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merlin holding valen by the shoulders: so only family doesn’t need to be invited to the winter feast
valen: yes
merlin: and you don’t have an invitation to hogan’s but you go every year
valen: yes
merlin: so you’re hogan’s family
valen: no im just his most trusted knight
#they’re father and son your honour#afk journey#afk journey fanfic#afk journey valen#afk journey hogan
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I cant find any fics with the plots i want so im gonna write them myself. the agony.
#WHEN WILL I WIN#PLEASPLEAPLEASE#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#tlou2#the last of us#ellie williams#joel miller#abby anderson#afk journey#cod#cod cold war#russell adler#frank woods#alex mason#tmnt#rise of the tmnt#tmnt 2012#fanfic#afk journey x reader#arthur morgan x reader#tmnt x reader
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for requests. i need. valen x male magister merlin. im a sucker for this guy. anything really. thank you!
Ooh, I’ve never read an x reader/MC fic, let alone written one! New territory, as exciting as it is scary.
I’m not so sure I have a good grip on Valen’s character, but I tried to write it from his perspective. I hope this suits your needs! It gets a bit philosophical. And sorry if its OOC :,)
He isn’t sure what to think, really.
They’re sitting around a dying campfire, just outside the borders of the Dark Forest. Lorsan is pacing somewhere in the distance, muttering to himself, or to the wind, maybe. Trying to figure out what’s happened to his home. Korin leans against a tree, tending to his wounds- courtesy of Merlin. The magister himself is across from Valen, wrapping his own wound and chattering with his hamsters.
Logically, Valen knows that the lesson he should have taken from this scramble is a lot more profound than what’s been on his mind. He should be contemplating the Wilders, the forest, their next steps, how to protect the refugees. And he’s trying to, but it’s just that something- someone- keeps catching his attention.
He didn’t know Merlin could bleed.
It’s such a silly observation. But as Valen watches the angry red wound on Merlin’s forearm, his gut twists. It’s like seeing a god’s flesh tear, and seeing that its blood is the same bright red as his own.
Valen isn’t sure what exactly Merlin is. As far as he knows, no one does, not even Merlin himself. But to the average young Lightbearer, he’s a myth. A legendary figure that you might glimpse once in your life, but would never get to meet. Never speak with, let alone camp alongside. Fight alongside. Merlin throws his head back to laugh at something Chippy has said, and something stirs in Valen’s ribs, something he knows is dangerous.
All of this is dangerous. Merlin is not someone to be loved; Valen has seen what happened to Mirael. Forgotten about, left in the dust, accidentally as it was. The way she watches Merlin, her face made of mixed admiration, bitterness, and regret. He wonders if she would take it all back, if she could. Scariest of all, when she bid them farewell, the look in her eyes sent an ugly pain of jealousy through Valen’s chest. And he doesn’t want that to happen to him, selfish as that may be. Every time Merlin falls asleep, he risks waking up knowing nothing.
Besides, what is Valen to a hero of myth? His whole life has been barely a blink in Merlin’s. Whatever he is, there is no reasonable way Valen could ever mean something to Merlin the way that Merlin is beginning to mean something to him. Merlin will outlive him a thousand times over. And he’s probably met a thousand different people, fallen in love with quite a few of them. Someone who has experienced so much life, so much loss, can they still love? Could they ever?
And yet, he bleeds. It’s such a human weakness that it seems impossible. Valen knew heroes could bleed; he didn’t know gods could. Merlin does not go about the world serene and calculating, watching every moment with practiced ease. He stumbles, laughs, misses with his spells. He jostles Valen’s pauldron excitedly when they win a fight, he’s the last to flee when they lose, ensuring everyone else has disengaged safely. He has only one dimple, on his left cheek. Sometimes he speaks so fast his words blend together, and Hammie has to remind him to slow down. It’s endearing. It’s human. Valen doesn’t know what to do with it. Because it was so much easier, to write off affection as admiration. When the pieces had first clicked, he thought it all made sense. The natural pull that the magister gave off- yes, of course, it was just Merlin’s nature. But they’re a week into this camaraderie, and Valen keeps noticing things like the lick of hair on his neck that doesn’t sit flat.
Pretty fucking annoying, that’s what it is. Valen’s always prouded himself on his ability to swerve out of love’s path. He can flirt and charm all he wants, but at the end of the day all the love letters he receives are ink and paper, nothing more. Whenever someone seriously reciprocates- god forbid- he disengages as smoothly as he can, lest they get the wrong impression.
But Merlin has changed all that, somehow. Impossibly so. He supposes it’s in his nature, to take everything and turn it upside down. Valen doesn’t want to flirt with the Magister, to laugh as he flushes under his praise. Well, it would be nice, he always has liked the attention; but the thing is, that isn’t the point. With Merlin, he just wants to be. No performance, no elaborate courtship. Just… be. Together. All this, for someone who is more myth than man.
It seems like the scariest thing he’s ever faced.
“Valen?”
He jumps as the magister suddenly speaks, and realizes with mounting embarrassment that he’s been staring the whole time. Luckily, the magister grins good-naturedly- and ah, there’s that dimple again.
“Lost in thought?”
“You could say that.”
He leans back on his hands and forces his face into a smirk. It’s easier than he anticipated; despite everything, Merlin makes it simple to be around him.
“I’ve been meaning to say,” Merlin mirrors his position as Chippy and Hammie scuttle away, the former setting off on a quest to climb the nearest tree, “I really appreciate your help in all of this. Coming along, and aiding me- far past your assigned duties. It isn’t lost to me.”
Valen gives him a look. “Of course, magister. I’m not one to leave danger to fester; I’m sorry you ever had that impression of me.”
“No, it’s not that, it’s…” Merlin’s brow furrows as he collects his thoughts. “You know, you seem so… charmingly nonchalant. Like nothing bothers you. But that clearly isn’t true. You care a lot, Valen, and it’s really, really nice to see. You’re someone who is just… good, you know? And I appreciate it.” He grins sheepishly. “Sorry. Kinda cheesy compliment. I’ve lost all my memories, you know, but being around you- and Lorsan, Cassadee, Mirael- honestly, I don’t feel like I’m missing much of anything. Everything I need is right here.”
He shrugs and turns back to the fire, as if he has not sent Valen’s mind reeling. Functionally, Merlin has been aware for only a week- one week out of thousands of years. He’s wondered how he’s been so calm about the whole thing, and…
And it’s hard to believe, but it’s much harder to doubt what Merlin says, not as he stares into the fire with that soft smile. It dawns on Valen that he probably knows more about Merlin than Merlin does- all of the legends, at least. And yet, despite that insurmountable legacy, despite the name and title that bears unimaginable weight, Merlin is… content. Content in just moving forward, and hoping he’s doing the right thing.
