#Merlin x Elias

[thealmightea]

🔁 reblog if you ship this couples like me...

[ come back for more to check for the newest because believe me when I said this will continue til the end of time ^^ because apparently I like collecting ships like collecting stamps or coins or cards. ]

in alphabetical order

9-1-1 - Eddie and Buck (Buddie)

9-1-1 Lone Star - Carlos and T.K (Tarlos)

Addicted - Gu Hai and Bai Luoyin (Heroin)

Addicted - You Qi and Yang Meng

Alles was zählt - Deniz and Roman (Dero)

All of Us Strangers - Adam and Harry

Animal Kingdom - Deran and Adrian (Derdrian)

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Aristotle and Dante (Aridante)

As The World Turn - Noah and Luke (Nuke)

Brothers & Sisters - Kevin and Scotty

Call Me By Your Name - Oliver and Elio (Olio)

Casualty - Jez and Mickey

Class - Matteusz and Charlie

Cuffs - Simon and Jake

Days Of Our Own - Sonny and Will (Wilson)

Dead Boy Detective - Charles and Edwin (Charwin)

Degrassi - Dylan and Marco

Degrassi - Miles and Tristan

Degrassi - Riley and Zane (Ziley)

Demain Nous Appartient - Rayane and Jack (Jayane)

EastEnders - Christian and Syed (Chryed)

El Cor De La Ciutat - Iago and Max (Maxiago)

El juego de las llaves - Valentin and Daniel

Emmerdale - Robert and Aaron (Robron)

Eu Não Quero Voltar Sozinho and Hoje Eu Quero Voltar Sozinho - Gabriel and Leonardo

Élite - Omar and Ander (Omander)

Eyewitness - Lukas and Phillip (Philkas)

Fellow Travelers - Hawk and Tim

Fisica O Quimica - Fernando and David

Free! - Makoto and Haru (Makoharu)

Free! - Rei and Nagisa (Nagirei)

Free! - Sōsuke and Rin

Freier Fall - Kay and Marc

Glee - Blaine and Kurt (Klaine)

Goede tijden, slechte tijden - Lucas and Edwin (Ludwin)

Grey's Anatomy - Nico and Levi (Schmico)

Hannibal - Hannibal and Will (Hannigram)

Hawaii Five O - Steve and Danno (McDanno)

Heartstopper - Nick and Charlie (Narlie)

Hit The Floor - Zero and Jude (Zude)

How To Get Away With Murder - Connor and Oliver (Coliver)

Hunter X Hunter - Leorio and Kurapika

In The Flesh - Simon and Kieren (Siren)

Interview with The Vampire - Lestat and Louis (Loustat)

Julie and The Phantoms - Alex and Willie

Kuroko no Basket - Aomine and Kise (Aokise)

Kuroko no Basket - Kagami and Kuroko (Kagakuro)

Kuroko no Basket - Kiyoshi and Hyūga

Kuroko no Basket - Midorima and Takao

Kuroko no Basket - Murasakibara and Himuro

Legacies - Ben and Jed

Les Misérables - Enjolras and Grantaire (Enjoltaire)

Love and Deepspace - Sylus and Xavier (Crowstar)

Love and Deepspace - Zayne and Rafayel (Snowfish)

Love Simon - Simon and Bram

Love Victor - Victor and Benji (Venji)

Man In An Orange Shirt - Steve and Adam

Man In An Orange Shirt - Michael and Thomas (Berrymarch)

Matthias & Maxime - Matthias and Maxime

MCU - Steve and Bucky (Stucky)

MCU - Spiderman and Deadpool (Spideypool)

MCU - Wolverine and Deadpool (Poolverine)

Merlí - Pol and Bruno (Brunol)

Merlin - Arthur and Merlin (Merthur)

Merlin - Percival and Gwaine (Perwaine)

Mo Dao Zu Shi / The Untamed - Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian (Wangxian)

O Beijo do Escorpião - Paulo and Miguel

One Live To Life - Oliver and Kyle

Oz - Chris and Tobias

Please Like Me - Arnold and Josh

Please Like Me - Geoffrey and Josh

Prisma - Daniele and Andrea

Queer As Folk - Ben and Michael

Queer As Folk - Brian and Justin (Britin)

Queer As Folk - Drew and Emmett

Queer As Folk - Ted and Blake

Raw - Geoff and Pavel

Red White And Royal Blue - Alex and Henry (Firstprince)

Roswell New Mexico - Michael and Alex (Malex)

Rykter - Mathias and Erik

Salatut Elämät - Lari and Elias (Larias)

Sala Samobójców - Aleksander and Dominik

Schloss Einstein - Noah and Colin (Nolin)

School 2013 - Heungsoo and Namsoon (Heungsoon)

Sense8 - Lito and Hernando

Sex Education - Adam and Eric

Shadowhunters - Magnus and Alec (Malec)

Shadowhunters - Raphael and Simon

Shameless - Ian and Mickey (Gallavich)

Skam - Even and Isak (Evak)

Skam Belgium (Wtfock) - Sander and Robbe (Sobbe)

Skam France - Eliott and Lucas (Elu)

Skam Germany (Druck) - David and Matteo (Datteo)

Skam Italia - Niccolo and Martino (Martinico)

Solo - Oskar and Milo

Spartacus - Agron and Nasir (Nagron)

Spartacus - Barca and Pietros (Bietros)

Station 19 - Travis and Emmett

Suits - Harvey and Mike

Supernatural - Dean and Castiel (Destiel)

Tatort Saarbrücken - Adam Schürk and Leo Hölzer (Hörk)

Teen Wolf - Danny and Ethan

Teen Wolf - Derek and Stiles (Sterek)

The Eagle - Marcus and Esca

The Halcyon - Toby and Adil

The Magicians - Quentin and Eliot (Queliot)

The Maze Runner - Newt and Thomas (Newtmas)

The Night Shift - Drew and Rick

The Old Guard - Joe and Nicky (Joenicky)

The Silmarillion - Melkor and Mairon (Angbang)

The Society - Sam and Grizz

The Walking Dead - Aaron and Eric

Torchwood - Jack and Ianto (Janto)

Verbotene Liebe - Oliver and Christian (Chrolli)

Voltron Legendary Defender - Keith and Lance (Klance)

Waterloo Road - Preston and Kai

Young Royal - Wilhelm and Simon (Wilmon)

Yuri! On Ice - Victor and Yuuri (Victuuri)

... to be continued ...

