days of king arthur

2

oceans rise, empires fall
we have seen each other through it all

the protégé surpasses the master, the old king loses his crown to the boy king.

4

Standing calmly at the crossroads,

no desire to run

There’s no hurry anymore

when all is said and done…

This is the oath of a Knight of King Arthur’s Round Table and should be for all of us to take to heart. I will develop my life for the greater good. I will place character above riches, and concern for others above personal wealth, I will never boast, but cherish humility instead, I will speak the truth at all times, and forever keep my word, I will defend those who cannot defend themselves, I will honor and respect women, and refute sexism in all its guises, I will uphold justice by being fair to all, I will be faithful in love and loyal in friendship, I will abhor scandals and gossip-neither partake nor delight in them, I will be generous to the poor and to those who need help, I will forgive when asked, that my own mistakes will be forgiven, I will live my life with courtesy and honor from this day forward.
—  King Arthur, Le Morte d'Arthur: King Arthur and the Legends of the Round Table

“Tch…”

Her gait was sluggish, her hands carried a small box, her face was twisted and red. Did she have to do this? How embarrassing…but if it was for her Father, then she would do it. No matter what she had to face for today, as long as her Father would be okay with it, Mordred would have no qualms then.

Rarely did Mordred ever openly show affection for her father, and that was mostly because of her immense pride and her reputation. She was the Knight of Treachery, the rogue one of the Knights of the Round Table, who wanted nothing more than her Father’s approval and pride…Yet she found actively seeking for it now to be difficult.

It took some words of encouragement from a certain white-haired homunculus child and her Master before she had the guts to approach her Father.

knock knock

As the door opened, there she stood, her head lowered down facing the ground, her fingers twiddling and fidgeting the box in her nervousness, and her throat feeling rather dry as the words failed to come out of her. But she swallowed, mustered up her bravado, and spoke.

“I…I-I hope this…this smal- Accept this small token of my appreciation for you Father! It’s…It’s the least I can…do for you for today.”

@oncexfutureking, @hxlyswcrdedkxng, @princessofknights, @inverted-iris, @mysithlordcantbethiscute, @hikikomorialter, @motherfuckingarthur & ALL THE OTHER ARTURIA/ARTHUR BLOGS OUT THERE

Until 1982, the ride was originally located directly behind Sleeping Beauty Castle (in the present-day location of King Arthur Carrousel). In 1983, the ride was given a more colorful makeover and was relocated to its present-day location near Matterhorn Bobsleds. In 2004, it was modified to make it more difficult to spin fast after a disabled rider lost his balance and slipped from a teacup.

in the early years, not all of the teacups sported fancy designs on their exterior. This could be very disturbing to a young child scurrying for the prettiest cup. You might also notice that the early Tea Cups did not have doors. Instead, a loose rope was draped across the opening.

anonymous asked:

Your stories make me incredibly happy, and I see your thingum (header?) is Chicago. Can you maybe tell a story at some point about the Magnificent Mile and/or the Tribune Tower?

I actually just moved here a few months ago, so I’m not supremely familiar with either beyond wikipedia and an architectural tour! I’ll sure give it a try anyway, thanks for the prompt!

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The Tribune Tower is a magical hodge podge nightmare place that Steven sort of wishes would just be transported to another dimension already. As the tower’s watcher, he’s not allowed to wish that, but his boss can’t mind read so.

The tower can fuck right off.

Objectively, it’s quite pretty. Gothic design hoisted high into the air, buttresses, stone, the whole nine-yards. His parents had said things like “scenic” and “honor” and “historic” when he’d first been assigned. Back then, he’d even agreed with them.

Now he knows better.

“Get. Your. Hand. Off. The. Stone,” he says through gritted teeth. He’s not angry; he’s cold. It’s snowing lightly, muffling the world around them. Oh, sorry, the snow’s not muffling the world. That’d be the distraction charm, a charm designed to turn the non-magical eye away, cast by the man crouched at the base of the tower.

The man turns and Steven is suddenly angry and cold.

“Raul,” Steven says, taking his hands out of his pockets. “Now.” The chill races from his hands as he calls fire to them.

“Guardian,” Raoul greets far too cheerfully for someone who’s been caught red-handed. Again. “I was just touching, no need to get all snippy.”

Raoul backs away from the tower, hands raised as if to say no harm, no foul. Steven isn’t about to believe the older man, so he stalks forward, keeping a wary eye on him.

This is what Steven is supposed to be watching. There are stones from all over the world embedded in the tower. The Taj Mahal, the White House, the Alamo. Dozens of historic places have lost parts of themselves to this Chicagoan landmark and, for whatever reason, many of them are at ground level. Where idiot sorcerers like Raoul can just walk right up and touch them.

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