And isn’t that all that Valen’s doing, as well? He doesn’t deserve all this praise; he always shies away from large displays of gratitude, loathing how awkward they make him feel. Because he’s just moving forward, and trying to do the right thing. It’s a simple motive, really. Faith, and what effort it takes to retain it. He always thought Merlin would have some deeper, existential knowledge of the world that would put all else to shame- access to the secrets of the universe, and what not. And, certainly, his magical capabilities are second to none- but his philosophy, the way he lives; it very well might be human after all.
Maybe the usual Merlin, the one with all his memories, is the knowledgeable, immovable sage that Valen grew to look up to. Maybe, once restored, Merlin will become that god-like fairytale hero, wisdom surpassing all others, power knowing no ends.
Selfishly, Valen hopes that never happens. That the Merlin in front of him stays the same, annoying dimple and all, and keeps looking at Valen like that. Like he sees something in him that Valen never knew was there. He hopes Merlin never raises above their quips, their banter.
He know’s it’s all in vain. But god, he hopes.
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"A Star Reborn" Part 1 & 2
Summary: Magister Merlin reappears after being gone for a decade, and is immedtely thrust into a task- to put out the fire in Ryeham and find the arsonist at fault. Coupled with memory loss, fainting, and a sickening sense of deja vu, it's no easy task!
Note: This an intro to my version of Merlin before I post other stuff. This is also available to read on AO3, I have the exact same username as here! It might be easier to read there.
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Part 1- You're Finally Awake! (2700 words)
It was the third time that Magister Merlin had vanished for years and then reappeared in the Mystical House.
It had happened in the early morning. Dolly was only waking up, while Hammie had been studying locating spells all night and was busy finalizing one. Chippy had gone off into Ryeham.
Hammie went into the Magister's room every so often to retrieve his research, but at times, she went in just to sit on his bed and stare at the wall. Some nights she thought she heard his voice.
For the past ten years, she had hoped Magister Merlin would return after having vanished for the fourth time.
Twenty years ago he had left Ryeham to travel all over the world.
Thirty, he had woken up for the third time thirty years ago, after disappearing for even more than... how long? Hammie couldn't quite remember. It must've been decades.
She had a hard time keeping up with the dates. Keeping a journal helped with that.
All she knew for certain was that she missed Merlin to a degree she hadn't thought possible. It never got easier waiting for him. It was like a constant state of withdrawal.
But when a thud came from Merlin's room, no one was in it.
Dolly and Hammie entered it with broom and staff raised. Red flashed in the dark, and a burning smell lingered in the room; it was warm and deep like a wildfire.
And on the table, Merlin laid his head, his glasses askew and his horns not poking out from his hair. He was dressed suspiciously plainly, there was no way he would've dawned something like that on his own. He had a penchant for eccentric fashion.
His iconic hat, which originated the tradition of mage hats, sat next to him. The branch sprouting from its top and most of the tassels that once hung off of it were missing, leaving three red tassels behind, and three Esperian coins on the other side, each hanging by a red thread. Red thread was a charm and warded off evil.
The lack of embellishments on the hat left it puny, and the warm magic that the Magister radiated was weak.
At least Hammie wouldn't need that locating spell anymore. Instead, she'd begin working on a memory recovery spell the next night...
Hammie rushed to him, checking for any injuries, and finding none, she sighed in relief. Her sigh made Merlin stir. His hair, once floor-length, ended at his waist. Hammie would need time to get used to his new look.
"Magister Merlin? Magister, please wake up," Dolly called, hovering over the Magister like a lamp over a book.
"Mirael... be quiet, my dear, I am rather busy," he mumbled. Dolly blanched. Besides having red hair, Dolly was not Mirael or anything like her. Mirael was Merlin's student in the past. Hammie wasn't much fond of her. The girl was troublesome.
Merlin raised his head, his lips downturned and brows drawn into a knot above his barely-ajar eyes. His voice, that strange androgynous tenor, was raspy and stilted from sleep. "Did I not tell you... to stop playing with fire?"
Hammie was awestruck. She knew she'd see her Magister again. Yet, it felt unreal, like the being before her was not the Magister, but a mirage, an oasis in the desert she'd been treading for a decade.
She didn't expect to see the Magister like this, depleted, perplexed, and mumbling to himself like an old man. She should've expected it.
"Hey, Magister. You're finally awake!" Hammie squealed, reaching up to grab Merlin's arm.
The only thing that mattered was that her favorite person in the world was finally back.
Where the fuck am I? Was not a graceful thought to have upon waking up from what felt like being murdered.
Looking around, he was met with a dim, warm room made largely of dark wood and furnished with it. Everything oozed luxury.
The second thing he thought was Who are you? as a white hamster pulled on his arm. Some redhead, perhaps a maid, was gawking at him.
"Do I know you?" he said, creaky as an old door. He hadn't spoken in ages.
"Magister Merlin, it's me, your familiar, Hammie! Your second familiar, Chippy, went to Ryeham. And that's Dolly. She takes care of the Mystical House," said the hamster.
A talking hamster seemed entirely normal to him.
"I am Magister Merlin?"
"You're Magister Merlin Starhawk, a renowned mage known across the world! Everyone knows who you are." The hamster, Hammie, stepped back, her eyes, like two blueberries, looking up at him with much hope.
It hit him who he was. Yes, he was a mage, and a good one at that, and his name was Merlin, and Magister was a magely, esteemed title. Starhawk was a surname.
With each new trigger, a memory hit him. Hammie and Chippy were his familiars that he created, Hammie a mage, Chippy a knight. He didn't know how exactly he got them but Merlin had had them for... forever.
Dolly had been in the Mystical House for a while, too, and the House itself could move on account of being an enchanted house sitting upon... some creature.
"Why does it seem like this has happened before?" Merlin pressed his fingers into his forehead in an attempt to wring the headache out of his skull.
"Because it has. We can explain things later- do you need anything? Water, perhaps?"
Merlin nodded. Dolly scuttered off.
Hammie walked to the window, her walk a little funny on account of her small legs. She gasped. Anxiety sparked in Merlin's chest, cold and common; he was anxious often.
"There's smoke coming from Ryeham! And you know what they say about smoke," Hammie said.
"Where there is smoke there is a fool smoking a pipe inside my house?" Merlin joked, not thinking before speaking. His body didn't feel entirely his. The joke felt oddly personal- someone had done that more than once, but he couldn't remember who.
"... You certainly have a way with words, Magister. I'm just glad you're here. But no, where there's smoke, there's fire! Chippy might be there. We should check on him."
Merlin rose from his chair and immediately dropped as fuzz overtook his vision and hearing. It sounded like he was underwater.
For a moment, his every sense was shut off. Dolly caught him, and he had not felt the impact of hitting the floor, which he certainly had. Pain radiated in his legs.
"I think I fainted," Merlin muttered. His head was ready to burst from pressure. When he was sitting, the pressure and fuzz ebbed enough for him to be coherent.
