#poor kay

[wandrenowlereacts]

That one time Kay wanted to help, gets told no by the woman with the shield and Kay just pretends afterwards that he wasn’t going to volunteer for the quest because “It’s not like I wanted to help, anyways.” That poor man… Let him help! 😂

[talesfromtheenchantedforest]

I feel like one of the things that is most central to medieval literature but is not necessarily intuitive for a modern audience is the fundamental nature of class and birth — from the necessity of Galahad's twice-biblical heritage, to the good breeding of Beaumains and La Cote Maile Taile that is the real source of their heroism and gentility, to the essential difference between a daughter of nobility (worthy of protection, respect, and agency) and a daughter of a commoner (an object of contempt and acceptable sexual violence). And I'm not sure that anything demonstrates both the centrality and fragility of a noble heritage more than the episode where Arthur and Kay are switched:

And the king [Uther] said to him, "A wondrous thing happened to me. While I was asleep, a gentleman came to me and told me that you were the worthiest man in my kingdom, the most upright and faithful to me. He told me that you have a newborn son by your wife. He also told me to ask you to take your son from your wife and give him to another woman to be nursed, and to ask your wife, for love of me, to suckle and raise a child who will be brought to her. The good man [Antor] answered, "Sir, this is a very weighty thing, for you are asking me to cut my child off and disown him, and to have him nurse on milk that is not his. Sir, I will get my wife to agree if I can, so I beg you, tell me when this child will be brought." [later, after Arthur pulls the sword and learns who he is]: And Arthur said, "I beg you not to disown me as your son, for I would not know where else to go. And if God grants me this honor, I will give you anything you ask." Antor said, "I will not ask you for any of your land. I ask only that my son Kay be your seneschal for as long as he lives and that he never lose his stewardship for anything he might do to any man or woman of your land or to yourself. If he is wicked and foolish, you will have to bear with him, for his ways of thinking and behaving must have come to him from the peasant girl who nursed him. So that you might be reared properly, he lost his birthright. This is why you must humor him more than others. So I beg you, please give him what I ask."

— The Story of Merlin, chapters 4 and 5, trans. Rupert T. Pickens

[leupagus]

Honey, It's the Mileage pt 4: it's actually "aft gang agley"

(I should subtitle this nonsense Continuing Adventures In Nightwinkgale.)

Robinade asked for a scene in which Nightingale confessed he actually does know what a twink is, which is good, because the definition is basically him.

*

Given Tommy’s slightly horrible introduction, or re-introduction, to my granddad, I probably should’ve expected that meeting his crew would go similarly pear-shaped for me. But as Tommy says, the best laid plans of mice and men often… do something in Scottish. Go pear-shaped, is what it means.

I had the best of intentions, for the record — ever since Tommy’d had that very dignified screaming match with my granddad in the carpark a few weeks before, he’d been broody. If he wasn’t so thoroughly Tommy, I’d just advise him to go get laid.

Actually I did advise it, come to think of it. We were at a pub a bit off our patch, down in Battersea, helping the local boys with an interestingly horrible murder scene that I won’t get into but did involve entrails. Note the ’s,’ multiple. When we finally clocked out, we came to one of those mind-meld unspoken agreements and ducked into the nearest pub to wash down the grossness with some nice lager and maybe a sandwich.

Which was probably our first mistake. Tommy’s safe in your average copper’s local, but set him loose in the wild and things get something in Scottish.

We were still in our uniforms, but like I’ve said, that doesn’t tend to slow people down as much as maybe Tommy wishes it did. We’d been there for about a quarter of a pint when a good-looking guy with a dashing little goatee and more rings on his fingers than seemed practical slid onto the stool next to Tommy’s. He had a hopefully lustful expression.

'Six o’clock,' I said, taking a drink. Tommy, who was probably a lot more familiar with this problem as I was, sighed and pinched his nose. But because he’s secretly from the 19th century or something, he assumed a polite if distant expression and turned to get rid of his new suitor.