❣ Give me some recs pls ❣

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Family Line

pairing: regulus black x reader (?)

genre: angst

el's thoughts: way too many lyrics together and not edited :)

“But- but that’s not fair! I did what I was supposed to do!” Sobs shook his shoulders and his breathing turned ragged as he tried to hold himself together. This wasn’t how they were supposed to react, they were supposed to understand. They were supposed to be his found safe haven. Y/N said they’d understand, but he couldn’t blame her for not envisioning this type of reaction from her friends.

“I’m trying everything I could to undo it, honest to Salazar! I’m trying so so hard, you don’t understand. How could you?” Regulus pulled at his hair in frustration, his face was distraught as he started pacing. Y/N tried to reach for him but he only moved away sharply. “You left me! You ran, when push came to shove you ran! I had to stay! I am my parents child even if all I want them to be is the people who gave me life.” 

James shared a look with Remus but the latter only shook his head. The two knew there was no way around this, it was bound to happen eventually, they tried to warn the older Black. Y/N covered her mouth and turned away, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to hold in her own sobs. The three of them stood there helpless in the situation as the two brother went at each other.

“You know why I had to leave! I couldn’t stay there anymore! If I stayed there another day Merlin know I would’ve been dead!” Sirius threw his hands up in exasperation, his voice equally as loud as his younger brothers. 

Regulus looked into eyes that mirrored his own, “I became so good at lying, a trait I picked up from my mother- our mother. I’ve told a million just to survive. Just to get me here right now.” His eyes were red and his fists were flexing and relaxing repeatedly. “Unlike you, you brave Gryffindor, I can run but I can’t hide from my family. I faced the pain and you ran with all your excuses. Maybe I was a kid back then, but I wasn’t clueless, Sirius.” 

With a quick apologetic look shot towards Y/N he left the room quickly.

“Regulus- please!” A sob fell from her lips and she was quick to wipe her nose before she turned sharply to Sirius. “You’re a complete prick, you know that? He asked me for help, he want’s to take Voldemort down. He wants help! Can’t you see, he’s finally asking for help!” She turned to walk out the door when they called her name. “Don’t try to stop me.” She turned to James and Remus, “Please.”

She was going to help Regulus. She was going to be there for him even if no one else was going to stand beside them. She had to at least try.

~*~

tagging: @masivechaos @bookaholics-stuff @mad-elia @sw34terw34ther @juneberrie

[tideswept]

So~ I saw a couple of people doing this, and figured, why not? My tumblr is almost entirely Obikin/Hartwin focused atm, but I do ship other things! Rare ships! (Things that's hard to find content for tbh!)

So if you ever wonder/want to talk about other things--here's a handy list of Ships (And Related Series/Movie/Etc) Berry Will Cheerfully Listen To/And/Or Talk Your Ear Off About!

ANGEL SANCTUARY: Kira/Setsuna, Lucifer/Alexiel, Rosiel/Katan

BATMAN: Bruce/Dick

DOCTOR WHO: 9/Rose, 10/Rose

FAST & FURIOUS: Dom/Brian

FE3H: Byleth/Dimitri

FF13: Lightning/Hope

FFXIV: Emeth-Selch/WoL, Emet-Selch/Azem/Hythlodaeus, Sicard/Emmanellain

GANKUTSUOU: Edmond/Albert

GARO: Kouga/Kaoru/Rei

GENSHIN: Wriothesley/Neuvillette, Kazuha/Lumine, Ayato/Thoma, Fischl/Mona

HARRY POTTER: Snape/Harry, Tom Riddle/Harry, Sirius/Harry/Remus

HAVEN: Duke/Aubrey/Nate

HETALIA: Turkey/Greece, Greece/Spain, England/America, France/Spain

KINGDOM HEARTS: Riku/Sora, Riku/Namine, Roxas/Namine, Axel/Roxas, Terra/Ventus, Aqua/Cinderella

KINGSMAN: Harry/Eggsy, Merlin/Eggsy, Charlie/Eggsy

LABYRINTH: Jareth/Sarah

MARVEL: Bucky/Steve, Deadpool/Peter Parker, Loki/Thor

NARNIA: Lucy/Edmund, Caspian/Peter

NIER: 2B/9S

PERSONA: FeMC(Kotori)/Shinjiro, Yuu/Rise

RE4: Leon/Ashley

SHERLOCK: Mycroft/Lestrade

STAR WARS: Obi-Wan/Anakin, Qui-Gon/Anakin

THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES: Elias/Jon, Tim/Jon, Peter/Jon

THE MUMMY: Ardeth/Jonathan

THE SORCERER'S APPRENTICE: Balthazar/Dave

THE VAMPIRE CHRONICLES: Lestat/Louis, Armand/Daniel, Marius/Daniel

TSUKIUTA: You/Yoru, Arata/Aoi

TWEWY: Josh/Neku

TWIN PEAKS: Cooper/Audrey

X-MEN: Charles/Erik, Rogue/Gambit

I'm probably forgetting quite a few, but uhhh this is pretty darn long already.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Corrupted, chapter 20 - a TMA x Malevolent crossover

“Are you saying I’m actually baby Merlin?” Tim blurts.

“Yes,” says Myrddin. “Though it is very rare nowadays. I haven’t seen one who presented so strongly in… goodness. At least a hundred years. Closer to two.”

“Hastur,” says Tim.

I heard.

"Hastur,” says Tim.

This complicates things.

Corrupted, a TMA x Malevolent crossover. Tim Stoker/King in Yellow.

AO3

------------

There is sound, like voices heard underwater.

Movement, up and down, vertiginous and sickening, confusing up and down and sideways.

The roaring, breathing surge of ocean.

More voices—including his own, and he can feel it rumble, and his tongue work. The movement stops, and distantly, vaguely, he thinks he is being carried. Jon’s voice. Someone else’s voice? Some man Tim doesn’t know.

Darkness swells again like unheard waves, and Tim goes under.

#

He wakes in a room he has definitely never seen before. It looks old, if well-kept: simple whitewash over dark beams, simple wooden bed and chair, a window swung open to invite the twilight air.

