#hamish

[arrapso]

'An affair of the heart' ROs X

[doriana-gray-games]

hello! if i recall correctly, you've said h doesn't really enjoy being like. aggressively flirted with. if i played w/ a mc that's both flirty as a way to be annoying & also kind of a jerk (that's what i've done so far lol) would that lock me out of the h route? bc i rlly wanna romance h. and also annoy them.

It won’t lock you out necessarily—but it will be a very, very different romance route 🌝

I’m sort of still feeling out where that romance version will end up later in the game, but in the meantime, it will be intense eye contact, witty comebacks, and a disappointed yet annoyingly attracted H.

Very -> You repel me, yet draw me in something horrendously, you vixen.

[jkr-sketches]

[lizard-soup]

fat dudes

[screwzara]

NEW ART DROPPED

Characters:

Lin - My OC

Lil - Lil Guardsman

Hamish - Lil Guardsman

I was attempting to practice their in-game proportions in the last pic :')

[goodoldcharley]

[everythingbutresolved]

I needed a high def version of this pic because of... reasons. Sue me.

[illiana-mystery]

Hamish and the Toy Boat

[scarlettacklen1986]

I Don't Want To Rember •Kingsman Merlin•

Word count: 1157

Type: Angsty fluff

Warning: Mentions of Death and grieving

Paring: Merlin × Oc (description is kept limited name can easily be changed when reading)

Summary: Maggie can't process her feelings about Merlin coming back to her

Maggie was sat at the kitchen table again, it was nearly 3 am and her head was hung over a cup of coffee.

"Mag?" She looked up to see Merlin coming down the stairs of their house.

"Hey babe, I didn't mean to wake you," she smiled.

"You didn't, I woke up naturally, and realised you weren't next to me," he said.

"I just had a nightmare, don't worry about it,"

"What about?" Merlin asked sitting across from her.

"You know what it was about," she said with a heavy sigh.

"I'm alive darling," he reached for her hand but Maggie retracted her hand setting it in her lap.

"Sorry, I'm still shaking it off," she mumbled.

"I love you," he said

"Love you too,"

"Go back to bed," she said "I'll be up in a minute" she assured

Maggie never came back to bed, Merlin found her the next day on the couch asleep.

"I...I just don't know Harry, it feels like she's pulling away from me," Merlin said to Harry as they ate in his office.

"It was traumatic for her too, she watched you die, she grieved you, then she helped get you back and she helped Ginger with your surgery, she's probably still processing," Harry assured him.

"Why won't she talk to me about it?" Merlin asked.

"She doesn't talk about her feelings and she probably feels as though she shouldn't complain because you're the one who came back to life," he said.

"You make more sense than you should," Merlin said.

"I read a lot of romance books," Harry shrugged.

"You read spy novels," Merlin argued.

"I change the dust covers to spy novels," Harry said amused Merlin shook his head with a chuckle leaving to his own office.

He hadn't seen Maggie all day, she said she was too busy working vitals on Roxy and Eggsy's blood from their last mission, an undercover that went wrong and ended in both of them getting injected with a mix of poisons that they had to scramble to get an antidote to.

Maggie had been frantic figuring out the antidote as Eggsy sat holding a puke bucket as he threw up blood, Roxy held out bearly any better but she had gotten to the all-acting poison negator, all it did was slow the poison down.

But Merlin could see the file, she'd ran their blood and done every test she could on both their most recent blood samples and the ones taken when they were injected.

"She's probably working on a better and quicker antidote than what we had," Merlin mumbled. "Yeah, that's all she's doing,"

Maggie came home later than Merlin. "Hey, you hungry?" Merlin smiled.

"Not really, darling I've been working on a proper antidote for months, seriously months and nothing is working," she complained.

"Literally nothing! I can't even figure out what the poisons in that mix were, if I could do that, I could work out a mix of the antidotes for each of those poisons," she groaned as she collapsed on the couch.

"You'll figure it out my love, you always do," Merlin said kissing her cheek, Maggie smiled looking over her notes.

"Thank you, love"

"Put the notes down, they'll be there tomorrow," Merlin said later in the night Maggie sighed rubbing her eyes.

"You're right, I've got a couple theories to try in the lab tomorrow," she said placing the book down.

"Come on, to bed we go," he said holding onto her hand pulling her up off the couch.

