
Lance looks back at his phone again, thumbing through emails until he sees the confirmation email from the barman at the club he’s managed to book. All is well and good. There’ll be plenty of spirits at La Casa di Lucio: including some of the better Spanish brandies and liqueur. If Lancelot remembers anything so well from his student days in the UK, it was that getting Arthur tipsy was rather easy. Drunk, less so. That took deliberation, usually on Arthur’s part. But tipsy would be good enough, more than good enough..:
Slipping the phone back in his pocket, he selects a biscuit from the tray and takes a bite, giving Mordred a high five. Another excellent batch of freshly baked Welsh shortbread. One of Granny Enid’s most beloved recipes. Lance nods as Mordred offers some of the buttery biscuits to his mother and sister, catching Arthur’s eye as he joins them in the kitchen. The rock star looks appealing in that rough and ready way, dressed in casual attire. Dark jeans and leather jacket over a loose t-shirt. There’s also a suspicious pink smear on his cheek, faint yet unmistakeable, despite the reddened mark left by hasty scrubbing with water.
Lance grins shyly, deciding not to alert Arthur to the traces of makeup he’s been unable to remove. He picks up a set of car keys hanging from next to the town house’s kitchen entrance, twirling them in his hand.
“Ok! One Arthur Pendragon and one Morgana Cornouaille. Good news, the place has checked out. No journalists, members of the press or mega fans have gotten hold of the location, so you two can relax. Ready to go?”
The rockstar and his publicist look ready. Catching Granny Enid’s eye, Lance gives her a short nod as she gathers the children under her wing. While Morgana says her goodbyes, Lance shares a glance with his boyfriend. Unfolding his arms, Arthur cocks his head to one side, walking over under the attention.
“So, you’re looking after us tonight. That’s very chivalrous of you...”
Looking down the length of his suit, Arthur smiles mischievously. Something Morgana had never managed to get Arthur or any of the boys in the band to do once they hit the stardom was wear tailored clothing. The rock stars tended to shun that kind of attire. It didn’t fit in with their rebellious aesthetic. The clothing suits Lancelot however, accentuating the elegance of his tall profile. Seeing Lance wearing the fine Armani outfit, Arthur is almost tempted to consider giving in to another of Mogs’ long list of desires, except-
Glancing down, Lance watches on in a bemused fondness as Arthur undoes the top two buttons of his white shirt. Just enough so that a few dark hairs peek through.
“-There. Now you can be my bodyguard.”
Arthur’s gaze is still on his chest. Lancelot’s smile widens, trying hard not to react further. “I’ll do my best.”
“Mhm.”
The look Arthur shoots him is very daring. Lance laughs lightly, scratching the back of his neck. Just before they leave, Arthur leans in and kisses Granny on her cheek, thanking her quietly for giving the adults a break. To the two kids munching biscuits by her skirts, he smiles, complimenting Iggy on her lipstick and giving Mordred a fist bump. Then he takes Morgana’s hand in his.
The pair of them have the look of college sweethearts as they walk down the gravel of the driveaway together towards their waiting vehicle. Lancelot bows his head, opening the doors of the car so the couple can slip into the backseats.
June is beyond busy. But there’s always time for Santi Sunday!
The look of wonder on Darius’ face. I love that he never stopped wanted to learn, to gain new knowledge, to discover the unknown.
Eric Bana as Hector TROY (2004) dir. Wolfgang Petersen
sorceress-queen:
miladys-servant-gwen:
arthur-rex:
The Island of Seriphos, evening.
The feast is in full swing. Cheese, olives and flat, leavened bread are handed out among the revellers. Meat takes the form of fish caught along the coast of the sea-locked kingdom. King Arthur of Seriphos laughs as loudly as the others, his crown slipping a little on his head of loose blond curls.
“And what then, your Highness? Did the howling winds over the seas even make a dent in your ships? Or did you, the mighty son of Poseidon, manage to somehow tame the natural elements as well as you did the serpent sisters on their Isle?”
The brother of the King, a fisherman by the name of Dictys, sulks moodily at the side of the monarch in the banqueting hall. Unlike Arthur, the younger brother has darker hair framing a thin face set with deep, olive-green eyes. He looks similar to many of those living within the perimeter of the Aegean Sea. The golden hair and blue eyes are uncommon, which made some venerate those with such features higher than they should.