Deja vu prickled at his fingertips and permeated the air. Everything from the way he fell to the way Hammie rushed to him felt like it had happened before. It left his stomach hollow, saddling him with the strangest sensations he couldn't pinpoint, not in his body or mind.
"You've had issues with fainting before. It has never been this bad." Hammie tipped her little head up at him.
Dolly brought water just in time.
"Let me get ready, and then we can retrieve Chippy."
Merlin stared at his face reflected in the mirror in the bathroom attached to his bedroom.
He was gaunt in the cheeks, his face passing for thirty or so, with not many scars or wrinkles. His face had a few off-colored marks. He picked his skin, didn't he?
His eyes were yellow like a hawk's. Was that the reason for his name?
His eyes were harrowingly tired, the stark black brows above nothing like his silver hair, and his silver hair nothing like his relatively youthful appearance. When pulled and released it it bounced back into a loose curl. Such a texture was bothersome to upkeep and often ended up nest-like.
That explained the endless bottles on the wall-mounted shelves and stained bathtub. Alchemical and potion knowledge often translated to chemical knowledge. The number of potions and ingredients in his bathroom would impress any alchemist.
Not much about himself bothered Merlin. His shorter height, marked as "165" centimeters on the wall (did he leave that in case he forgot?), was advantageous, and his lean build was surprisingly muscular for a mage, acquired from years of carrying the world on his back.
And carrying oversized hamsters.
The only things besides his magically bound chest that he found disagreeable were his ears, as short as a human's and pointed. He ran a finger along them and down to his three earrings. He could move his ears well. On his forehead were two imperceptible bumps where horns would eventually grow.
What was he? Some sort of...
Hammie knocked on the door, and he asked her what he was.
A treesprite and a human, apparently. He couldn't for the life of him recall his parents despite Hammie's words. It seemed that not all of his memory fell into place so easily.
Merlin concluded that he was a strange creature in every way possible and impossible.
He put on a glamor to hide his ears and horns. He knew that these traits of his must be hidden from others.
And while he was on it, he threw in a disguise. Being the most known mage in the world must have meant that everyone would recognize him.
That would be a bother, wouldn't it? He put on some actual clothes that weren't the pitiful tunic he woke up in, putting on some robe that was magely enough.
He put on his hat, and the final addition to his outfit was to change his eyes to an ocean blue, and his long, grey hair to be short and pink. The two gold bands on his hair didn't want to budge, so he was forced to leave them.
The only thing of his that remained was his hat and the wiseness in his eyes.
Ryeham was gorgeous...
Except for the putrid smog.
Finding a hamster familiar wasn't that hard. He was the only non-human around, the cream plume on his helmet bobbing around like a question mark, begging to be caught by a cat.
"Magister Merlin!" He shouted, his mouth falling open. "You're back! I can't believe it!"
"Trust me, I am as shocked as you are, Chippy. We're here because of the smoke." Hammie kept up with Merlin easily. Granted, Merlin was walking at the speed of a turtle with a limp.
"There's a big fire up ahead," Chippy pointed behind himself. The surrounding houses were backlit by orange.
"We came just in time, then."
When they reached the fire, there were troops with stars on their shields. Merlin somehow found that worthwhile to notice.
In the center of the group stood a large, familiar man. He had a brunette beard and shortly cropped hair that had begun to grey.
They were surrounded by fire elementals, and Merlin didn't know how he knew that. That's how it was going to be, nothing was going to make sense to him, all the information that went into him an absurd soup in his brain, sloshing around, whatever was left of his previous memories deep down in that soup.
What Merlin did know was that he had to help. It was another decision he made without a second thought, leaping into battle by casting a shield on himself and his familiars and raining down stars onto the fire elementals. They sizzled as magic zipped through them.
The biggest man yelled "Everyone! Go search for survivors, and leave this to me!" to the troops. Judging by his stature and demeanor, he must've been a commander of some kind.
The troops scattered. Merlin's familiars provided much-needed support to him as he was casting spells with mere flourishes of his hand while the soldiers hacked through elementals.
There were more throughout the village, but they weren't around long before Merlin snuffed them out.
The commander turned to Merlin.
"Magister?" he asked, blinking like he was sure he was hallucinating, or seeing a ghost, a possibility with how pale Merlin was.
Merlin went stiff.
"You're back. I wouldn't have recognized you without Chippy or that hat of yours. Where have you been all these years? Ah, you can tell me later. How about you dispel your disguise so I can see my old friend again?"
Merlin had no idea who this man was, and his warm, welcoming tone and open arms confused the abyss out of Merlin. He pursed his lips in silence.
"I regret to inform you that he's forgotten everything like the other times we told you about. He doesn't remember who you are," Chippy said, wiping at his eyes.
"I have not a clue." Merlin shrugged. The fire was dying down. The screams? Not so much. The village would've been beautiful with its golden fields and cozy houses if not for the ruckus and impending doom.
"I see, Chippy. That's why you're so surprised to see me. I'm happy to reintroduce myself." The man had kind eyes despite his imposing nature. Merlin didn't like looking people in the eyes, but with him, it wasn't uncomfortable.
"I am Hogan, the former leader of the Heroic Order of the Lightbearer Empire and the current magistrate of Holistone."
Merlin felt that deja vu upon hearing Holistone . He tried to grab the memory, but it sank quicker than he could reach out. He'd need a stronger trigger to remember what that was. Perhaps a town?
"We were friends for years before you disappeared. I hoped one day you'd return. I'd love to chat, but this is no time for idly standing by. Look at these fire elementals."
Hogan gestured to the the elementals appearing ahead of them. Merlin frowned.
"They don't belong in Ryeham. How could they just appear out of nowhere?"
"They must have been summoned, perhaps by a mage," Merlin blurted out.
"It seems my instincts were right... This fire was no accident."
"An accident of this scale would lend itself to something truly improbable. It may be the doing of an arsonist, mage or not," Merlin said.
They went ahead, Merlin continuing to put out the fire elementals as they went until they reached the houses where the fire had started. Their tops were blackened and hollow, the fire emanating a suffocating heat, turning half the village into an oven.
"It began on the roof," Merlin said to himself. The roofs were hay and wooden. It was easy to start a fire in such a place.
The goal of putting out the fire was delayed by a hoard of bandits arriving from the other side. They were all rugged and clad in messily cobbled-together armor, a rushed job, or just a cheap one.
They might've thought cornering them into the fire was a good tactic.
Yet, their faces grew harrowed when Merlin threw fire at them.
Merlin put out the flames that might've spread. There was no chance of the affected homes being saved- they were engulfed in the fire, and so he let them burn.
More bandits came in from all directions, surrounding the villagers, who were forced to hide behind fences and in the houses they could reach without having a bow and arrow pointed at them. Merlin's heart beat feverishly.
The amount of bandits greatly outnumbered the troops.