Tim stares. He can see the ocean, relentlessly rushing toward them and shushing in calm; he can see a small set of out buildings, and far, far away, over the sea, hunched dark shapes that could be land.

The air is incredible. This isn't air he’s ever known. It reminds him of the St. Elias mountains (yes, that is the name) in Canada, when he'd taken his gap year (and still believes spending his brief life's savings on that trip was the best decision he could have made).

It’s air that has never known a motor. Air that shares space with livestock and people, who make their own smells. Air that sleeps in gardens and orchards and over the unknown sea.

“Did we fall into the set of Merlin?” he blurts.

“Oh, that’s funny,” says a voice Tim knows but doesn’t. “All that boasting, and Jon didn’t say you were clever!”

What the actual hell? 

Tim turns to find an old man smiling at him. He can’t clock where this guy's from. Not that Tim profiles people generally, but something about this man is so very different that he can’t help wondering. His thick, white beard looks somehow both silky-neat and birds-nest ratty, grown so long it pools in his lap. He’s wearing a purple robe, to boot—and not some fancy cult robe, either. This one has goofy yellow stars on it, like it came from Party City.

Tim cannot help himself. “Gandalf? Is that you?”

The man smiles. “Good to see the humor’s carried through.”

Eh? “Sure.” Tim tries to sit up, and that does not feel good, so he lies back down again.

This is… peaceful. He hears no cars, no music, no news broadcasts. Just the sea, whispering peace, over and over again. Just this dark-beamed ceiling and whitewashed walls, just simple, comfortable furniture and… Gandalf, apparently.

And Hastur is silent.

Tim tenses. Hastur is never silent. That’s just not his thing. But if this guy is a threat, and Hastur is hiding, and Tim says Hastur’s name and draws attention to him…

Casually, he stretches, then places his right hand over his left, and taps his palm a little. At the same time, to distract, he speaks. “So, not Gandalf? Gonna go out on a limb and hope you aren’t actually Saruman, or this will get messy.”

The man smiles. “I should hope not. I think even Saruman doesn't want to be Saruman, eh?” He laughs.

It’s a… sort of Welsh accent, maybe from somewhere north Wales? “Sure,” says Tim. “Kinda noticed you didn’t tell me anything else, though.” He taps again.

This time, just once, Hastur’s left index finger taps back. Tim exercises every single ounce of skill he has in acting and charm to keep from showing his incredible, huge relief.

The man smiles more broadly. “Well, we can do this in a couple of ways,” he says. "Do you want the gentle, polite approach? There's the one where I break it all to you slowly, and all that. Or do you prefer the sudden shock approach, like jumping into cold water?”

Hastur’s hand tightens just a little.

Tim waits. Hastur is afraid; but he’s nowhere near as terrified as he was with that guy they just ran from, or even when facing Kayne. “All right,” Tim says. “I’ll bite. Always been good at biting—with permission, anyway. Hit me.”

“I’m Myrddin. You are my descendent," says the old man like the sky is blue. He pronounces it Mer-thin, the “th” voiced like this or that or there.

Tim stares at him. For once, in a rare moment of his life, he has absolutely nothing to say.

Myrddin wrinkles his nose. “I’ll give you a minute,” he says, and goes to the small basin by the door.

Still there? Tim whispers in his mind, so very quietly.

“In the interest of being polite,” cautions Myrddin, back to them while he futzes with who knows what, “I can hear you. Oh, and him. You can tell him not to be so afraid. I don’t have anything I particularly want to do with him.”

Well. That certainly changes things. “Hastur,” Tim says.

Shh. He can hear me.

“He knows you’re there already, dingbat,” says Tim, sounding light and playful and not at all terrified, because he knows (knows, knows) that without meaning to, Hastur will take his lead here. (And that opens a whole weird can of worms, because Tim knows he’s affecting the god, and isn’t sure why, or how, just that it’s happening, and oh, boy, if he dives into that now, he’s going to lose his shit. SO.)

I… but…

“I've got you,” says Tim. “Might as well not cower in a corner. If he was gonna eat you, he’d have done it when I was out and couldn’t do anything to stop him.”

Hastur makes the smallest noise. It’s not quite a whimper, but it’s close.

Tim holds his left hand, threading the fingers. “I’ve got you. I just wanted to be sure you’re okay. Right?”

Okay, says Hastur, soft.

“Okay,” agrees Tim, and sits up fully. There are subtle, wonderful scents; he can’t identify them, but they’re woodsy, herbal, nice. They help as he tries to figure out how to respond to this weirdo. “So… Uncle Myrddin, I guess? Sooooo... what the shiiiiiit?”

Myrddin laughs, his back still turned to them. “I was going to ask you! And I’m really more of a great-great-great…” He briefly pauses, looking up at the ceiling and revealing the neat part of his silvery hair, then shrugs and resumes futzing. “Just call me Myrddin. I think the number of generations between us makes it prohibitive to do anything else.”

“Look, sorry,” Tim starts.

“Forgiven,” says Myrddin, turning around with a small tray and a twinkle in his eye.

“Ha, clever,” says Tim. “But look: I don’t believe you?”

“I’d be disappointed if you did.” Myrddin brings over the tray and hands it to him. On it are a hunk of simple bread that looks and smells homemade, and a bowl of cawl—a hearty stew of lamb and seasonal vegetables.

Seeing food suddenly reminds Tim. “Where’s Jon?”

“Oh, he’s in my library,” says Myrddin. “I’ve tried to get him to eat, but he keeps forgetting. He’s ridden quite hard, that one.”

“Ridden?” says Tim, low.

“A borrowed word, honestly,” says Myrddin, “from numerous philosophies and religions, but I find it particularly appropriate here.”

“And I’m ridden too, probably?” says Tim.

“Nope!” Myrddin beamed. “You’ve got your hand firmly on the wheel. Not like that one. No, he's... he's made for this, if I'm honest. Practically custom-designed.”

So that was horrifying. “You know,” says Tim casually, still holding Hastur’s hand, “I feel like maybe we skipped a few vital steps on the way to Cordial Town?"

Myrddin laughed. “We did, we did. That’s because your enemies are currently circling my little enclosure like vultures, desperately hoping you’ve drowned, but not too recently, or they can’t harvest your companion.”

