#badly explained merlin plots

[badly-explained-merlin-plots]

Gwaine - Bar fights are a valid way to recruit future knights of the realm

[callmesel]

Am I the only one who wants like a survival game with percy as the mc?

Like, I think he would survive and do pretty good, like, I think he would win.

I don't know how to like explain it but I kkep having this mental image of Percy hiding in the forest and shooting arrows at the other contestants.

I just have a general idea of this in my head.

the wizarding world makes this game every 20 years or so, it's for entertament but it comes from a tradition of sacrifices. It's mainly in wizarding Europe and they select 5 contestant from each country as a "team" but they don't really have to play like one, they are a team for their country but can make alliances with other countries. They can team with whoever they want but the public will see it and they can see them as a traitor to their country or something. In my head, there is a floating device that follows each contestant until their death, following everything they're doing. Maybe this is a rip off of hunger games but there isn't any district nor a organization whose doing it, like, the contestants are chosen by a magic book that the bc wizarding society created, or something like that.

They cannot bring their wand but they can make their own wand inside the arena if they want. The area is like a giant forest full of creatures, becuase they also play for some reason but they are more sacrifices that willing contestants. Who are they sacrificing them for? Idk. Merlin? To keep the magic society going becuase they feed of young souls of wizards and witches?

I would like that England's team were the golden trio, but i think they deserved a break. So maybe Percy is in there with the twins and other two randoms. That would be a fun dynamic.

There is a post floating around about a survival game with just the weasley where it said that Percy would sure win and that his siblings would gang up on him so the others have a higher chance of survive. And that probably Percy would hunt one by one, except Ginny because he has a soft spot and that is why Ginny would win. If I remember correctly it also talked about each of the siblings traits but I just focused on Percy, what a suprise.

But anyway, I think that getting the twins involved in this wold be really fun, all three of them are really good at strategizing, the twins because they have to be good at planning ahead to pull those pranks and Percy because he thinks ahead of everyone and seems as someone who is alwasy prepare for anything tbh. The other teammates could be use for plot convenience, maybe they are older than any of them and are scare of death so they make agreements with other teams to not kill them and they would let them known essencial info about the other teammates or something like that of bride them with materials.

It can also use af love interesed if you want, like idk, or like someone, it doesn't matter if the weasleys or the extras and there is a conflict in the team that will make them separeted. It would be fun if the twins and Percy would be splitting and then they all regret and can't sleep knowing that they may just sentence their brother to death.

I feel that Percy would regret it faster, as it's his little brothers who we are talking about. He loves them even if they annoy him. The twins would really mind until they idk, discover that Percy got badly injured.

I also think that the twins are really handy, they have created prototypes products for their joke shop. I think that they have knowledge to make things from scratch. Percy would have a harder time but he would be find. I think he knows how to use different weapons but he hasn't really properly used them until know.

I want them to be about to win but in a last minute thing Fred gets injure and they don't get to win or something. Idk but I want someone dead and so there is a revenge saga and there is a murder spree and they win, but at what cost.

Or make just one of them win.

Either way, someone important to the winner has to die. Death makes it so much more fun.

[jugheadthelesbian]

Hi, it's me, I'm back. I'm here to make another request!! This is 2 out of 2 (or 3, I'm still undecided) and this one is for some good old fashioned angst 😻😻

Uh so for this one I was wondering if you could take that silly hospital stay from my hogwarts dr and use it to your advantage.. I can text you actual details abt what happened at the end of the ootp plot line that this falls into ofc bc idk how much of me yapping abt it you remember but it's basically about the whole department if mysteries fiasco.

Uh yeah if you need any extra details that aren't remembered from the aftermath of all that just lmk <3

-Alice 💥💥

hi lovely, it is finally done 💗 this is for alice specifically, but all my fred girlies can enjoy it

summary: alice sacrificed herself to save sirius in the end of the order of the phoenix and is put in a medically induced coma. here is fred’s reaction and inner thoughts during that time she’s in a coma. word count: 1760 words

warnings: this is angsty so mentions of violence, death, medically induced coma, hospitalization, and yeah read w caution i suppose

if u enjoy this please check my pinned post for sending requests!! i can also do deadpool and wolverine and acotar requests

“Where is she?” 