When the fight turned against Merlin, he thought it over. That would be a pitifully foolish end to a life that had essentially just begun. How had he gotten into so much trouble after only coming to? Was it always going to be so?
Someone to his left hit a bandit's sword right out of his hand. The person's speed and agility were immaculate, and with them, the fight went quicker and better than expected.
Merlin could finally work his magic with finesse and not haphazardly throw fire.
Was it an effective tactic? Certainly. But it was like throwing rocks as opposed to shooting arrows.
When it was over, and the bandits had retreated in fear of the mage who could envelop them in vines and the swordsman who moved like a shadow, Merlin could see who had fought at his side.
The sight was a pleasant surprise.
Part 2- Bad Things Happen in Good Towns (2600 words)
"Valen! You just got here now?" Hogan snapped. "Were you deep in your cups again?"
Merlin would've thanked "Valen" for salvaging the situation if Merlin wasn't stunned and catching his breath as though he had run for his life. Had his body always been so fragile?
"That's not fair... I ran into a bunch of fire elementals on my way here. Those guys were really annoying," Valen said. His voice was light, bright, and aloof.
"Anyway, looks pretty grim here... I didn't expect the fire to be this big. This is not normal, General." He didn't spare Merlin a glance, while Merlin stared at the guy intensely enough to start another fire.
He had umber hair with a similar hair texture to Merlin, a dueling scar on his left cheek, and his eyes were lavender purple. The top of Merlin's head reached his shoulders, and Merlin had to tilt his head up to see his face and not his smooth neck, exposed from a white shirt and framed by fur.
He did not know this man and felt no familiarity or deja vu towards him; the lack of such feelings was refreshing. He wasn't bad to look at with the red reflecting off the side of his face like a dramatic sunset.
The image of a fierce warrior did not particularly match Valen's demeanor, but the muscularity of his arms gave his profession away.
"That's right! We think it's arson. The culprit is likely a mage!" Chippy piped up.
Valen leaned down to Chippy like one would to a child.
"Whoa! A talking hamster. You're a familiar, aren't you?" He smiled, the corners of his mouth not quite lining up.
"In that case, this gentleman with the General must be a mage. I've gotta say picking a hamster as your familiar is rather... unique."
Merlin did not want to be acknowledged in such a way. He turned his gaze to the man's belt, bristling, detecting a hint of mocking in his tone. Merlin knew the decision to have Hammie and Chippy as his familiars was a personal one.
Memory loss and mysteries be damned, Merlin was ready to fight the pretty boy with his bare hands for Chippy and Hammie! Hogan reflected a similar disdain.
"I'd normally overlook your banter, Valen. But in front of this Magister, you'd better watch your words."
Valen was visibly taken aback.
"I've never seen the General so defensive. Well, great Magister, I'm Valen of the Heroic Order. How would you like me to address you?"
Merlin desperately searched for something to latch onto as a fake name while avoiding Valen's expectant gaze and perfect face.
Smog? Devastated villager? Crying child? Glimmerblooms, no! His eyes were caught by a fox painted on one of the villager's houses.
"Magister Vulpin," Merlin stammered. He could've chosen a worse name. "Magister Smog" did have a certain ring to it, though.
"Vulpin... Hm, an interesting name. I'll make sure to remember it." He offered a bow, and Merlin sighed in relief. "Forgive my rudeness earlier. I'll be sure to make it up to you once this fire has been dealt with."
"Um, no... It's nothing." Merlin shook his head and flushed at his awkwardness. Every word was a tongue twister, and his tongue had become more twisted than a rope.
The fire, having eaten the two houses, no longer crackled deafeningly, and the smog could begin to lift. The winds would sweep it away soon enough. But first, the winds carried chatter from the other side of the smoldering remains.
"Hogan, I shall go see what the hubbub is about, if you do not mind." Merlin folded his now pink hands into his sleeves. He should have worn something lighter.
"Go ahead, and take Valen with you. Just in case."
Valen's sour face showed he wasn't thrilled at the command.
Behind the remains of the houses stood a woman with hair the same color as the flames. It reached her ankles. It must be uncomfortable to walk with that cape of hair trailing behind you, I cannot imagine having to take care of it, Merlin thought.
Her black dress was graceful, as black as soot, and she stood out from the villagers like Merlin did. She was not from Ryeham.
The familiarity that hit Merlin at the sight of her was strong enough to make him collapse. It was sickening.
"Are you more interested in accusing me of starting the fire than being useful?" the woman with a hat shaped like Merlin's said. She had a star on her chest. She looked a bit like Merlin, and not in the way most mages did.
Her floral perfume dominated over the charred stench.
"I saw ya casting a spell with m'own eyes!" a furious villager shouted.
"A spell to quench the fire, my dear. I'm just trying to help. You could be a little more grateful, you know."
"The Scarlet Sorceress is as beautiful as her fire is dangerous. That's what the rumors say..." The villager crossed his arms, a woman behind him standing with a pitchfork. As if a pitchfork could defend them against a mage.
"I'll take that as a compliment. If this was my fire, you would all be cinders by now."
Merlin could listen to her voice all day. Not like he wanted to. With the way she spoke to the villagers, she struck him as blunt and careless.
Merlin would never. Probably never, he wasn't quite sure yet.
"The Scarlet Sorceress?" Chippy squinted at her. "I've... heard of her!"
The sorceress ignored the insults from the villagers, her eyes flicking to Chippy.
And then, to Merlin.
They both shared a glance that wasn't their first, or even second, and then her eyes moved to his hat. Her gaze was striking along with her face.
"You're..." she said, her sky-blue eyes wide and her vermillion lips twisted. "Nevermind. You reminded me of someone. The cards were right, this morning is awful, and I should not have gone out."
She turned on her heel and stormed off, bellowing "I'm leaving, don't stop me."
A little boy with a stick and a bird on his head stopped her by blocking her way. Merlin debated slinking away while everyone was distracted. He had helped enough, no? The fire was gone... and he could find that knight again some other day.
"You're not going anywhere, Scarlet Sorceress! All my wares are gone! I demand compensation!" he protested.
A fire flickered to life in her hand.
"Get out of my way, young man. I'm not known for my patience."
"Don't you dare try to get away with this! I'll make sure you're held responsi-"
The sorceress put a hand to her ear and shushed the boy.
"Quiet. Something isn't right. The wind... it's suddenly loud."
Merlin knew exactly what she meant. There was a hiss in the air, a hiss that became booming as a whirlwind of a wind elemental formed in the ruins of the house.
Merlin didn't envy whoever owned the house.
Normal attacks didn't harm the elemental, and the woman's fire only strengthened it.
Merlin knew that that was no way to deal with such a creature. So, he began drawing up as much magic as he could to seal the elemental away.
Amid the sealing spell, he turned to the Sorceress, her eyes even wider than when she first saw him, with a sadness in that blue. With each push of his magic pressure and fuzz built in his head and eyes.