"I love you," Maggie smiled kissing him, Merlin kissed back crowding her against the door.

He trailed his kisses down her neck, Maggie pushed away. "I. . .I can't I'm sorry," she said.

"What? What is your problem? Are you afraid to look at my scars? Disgusted? Do you think you're too good for me now? That I'm damaged goods now? Huh!" Merlin shouted.

"No! Of course not!" Maggie said quickly.

"Then look at me like I'm a person again!"

"I can't! Okay? I just can't! It's too much all I see is the view from your glasses as you exploded! How your voice just stopped! The blood on your glasses! And I had Ginger telling me we needed to continue the mission and help Harry and Eggsy! But I couldn't and then weeks later we found you and oh my god the state you were in.

I collapsed into Tequila, Then. . .Then Ginger needed help during the surgery and you were flatling and the machines were going off and Ginger was fanatically trying to get you breathing again and I. . .Froze until Harry came in to calm me down, tell me it wasn't you, it was any other agent I've performed surgery on, we had to cover your face, I could barely even function as a medic, never mind as your wife.

I sat on the floor of my surgery room just thinking, thinking, what if you died, what if you flatlined and I froze again with no one to help, what if you got better and went back into the field and you got hurt again and I couldn't do anything and every time I see those scars, It's all I think about, I can only see you nearly dead on my table, I love you but I'm scared!" She cried sat on the edge of their bed with her head in her hands.

"And I'm so selfish because I can't imagine what you're going through if I'm like this, I can't imagine what your head is like and I-I don't know how to talk about it because you don't like to talk about your emotions and I'm fine with that! Because it's always small things like Eggsy pissing you off, even when you were grieving Harry we didn't talk about it much I could deal with them, I know those emotions, I've felt them but how do I deal with this,"

Merlin knelt in front of her. "Maggie, look at me," he said gently.

"Don't act like I'm a child Hamish" She groaned.

"I'm not but I need you to look at me" he said.

Maggie rested her chin on her hands looking at him, he took her hand. "Trust me," he said gently, he moved her hand under his shirt placing it over his heart. "You can feel that right?" She nodded "I'm alive and I'm healthy and that's because of you and your amazing work, you keep each and every single Kingsman healthy and alive and I love you for that," he leaned up kissing her.

"How about this, we go to sleep, if you wake up with a nightmare, you wake me up as well and we work through it together, you're not selfish, this hurts you as much as me, I didn't suffer alone and you won't either,"

Maggie smiled kissing him "Thank you," she said gently.

They settled into bed, Maggie laid against Merlin's chest listening to his heart and it was the first time in months she'd slept soundly.

[pantalonesdezebra]

just fell in love with matthew kimble your honor

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Tell the Bees

It shouldn’t be so sunny.

Angus knows that the sun doesn’t stop shining, the birds don’t stop singing, and flowers don’t stop blooming because death happens. 

But it still feels like the world should mourn at least a little for someone who mourned every loss she saw in it. The herb garden is full of tiny stick-and-stone grave markers for every hummingbird, bumblebee, and butterfly his mother had ever found lying cold and dead in their paths. The stump of the tree that a lightning strike felled stands ahead of him, carved into the intricate shape of a barely-opened lily. 

And the reason there’s another grave, a bigger, deeper, more elaborately memorialized one, is that Eleanor Robinson had never gotten over the loss of her husband.

Angus thinks that the least the world could do is make a permanent little cloud like the one she carried with her for so many months. 

He follows Grandda through the grass, knee-high on him, to the set of softly-buzzing wooden boxes in the meadow behind the house. 

The two of them don’t bother with smoke as they knock on the sides of the boxes with the tips of their fingers. A golden cloud surrounds them, the sound sinking into Angus’s bones and the feeling of tiny feet on his arms and cheeks more grounding than frightening. 

His grandfather’s voice is a rumble as deep and earthy as the hum of the hives themselves. 

“Tha i air falbh.”

“She is gone.” 

The humming changes a note, from the cheerful chatter of a happy, working hive to a subdued whispering sound, like the change from rain on the roof to the rasp of branches against a window. There’s something haunting in it now.

Angus shivers as that sound, too, seeps into his bones, runs through his veins, and draws prickling tears, unbidden, into his eyes.