Fred’s voice is frantic as he shouts for the closest nurse at St. Mungo’s Hospital. As soon as he heard the news of Alice’s injury and her current condition from Ron, he apparated right away, not wasting any time with Floo powder or anything. He didn’t know exactly what had happened to Alice; he just knew that she had been injured in the battle and that he had to hurry. So, he apparated to the hospital in a rush, leaving Lee and George, who were with him at the time, without another word. 

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t know who you’re trying to find?” A nurse tells him, with knitted eyebrows of concern. Fred shakes his head, unable to form the correct words, unable to say Alice’s name like it might be what causes her to die. 

A hand rests on Fred’s shoulder. “Alice. Alice Newt. She was brought in here less than an hour ago, she’s injured. Badly.” George’s calm tone as he explains grounds Fred a little bit. It doesn’t save Alice, but it makes Fred feel a little less like he will die. “We’re family.” A little white lie on George’s part, but close enough. They’re her found family after all. 

Fred’s eyes wander as the nurse talks to George. His eyes land on a bleary-eyed Capella pacing in the waiting room. “Oh good,” she says, running to Fred once she sees him. “I was trying to figure out how to get in touch with you. She kept asking for you, kept begging me to get you. She was so scared,” Her eyes mist over, biting the inside of her cheek. “Our stupid, stubborn, brave girl.” 

“What… what happened?” Fred asks her, afraid to know. Afraid to know what he feels deep down. That something terrible has happened to Alice. It’s like he could feel this tear in his chest like a piece of him is missing. He knows whatever it is, it is bad. But he also knows she’s alive, he can feel that too. Capella purses her lips together, at a loss for words to explain what is happening. She grips his hand, squeezing it. 

“She was hit with the killing curse,” Capella explains, the breath catching in Fred’s throat as he listens to her. Hot tears well in his eyes, his anxiety rising. “In the arm. They had to remove it, but she will be okay.” She continues, and a little bit of the tightening grip on Fred’s heart loosens. 

He smiles, sighing in relief. “Oh thank Merlin,” He finally lets himself breathe properly. “So can I see her?” He asks, wanting to wrap his arms around her beautiful frame and kiss her all over. He wants to hold her forever, the concept of losing her out of his mind forever. He looks back at Capella and realizes she’s still distraught. He realizes that she wouldn’t have been upset when he first saw her if Alice was okay. Fuck. “She isn’t okay, is she?”

She shakes her head, face grim. “The doctors had to put her in a medically induced coma so her arm can heal. She won’t wake up for a while,” There’s a slight hesitation in her voice, a sob wracking her body. “There’s a chance she won’t wake up ever.” She tells him and suddenly it’s like the world has ended. He can see it, him holding Alice’s hand as she dies, never telling her all the things he hasn’t told her and delivering her euology and watching her body go into the ground. Suddenly it’s like she’s already dead, even though he knows she’s still alive. 

“Please take me to her, I need to see her. Hold her hand.” The words feel foreign on his tongue, like he isn’t the one saying them. He doesn’t remember opening his mouth to talk. Capella doesn’t say anything to him, just leads him, and Lee and George trail behind them. George puts his hand on Fred’s shoulder from behind. 

The room they’re keeping Alice in is stifling, feels like the air has been sucked out of it. Capella led him to the door but stopped outside of it. “I can’t go in and look at her, I’ll let you three be alone with her. I have some work to do, but I’ll see you out when you’re done.” Done, like he’ll be able to just leave her. Leave her to wake up at any moment without anyone. Yeah, that won’t be happening. It’s clear to him that he can’t leave her once he sees the state of the room she’s in. 

It’s completely empty, save for her cot and a tiny night stand. No record player for all the muggle records he buys her, none of her posters or pictures, no dresser for her to put the sweaters she steals from him, no bookshelves for her books, no armchairs for George and Lee to sit on to talk her ear off, nothing. It is so quiet. That’s when his eyes fall on her in the bed, looking so small in the big bed. He approaches her, tears spilling from his eyes. 