"Do I... know you?" he asked weakly just as the fuzz overwhelmed his senses, sending him under a blanket of nothingness.
He'd taken out himself along with the elemental. He didn't even get to hear the woman respond.
He knew that they'd meet again.
Merlin screamed at the sight of Valen, not because he was scary, but because waking up in some man's arms was incredibly concerning. He had only met Valen a bit ago. What business did Valen have embracing Merlin?!
"Calm down! Calm down! Oh, Dura, I think I'm deaf now," he plugged his ear. Merlin scampered away.
He blushed bright red when he realized he had fallen off some bench near a windmill. The grass and surrounding area were ruddy, carrying a fresh, non-smog-filled scent of soil and hay.
"I... I apologize. You startled me. Where am I?" Merlin stayed on the ground for fear of messing up more than he already had or fainting. Farmers in the fields were already looking at him funny.
"We're still in Ryeham, I was told to take you here after you fainted. How are you feeling?"
His face showed genuine concern.
Take him here? Valen carried Merlin here? Oh dear. Those arms of his weren't just for show.
Merlin got off the ground, dusting himself off. His legs were wobbly as he plopped down next to Valen to not eat some dirt for breakfast.
"I am... fine, I suppose. Are you worried?"
He raised a full brow. "You defeated that huge wind elemental alone, but you fainted before I could applaud." Merlin huffed a laugh. "Anyone with a heart would worry about you."
"You passed out for a while. General Hogan and his men returned to Holistone. He ordered me to stay here and look after you."
That Hogan cares about me, huh? I wonder what I did with him in the past.
" Before he left, he told me to make sure that when you woke up, your memory was alright. What a strange request... Do you often forget things?"
Merlin shrugged. "I do not remember if this has happened before. It possibly has, but I remember everything that just happened. There was that redheaded woman..."
"The suspect, Mirael. She's been taken to Holistone for questioning. You're a Magister, so perhaps you've heard of her, or maybe you know her, because she rushed to you when you passed out. She was identified as the culprit by young master Rowan."
"Rowan?" Who was that? Ugh, he would have to ask that tens of times in the days to come.
"That kid with the huge bag and the duck on his head. He's Rowan, the second son of the wealthiest man in the Empire and head of the Mithril Consortium. General Hogan took him for questioning, too."
"Do you know Mirael?" Valen leaned on his fist.
"Potentially. Possibly. Probably." She sure knew Merlin. And when he asked, he passed out just after.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're a strange one, Magister Vulpin."
Merlin sighed. That was undeniable. Being called a fake name felt strange, but, guess what, familiar.
Chippy and Hammie had returned from walking circles across the windmill, running up to the Magister and clambering to get up on the bench. Only Hammie managed as Chippy's armor was too heavy.
"Magister! You're conscious again."
"Chippy checked the village. It's free of bandits and elementals of any kind," Hammie reassured Merlin was a pat on his leg.
"The General is waiting for us in Holistone. We should go meet him if you feel better!" Chippy hauled his sword over his shoulder.
Merlin hummed to distract from how long it took him to answer. "We can set off now."
"There might be enemies on the road, Magister Vulpin. I'll go with you." Valen rose, standing pompously.
Merlin decided that he liked Valen. Despite the slightly mocking tone in his voice and that undercurrent of high-society pompousness, the deja vu plaguing Merlin disappeared around Valen, putting the mage at ease.
The hamsters reflected that attitude. That was a good omen.
"Although, you might not need my protection," Valen tossed his hair, smirking. "If you could handle that thing you can handle a little trouble. I've never seen magic like yours."
"Of course! The Magister is the Me-"
"Yes, yes, thank you, Chippy," Merlin cut him off like an axe. "Even though I am capable, I do faint quite often, and it would be a travesty if I did not have someone to look out for me. Your help would be much appreciated, Sir Valen."
Valen's smug expression turned surprised by Merlin's politeness. He offered Merlin a hand, and he took it, getting up carefully.
"Do you always talk like that?" Valen asked.
"Talk like what? I speak rather normally. Do you dislike it, Sir, or is it, perhaps, grating?" Merlin looked up at Valen. He laughed.
"Nothing. I like it, sounds..." Valen was visibly holding back some comment in fear of offending Merlin, Merlin could tell by the way he pursed his lips and glanced away.
"... Courtly?"
Merlin put his hands on his hips.
"Are you afraid of me?"
Valen groaned. "Of General Hogan. He's never asked me to treat even the stuffiest of nobles so carefully, so I'm rightfully cautious. You must be a big deal."
"Do not fret, I do not bite."
Valen quirked a brow and flashed a grin. "Really?"
A wind picked up, allowing Merlin to divert from the topic. He cleared his throat.
"Is it cold, or is it just me?" Merlin hugged himself.
"It's not just you, Magister," Valen said as they passed by seemingly endless wheat fields.
"It is said that Merlin's ward has long protected Ryeham. It's the only reason that people can actually live here.
"But recently, Ryeham's been getting colder. It's almost snowed the past few days. We've come with the Magister to investigate this change in weather," Hammie explained. Valen listened intently. He was keeping his strides shorter to not leave Merlin in the dust.
Merlin, the Magister, had not been aware that he was there to investigate anything besides the fire.
"My apologies, Miss Hamster, I never got your name."
"Yes, we should be introduced. You are Valen. I am Hammie."
"Are all your familiars hamsters, Magister?"
Merlin had forgotten that he was part of the conversation. Processing that he had been spoken to, he owlishly turned his head to Valen.
"Yes," Merlin said, leaving no room for silly comments.
Hammie made the most intimidating face she could manage.
"Chippy told me that General Hogan ordered you to protect the Magister. You must know that serving the Magister is an honor,but it's no easy feat. I've got my eye on you. I hope you'll become a competent retainer." Hammie folded her hands skeptically, giving Valen a once-over.
"Apologies again, but I have to correct you. I'm a knight, not someone's retainer ," Valen said with a hint of offense. "Protecting Magister Vulpin is just my current task. It's not a lifelong post."
If he kept yapping in the wrong direction his current task might last only a few more moments before he takes a permanent vacation, Merlin thought.
"Unless... your Magister is someone like the great Merlin, then I may consider it."
Merlin's stomach was light, nearly empty, at the words. He couldn't say anything. Not a peep! Do not tell him who you are, Merlin! Do not fall for the trap!
"Did I hear that right? Well, the Magister is... OW!" Chippy flinched in pain. "Why did you step on my foot, Hammie?!"
Merlin said everything left unsaid when he side-eyed Chippy.
"Oh, sorry... I got distracted and didn't see where I was going." Hammie fluttered her eyelashes.
"Once you've spent some time together, you'll realize that although the Magister isn't Merlin, he's just as powerful! He's... exactly like Merlin, but he's not," Hammie said, losing steam at the end.