Or at least that’s what I’d assumed he’d do — instead I got abandoned for a good five minutes while Tommy managed to pull, not more than a half-hour after we’d had to clean someone else’s vomit off of our shoes. (Not all PCs have as sturdy stomachs as we do, and it got very unpleasant for a while back there.) Now, I do all right for myself — being able to bench press a girl tends to impress her no matter what your gender is — but this was starting to get ridiculous.

At least it didn’t take long; the guy gave Tommy his number and slinked off, now with a lustfully hopeful expression. 'He wasn’t even that good-looking,' I complained as Tommy went back to his drink, casual as you please, like nothing had just happened.

'Beauty is hardly the best foundation to build any meaningful relationship with another person,' said Tommy piously. 'Besides, you can’t assume everyone who strikes up a conversation is looking for sexual gratification.'

'If that guy wasn’t twink-shopping, I’ll eat my helmet,' I said. Off his look of confused disgust, I added, 'See, Tommy, a twink is a young—'

'Yes, thank you, I’m aware of the terminology,' he said, still making that hilarious old-man-sucking-lemon face.

I was sceptical. 'Oh yeah? Where’d you learn it, at Eton or wherever?'

'I didn’t go to Eton,' he said. I took another drink and waited, and he sighed. 'I happened to be in San Francisco last year in June, and fell in with some very… knowledgable people who—'

'Did you get gang-banged by some leather daddies during Pride?' I asked, clasping my hands to my cheeks. ’Tommy, here I’ve thought I had so much to teach you and you were the master, all along.'

He glared at me. 'I’ve no intention of calling the gentleman who just left, if that makes you feel any better. Not that it concerns you,' he grumped.

I considered it. 'Might not be a bad idea,' I offered. 'You could do with some shagging.'

Tommy almost inhaled his drink. 'I beg your pardon.'

'I’m just making an observation!' I said. 'It’s a tried and true method of blowing off some… things. That might need to get blown.' I was gifted with the return of the disgusted face, and you’d think that that would be the moment that Detective Chief Superintendent Peter Grant would’ve shown up to allow me to make the worst possible first impression, but no.

No, that didn’t happen until the following Sunday, when I tried setting Tommy up with my friend Dwayne, which resulted in Tommy accidentally setting the restaurant’s tablecloth on fire. Which wasn’t my fault, and you’d think having the presence of mind to find a fire extinguisher would count for something, but the first time I actually met DCI Grant, I had the distinct impression that he was doing the calculations in his head of how soon he could boot me out of Tommy’s life.

(Later on, after everything with the witches happened, Tommy said that Grant actually quite likes me, and that that’s just his resting face.)

[cak3-boy]

Dp spoiler;

MIRANDA ISN'T A VILLAIN, IT'S AWSOME BUT WHY THEY SHOWED HER CORPSE?!

[mordredfuckingpendragon]

Kay when it comes to Lancelot fan boy Gareth: The Lord is testing me

Kay really doesn't deserve this torture.

[dramaticaholmes]

The Deception finale...

DA fuq kind of an ending was that??

With such a high cancellation rate these days why do shows even do cliffhangers??

[mosylufanfic]

Rebelcaptain prompt for you if you want it. Just had a craving for a lighthearted sickfic. Jyn and Cassian are both sick with the same thing and decide to be sick together Bonus points if one or more of the other R1 characters come to check up on them

Thanks for today’s NaNo prompt, nonny! I’m so fond of sickfic, especially cute ‘n’ fluffy sickfic.

Mosylu what have you been doing?

Sickbay

Cassian groaned and rolled over, debating whether it was worth it to haul his disease-ridden body through the halls of base to the medbay. When he got there, they could give him something that would knock him out and let him sleep right through the worst of the flu. But it was the getting there that was the problem.

Kay, in true Kay fashion, had said heartlessly, "You have a virus. It would not be productive for me to stay here. I'll check on you later," and left.