Oh, that took… a moment to process. “How could they be doing that? I was in Sheffield. Where are we, anyway?”

“Ynys Enlli,” says Myrddin. “Better known as Bardsey Isle.”

That is all the way north. North of England. In the freaking North Sea. Tim stares. “Oh, sure. Might as well have taken us to space, yeah?”

“Oh, I hope not,” says Myrddin. “Our kind does terribly out there. What with our magic coming from the Earth, and all.”

Tim stares harder. “Right, back to the skipping a few vital steps part?”

Myrddin sighs, and the faux cheer mostly evaporates. “I am sorry. I haven’t left this place in nearly a hundred twenty years, and I’ve barely spoken to anyone beyond family, and a curt sort of thank you to those who are still kind enough to bring me supplies. I’m botching this quite a lot.”

“You don’t sound like someone from a century ago,” Tim says. “You sound modern.”

“No, you hear modern. My dear boy, I am speaking a language that predates the Proto-Celtic.”

“Riiight,” says Tim, because this is terrifying in implication. “So. How the hell do we prove this literally insane assertion?”

“Oh! Silly me,” says the man who looks nothing like Tim, and does—

Something?

Power. Resonance? Recognition, says Tim’s gut, but he doesn’t know what that means. All he knows is how this feels, in his core, through his soul, and a strange, strange sight it is. He and this Myrddin are the same. Some deep, glowing red ribbon weaves through both of them, touching the little threads that seem to be holding him in his body, matching in color and shifting crimson hue. It is the same. It is unarguably the same—except for the dark blotch, like a bite, that seem to have taken a chunk out of Tim’s side.

He looks down. He’s uninjured, but…

“Ah, yes,” says Myrddin sort of sadly. “Not so much ridden, but I fear you are quite infected.”

The vision fades. Tim releases the breath he was holding.

Myrddin kindly gives him a moment, contentedly chewing a piece of bread.

It's all landing now, all of it, implications, outright statements, weird factoids and details, and Tim can no longer avoid the simple truth. “Are you saying I’m actually baby Merlin?” he blurts.

“Yes,” says Myrddin. “Though it is very rare nowadays. I haven’t seen one who presented so strongly in… goodness. At least a hundred years. Closer to two.”

Oh. Oh. OH.

“Hastur,” says Tim.

I heard.

“Hastur,” says Tim.

This complicates things.

“Hastur,” says Tim.

“Do you need a moment?” says Myrddin. “There are things we really have to discuss, and soon, but we’ll be safe here until you're ready. The only issue, of course, is time does pass in the outside world, so if you have anything you need to be doing, this could quite get in the way.”

Tim suddenly remembers. “Shit. The… in Sheffield, there was this… this man, and he ate everybody.”

“Everybody?”

The cult of the Lightless Flame, Hastur says. They could do nothing to stop him. I counted fifteen heads.

Myrddin frowns. “You go on and ponder. I’ll be back.” And he simply leaves, chewing on the last of his bread as he goes.

“Hastur,” says Tim.

This is very serious, says Hastur. Though it does explain… some things.

“Why were you so afraid?” Tim says.

Because he could see and hear me, and knew I was piloting your body. I… was startled.

Tim sighs. Guilt is heavy. “You really were practically invisible until I came along, huh?”

Yes. But the point is this: it isn’t just that you’re a remarkable magic user. You are descended from the magic user.

“Welsh Gandalf is the magic user?” says Tim.

Yes. He’s so old that he was already old when I arrived.

Oh, fuck that.

Tim chokes on some bread.

Hastur beats his chest a little, helping him get it out. Easy.

“That’s… that’s fucked…” But he knows. The facial structure, something about the proportions…

This was not a modern homo sapien.

A shudder runs from Tim's head to his toes, shattering his breath, and he grips his own arms briefly, feeling things he has no words for. “Right,” he finally says, and has nothing to follow that up with, so he circles back. “Right.”

It explains why your magic isn’t responding as expected, he says. His isn’t like anyone else’s. I never could identify it. No magic user I’ve ever known has had anything exactly like his.

“But what’s that mean?” says Tim, and hates how shaky he still sounds. “I don’t fucking know what that means!”

It means you are with someone who can teach you what to do, and we are incredibly lucky.

“This can’t be luck,” says Tim. “Mine has always only been average, and I wasn’t thinking, Take me to the living Merlin, please, when I did the portal.”

You thought what? Ocean?

“Yeah.”

No particular ocean.

“No.”

So like when you caused the storm. All right. I see a pattern. It makes sense.

"It really doesn't."

It does, and we need his help.

“How is his magic different from everyone else’s?” Tim says in a small voice.

Most magical beings produce their own. It's like breathing out carbon monoxide, and just as natural. His—and therefore, yours—has something to do with a direct connection to the planet as a living thing.

Tim hesitates for the space of a breath. “Bullshit.”

Hastur is amused. After all of this, that’s what triggers your suspension of disbelief?

“The planet’s not alive,” Tim explains.

And gods aren’t real, and magic doesn’t exist. Mmmmm?

It is absolutely not the right time for that long, hummed sound go straight to Tim’s libido, but it does. He takes a moment. “I don’t like that?”

Too bad.

“Nice beside manner,” Tim mumbles, and concentrates on his soup. It’s really good soup.

I’ve got you, says Hastur, and may or may not know he’s repeating what Tim said before. I’ve got you.

Absurdly, Tim finds himself on the edge of tears. It’s all so stupid; it’s all so much. “Just how many times does a guy have to lose his entire understanding of the world, eh?” he mutters around tender lamb and salty celeriac.

I can’t answer that, says Hastur. But I can tell you I’ll be with that guy as many times as he does.

Wow. That was like some kind of... vow.

“Might as well put a ring on it,” Tim mumbles, nose slightly stuffed.

Ha, Hastur says, and Tim’s not sure what that means. Hastur isn’t fully sure, either; it’s muddled, and Tim can’t suss it out.

A soft knock raps on the door, a light shave-and-a-haircut.

“Two bits,” Tim calls weakly, unable to avoid being a little shit.

Myrddin is chuckling as he enters. “Definitely got the humor.”

“Hi,” says Tim. “Um. Great grandpa.”