Merlin grimaced. "You don't have to flatter me." And nearly give out my identity. I could have done that myself, you know.
Valen had already seen a sliver of what Merlin could do. With such displays, Merlin couldn't keep things under wraps for long.
"I'll have to wait and see."
So, they headed to Holistone, Valen eager to find out more about the mage and warm up from the uncharitable weather, Merlin set on figuring out the fire, restoring his memory, and proving himself to the knight; the hamsters were just happy to have their Magister back.
And the rest? The rest is history.
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Note: Thank you for reading!
#afk journey#afk journey fanfiction#valen x merlin#afk hammie#afk mirael#afk merlin#magister merlin starhawk#art#fanfic#writing
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i have found my way into another fandom *cough cough hellhole cough* and this time it's afk journey and with its silly heroes
so, there now exists fanart for @aeipathy-dendrology 's fic series the power of friendship (and also this memory i lost). say hi to cypher
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The end (Is the beginning)
"I'm a healer, a guider first and foremost. Not a fighter, even if I have the claws, teeth, magic, skills for it....That said." A small smile that turns sadistic, stalking toward the enemies/threats, the atmosphere feeling chillingly cold.
Gravely so.
"I'm not a fighter, no--I'm the Sacrifice, the martyr." Bloodlust, sadistic, morphing into his bat form. "Why else, is death and rebirth so ingrained into my very core?"
The flame-spines feel different. Calling upon the Sun, his own status as the Moon.
Bloodlust.
--And lands his first blow in cruel retaliation, decimating numbers fast.
"You forget, that I play by different rules." (Your place.) His form changes, goes through a white bat, to a wyvern made of smoke and ash that ignite with cracks lining it, a light, flames flicker out through, licking at the charred bones and ash-made skin. Voice a sharp, hissing, breathless rasp that chills to the very bones, the soft rumbling hum of thunder in it prelude. It falls away (It's not supposed to!), crumbles like the very ground of a desert---A phoenix with only vague traits of a bat or wyvern, unfurling its great wings and plumes in all its majesty.
But it feels different, wicked, cruel without the kindness nor serenity. The pinions real flames hot as the sun itself, that ominous sadistic grin still in-place with all those rows of sharp teeth on shameless unapologetic display, preparing to deal one, final, deciding hit.
It billows a stream of smoke through its nostrils and corners of its mouth, growing in size and warping. A dragon.
But not one of tenderness or seeking peace.
"I am the Sacrifice, I am Change, Adaptivity, I am Survival, I.am.Life, I am.the Sun, I.am.War, Desolation, Renewal, I.am...." Those unnerving, terrifying orbs bore into the puny lifeforms of the so called horrors from beyond, that rallied the Hypogeans --Berial knew his own fate, standing face to face on opposing sides with his Batman, duty-bound to join Phraesto, Reinier, Harak and all the rest.
This, is the final, last curtain call.
But the Jester harbored no sorrow, regrets or bad blood and fear of his imminent end.
Only peaceful, quiet pride.
This was the greatest, best performance he could've ever hoped and ask for, the finale a marvelous end to it, to the legend told, to the journey.
And no puny gods nor blundering celestials will ruin it. (A fiery shadow cast upon the ground.) Free(dom).
A happy end.
".....Death."
The Arrow flies down, a lightning striking down.
The dust settles, an empty battleground. No bones, no limbs, no flesh and skin, no ashes. .
....Only a lingering cold yet scorching heat.
A promise of return, and for the cycle to begin anew over and over again as it would for time immemorial.
#afk journey#afk journey fanfic#fanfic#fanfic with illustration included#Pirin#oc#Saga finale (?)#The Beginning (fic)#Ryeham tales#Woodland escapades#Blood and sands#Rolling Waves#Next season arcs#The (mis)Adventures of 'Merlin'#Contract of a Legend and a Burning star#Spoilers: Check the alt texts for hints#Pirin is not done journeying#Foreshadowing a new saga under the same series
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captain's respite.
Summary: Sinbad never expected that writing a letter of all things to be a monumentally difficult task. Then again, Sinbad never had a reason to write one before, and this is for Magister Merlin.
A/N: AFK Journey has slowly but steadily consumed me so I decided to throw my hat into the ring by writing a fic based on Sinbad's letter. I wrote this before and while doing Cage of Desire + sprinkling in personal hcs about Sinbad and my Merlin specifically so it's all over the place but I hope it's an enjoyable read still!
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Between aiding the Carmine Whispers in fixing up the Chainkeeper and his own short voyages to nearby islands, there was never a dull moment in Sinbad’s life these days. He preferred it this way; better to keep his head firmly above water and be on the side of ‘good’ than take on shady, under the table gigs like he used to. His new status as Rustport’s hero kept him on the (mostly) straight and narrow, too.
As time marched on, the season too slowly changed. Initially Sinbad thought nothing of it, busy as he was running all over the place. He shrugged off the exhaustion slowly weighing him down, ignored all the signs that pointed at his declining health–coughs that made his lungs ache, light dizzy spells that made him pause and fits of sneezes that had him carry around a few handkerchiefs in his rucksack.
It was only after he nearly fell overboard during a routine supply drop for the Carmine Whispers due to a sudden wash of dizziness that he accepted the fact that he was sick. The temperature had steadily dropped over the weeks, making him susceptible to colds and the like with the chilly winds sweeping through Rustport.
Pretty much everyone he worked with told him to rest (not wanting the possibility of him spreading what he had to others), so Sinbad opted to do so by staying at the Golden Guest Inn. He could head back to Brineville and rest at his home but he didn’t want to worry his moms, nor subject himself to the sort of homemade medicines they’d make him take.
Anyways, Bols apparently found him to look pathetic enough that he begrudgingly allowed him to stay at the suite reserved for Merlin while the Magister wasn’t using it. Sinbad spent the first day stewing in bed, coughing and sneezing in between long bouts of sleep, his body finally getting the opportunity to simply rest without worry.
On the second day, Sinbad reached that point where he was far from getting better but wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep again after multiple attempts. Restlessness started to sink in, and with it that itch in his limbs to get up and do something. Yet he knew that trying to do anything too physically exerting would just make him wheeze and cough his lungs out, and wouldn’t that be a pathetic sight?
With his homemade blanket wrapped around him–a gift from his moms, made from stitching up various patches of cloth together–Sinbad sat up on the bed, back resting against the headboard. The crackling fireplace and candlelights cast the room in a soft glow, enhancing the rich red fabrics that adorned most of the furniture. A perfect picture of coziness to lull one to sleep, except it eluded Sinbad for the time being.
Staring at the fireplace for a long while, Sinbad’s mind wandered all the while, skipping from one thought to the next. His work with the Carmine Whispers, his dreams of one day properly venturing away from Rustport, his time spent with the Magister…
It was that last line of thought that he latched on to. Sinbad can’t help but wonder what Merlin was up to. The mage mentioned about returning somewhere temporarily, though had plans of swinging by Rustport again at some point. Was Merlin out adventuring to places Sinbad only dreamt of visiting himself? Or was the Magister and their familiars busy aiding anyone that needed help?
