#ggawain

[charrte-blog]

PSA !!!      @ggawain and i broke up last night.                       we’re not even married. we didn’t even date.                       we just divorced. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[watsonofagun]

“ i’m a big fan of your name ”

BUZZFEED UNSOLVED.

         “Er, thanks. How about the man this name belongs to?”

[eggsyarchived]

the tiny woman excitedly shuffles in front of him, jumping up and down while grabbing and patting his cheeks, " EGGSY !! You're here ! You came ! Welcome ! " rushing him inside her exquisite manor. he'd been invited for a not-so work related TEA. a friend tea.

she seems so thrilled to see him ,  that for a second Eggsy rethinks the invite .   he did get one ,  right    ?    it was today    ?      it was for him    ?  

nevertheless he smiles ,  patting Maisie awkwardly on the back before entering her manor .    a whistled exhale   ——————   she’s minted    !    this place could host half the county if she wanted it to .

❛    oh my days   …   you never told me you lived in a castle .    ❜  

[charrte-blog]

s m o o c h

                ❛      We’re supposed to be working.      ”          Chiding tone with no bite and a sharp glance returns owed affection.  Although he would’ve stressed over it much more before due to caution ,   it’s undeniable she’d grown on him a lot that he would let her have this one.  Just like he allowed her to have the other one ,  and the last one ,  and the few ones prior to that as well.      

      Behind the reminder did he gives an   amused   tug of his lips ,  lifting self away from her space though still has his hand held by hers. 

                ❛     Not now ,   Miss Robinson.      ”

╰  SEND SMOOCH &. GET HARRY ON YOUR LAP  ，   not accept.     ＃*   @ggawain​

[eggsyarchived]

notebook is out , pen at the ready , and Eggsy sits cross-legged on the table , opposite Maisie.   fully prepared to do what it takes to succeed in this personal mission.       ❛    so run it by me again , yeah   ?   how do I impress  ‘er  family   ?    I gotta hold my own , you know , as a  run-’a-the-mill  white boy.    ❜    

@ggawain    /    sc.

[fatestroke-blog]

@ggawain

“ Hammiiissshhh–come here and let me KISS YOU. “

“Let’s keep it professional, Gawain. Disarm the bomb, get yourself home in one piece and then you can kiss me as much as you’d like.”

[fatestroke-blog]

@ggawain ((AKA the medieval AU novel nobody asked for.))

Merlin was not born of two worlds so much as he’d been made from them: the flames of Hell itself pulsed beneath the primordial magic of the earth, drawing upon the waning strength of every pagan idol cursed to fall before the spread of Christianity. Fire and glamour brought forth life from his virgin mother’s womb and he was born with every arcane secret of unholy art etched into the corners of his mind. He’d known just what he was from the moment he could remember his dreams. In the spaces between sleep and consciousness, infinite futures spread out before him. Layers of dimensionality revealed themselves as the boundaries of time and space fell away before him. Science and mathematic formulae--still in infancy in his own time--stretched forward and he woke each morning with strings of numbers and theorems upon his lips, just waiting to be shared. He knew he was the Devil’s child then, for knowledge was original sin and he was created to be a teacher. 

With this revelation came that of the sway he held in the realm of the waking. A single thought and the elements bowed to his command, plants snaking up from the ground and gales swirling across the sky to caress his flesh. Were that not enough, he cut a figure strange. Even grown and aged, he remained hairless and wide-eyed with innocence as a newborn child, fingers long and gangly as twigs and legs that carried him towering above the gentry even when he hunched his shoulders. The stares of mortal humans bored into his being, their fear at the sight of him screaming out from their unconscious minds. Desperate to prove them wrong, Merlin vowed that he would find benevolence in his power, but how? The answer came when the emissaries of King Vortigern came to his town in search of council. Having exhausted the resources of every architect for miles around, it seemed there could be no explanation for the continued disrepair of his castle and he was forced to chase legends of seers and sages of the paranormal.