“Just Myrddin,” says Myrddin again. “So. Do you want the update?”

Tim takes a deep breath, lets it go. “Yes.”

“I don’t really leave this island much anymore,” Myrddin says, “and I’m really content not to, but… I still have contacts.”

Tim knows, somehow, that if he asks who or what those contacts are, more of his world-view will be shattered, so he does not. “What’d they say?”

“They’re calling it a freak incident,” says Myrddin. “News outlets are, of course, claiming a wild animal.”

“In… Sheffield,” says Tim.

“Well, it’s certainly caught the police’s attention. Part of the problem is all the CCTV cameras shorted out shortly before whatever it was happened. Just long enough that they can’t explain it.”

“Sh… shorted out? All of them?” Tim stares. “That’s just more suspicious!”

Myrddin shrugged. "Humans are adept at explaining anything away. Spirits, demons, glitches in the matrix. They're quite creative."

And that statement firmly places everyone in this room outside of human, and Tim isn't sure how much more he can take. "Oh, gods." He sighs and rubs his face. “So... my phone’s dead, I imagine.”

“Oh! I fixed it for you,” says Myrddin, and produces it from thin air.

It is objectively not the same phone.

Tim eyes it. And eyes him.

“Well,” Myrddin says. “I replaced it? I have a niece who’s really into technology, so I had a few spares lying around.”

“This belongs to your niece?”

“No, no, I got it for her, but she didn’t want it. You have dibs!”

Tim decides this isn’t really worth fighting, and takes it. It's the model after his, anyway, so it's a nice upgrade—though he does find it unnerving that the thing responds to his passcode, and upon opening, it seems to be exactly how he’d set up his own phone. “Um,” he says.

Wizard, says Hastur with surprising respect. I request that you teach your offspring.

“Just a minute,” says Tim.

“Offspring? Not quite!” says Myrddin. "Bit of a distance there."

Please, says the King in Yellow.

“An official request from a Great Old One! Well, I never,” says Myrddin.

There is a pause.

I am… less, now.

“Nonsense,” says Myrddin. “You do not change what you are. While who you are might, because that tends to be in response to other people, what you are remains, no matter what people think.”

This conversation has swept neatly past Tim’s experience. He knows to be silent, and pretends to be checking his new (?) phone.

No, says Hastur, evenly, pretending patience. I am not what I was.

“You are. Just because you’ve been living in less than ideal circumstances, and not stretching yourself, did you think it lessened your essence?” says Myrddin.

I…

Tim is not listening (but hearing every word), aggressively scrolling photos, trying to be so still that they have this moment.

Myrddin waits.

I… am not what I once was. I am not even fully what I once was.

“You still are who you are,” says Myrddin, and it’s almost gentle. “And you can fulfill that again, should you so choose.”

If I do that, I'll die!

Tim’s shoulders tense.

“Everyone dies, great one,” says Myrddin gently. “Even I will, someday, though I think I can safely say I have no idea when it’s coming. The universe itself will slow and end, crushing itself with the weight of its own importance. Death is hardly a condemnation, or a judgment—it’s simply a thing that happens.”

Tim finds a picture he forgot he took.

He’d done it with the timer on his phone. He remembers it clearly now: mom’s fiftieth birthday. There they all are: him, Danny, mom, and a picture representing their father. They look happy; it’s in the house he no longer owns (and suddenly, deeply regrets selling), a moment caught in time while candles drip wax onto her cake.

Tim can’t breathe.

I suppose… perhaps that’s true, Hastur concedes. We are not meant to die, my kind, or… so I understood. But we would die, anyway, when our universe met its end.

“There, you see? And it hardly invalidates anything that came before,” says Myrddin. “If anything, it makes it more important. You have a time limit to act, to matter. So. What will you do?”

Hastur falls silent.

Tim scrolls on, but he can’t see more photos. His eyes are just blurry, and blinking only makes them spill. He wipes them.

Myrddin sighs. “I am sorry, Tim.”

“What?” Tim says, looking up.

Myrddin takes a deep, slow breath. “In the rare times when my power resurfaces as it has with you, it tends to show up in tragedy,” says Myrddin. “I have no idea why that is. I haven't figured out if it triggers tragedy, or is triggered by it, or what particular esoteric process is going on. You don’t gain anything from it; there’s no mysterious balance involved. It’s just… a pattern I don’t know how to interpret.”

Tim’s face is numb. “Are you saying my family died because of me?”

“No. It's nothing you did,” says Myrddin. “It isn’t your fault. But tragedy does tend to follow my line.”

Right. That helps. Sure.

Tim? says Hastur.

Tim makes himself speak. “I think I need another… I dunno. Hour, or something? Jon’s really okay?”

“Quite engrossed in my library,” says Myrddin. "I don't know about okay. He's a nervous little Chihuahua, isn't he?"

Jon is, but Tim doesn't want to admit it. "I... I’ll talk again soon, I just…”

“Of course.” Myrddin rises. “I’m sorry, Tim. There is clearly much happening with you, and I'm quite willing to help—you’re family—but not until you’re in a place to request it. I’m not going to force you to do anything. All right?”

And that, weirdly, helps. It helps a lot. So many things have been happening outside his control, outside any choice he might have, and this helps. “All right,” Tim says, exhaling slowly.

“Just wander out whenever you want me,” says Myrddin. “The whole tower is open to you. I won’t bother you again.” And he leaves, taking the empty bowl and tray with him.

Tim is silent.

Tim? says Hastur. I clearly missed something. What is it?

“They died because of me,” Tim says, hollow.

That isn’t what he said.

“Survivor’s guilt, right?” says Tim, and lies back down, facing that window and its incredible, perfect view. He wishes he could just… stop. Be here, unmoving, until the end of days. Let the rest of everything slide past him and away, not have to fight anymore, to strive.

Hastur gasps.

“What?” says Tim quietly.

It cannot touch you here, whispers Hastur. The Desolation. You’re… at peace.

Sure. He is. Right now, it is hard to see why that matters. “I’m also very sad,” Tim says.

His left arm slides around to hold him, tucked under his chin, cupping his face. I would help you, if I could.

And maybe it’s because of Peter Lukas, or maybe just because Tim’s never had anyone he could confide in like this before, but suddenly, he’s so damned grateful for this piece of a fucked-up god in his head. “Thanks for being here,” he whispers.