Grandda is singing now, under his breath. The notes seem jarring, discordant, and shaky. Angus has never heard the song before, but some part of him still knows it. He lets it call out to the places inside him that are as raw and broken as its melody, and joins in, first a whisper, then a hum, then something like a sob. 

The bees lift from his arms and face, clustering over the hives, bodies rising and falling in a shifting mass. He’s never seen them act like this before. 

His mother had refused to tell them Dad was dead. 

Refused to believe it.

Refused to mourn him and move on and live again.

Grandda had said it simply, when he threw the first handful of earth into her grave.

“It was never the grief that killed her. It was the hope.”

Grandda’s hands fall on Angus’s shoulders, and he wipes his tears away with both hands before turning to look up at him.

“This is the way it should be,” Grandda says. “They will carry our sorrow into the skies.”

The dark golden cloud of bees rises into the air, swirling and churning like a storm. 

Their shadow falls across the hives, across the meadow, across Grandda and Angus standing and watching them rise.

All he needed to do was wait.

There was always going to be a cloud for his mother. 

(You can read this story and more from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies  @writeouswriter

[crimswnred]

If you cracked my head open you’ll probably just find Ham. You are what you eat!

can I still do it though?

[doriana-gray-games]

I know summer is ending, and I gave a tentative deadline for the new chapter at “end of summer”—but if we can all pretend summer is still happening even into September, I would be very grateful ❤️

Here is a bribe:

I finished the Hamish painting! ✨ (but remember, this is non-canon!!!) Now I am free to draw the girls ✨💖✨

[verse-the-comic]

You know what, just for fun, here’s two characters that’ll eventually be coming up in the future. I’ll post their crewmates in a couple of days.

[lizard-soup]

Trying his best to be a good influence                                    

[6monthsofwinter]

Oliver Postgate musta been on some whack ass shrooms when he wrote the Bagpuss episode about the small soft Hamish.

If you don't know, Bagpuss is a kids' show from the 70s (?) about a toy cat and his chums who keep finding Objects and being like "tf is this brah" and Bagpuss is like "this is the foolish fluffy fiddlestick from Finland you flibbertigibbets" and then tells them all about the foolish fluffy fiddlestick from Finland. And then the woodpecker (chum #1) goes like nyehhh nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh nonsense (direct quote btw) and the rag doll and frögge (chums #2 and #3) are like ACKSHUALLY it's a fly swatter but nice try bozo. And then they sing a song. There are some mice sometimes too :3

ANYWAY one episode starts with them finding a weird tartan rat thing (fig. A) and they're like "🤔" and then Bagpuss gets his Thinking Cap and clocks that it's a "small soft Hamish" and tells the story of Tavish McTavish, a Scottish fella who lived in the mountains because every other human being fucking hated him cause he was bad at playing the bagpipes. And then one day he hears someone else being really shit at bagging the pipes and he's like "Crikey!!! It must be my long-lost brother Hamish McTavish!" And then it walks up and it's actually this weird tartan creature??? And it's small and soft and he dubs it the Hamish (Fig. B) because its call sounds like his brother playing the bagpipes. And by the way it also has a long-lost brother. And then it fucks off cause its family show up and Tavish is all alonesome :( so he moves BACK down the mountain to civilisation and just never plays the bagpipes again. Cause everyone hates it. And he never finds his brother ever again, too bad so sad, the end.

But not really the end cause then the woodpecker goes like "Bagpuss you dopey twat it's a porcupine just without any spines" and Bagpuss goes like "bull fucking shit there ain't no thing" and the frögge and the rag doll sing a song to try motivate the porcupine to grow some spines? But the song is about a porcupine "sailing" a hot air balloon around the world and then its spines pop the balloon and it falls? And they realise at the end that that was a fairly fucking stupid choice of song to motivate it to grow MORE spines and anyway guys false alarm it's actually just a pincushion. So then the mice chant while dancing in circles and ritualistically stabbing it with dozens of pins like it's Julius fucking Caesar (Fig. C) and THEN the episode ends. Fucking WILD.

But seriously you should watch Bagpuss it's so good

Fig. A: The porcupine pre-ritualistic murder

Fig. B: The small soft Hamish engages in intimate relations with Tavish McTavish

Fig. C: The mice dance around the perforated corpse of the porcupine