“Alice…” His voice comes out pleading, like if he says her name, she will wake up and smile her beautiful smile again and she’ll say his name the way she always does, like her pretty lips were made to say his name. Will he ever hear her voice again? He sits at her feet, her hair splayed around her head on the pillow like a halo. Her entire are is gone. She looks so sick. She has always been beautiful, but now she looks wrong. She looks so fragile. He’s never seen his strong, beautiful girl looking so weak. 

She doesn’t move at all at his voice. It was foolish of him to think she might. He’s sobbing now, any fear of looking weak gone at the realization that she really and truly might not make it. He sits there, he’s not sure for how long, thinking of the life they lived together. He remembers how she was before, when he had last seen her. He’d kissed her, told her he’d see her later, knowing she might not make it.

He should’ve said more. 

He should’ve told her to stay, that they would be fine without her. But that wasn’t true, they needed her and she never would’ve just sat by and done nothing. He should’ve gone with her. He could’ve protected her. “It isn’t your fault that this happened.” George tells him, as if he read his thoughts. 

Fred doesn’t look at George, can’t pull his eyes away from Alice’s body. He holds her hand in his. “It is. I could’ve prevented this,” He whispers, voice hoarse from sobbing. “She doesn’t look like herself.” 

George chuckles, half-heartedly. “Right? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without her little grumpy pout. I don’t think she’s ever been this quiet, even when she’s sleepy, she’s still talking.” He says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Fred hates it. Fred wants him to shut up. Alice should be awake, telling George off. Kissing Fred. Telling him all about the battle. But she’s not.