Hastur hesitates, clearly unsure how to reply. Of course.

Tim decides further words would ruin the moment. He stays on his side, and lets the tears wet his pillow, and watches the darkening sky and steel sea until he falls asleep.

-----------

Notes:

So I absolutely used my version of Merlin from my book, Half-Shell Prophecies, and I have zero regrets. No one can stop me. (music sting)

[kaantt]

Avec @kabbal nous avons réparti les ships Kaamelott selon ce template :

[saecookie]

Alors je tente un p'tit Merlin/Elias en 8! Je sais que c'est pas spécialement ta came mais je tente! (Et si rien te viens un Alzagar/Venec sera très bien ! 💖)

Une chanson que j'aime particulièrement et le problème c'est que j'ai bcp de chansons un peu soft/witful donc ça part souvent en bittersweetness... Anyway, SURPRISE, tu connais la chanson. Des bisous surtout, je t'aime. En voyant le titre tu te doutes du ton que ça va avoir... J'ai fait du mieux que j'ai pu.

Forever Young, Youth Group. Merlin/Elias.

(Send me a pairing and a number between 1-100 and I’ll write a short scene based on my Spotify Top 100 playlist)

Arthur disait souvent que Perceval, c'était comme un môme. Elias ne comprenait pas ce qu'il laissait passer à Perceval, et pas à Merlin.

Merlin, si l'on y regardait de plus près, c'était un enfant avec des responsabilité d'adultes.

Ils se font tous les deux appeler des enchanteurs de Bretagne, mais dans le cercle social de la magie, ils ne pourraient être plus éloignés. La pratique magique, c'est tout ce qui les lie. L'un est enchanteur, l'autre druide.

L'un est de descendance humaine.

Pas l'autre. Pas vraiment. Loin s'en faut.

Les années passent comme les disputes. Rapidement, à parler trop vite et à oublier de dire ce que l'on pense vraiment. À quitter la maison en colère et en se rendant compte à mi-chemin qu'on a oublié de dire à ceux qu'on aime qu'on les aime. Les Royaumes se succèdent, les coups d'Etat, les tyrans, les meilleurs efforts de résistance. La distance, l'inconnu, la reconquête, la reconstruction.

Ils sont là. Une présence magique, un mot glissé à l'oreille, la chaleur d'une aura.

Il n'y a pas de baisers volés, de rires inavoués ou de pieds sous la table. Ils n'avaient ni l'âge, ni le tempérament. Les années étaient faites de présence, de cohabitation, de complicité, de soirées passées dans un silence silencieux.

Merlin grandit. Elias vieillit.

Tout le monde regarde Merlin avec la considération dédiée aux vénérables. Elias le regarde et il sourit. Il le voit s'émerveiller, écoute ses découvertes, dépose un baiser sur son front. Elias l'écoute et se déride ; il réapprend à apprécier l'humour que les loups n'ont jamais eu.

Merlin ne sera peut-être pas toujours jeune, mais il va encore l'être un sacré paquet d'années.

Elias s'est toujours dit qu'il fallait partir avant de s'être installé. C'est un mantra qu'il s'est imposé à lui, pour lui. C'est la première fois qu'il ne le respecte pas - et c'est la première fois qu'il réalise que c'est un autre qui sera blessé, parce qu'il n'est pas parti. Un autre, qui va le voir vieillir.

Après cela, la déperdition n'est pas loin.

Elias préférerait partir jeune, ou vivre pour toujours.

Hélas, il n'a pas en ses pouvoirs la seconde possibilité.

Il devrait partir, et chaque jour, chaque matin où il s'éveille à ses côtés, chaque soir où ils s'endorment sur leurs grimoires ensemble, Elias est convaincu de rester un jour de plus.

Il ne faut pas s'y tromper : ce ne sont pas là des considérations secrètes. Elias manigance, mais Elias n'a pas quinze ans ; les drames adolescents, merci bien. Il lui a dit, à Merlin. Il lui a dit : "tu verras, tu m'enterreras." Un jour, comme une blague. Le jour suivant, droit dans les yeux, pour que ce jeune homme prenne la pleine conscience de ce qui l'attendait.

Mais merlin est comme l'eau et le chaud, comme le son et comme le temps. On n'y résiste pas.

Ils ont discuté. Ils ont négociés. Ils ont chanté Beltaine. La vie a suivi son cours. Elias est toujours là. Son corps vieillit.

Mais il reste jeune.

[ismisevy]

Tiens @kenshi-de-kelliwich , j’ai retrouvé un Melias un peu crack perdu dans mes notes que j’avais vite écrit pour trouver l’inspiration, lui même inspiré par l’épisode Merlin l’Archaïque, en espérant qu’il arrive à te remonter un peu le moral.

Le jour venait à peine de se lever et dans le labo des enchanteurs de Kaamelott, derrière la porte du fond, un Elias profondément endormi s'étalait sans grâce aucune dans le lit qu'il partageait avec son compagnon. Il s'étalait bien trop à son goût d’ailleurs, si habitué à ce que l'homme qui dormait à ses côtés ne lui pique les trois quarts du matelas que même endormi, il pouvait comprendre qu’il y avait beaucoup trop de place dans ce lit pour que tout soit normal. 

Malgré cela il remua à peine, quelque chose n'allait pas certes mais ce n'était certainement pas assez pour le faire se lever. Ce matin là toutes les conditions pour une grasse matinée bien méritée avaient été réunies et il comptait bien en profiter : les rayons chauds du soleil transperçait les volets pour venir réchauffer son visage, les draps en coton caressaient délicatement sa peau, son oreiller épousait parfaitement la forme du visage enfoncé dedans, des dizaines de jappements résonnaient dans la pièce d'à côté…

Un œil bleu s'ouvrit brusquement.

La couette rencontra violemment le mur adjacent, expulsée du lit d’un coup de pied expert alors qu’Elias se précipitait hors de celui ci pour entrer en trombe dans le labo, ne prenant même pas la peine d'enfiler ne serait-ce qu’un pantalon ou même une paire de chaussettes.

Il fut accueilli par un Merlin planté au milieu de la pièce, une espèce d'hybride entre un chien mouillé et un rat à moitié crevé posé dans ses bras, hurlant de plus belle à la vue du nouvel arrivant. 