From the plane of imaginative metaphor or in reality, Merlin was uncertain, but the vision could not be clearer, “the castle crumbles because two dragons fight beneath,” he told the King’s messengers, “no kingdom built on violence can know peace. You must choose a successor who might love rather than fear that which defies his understanding, who will transcend time and live on in legend as a keeper of peace, who will show the dragons within your foundations that they’ve more in common than they’ve reason to remain at war…” soon enough, the little prince Arthur was born of warring kingdoms married and Merlin finally understood what goodness could be found in realms unseen.

From the moment his eyes met those of the baby prince, Merlin vowed undying fealty; he would not follow in his father’s footsteps and attempt to lay claim to a throne that was not his. Instead, he would live as a monastic sage and impart his gifts in service. Second sight meant advice from unique perspectives, science gave way to truth. And wasn’t sharing all he had without want of reward an act of God? Wasn’t kneeling before a higher power in reverence the ultimate act of chivalry? Rebellion was his father’s trade and he wanted nothing more than to disavow that legacy…

…Though, as Merlin soon discovered, this was easier said than done. Try as he might, humanity remained elusive. Every averted gaze and tremble of fear brought hot, stinging tears to his eyes even now, and it seemed that no magic could dissuade estrangement. He’d lived a thousand years before his birth, the conscious choice to begin anew the earliest memory he could recall without the use of magic. His life and wisdom forfeit for a prophesy, all so that his body and mind might grow alongside that of his once and future king. Nevertheless, it was an illusion that passed quickly, immortality catching up to him quickly enough that even in the guise of youth, he found himself playing out the role of mentor rather than friend. There was affection to be sure, but never kinship. Soon enough, he realized that to live as mortals did was an impossible dream, the cold awakening from which only served to isolate him further. It was easier to feign domesticity, to hide his true nature behind parlor tricks for the royal family’s amusement. Safer to treat magic as something he had than something he was. Soon enough, he rejected nature’s embrace of kinship, separating himself from earth and air by cloistering himself behind layers of hooded robes. He wore a perfectly human mask, even when the magic in his veins itched to transform him.

Eventually, such compromise became enough. That which could be tamed brought minimal fear and Merlin was more than content to play the broken steed. In truth, it pleased him to see smiles on the faces of the King and court. Through a gaze blurred with tears, affirmation appeared near-identical to love. Sealed away in his glass time capsule, he watched as the years slipped by around him. In what seemed mere moments, Arthur came of age and ascended to the throne while his step-brother Kay’s cold heart melted with the sort of love that only parenthood could instill. Only seeming seconds more, and Arthur had won the hand of the soon-to-be Queen. Still content with servitude in lieu of love, Merlin shared in the King’s joy with performance. Flames without candles flickered in glass orbs above the proceedings, an enchantment that had come to him in bleary-eyed dream of the future. Stringing himself across the lutes and fiddles of the King’s bards, he brought forth songs of the past, present, and soon-to-be. He conjured parlour tricks to accompany the jesters’ comedies and gave the poets’ rhymes illustration in stardust. Then, as the final lovers’ waltzes wafted from the tired bards’ fingers, he prepared to slip away into the night, his part played and every encore spent.

Feeling a tug upon his sleeve, Merlin turned. It was Kay’s daughter, a woman now, all smiles and vigor despite the late hour. He’d still worn the face and mindset of child when the boy-king’s niece was born and they’d shared something akin to friendship once. In the early days of Arthur’s kingship, they’d spend hours hunched over books together, despite Kay’s distrust of women reading (it was against the natural order of things, Kay had claimed, to which Merlin had replied with all due reverence, “perhaps, but no more so than I am.”) As time went on, Merlin recognized and even looked forward to the princess’s summons all the more. Their conversations had varied from the personal to the philosophical, her strength of character an inspiration to him, nearly enough to make him forget that he’d good reason to hide his true nature.  Nearly, very nearly, but soon enough, she’d grown to marrying age, ripe to continue her line while he remained a court oddity suspended under glass. Though he’d treasured those fleeting moments of kinship, they only served as a pale reminder of the human joys forbidden to him.

Thus, Merlin addressed the princess with little inkling of familiarity save that which duty called for: a deep bow and a reverent nod before the requisite, “good evening, your Highness. To what do I owe the honor?”