When the door to his quarters wheezed open, he thought Kay had come back early. Or maybe he'd passed out for twelve hours and hadn't noticed. Also possible.

The lights stayed off, which was remarkably kind of Kay. But then his blankets got twitched aside and a body crawled into his bed.

Definitely not Kay.

"Hey!" he yelped and sat up, which set his head to pounding. He grabbed his throbbing skull and cautiously turned on the reading light in the wall, dialing it to the lowest setting.  "Ugh." He blinked blearily at the invader. "Jyn?"

"Cassian? What are you doing here?" She looked as terrible as he felt, her eyes ringed with deep purple smudges and her skin pale and clammy.

"Isn't that my question? This is my bed."

"But you're supposed to be up already. It's after 0700 hours."

"I'm sick," he mumbled, flopping back onto his pillow. "It's this flu that's going around. You shouldn't be here. You'll get sick, too."

"Already am. That's why I'm here."

He blinked at her. Maybe it was the head full of mucus, but he didn't see how that followed. "Why are you here?"

Her voice came soft and crackly, as if she'd been coughing. "I wanted to sleep in your bed."

He pushed himself up on his elbow to peer at her.

"It's loud in my quarters! My bunkmates have all got different schedules. They're in and out all the time. It's impossible to sleep there. Anyway,  I, uh, I thought it'd make me feel better." Her voice had dropped to a mumble.

He let that percolate through his aching head. "All right," he said, holding the blankets up. "Climb in. If you don't care about being a little crowded."

"You're sick, too. Are you sure?"

"It's not like we can get each other sicker."

She coughed, turning her head away, and then pulled the blankets over them both. "Maybe body heat will bake the fever out," she mumbled.

"Maybe," he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "Tissue over here if you need it."

"Oh, thanks. I brought my kettle for tea. You should drink some."

He made a face. Every time Jyn felt the slightest bit under the weather, she insisted on drinking gallons of some kind of tea that her mother had sworn by. It tasted like grass clippings to him. "Later?"

"Liquids. Heat. Good for you." She snuggled into his pillow and let out an "mmmmm" into the fabric.

She fit nicely into his side. He reached up and slapped the reading light off, and they both sighed in relief as darkness descended.

He still ached all over, his throat was still sore and his head was still stuffed full. But he did feel better with her there.

"How is Cassian doing?" Chirrut asked Kay.

Kay's face was impassive as always. But his voice betrayed bafflement. "Jyn was there."

"Taking care of him?"

"No. She's sick too. They're both curled up in bed, coughing and sneezing and there are tissues all over the floor and tea mugs everywhere." He paused. "I did not clean it up. I am not a service droid."

"No, of course not," Chirrut said soothingly, biting back his chuckle.

"I asked Cassian if I should remove Jyn and he said no, and Jyn threatened me with something that is not actually possible with my anatomy and then Cassian told me to leave. They are both sick," he added, as if Chirrut might not have heard the first time.

"Maybe it makes them feel better to be sick together," Chirrut suggested.

Kay made a noise that, for a being without nasal passages, was an excellent replication of a haughty sniff. "That is very unhygienic and not at all romantic as I understand these things."

Chirrut gave in and roared with laughter. "Trust me, my droid friend, that is an expression of true love."

Kay grumbled, "Organics."

FINIS

[vitus-1897]

Last night I was doing some roleplaying with @mekhack for my Vampire: the Requiem game over Facebook. There was an emotional scene which basically centered on love. It was sad, but then a character disappeared against their will magically, because they tried to hug the PC. I didn’t realise how sad it was for my friend until she said ‘fuck you vorn, i’m legit crying’ My friend also has a reputation from some friends in the group of only feeling anger. Granted I don’t and didn’t believe that. I had conflicted feelings about it, sad due to the content of the game and having made my friend cry, but proud in that my game could invoke such emotions. I should add I myself was feeling sad about this.