Arthur e Gwen Club
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I am asking for a reason. What I see is someone who needs to sleep. Tumblr has exploded on this shot and everyone is ripping their hair out, busting ovaries and I see someone that needs sleep news at 11.
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posted by kbrand5333
Part 14: link


    Arthur sweeps back into the royal chambers, speaking as he does so. “Well, we’ve got that all worked out. The extra stations are set and the new rotation is all worked out. Leon is a genius at that, really. And I also dispatched a small cerca party west to track Lord Dungba…” he trails off when he hears a watery noise from the sleeping quarters. He drops his gloves and sword cintura on the tavolo and steps quietly over to investigate. He sees margherita kneeling behind Guinevere, squeezing water from her wet hair with a towel, drying it as it hangs over...
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posted by kbrand5333
Okay, so te all don't come after me with torches and pitchforks now that I've finished "Fire," I have a new giftie for te all. This first bit was inspired da the coronation kiss.

    “This crown is heavy,” Guinevere whispers into Arthur’s ear. The coronation feast is in full swing and with everyone eating they have some time to talk to one another relatively uninterrupted.
    Arthur chuckles, telling her, “Yes, in più ways than one sometimes.” Then he kisses her earlobe lightly before straightening back up. The light caress of his lips makes...
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He was striving for innocuous unsuccessfully at the moment what with constant drip, drip, drip, down the back of his collare like slow water torture from the tromba delle scale above.

Still, it was an excellent vantage point for strada, via level. That is so long as he continued to crouch just below sight lines. He flexed fatigued thigh muscles cracking his spine for good measure and felt some semblance of relief in the movement.

Damp leather gloves adjusted his collare as he hissed feeling the pull of the impromptu patchwork quilt Merlin had done closing the wound on his forearm just hours before; would have...
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posted by kbrand5333
Part 35: link


    “I never knew room-temperature chicken could taste so good,” Arthur says, taking another bite from a leg.
    “That’s the beauty of fried chicken. Even cold, it’s still good.”
    They are sitting close together on the sofa, a regal spread from KFC arrayed on the tavolo in front of them. Gwen has her feet tucked up, her toes snuggled under Arthur’s thigh. She is wearing her preferito t-shirt of his again.
    “You know, I have an entire drawer full of t-shirts te can choose from,”...
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