Dictys often quarrelled with his brother, never a fan of the King’s boastings. It was he that discovered the young Lancelot and his mother locked in a box washed upon the shores of Seriphos whilst cleaning his fisherman’s nets, all those years ago.
The King rolls his eyes. Picking up his goblet of wine, he downs the liquid and decides to ignore his sibling, having far too much fun elaborating an already incredulous story with the other men and women hanging on his every word.
“Gorgons… pretty exotic monsters, oh yes, but they were scared of our swords, as any females with good sense would be. What we could have done to them if we caught them! Of course, like the cowards they are, they fled. But I held one back before she slithered off, cut off one of the snakes in her hair… a hissing red, yellow and black viper… I crushed it in my grip. So no more will lovely ladies like yourselves be taken in by such demons.”
Stroking the chin of a girl that gets a little closer, hoping for some favour, the King’s eyes grow hooded with arousal. He is intoxicated, yes, but he can still perform. If only the fair Danaë were here… in the absence of such a woman, the King will make do with the attentions of the many others throwing themselves at him, perhaps in the hope that he will make one of them his Queen? Arthur chuckles in dark amusement. It is unlikely, for he has his eyes set on one only.
“So we are saved? If the Gorgons are no more to menace us, why didn’t you bring something more than a valiant tale of their defeat? You are our King, surely such a feat isn’t beyond you.”
Dictys looks over to the person who has spoken. Lancelot unfolds his arms, walking closer up the length of the hall towards the high table where the royals sat. The way the man walks, the aura he gives off, draws the attention of all the men and women in their banqueting regalia. Lancelot is strapping young man, but there is something gracious, swan-like perhaps, in the way approaches the King’s dais.
A lazy smile spreads over Arthur’s face at the beautiful man’s approach. The son of Danaë carries traces of her natural beauty in his face and bearing. He is the sort of man that would make admirers out of both men and women.
He could make a good bed-warmer… if his mother was disagreeable.
Pausing in front of the royal siblings, Lancelot looks across at the pair of them equally. Dictys was a man Lance considered a friend, despite his unpopularity in King Arthur’s court. He had been so gentle with them, as he woke them from their ordeal at sea. A fisherman rescuing those adrift… Dictys had proven his quality to Lancelot that day, and never would Lancelot forget it. It’s only a shame the same qualities were not exhibited in his elder brother.
Not yet perhaps.
The King leans forward in his seat, golden hair reflecting the light of the candles, shining like flickering flames upon his much broader, masculine face.
“Lancelot. You’re quite right, of course. I missed an obvious trick there. I’m sure your mother would sleep far more soundly if she knew the cursed Gorgons were no more.”
The lazy smile widens, exposing teeth.
“Perhaps you would do the honours for me? For the kingdom of Seriphos. It would bring you great honour for sure. Your dear mother would be so proud. And I, would be eternally grateful for the gift of Medusa’s head on my table.”
_____
Calpe, evening
It hurts.
Days after the attack, and she’s in such pain.
The only real wound she suffered was the loss of a single snake, but, still, it hurts so much. As though what she had lost was a limb.
The snakes…they’re as much a part of her as any other part of her body, but they’re also her companions and protectors. As much as either of her sisters is.
It hurts.
What once moved and breathed in time with the multitude of serpentine bodies which spring from her scalp in place of dark curls now hangs limp and lifeless. Too short to even tuck back out of her view.
She doesn’t understand why men must be so cruel. Why they must sully and destroy everything that doesn’t bend to their wills. The serpent she lost gave its life to protect her from the men who had swarmed her beach.
Athena was right to spirit her away as she did, to protect her this way. But it still hurts.
She doesn’t know if the serpent will grow anew, as normal, human hair would. She doesn’t think it will. Especially not after what had to be done to stop the bleeding once her sisters had chased away her attackers. Stheno took a torch to the severed length and cauterized the wound, but it still stings and aches, the nerves raw and flaring painfully with every beat of Gwen’s heart.
She doesn’t want to leave the cave.