Regardless of what Merlin may or may not be up to at this moment, Sinbad can’t help but admit that a part of him wanted to see them again. His encounter with Magister Merlin had changed his life, so Sinbad reasoned that it was pretty normal to want to meet up again and catch up.
Still, what reason would entice Merlin in visiting Rustport again? Sinbad doubted that he'd come just because he asked him to, right?
… Maybe if there was something else that went on in Rustport. Something intriguing enough that Sinbad could bring up as a reason to visit.
He did recall overhearing a conversation Bols and Hugin had last night when he snuck down to see if he could get some food to eat. A festival sounded interesting enough, so sending a letter about it shouldn’t be out of place to do.
Now, should he was the next question. After waffling over the idea for awhile, Sinbad opted to use his usual method in making decisions. He grabbed his coin purse on the bedside table, rifled through the coins until he found a faded, scuffed looking one.
Whenever he was undecided, he’d flipped his old man’s coin. If it landed on heads, he’d do it. If it was tails, Sinbad would toss the idea and go back to his attempts at sleeping again.
Sinbad positioned the coin on his thumb. After a quick exhale, he snapped his thumb and the coin, twirling, soared in the air. Sinbad deftly caught it and slapped the coin on the back of his other hand.
Slowly, he raised his hand to peer down at the result. The corners of his lips tugged up upon seeing the heads. Sinbad knew his old man’s coin wouldn't let him down.
With renewed confidence, Sinbad half fell off the bed in his haste to get up, the blanket tangled around his legs. Once freed, he shivered when his bare feet hit the cold floorboards, grabbing the blanket with him as he stood up. Sinbad wrapped it around his shoulders, making sure to swipe his handkerchief off the nightstand too before he shuffled towards the lone desk at the side of the suite.
His pack laid half open on the surface, so he rummaged through it with one hand while the other used the handkerchief to catch another sneeze. Sniffling, Sinbad eventually pulled out a piece of decent parchment, laying it on the surface alongside a small ink pot and a quill made from a dark feather gleaming of bronze and ruby. He then lit the candle in the brass candle holder, casting a soft glow on the desk.
Sinbad sat down, dipping the quill tip into the ink pot. It then occurred to him that he wasn't exactly sure what to write about. Sinbad never really had a reason, nor even anyone to write a letter to before. It was just him and his moms in Brineville, and writing to anyone he’d consider a ‘friend’ in Rustport would just waste already scarce resources. Parchment and ink wouldn't fill hungry bellies after all.
But Sinbad wasn't too strapped for coins now. Sonja gave her word that Brineville would be protected, and his moms urged him to set out and chase his dreams for once. Sinbad was slowly growing a collection of stories to break out at taverns, making a name for himself as a captain that could navigate his ship through even the fiercest of storms.
He had loads of stuff he could write down and share… but this was the Magister Merlin he planned on having this letter sent to. Never one to feel anything less than confident (practically needed to survive the streets of Rustport like he had), there was just something about Merlin that made him feel… nervous.
Well, nervous wasn't the right word. Sinbad felt like he had to impress him? Then again, he doubted his image would improve anytime soon after his less than stellar conduct of maybe tricking the Magister multiple times. By the end of their grand adventure, Sinbad wanted to believe that they were friends, or at the very least friendly allies.
So what should he write to a friendly ally?
Sinbad’s shoulders slumped as he heaved out a deep sigh. This really wasn't like him. The ink would dry long before he started writing if he kept this up. He just needed to go at it like how he always approached things that made his stomach all fluttery–with reckless bravado and hope that things won't blow up in his face.
Maybe he could start with simple pleasantries. An opener to break the ice before segueing into the main topic that made him write this letter in the first place.
Sinbad dipped the quill tip back into the pot once more, making sure not to overload it. Carefully, each letter defined and clear, he wrote on the parchment with more care than he'd usually exert on a task.
Any idea where I'm writing this letter from? Haha, I bet you have no clue! I'm not on a ship this time; I'm at an inn.
He paused, looking at it for a moment, unsatisfied with how his handwriting looked. Sinbad fought down the urge to scratch it out and start anew; he'd be stuck in a dissatisfied cycle if he entertained it, and habits born from growing up in poverty meant that he didn't want to waste good parchment.
So long as it was eligible, the Magister should be able to read it, right?
That annoying twinge in his nose made itself known again, forcing Sinbad to duck into his handkerchief to cover up another sneeze. An idea then came to mind as he sniffled behind the cloth. Picking up the quill, he continued with painstaking care, his hand nearly trembling with the effort to keep it looking neat.
In short, I caught a cold and had to get some rest. I was sneezing when it hit me that autumn was almost over! No wonder the wind is so chilly!
There. Sinbad could just blame his questionable handwriting on the cold he'd been plagued with if Merlin ever brought it up.
Now, that should be a good enough opener. Sinbad didn’t want to ramble on in case he risked losing Merlin’s attention, or for his handwriting to devolve into a scrawl like mess. He already felt the cramps settling in, unused as he was in holding a quill to write neatly.
After another dip, Sinbad resumed his writing, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.
Last night, I overheard Bols and Hugin talking about a festival they’re planning for the end of October. They were pretty vague about the details, but I’m sure it’ll be a fun event!
Sinbad wasn’t one hundred percent certain but if Hugin involved his inventions, it’d at least be an interesting time. The Magister did seem attracted to things that piqued his interest, his eyes gleaming in a way that caused a little shiver down Sinbad’s spine each time he noticed it.
He briefly chewed on his bottom lip, quill hovering over the parchment long enough for a drop of ink to blot a corner. Would this be too overly familiar for the sort of friendly ally-ship that they have?
Ah, screw it. Sinbad brought the quill down and continued.
We, the ultimate duo of a great mage and a great captain, definitely can’t miss out on this, right? Let’s meet at Rustport soon! I’ve got so much to tell you!
Sinbad never knew that writing letters could get his heart pumping, like he was wrestling with the steering wheel to sail his ship through choppy waters. Licking his suddenly dry lips, his eyes skimmed over the letter. He’d already written this much so there was no going back, lest he wanted to redo it all from scratch.
After reading over it two more times, a thought suddenly struck him. Sinbad quickly wrote it down while it remained fresh in his mind, though his handwriting suffered in his haste.
By the way, I found a floating bottle in the sea just the other day! I couldn’t understand the writing, so I showed it to Hugin. He told me it’s an ancient script for mages like you, and it can be used to redeem rewards!
Sinbad had to fish out the rolled up parchment from his pack, squinting at the unfamiliar writing seemingly only known to those wielding the arcane. He did his best to replicate the letters at the bottom of his letter.
