#simpleservantmerlin

BLOG RATES

for neckerchiefsandmagic:

Do I Follow Them?: yesssssssss.

Why Did I Follow Them?: funny story. i came to her with headcanons and she encouraged me to role-play after i entertained the idea and now here we are and i love her to death. 

Do We Role Play?: -looks at the 4534985 threads/verses we got- no, not at all. us? role-play? naaaaah.

Do I Want To Role Play With Them: of course i do. always and forever.

An AU Idea For Our Muses: uh, geez. what don’t we have right now? we should do a mafia AU or something.

A Song For Our Muses: “Magic” by Coldplay

Do I Ship Our Muses?:  damn skippy i do.

What I Think About The Mun: i love her to death. and she knows it very well, too.

Overall Opinion: absolutely wonderful muse, even more wonderful mun. wonderful writer and a fantastic person in general. i right now cannot even begin to imagine things without you in my life. i love you.

Blog Rate: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 x over 9000

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for simple-servant-merlin:

Do I Follow Them?: yes i do. :>

Why Did I Follow Them?: it was a curiosity thing at first! just to read and watch, and then i finally got the nerve to speak with her. and well, it’s been perfect chemistry since.

Do We Role Play?: YES.

Do I Want To Role Play With Them: forever and ever.

An AU Idea For Our Muses: honestly, i don’t know! we have such awesome AUs going on right now. but we’ve both so flexible that we’ll come up with something. :>

A Song For Our Muses: “The Reason” by Hoobastank

Do I Ship Our Muses?: yessssss. 

What I Think About The Mun: she’s such a sweetheart. a talented writer and such a funny person. another person i am super grateful to have become friends with. she’s a darling. 

Overall Opinion: utter perfection, muse and mun alike. a joy to interact with IC and OOC. 

Arthur swallowed hard at Merlin, at the words that gave way to his breaking resolve, and he had to bite his lip and remind himself that one of them needed... needed to keep the faith. Because even if Arthur wanted to give up hope, even if he wanted to give in and admit the same thing in as broken a voice as Merlin had...

One of them needed to be the person who said they would get through this, that they would make everything right again--together. Usually, that person was Merlin. Merlin always seemed to have such hope in everything, always seemed to know they would somehow save their kingdom or their friend or win the battle or whathaveyou...

But this time it was different. This time it was Merlin losing hope in everything and Arthur the one left to pick things up and try to make things right again. He was the king, of course, so it was expected of him... But Merlin had never... never needed him to be that persn--not like his people so often did.

"Well, you’d better get used to it." Arthur sighed, hands on his hips as he gave a lithe little shake of his head, looking down at the numerous kittens—well, okay, there were maybe five or six, or maybe even seven; if they would hold still long enough for Arthur to properly count them, he could be more sure of how many they were dealing with here—on his floor, climbing over one another and moving playfully, lively about with one another, making tiny sounds as they nipped and pawed at one another. 

They were so… tiny, and fluffy, and… adorable. Why anyone would ever even consider wanting to kill them was beyond Arthur; perhaps that had been why they had been brought to him instead, by that god damn farmer who’d had the gall to suggest Arthur do his dirty work for him—how he’d even gotten past the guards to begin with was beyond Arthur, actually…

Arthur shook his head, an amused smile taking over his face as he observed Merlin and the look he was giving him. “It’s not that cold, you baby.” He said with a roll of his eyes.

send me a line

"Merlin…" Arthur began, but stopped himself in that instant, a frown marring his face. He settled the stack of wood he had gathered just earlier to keep the fire burning enough to keep them warm. His stomach burned from hunger, but he did his best to conceal it; they had not been lucky in hunting this far north, and it seemed word about his and Merlin’s bounties had spread far enough that he was lucky his head had not been lopped off upon arrival. The gold amount was growing, last he overheard when he and Merlin were able to sit at the far end of a tavern with relative safety. There were some hunters who were chasing anyone who looked remotely like them; some unfortunate young men were captured, then killed when it was found out that they weren’t the exiled king and the suspected servant from Camelot. The two of them had left shortly after that, the mead suddenly overwhelmingly bitter on their tongues, and the depression mounting within their minds.

They were no closer to finding the truth to what happened to the duchess. There was no evidence that could pardon Merlin, and who knows what was happening in Camelot with Agravaine taking charge. Arthur was now a mad king, detailed to be dangerous and unpredictable. Merlin was this cold blood murderer. They were wanted, preferably alive, but the details allowed for their bodies to be dragged in and confirmed if need be.

Arthur had kept his sword at bay, having fought many a fight with hunters and bandits looking for a quick piece of gold or several. They weren’t able to stay in one place for long, which made for finding answers to be that much harder. Morale and mood were being impacted by it; they were also hungry, and tired. All of that seemed to culminate especially with Merlin, who sat there, blaming himself, and it took effort for the former king to smack him upside the head. No, instead, he rested a hand on his shoulder, to grab Merlin’s attention. To look into his eyes, to spark that fire within him again. He couldn’t blame himself! He did nothing wrong and needed to believe in that!

Arthur needed him to be strong, for he was only as strong Merlin was.

"It’s not your fault," he finally said after a time. "There was nothing that could have been done, and I wasn’t going to let you take the fall for a crime that you didn’t commit—even if it meant us having to flee as we did.” Arthur stood, and faced Merlin, kneeling down before him so that their eyes could be level. “Look, we’re going to figure this out. You’re going to have your innocence back and I will have my crown back, do you hear me? I don’t care what it takes. We will find a way. So don’t go giving up on me now, alright, Merlin?”

In that moment, he leaned forward, and embraced his servant, his best friend, holding him tight with hope that it would restore some fight back in him. 

HIT ON MY MUSE! [MAY BE NSFW]

Arthur gave Merlin a hard stare, unable to continue distracting himself from the stack of papers he had on his desk. He said nothing for a time, lips pursed, wondering if he really had it in him to humor Merlin this time. The man could be so infuriating when he spoke sometimes, acting as if he knew it all. He really had no authority to speak to the King in such a manner, as if he really knew what ran through his mind and heart. Though, truth be told, if one could dissect his mind and his heart, he would find the burning embers of truth struggling to catch flame again. They would struggle, only because the blonde was continuously pouring water over them, wanting to wash away such feelings that had no right to exist within him. Not for anyone, especially for Merlin.

He stood, slowly, hands pressed firmly against his desk without tearing his gaze away, pushing his chair back and making a slow round about the furniture in order to get closer to his manservant. “Don’t deny it?” He repeated in the form of a question, making slow, calculated steps until he was nearly flush against Merlin—to the point where he could feel the warmth of the other man’s breath against him. He was quiet again, idly reaching up to toy with the fabric of the neckerchief. He swallowed, and ignored the kick of his heart as its pumps sped up a notch. “Okay,” he said, sliding his fingers beneath the neckerchief, to touch the skin underneath which was surely more sensitive. “I won’t.”

Arthur’s eyes had only moved from Merlin’s then, to focus on where he was touching: underneath his neckerchief, shifting to his other hand trailing down the leather sleeve of Merlin’s jacket.  ”But, what does that mean for me then, Merlin, hmm?” His voice had dropped down to nearly a whisper, fingers now touching fingers that just barely poked out of the sleeves that were too long for that lanky body. The hand that toyed with the skin beneath the neckerchief moved up and rested against the side of his manservant’s face then. Arthur brought his gaze sharply upon him again then, half-lidded, a layer of something darkening normally clear hues. “Does that mean you’ll let me explore that like?” He drew closer, where now he could feel Merlin’s breath over his lips.

They were close, so close…