She’s afraid the next face she sees will be another helmeted warrior.
She knows it will, even if that face is no longer that of a living, breathing human being.
@sorceress-queen
Morgana (a name used by the other deities and her most favoured mortals) appears, the pain suffered by the one she cursed blessed too great for her to not examine on her own.
The goddess calls out to allow the gorgon to register the presence of divinity once she takes on a more human form. Morgana takes off her helmet and puts it aside as she moves to approach the other.
“Oh, Moiras… .” She murmurs when she notes the damage, no wonder she could feel her pain even in her post on Mount Olympus.
Anger bubbles inside the goddess at the thought of such happening; how could a man, for Morgana doubts a woman would be so foolish to come here and cause such damage, get so close? She wants to ask, however, seeing the gorgon’s state she does not give into such an urge.
She is here to provide comfort, not to cause further pain to her. And so that is what she does, gentle as she can manage, only to leave her with the warning of a hero’s approach, mindful of what information she can dispose without interfering with the Fates before she returns home.
@arthur-rex / @incredibly-loyal
The Aegean Sea
Bring me the head of the Gorgon known as Medusa.
His King commanded it of him the prior evening, surrounded by his courtiers. It was a challenge Lancelot could not with honour turn aside, loathe as he was to leave his mother without his protection on the Isle of Seriphos.
And yet, as he looks out beyond the prow of his ship, a small fishing vessel repurposed for the quest that lies ahead, the call of the gulls and the crashing of waves against wood, lull the young adventurer into a sense of excitement. Whatever monstrous females may lie in wait, he has the will of the Gods behind him, and more important than this - the blessing of his mother:
You must go, Lancelot. The world is out there, not here in this palace.
Removing each of her silver bracelets, one by one, the fair Danaë locked away all such jewellery in a small box, which she duly pressed into her son’s hands. The precious reflective metal came with them, when she and Lancelot arrived on the shores of Seriphos, all those years ago. Accepting the sole inheritance bequeathed him by his parent, Lancelot wondered if in this act, Danaë sought to lower her material status and in so doing, dissuade the advances of the King. Yet she had laughed at the notion, shaking her head:
No, my dear. The silver is yours because you are my child. You are my greatest treasure. That is why I have to let you go. You must be free to explore and experience all the wonders and mysteries of our world. The silver may help you on your way. Go now, Lancelot, and do not be afraid.
The sun had not yet risen when Lancelot took his mother’s hands in his, kissing the back of each of her palms reverentially.
Then he bowed his head and left before the rest of the palace awakened, accompanied by the few men and women that he trusted to sail alongside him into the unknown. Not once did he look back at the palace on top of the hill, though Danaë’s son knew, his mother watched him as his boat dwindled into a dot in the distance.
I know you will return home to me, one day.
The sound of the sail overhead, snapping in the breeze, pulls Lancelot out of his thoughts. Across the wooden deck, another young man, dark haired and tanned like his captain, walks closer, sniffing the salty air.
“Wind’s turning. Might want to think about easing off on our present course. We can still make it to Calpe by nightfall, if we tack into the wind.”
Looking back at the assembled crew, Lancelot nods after a moment.
“You’re right Simonides. Loosen the winches, I’ll join you and the others. We’ll get there faster, if we all pull together.”
For several hours of hard labour, the young men and women made strong headway. The unusual crew of fishermen and palace servants worked well as a team, learning from each other and combining their efforts. For some, this was their first adventure off the Isle of Seriphos. The thrill of freedom was evident in their expressions; Simonides grinning as he pulled alongside Lancelot on the ropes. Across the deck, Nikandros, a middle-aged fisherman, and the tall, muscular Lysandra, verbally sparred and shot each other daring glances. Some of his friends fancied their chances clearly, and Lancelot laughed as Cleitus, an austringer from the King’s aviary, let the sail loose to catch the air - just enough so that fresh sea spray crashed forcefully against the hull, wetting his captain’s face.
As the sun began to dip in across the horizon, the thin sliver of shoreline grew unmistakable. Ahead lay Calpe, home of the Gorgons that King Arthur spoke of.