And there’s a chance she won’t ever be again. 

~~~~

Fred spends the whole summer there. They move a chair into Alice’s room and he brings other stuff too. Her record player, for one, and about a dozen records. He brings her a change of clothes every day he comes in, usually one of his sweaters. He reads to her, books he thinks she would like and books he knows are her favorites. He talks to her. 

The nurses know him by name, giving him updates or talking to him about the latest Quidditch matches. They don’t talk about the war. Fred tries not to think about the war and it isn’t hard as the only thing he can think about is if Alice will be okay. Some days, Lee and George come with him. Other days, her friends are there too or Ron and Harry and Hermione. But, there isn’t a day that Fred isn’t there. He wants to be there when she wakes up. 

Today feels different as soon as he walks into the hospital. The front desk nurses smile and address him by name. He walks the familiar route to Alice’s hospital room, a book tucked to his chest. When he walks in, his heart plummets. There’s a cluster of doctors around Alice’s hospital bed. “…what’s going on?” He asks cautiously. 

“Oh, good!! Fred!” Capella smiles when she sees him, the closest one to Alice and the door. “I was wondering when you would be here.” She hands him a coffee, kissing his cheek as a greeting. “It is good to see you, angel.” 

“What’s going on right now?” He repeats, squeezing her in a hug gently. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s good!! Alice, she’s ready for them to start taking her off the medicine that’s keeping her in the coma. They’re doing it right now!” She is hopeful. Fred knew today was going to be different. He sighs in relief. 

So, over the next few days, Alice is under heavy monitoring, people watching to make sure she isn’t going to slip into a nonmedical coma. Fred sits in the corner as they watch over her. Eventually, she starts to blink away, still not fully there but able to open her eyes and blink. 

It’s two weeks later when she wakes up fully. “Where… am I?” She asks Fred, who’s the only one in the room. He gasps, throwing his arms around her gently, a muttered “baby, you’re alive” whispered into her hair. He kisses her head. She shoves him away. “What the fuck are you doing?” She pulls out her IV drip in a hurry, shoving him to the floor and standing over him, wearing nothing but his huge sweater and her hospital gown. 

“Alice…” Fred whispers, cautiously. She stands over him, ready to throw punches. He stands up. “I’m sorry baby, it’s me. It’s Fred, baby. You’re safe. Please, lay back down.” He tells her, taking a step forward. Her fight is gone and he helps her back into bed. 

She sighs into his side. “I’m sorry.” She mumbles, kissing him. 

“You scared the shit out of me, love.” He kisses her back. “Never do that again. But you’re okay and I’m okay. I love you more than anything. Now, tell me why you thought that being a fucking hero was a good idea.” 

[sugar-coated-prat-dragon]

@isuckattechnology

100% this 👆

Just look at how Arthur reacted to Merlin telling his uncle was evil (his swarmy uncle who he isn’t even that close too and who only conveniently shows up after the monarch is incapacitated).

Now imagine if Merlin had told Arthur that Morgana was evil and plotting against them?

The same Morgan that Arthur loved so much, that when she was at deaths door, he swore he’d have given up his kingdom just for her to live a little bit longer.

It would have ended… badly.

Plus. Merlin would have to explain how he knew Morgana was evil without explaining that he had magic (punishable by death ☠️ in Camelot) and that he’d poisoned her to save the citizens of the kingdom from her sisters sleeping curse.

👉 Also punishable by death, even just for the fact that Morgana is the kings ward and Merlin is a lowly servant.

So? 🤨 End results of telling the truth are… 🥁

Being sacked from his job immediately/blacklisted (if Merlin’s really lucky), banishment or execution.

watching merlin for the first time in 2024 is such a trip. like what WAS the reason why merlin couldn’t tell arthur about every single time morgana was plotting against him? what was the harm in letting him know what was going on?? “oh no but he’ll be mad about the magic” ok but at least he’d know what’s actually going on in the kingdom

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

Can you write a smut with Tom riddle where the reader and him are dating, and he’s obviously used to being in charge but one night something happens (you can decide that part) and suddenly the reader wants to be in charge but Tom doesn’t want that so she ties him up and teases her till he’s begging her to let him cum or something like the idk.

I absolutely love ur writing, it’s absolutely incredible I could never write anything as good as you!😊

pairing: tom riddle x reader

warning(s): 18+, dom/sub roles (ish), begging, magical ties, oral (make receiving), mentions of oral (female receiving) 

word count: 2.0k

a/n: and we’re back to our regularly scheduled smut. i have a ton of requests so be patient - i will get to it! thank you all for the love and support so far! 

You and your boyfriend, Tom, were strolling through the halls of Hogwarts on your Prefect rounds, enjoying the complete silence of the massive castle. It was rare the halls were this quiet, but late at night tended to be the perfect time to stumble upon echoing walls and corridors where you could hear a pin drop. 

Suddenly, Tom stopped in his tracks and stuck out a hand to stop you as well. “Do you hear that?” He asked in a hush whispering, pointing somewhere off to the left of where both of you stood. 

Following his direction, you turned your head to the left and saw that it was a typically abandoned corridor but you did hear the faint rustle of clothing and distant female giggling. You rolled your eyes and began walking in that direction, already knowing you’d have to break up two young people just wanting to have a bit of fun. It wasn’t that you wanted to spoil their good time, but it was an unspoken rule that if a Prefect caught you, they had no other choice unless they themselves wanted to end up in trouble. 

As you approached, wands drawn in order to cast a lumos charm, Tom put his body in front of you, taking charge. 

“I can handle it,” you whispered, a pout brought to your face. 

He didn’t even stop his movement, just kept walking even as he shot you a smirk. You rolled your eyes in frustration. He did this every time. You were perfectly capable of breaking up two horny teenagers and sending them off to bed, but he always had to be the one in charge. You were growing quite sick of it.

He got there before you and handled the situation with a dominant grace that only he seemed to possess, and he sent the two fifth years scattering on the way back to their respective common rooms. Without even another look in your boyfriends direction, you went stalking the other way and were determinately headed back to the Slytherin common room. 

“Get back here,” he said with a warning in his voice, following you nonetheless. 

“No. I’m going to bed,” you said rather loudly, not faltering in your steps. 

“Oh for the love of Merlin, what’s wrong?” He asked, his long legs giving him the ability to catch up with you. 

“You,” was your bitter reply. 

“Me? What have I done?” He asked incredulously. 

“Yes, you, Tom,” you said, finally halting in your steps and swinging around to face him. “You always have to be the one in charge. I could have easily handled that, like I said, but no. You just had to go and- and-,” you explained, waving your hands animatedly, but you trailed off once you realized this entire conversation was pointless. He wasn’t just going to change his incessant behavior no matter what you said. Besides, the smirk on his face as he looked down at you just proved it was a losing battle. 

“Darling, I hate to burst your bubble but you’ll never be in charge while I’m around. You don’t have to be,” he explained, attempting to be gentle through his cocky demeanor but his words only sent you into another flurry. 

“You want a bet? That I can’t be in charge?” You asked heatedly, your mind already slipping straight into the gutter. 

He paused for a moment, then finally sighed and raised an eyebrow. “Fine,” he agreed, “but you only get one chance so don’t mess it up for yourself.” 