I’ve copied it down for you at the bottom. Give it a try when you’re free! You might be able to snag some treasure!
Surely Merlin would focus on the possibility of treasure instead of his weird insistence of meeting up, right? Sinbad couldn’t tell what sort of impression this letter gave off but he hoped it wasn’t an off putting one. Written words couldn’t properly convey the sort of tone Sinbad used when he spoke. He meant this to be read in this casual, almost playful way. Whether Merlin would actually see it that way remained to be seen.
Still, this felt like a good place to end the letter. Sinbad took a good while in cycling his options before opting to go for a simple sign off.
May you have a safe journey.
An abrupt sneeze caught him off guard, and while he was able to cover the worst of it, his hand jerked forward. Now there was a stupid inked line on the parchment.
Sinbad’s lips curled into a scowl, glaring daggers at the letter he painstakingly wrote for the past who knew how long. His shoulders then slumped from the harsh breath he released. He sniffed hard, then rubbed his nose on the back of his hand. Stupid cold.
Did he really have to write everything from the beginning again? Sinbad bit his inner cheek, brows furrowed worryingly until he realized of a way to salvage it.
See you soon! — The Sneezing Great Captain Sinbad
Once again, he could blame it on his cold if Merlin pointed it out. Sinbad knew he was thinking too much into something that may not even happened but–it was hard not to when it concerned Merlin, his probably friend (or friendly ally, as his mind liked to use).
Sinbad quickly put his quill down. He had to stop here before he’d second guessed himself more than he already had throughout writing this letter. Ideally he should soak the quill’s tip in some water, as well as sprinkling some sand atop the parchment so it could absorb any extra ink.
As it was, Sinbad couldn’t be bothered to do any of that. His hand hurt, his nose was sore and a little stuffed up, and there was an ache pounding steadily against his temples. He tugged the blanket tighter around his body, shivering from a sudden chill that zipped down his spine.
Time to crawl back into bed and get some much needed rest if he wanted to recover from this cold. Sinbad would send the letter after he felt less like a giant walking ache and capable of sprucing himself up into a presentable state. Last thing he wanted was for the unsavory types to clock him as an easy target.
After he blew out the candle, Sinbad slowly got up from the chair, blinking away the brief splattering of black dots dancing across his vision. With the blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, he shuffled his way back to the bed, collapsing rather gracelessly atop it once he was within reach.
Sinbad turned to lay on his side, bringing his knees to his chest, where only the tips of his hair peeked out of the cocoon he made for himself. An old habit of his stemmed from a need to make himself as small as possible to hide, though when by his lonesome like this, it fondly reminded him of curling his tiny body against one of his moms for warmth during frigid nights.
Soon, his breaths evened out as he fell into a deep slumber, his sleep awashed with dreams of excitement and adventure.
#AFK Journey#AFK Journey fanfic#AFK Sinbad#Something about Sinbad just makes me so#I hate him (affectionately)
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[NSWF]
Eugavus College Boyfriends AU Smut fic has been uploaded! Hope y'all enjoy <3
(click the purple text above or copy paste the link onto your browser :
https://archiveofourown.org/works/57506095)
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picture granny dahnie cupping bryon’s face and telling him “not to be so serious all the time, people may think you’re older than you look” and to “call me granny like all the rest of the youngsters”
and him just smiling softly and saying “will do master—granny dahnie”
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The Winter Banquet is about to be a congregation of Magsiter Merlin Starhawk's exes and current love interests and I think that is SO funny.
Mirael, with her unrequited love and unyielding dedication to her once teacher, Hogan with his unrequited love and dedication to his once colleague and friend, Sonja with her... you know, whatever she has going on with Merlin, and Valen and Sinbad who are in love with Merlin but the three of them can't just figure it out like normal people so they stay quiet and brood, meanwhile poor Hammie and Chippy are there to watch the awkward spectacle and make sure no one dies from being stabbed by a fork repeatedly.
Dolly? Oh, Dolly's just getting tipsy on mead and having a blast. She worked hard to prepare everything, she doesn't care about Merlin's drama as long as he's still alive and not too depressed to keep his room tidy.
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part of me is so so tempted to make like.
an afk arena fanfic thats short and sweet and like some stories about eugavus & their kids, mainly during the time where they are still looking for a new living space after the prison break
mainly bc i have two little ideas i wanna do ,,,,
#afk arena#afk eugene#afk gavus#afk liberta#afk lucilla#eugavus#i think#that they deserve to have a fanfic dedicated to that little portion of their life#like the ups the downs and what have you#imagine gavus and eugene learning their funny silly little baby girl uses unnecessary violence now#and she doesnt see the issue with it bc to her its justified usage#imagine they see their little darling sleepy boy whos so willing to put himself in the grip of death#because his magic is built for healing and he sees it as the most logical thing to do#but also imagine eugene showing lucilla how to channel that unnecessary violence into something more clever#hes not saying get rid of it hes saying turn it into necessary violence#‘’so you wont get told off by your papa’’ kinda deal#imagine gavus sitting liberta down after a particularly bad day full of disagreements on how liberta uses his magic#and admitting to liberta that yes he can heal himself but its scary every time for gavus and eugene and lucilla#that the reason they keep getting upset isnt bc theyre mad at liberta but terrified that he’ll take a hit for them#for his PARENTS (the people who are supposed to be protecting him)#and he won’t get up#yeah i have thougthts anyways
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TemAta my beloved <333 i will populate this fandom with fics of them by myself if i must
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["Valen, please, who hurt you to this degree? You are a few drinks away from being whisked away by Dionel. Into the underworld." Merlin shook Valen by the shoulder, growing increasingly serious when Valen didn't respond.
"Who hurt me was... me."
It was good he was responsive, but that was a bloody stupid response.]
-"Valen's Valence", my new fic, out on ao3 right now :)
#afk journey#afk journey fanart#afkj#afk sinbad#afk valen#merlin x valen#magister merlin#magister merlin starhawk#art#manga#anime#afk journey fanfic#fuji momozane
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"Secret, can you keep it?" -Rolling waves fic illustration
When Pirin is stressed/distressed, his magic subconsciously manifests and forms into things he likes/loves to console his frayed mind. In this case, warblers or just nonspecific birds. Their song is inaudible to the human and regular animal ear, nor discernible. Only the caster can hear and discern the birds' melody.
#afk journey#afk journey fanart#digital fanart#digital art#fanfic illustration#fanart#oc#afk sinbad#Pirin
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Oh, okay... I'm going to prepare for this now
Maybe I’ll introduce myself too…
#afk#afk arena#afk journey#afk fandom#waves of intrigue#aCanon#afk journey Canon#big bang#big bang recruit#afk Fanon#afk Trope#afk journey Fanfic#fanfic#afk journey prompt
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Please give me atalanta x temesia fic ideas I’m begging IF NO ONE MAKES CONTENT OF THEM I’LL DO IT MYSELF
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