Lancelot gazes upon the foreign land, drawn to the shifting sands and barren hills with caves, as he helps his crew tie down the sails. Would those snake sisters sense their approach? Did they lie in wait even now, to attack the young men and women as they brought their boat onshore?
Santiago Cabrera as Lancelot MERLIN (2008-2012) - “Lancelot” (1.05)
@incredibly-loyal asked: 🍼
Cassandra wasn’t sure what to expect when she was passed along the baby to hold. In truth, she didn’t have much experience with them, but she was gentle all the same. The baby even seemed to enjoy her presence, which was a relief. She had worried the baby would just cry, but she didn’t. Looking over at Lancelot, Cassie asked, “Is this the Queen’s baby?” That alone was an honor to be holding the heir, she wondered if Lancelot had been given babysitting duties. She knew the two were close. “She does have the Queen’s eyes, doesn’t she?” Cassandra hoped that the baby wasn’t given too much heat over being a girl. Everyone knew that Arthur was expected to heir a son, but things didn’t always work out that way. Besides, it didn’t mean anything less of the woman. In Cassandra’s mind, girls were just as powerful as boys were. Though she knew the council might not see it that way.
“Guinevere must trust you a great deal to look after her child. She’s not hired on any of the court nannies, has she?” She expected that answer to be no. Gwen had come from the lower class, chances are it would take her time to warm up to anyone other than people she knew to watch over her child. Little Ygraine cooed in her arms as Cassandra swayed gently on the spot with her there. “I’ll admit, I don’t have much experience myself with little ones. I’m the younger sibling in my family, so there was no one after me to have learned from.” She shrugged a little over at him, knowing that he had never mentioned siblings. And if there had been some, Cassie knew they would have perished as well. She had to wonder if Lancelot longed for a family, but he had never said so and she wouldn’t bother him about it. “You can take her back. I know she likes you,” Cassandra said as she gestured for Lancelot to take the child back from her again.
A gentle smile touches Lancelot’s face. The royal heir looks content enough, nestled snugly in the arms of the scullery maid. Yawning and gazing sleepily up into Cassie’s eyes, the baby Ygraine coos, reaching for the loose waves of brown hair that fall either side of her face. They look good together, the young maid with the child. Lancelot doesn’t fail to notice the radiant expression on his friend’s face, as she gently rocks the baby to-and-fro.
As Cassandra starts to ask questions however, the noble knight coughs, fumbling for answers.
“The Queen and the King are in the council chambers. I, um... thought it best to take the little royal highness for a stroll around the castle grounds. A bit of fresh air and, uh...”
Lapsing into silence, Lancelot quickly realises that Cassie’s attentions are rather more firmly fixed on the baby than anything he might say. Bewitched by Ygraine’s dark eyes and chubby features, it’s possible that Cassandra might be reluctant to return the child to him anytime soon.
Shaking his head, half in acknowledgement of his new status (yes, somehow Arthur’s first knight had found himself as the designated guardian of the Pendragons’ brood), Lancelot chuckles. “No court nannies, or even wet-nurses. The Queen prefers to feed her child herself.”
An admiring look is in Lance’s eyes, as Ygraine turns towards the sound of his voice. Guinevere had fed the heir earlier before her meeting with the lords. There is no concern that Ygraine will be hungry again for a hour or two.
“You look to be a natural at it.” Lancelot mentions quietly, as the afternoon sun warms them both through the marble arches, just outside the castle pantry. The head cook will be screeching soon for Cassandra to return to the kitchens, to chop vegetables and wash pots. Such were the duties of the scullery maid. But just for a moment, Lancelot sees the young girl dressed in finery in his mind’s eye. A lady of the court in a long, flowing dress, and no less worthy than any of them.
The moment lost, Lancelot lowers his gaze, further clarifying: “I mean, your soothing of the baby. Ygraine will quite happily fall asleep, if you carry on like that.” Which would be an ideal outcome, Lancelot thinks. He’s already had the tot bouncing on his legs and practised crawling on the grass with her earlier. The heir has strong arms and legs. She’ll be a warrior Queen, for sure.
When she’s learnt to walk that is.