~~~

The moment the two of you entered Tom’s private room, your lips were on each other and you took the initiative to slowly back him up into the bed until he had no choice but to sit with you standing before him. His grip on your waist was tight, but you had other plans for his hands anyways. 

The entire walk down to the dungeons, you had been plotting. You needed to prove to him that you could be in charge. Sure, it was nice that you had a boyfriend willing to take charge in all situations and you never had to worry about a thing, but you still felt the incessant need to prove yourself. 

“Take your clothes off and lie on the bed,” you told him when you pulled away from the kiss, attempting to emulate the demeanor he always gave off in situations like this. 

You heard him chuckle to himself, still under the impression that you couldn’t pull this off, but he did as you asked anyways. Finally, he was laying naked on the bed, completely relaxed against the pillows and looking at you expectantly. 

“Do you worst, Y/N,” he jested, his hand moving to trail down to his half erect cock but you stopped him in his tracks. 

“Did I say you could do that?” You asked, holding his wrist in your grip. His eyes darted up to yours and he looked shocked for a moment, but that look in his eyes went away in a flash as the signature smirk came back. 

He put his hand back down on the duvet and you climbed into the bed with him, straddling his legs. When he had been busy undressing, you undressed yourself down to your bra and panties. Little did he know what you had hidden underneath was a matching set. 

“Keep your hands right there. You’re gonna be a good boy for me tonight, right?” You cooed, trailing kisses from his neck down to his abdomen as you spoke. 

“The best,” he shot back with a sarcastic wink and it only made you chuckle to yourself because he truly had no idea what was coming. 

You continued your trail of kisses until you were firmly planted between his legs and your mouth was inches away from his cock. He was fully erect now and could feel your breath against his, making his cock twitch with anticipation. 

“Beg,” you demanded, refusing to touch him until he did at least the bare minimum, only placing kisses on his pelvis and thighs. 

“Please, Y/N. I’d love to cum down your throat right now,” he said lowly, but you could tell the begging was noncommittal. That would change. 

You easily complied, wanting him to think he had the upper hand, and immediately brought him into your mouth. You loved sucking his cock. He was warm and heavy on your tongue, and the noises he made always made you dripping wet. He wasn’t disappointing tonight. 

He released a low groan the second he felt his tip hit the back of your throat and he bucked his hips up, but you pushed the back down with force. You continued your ministrations, just waiting for him to lose himself. When you took him all the way down your throat, he lost it. 

His hands tangled in your hair as he tried to hold you down on him, cutting off your air supply, but you were prepared for this. He loved face fucking you and you knew if you had his mouth on his he just wouldn’t be able to resist. You reached for your wand that was strategically placed beside his leg on the bed and cast a silent spell. Immediately, his hands were removed from your hair and magically tied to the bed frame, locked into place. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” He asked, seething. 

When you pulled off of his, you could see it in his eyes how angry he was. He didn’t think you had this in you. But how could he be so naive when you had learned from him? The best? 

“Where did I tell you to keep your hands?” You asked him, using one hand to lightly stroke his cock as you spoke. 

“The bed. Fuck. Let me out,” he demanded, struggling against his confines. 

“I don’t think I will,” you answered, suppressing a laugh. “After all, I am in charge.” 

You didn’t even give him a chance to reply, taking him in your mouth again and keeping your hands on his hips to hold them down. He didn’t have much leverage from this angle, so you knew it would be no problem. 

You dragged moan after moan from him, bringing him right to the edge and back down quite a few times until he was a sweating, writhing mess below you. You knew he was frustrated beyond belief, he had done this to you too many times to count. How did he like the taste of his own medicine? 