"Ah bah enfin vous êtes réveillés ! C'est pas trop tôt !”

Merlin l'accueillit avec son grand sourire matinal, pas plus inquiété que ça par la monstruosité qu’il tenait contre lui. “Vous voulez du thé ? J'en ai fait pour le petit déjeuner."

Elias lui restait planté là, ahuri, le regard fixé sur la créature que tenait Merlin alors que celui-ci agissait comme si tout était absolument normal. Il approcha un peu pour analyser la bête qui avait osé le sortir de son sommeil réparateur et remarqua que celle ci n’avait non pas une mais deux têtes, des yeux rouges perçants et visiblement la rage au vu du liquide qui s’échappait de sa gueule ensanglanté. Elias avait rencontré beaucoup de créatures étranges durant son apprentissage de la magie, mais jamais n’avait il croisé une horreur pareille. Il pointa du doigt la chose dans les bras de Merlin, et regarda ce dernier d’un air très sérieux avec sa tête enfarinée et ses yeux encore fatigués.

"C'est quoi le machin qui gueule depuis tout à l’heure ?"

" Quoi ça ? Oh ça c'est rien. Vous savez que c'était mon anniversaire la semaine dernière ? Bah ça c'était mon cadeau, enfin du côté de ma famille paternelle. Ça s'appelle une mogriave, c’est pas trop mignon ?"

Elias le regarda d’un air abasourdi.

"Votre cadeau ? Pourquoi, ce que je vous ai offert ça suffisait pas, fallait que vous adoptiez un rat galeux venant tout droit du plan démonique en plus ?! Me dites pas que vous allez garder ce truc quand même !"

Le druide afficha un regard désapprobateur mais fut interrompu par la créature qui effrayée par le haussement de ton d'Elias mordit le doigt que l'enchanteur pointait vers elle, faisant crier de douleur celui-ci. 

Merlin caressa la tête du cabot d’un air attendri. "Ah bah voilà, vous lui avez fait peur en plus, la pauvre !”

Il se retourna vers son homme qui fulminait de l'intérieur, tenant fermement son doigt qui pissait le sang. La journée avait définitivement bien commencé.

"C’est de votre faute vous aviez qu’à être plus gentil.

Bon du coup, vous le voulez ce thé oui ou non ? Et allez vite nettoyer ça, vous allez attraper des cochonneries."

-

Quelques heures plus tard Elias était enfin habillé et debout face à Merlin qui tenait toujours son chien-rat dans les bras, un bandage d'urgence autour de son index fait spécialement par le druide qui avait fini par avoir pitié de lui. 

"Donc si je comprends bien, vous comptez garder cette abomination et j'ai rien à dire c'est ça ?"

"Exactement ! "

Merlin savait très bien que quelques mois auparavant Elias se serait contenté de balancer son nouvel ami dans le premier ravin venu, mais il savait aussi qu'en devenant son amant il avait gagné quelques privilèges, dont le droit de gagner une ou deux engueulades de temps en temps, comme celle de décider ou non de garder un chien hideux même contre l’avis de l’autre.

Elias lui était désespéré mais gardait un léger espoir. Avec de la chance s'il laissait Merlin s'en occuper assez longtemps, soit l’animal finirait par crever sous les bons soins de son nouveau maître soit Merlin s’en lasserait et s’en débarrasserait de lui-même. 

"Bon très bien, on le garde, mais à une condition. Il dort dehors."

"Ah ça pas question! Il dormira dans notre lit ! Vous êtes pas assez cruel pour laisser un pauvre animal sans défense dormir dans le froid, si ?!”

Elias ne prit pas le temps d’expliquer que lui et le druide n’avait pas exactement la même définition de “pauvre animal sans défense”.

"Dans notre lit ?! Mais vous déraillez mon pauvre vieux ! Préparez vous à faire chambre à part alors, parce je ne dors pas dans le même lit que ce truc !"

Merlin soupira. Il avait beau avoir gagné le droit de l’emporter sur quelques disputes, son quota avait déjà été largement dépassé. 

"Bon d'accord. Il dormira dans le labo."

"Avec la porte fermée à clé."

".. Avec la porte fermée à clé."

"Bien."

-

Le lendemain, Merlin rentrait tranquillement dans le labo, revenu de deux-trois courses faites au marché. Il passa à peine le pas de la porte qu'un cri de terreur lui échappa, les deux sachets de courses s'effondrant au sol.

"Mais qu'est ce que c'est que cette horreur ?!"

Elias, penché au-dessus d'un livre de potion, une dizaine de rats perchés sur sa veste en plus de sa tête regarda Merlin d’un faux air étonné.

"Bah quoi ? C'est mes nouveaux animaux de compagnie, je les ai adoptés ce matin. Je me suis dit qu’ils pourraient devenir copains avec votre monstruosité tiens."

"Mais... Mais c'est des rats sauvages ! Ils peuvent transporter tout un tas de saloperies, c'est pas du tout sanitaire dans un labo !"

"Ah non hein ! Si vous avez le droit à votre animal de compagnie, moi j'ai droit aux miens ! Sinon c’est pas juste."

Un sourire à la fois mesquin et vainqueur s’afficha sur les lèvres d'Elias, Merlin plus dépité que jamais.

[kabbal]

Bonjour vice-présidente du Melias toujours présente pour suggérer le Merlin/Elias dans les ask game!

Ah et aussi Perceval/Arthur car je renie pas mes origines quand même!

Melias :

Perceval/Arthur :

Argh, on était presque sur un bingo

[loveinstreams]

Séli: Merlin is a joke of a magician lets just fire him

Elias: you dont have all the facts

Séli: which are???

Elias: i love him

[jananabananawithnopeel]

Moi en finissant d'écrire : "Ah tiens c'est marrant ça marche pour tous les ship... Et toutes les pièces... Et tous les fandoms aussi... "

--

Des éclats de voix derrière une porte close.

"Alors ?"

"Ça s'entend pas assez ? Ils s'engueulent."

"Encore ! Mais c'est pire qu'avant là."

"On va pas changer les bonnes habitudes… "

Un bruit de verre qui se brise et d'autres éclats de voix.

"On va pas les laisser tout détruire la dedans."