“The younger sibling?” Lancelot lifts an eyebrow; Cassie had never shared her family history with him before. Catching her shrug, he wonders if she deflects on purpose. “Well, I... I can’t say that’s a bad position to hold in a family. Someone’s got to be spoiled.”
A shy grin slides onto his face as Cassandra hands the royal princess back over to her keeper. Wrapping a strong arm under her legs, he hefts the babe up so she lies flat against his chest, head resting to one side against his shoulder. Ygraine often fell asleep in such a position; when she could hear the sound of an adult’s heartbeat underneath her ear. Something Lancelot had been trying to impress upon Arthur - slow down, sire. Make some more time for her. She needs you.
Oh, he knew the King resented the duties of his title often. Little did Lancelot realise however, that it was Guinevere who had been behind the promotion of Lance from first knight to first baby-sitter. He nods politely at the scullery maid.
“There, so now you and Ygraine are acquainted. Like I promised. Have I earnt my cheese scone from the kitchens yet?”
@storitale
Lancelot needed you and you needed Lancelot. Your destinies were entwined.
for @mercelotweek | day 6: grey/angst
OOC: Right ok, I think I’m up to speed now on all outstanding RP replies!
Going to retire from roleplay Arthur and Lancelot for a while to focus on writing their ACBB fic counterparts. Because the writing style is a little different, I’ll be on a mini-hiatus now on @arthur-rex and @incredibly-loyal for the next month or so.
Catch you later.
Lots of words to write, and you have to catch me first, Sire.
*whispers* oh noooooooooo @dumbhotbitchknightgwaine
✨ MERLIN CHALLENGE ✨ : Day 14 (14th): Ultimate OMFG scene (“Lancelot Du Lac”, 4.09)
[ID: Sketch of Arthur and Lancelot having sex. Arthur is on top, pinning Lancelot's hands behind his back and holding one hand behind his neck. End ID] -
Merlin bingo prompt fill for 'Angry sex'
Premise behind this below the cut (I might write the fic, but also might not) - warning for references to nsfw activities
-
Merlin RP masterlist!
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if you’re a single muse or a multimuse
if they’re canon or an OC
your muse’s name, and from where they come from
EXAMPLE: scrunklyrpblog, single muse, canon, Scrunkly the Mighty ( pokemon mystery dungeon )
to be added in the list!
NOTE: if you have a multimuse blog, feel free to write as many muses as you have; if you have a fandomless OC, specificy that you just have a specific verse or their “title” – and remember to reblog the fandomless masterlist too!
feel free to specify if your muse is canon divergent too!
Character list alphabetical order can be found HERE!
Honestly, I made this for myself because I'm obsessed with Lana and mercelot, but I figured sharing is caring lmao enjoy! don't forget to watch in HD
WHAT COLOR DOES YOUR LOVE FEEL LIKE
soft fresh green 🌿
Nice breeze, bare feet and freshly cut grass. Your love is a light-hearted hope for the future. It's protecting your eyes from the sun but enjoying the light rays still, it's laying on the grass and feeling it tickle your neck. You look to the side and they look back at you, full of hope and plans too. You plan together and laugh all day and your sunburn will feel like them. Your love is delicate, hesitant. A well curated binder full of collages for a future you can't be sure will come, but you keep going, you keep planning, you keep squinting at the sun and smiling, and running your hands through the grass so it will smell better. You keep holding onto the bright sky even as the sunsets, even as the starry night stares back. But you keep on holding, you keep on dreaming, you close your eyes and feel the sun on your skin and convince yourself that the sunburn is good, it's something to hold on to, just makes it linger a bit longer. Your love is a light-hearted hope for the future. It's sweet and wonderful and it keeps love alive, makes the world a better place. You run your hands through the grass, clench your fingers tighter and keep making plans. And I can only thank you and hope I can learn to love like you someday.
Tagged: @arthur-rex 👑
Tagging: @legowolas @fatedtragedie @theonceandfuture @shireentheunburnt @fatedestined (Cassandra) & anyone else who wants a go 💚
Happy Santi Sunday!!❤️🔥
Love this casual look of Santi from the DAMAN photoshoot. So handsome!
📸 Credit: Original Creator
Let’s see what you’ve got // (Arthur/Lancelot)