Avant que l'un d'eux n'ait le temps de bouger, un coup violent sur la porte, suivie d'un bruit sourd puis le silence.

"Si ils se sont entretuer, on est pas dans la merde… "

Des coups répétés sur la porte accompagnés de gémissements.

"Ah tiens, c'est nouveau ça."

"Je crois que j'aurai préféré qu'ils s'entretuent …"

Après quelques instants, ils entendent des râles et des cris de jouissance étouffés puis encore le silence.

"... Je préviens, moi en vie, il n'est pas question que je refoute un seul pied dans cette pièce."

[sloubs]

La potion miraculeuse

Depuis quelques jours, Guenièvre est très malade.

Celle-ci se plaint de violents maux de têtes, de fatigue et de vertiges, et ne parvient pas à s'en débarrasser. Elle a beau prendre des infusions immondes à base de plantes et des bains chauds 3 fois par jour pour aller mieux, rien n'y fait. Son état empire un peu plus chaque jour et Arthur s'en inquiète. Malgré les risques que cela lui incombe, il décide tout de même de convoquer Merlin et Elias pour lui trouver un remède au plus vite. Ensemble, ils concoctent alors une potion miracle, censée éradiquer n'importe quelle maladie et remettre sur pied n'importe qui.

Les enchanteurs tendent une fiole de cette préparation à Guenièvre, agonisant là, près de la fenêtre du laboratoire. Arthur se tient à côté d'elle, sa main droite entrelacée dans la sienne, tandis que sa main gauche lui caresse doucement le dos. La Reine s'empare de la fiole qui lui est présentée et la boit d'une traite, malgré le dégoût profond que l'odeur lui inspire.

Elle déglutit...et les symptômes disparaissent.

Elle paraît déjà aller beaucoup mieux et les trois hommes poussent à l'unisson un souffle de soulagement. Mais alors qu'ils s'apprêtent à repartir, Guenièvre est prise d'une nausée fulgurante. Elle rend gorge de tout ce qu'elle vient d'avaler et semble encore plus pâle et épuisée qu'elle ne l'��tait déjà.

"Mais qu'est-ce que vous avez foutu, bande de glandus ? Elle est encore plus malade qu'avant !" s'exclame Arthur, tout en prenant soin de dégager les cheveux du visage de sa femme.

"Bah j'comprends pas pourquoi ça marche pas, on a tout bien suivi la recette du bouquin !" répond Merlin.

Elias s'empresse d'aller chercher son grimoire magique pour l'ouvrir sur la page correspondant à la recette.

"Sauge, échinacée, patte de coq, citronnelle, bave de lézard, pépins de figues...on a bien tout mis pourtant !" s'étonne Elias.

Malgré tout, les douleurs de Guenièvre se font de plus en plus féroces. Elle agrippe la main d'Arthur de toutes ses forces en gémissant, puis les nausées reprennent de plus belle.

"Magnez-vous de trouver ce qu'elle a, ou j'vous fout en taule tous les deux !"

"Oh bah oui, faites ça ! C'est clair qu'elle va guérir plus vite si on part pourrir dans un cachot !"

"Est-ce que ce serait trop vous demander d'arrêter de HURLER, l'espace d'une seconde ?" interrompt Guenièvre. "J'ai l'impression que ma tête va exploser, en plus j'ai encore ce goût affreux dans la bouche..."

"Attendez !" s'écrit Elias. "J'avais pas vu, mais y a des contre-indications !"

"Ah non mais là, bravo les débiles, vous préparez un truc et vous regardez pas les contre-indications au préalable ?"

"Non mais Sire, c'est écrit tout petit aussi...et puis d'habitude ça marche sur tout le monde, on s'est pas posé la question !"

"Et elles disent quoi, vos contre-indications là...?" demande Guenièvre, avant qu'une crampe d'estomac ne la fasse à nouveau se tordre de douleur.

"Alors euh..." panique Elias, tout en feuilletant ses pages dans la précipitation. "Là ! Blablabla, fortement déconseillé aux enfants de moins de trois ans, aux hommes à la prostate sensible et..."

Elias s'arrête un instant de lire à voix haute. Son regard se fige sur la page et son visage lui, reste inexpressif. Il ne dit plus rien.

"...Et quoi ? Finissez votre phrase, andouille !" s'impatiente Arthur.

Merlin se précipite vers le grimoire à toute vitesse en poussant violemment Elias sur le côté.

"Passez-moi ça !"

Il s'empare du livre et fait glisser son doigt le long du papier comme pour retrouver sa ligne.

"Déconseillé aux enfants de moins de trois ans", reprend-il. "Aux hommes à la prostate sensible..."

Son index se fixe sur le mot final et ses yeux s'écarquillent. Il prend une grande respiration, puis relève la tête pour regarder Guenièvre.

...et aux femmes enceintes."

[doctor-pancreas]

Me : "Sinon Merlin, qu'elles ont été vos motivations pour devenir l'enchanteur officiel de Kaamelott?"

Merlin : "Et bien vous savez, malgré le peu de reconnaissance que je reçois, j'apprécie toujours rendre service au roi ou aux autres résidents du château. Même si j'ai peu l'occasion d'exercer, ma fonction de druide et ses caractéristiques me plaisent beaucoup. Il faut dire que le petit Pendragon je l'ai connu quand il était tout jeune!"

Me : "Je vois, et vous Elias?"

Elias :

[aristotleatafternoontea]

Arthur veut récompenser Merlin pour sa loyauté. Tout ne se passe pas comme prévu. Post-KV1 Fic écrite pour @hermie62 . J’espère avoir fait justice à ses préférences (des malentendus, des engueulades, du merlin x elias mais surtout de la reconnaissance pour Merlin). À titre personnel, encore plus que le guenièvre x arthur, je shippe surtout guenièvre x le respect. Donc il y a aussi du Arthur se comportant correctement avec sa femme.  

[pigeonphd]

elias (the fae) and morgan/merlin (the bogsneak). they are gay and stupid

[lil-ol-shipper]

Artists version:

Writers version:

The first one is not mine/ @luizamcallister on twitter. The second one though I was just being cheeky cause I’ve had people ask me to write a fanfic for them....and I never did it.

[lledron]

@ elia-martell-creative-fest