You weren’t even sure how long it had been going on for, but your jaw was beginning to ache and you were praying to Circe he cracked soon. That non committed begging from earlier was about to be real genuine soon if you had anything to say about it. 

You pulled off of him once more and your eyes snapped to his face. His hair was stuck to his forehead and neck, his chest was rapidly expanding and contracting, trying his best to get his breathing back under control, and there was a fury in his eyes so unmatched that you knew you’d be paying for this later. 

“Tell me what you want, Tom. Beg for it. Be a good boy for me, yeah?” You instructed, your hands massaging small circles into his tense thighs, willing him to relax into it. 

You could see the conflict in his face. He didn’t want to concede to you, wanting to prove his own point that you couldn’t, or shouldn’t have to be, in charge around him. But you knew how badly he wanted to cum. He cock was flushed such a dark shade of red that you were sure it had to hurt by now. He was aching for it, aching for you to get him there and let him cum in your mouth. 

“Fucking hell. Please, Y/N, let me fucking cum. Please,” he said breathlessly, his whole body limp against the bed as he stared up at you imploringly. 

A rush of power shot through, knowing you deny him so easily in the moment - leave him tied up and begging and wanting and aching. If you kept this up for much longer you know you’d end up on some sort of power trip. You knew he was letting you have this, letting you have his submission, but it still felt so damn good. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You asked with a gleeful grin before immediately getting back to work, your sights set on getting him the release he had begged for. 

“Fuck. Please don’t be cruel. Let me cum Y/N,” he continued to babble when he felt the warmth of your mouth again, his mind lost to the pleasure his body was feeling. 

That only made you work harder, wanting to show him a shred of mercy for the night he had endured. After all, he was a good boy for you throughout most of it. 

His entire body tenses again right before he exploded into your mouth was a loud groan. His body trembled as warm ropes of cum shot down your throat and onto your tonugue. You suckled greedily from the head, getting every last drop out, until he was squirming against the sheets. When you finally came up, he was still breathing heavily and his head was thrown back against the pillows. 

You crawled up the bed to lay beside him, looking over his body in appreciation. He was glistening from sweat and completely still now other than his breathing. 

“Are you going to let me out now?” He asked bitterly, attempting to move his hands from the ties as he looked over at you. 

“Oh c’mon. You know that was fun. And besides, I think I’d like to sit on your face next,” you said with a giggle, watching his face fall into another shocked expression. You would forever remember this night as a lesson well taught.

[punkyflesh]

Cedric confessing his feelings to the reader? :o

cuteeee!! love it, hope you enjoy!

in order to fit in with the overall plot of the story, i've made the reader someone who is in the castle in order to look after the children, like a nanny! i thought this was the best way the two could interact in a way fitting to what i was going for here, but you can interpret it as how you want as i'm not going to mention the reader's role too much.

Confession | Cedric the Sorcerer X Reader

You had well and truly captivated the poor sorcerer's heart. Big time.

Cedric was not a man who was easily distracted - although he may fumble up spells if someone irritably interrupted, if the sorcerer had a task to do, he'd do it with both perfection and persistence.

But that had all changed since he had his first interaction with you.

The first time you both had exchanged greetings was at the royal meeting on the day of your arrival. Cedric's presence was expected, alongside the vast majority of the important castle staff, so he stood at the side of the King waiting for the ceremony to begin. It was tiring, he thought, such a pointless meeting for the sake of a new nanny for the royal children. He could be in his workshop working on a new potion.

It was easy to say the sorcerer's mindset quickly changed once he locked eyes with you. He felt as though his heart skipped a beat as he stared into your eyes - gleaming with eagerness and joy. His sulk softened as his eyes remained on you, gulping and instantly feeling so...so nervous? The castle never usually hired staff as beautiful as you were. Cedric watched as you bowed before the King as he explained your duties, looking after the children, accompanying them to any major events, etc.

That first interaction felt like a decade away, because since then, you and Cedric had grown unusually close as friends. You spent a lot of time with the children, and Cedric happened to also spend a lot of time with the excitable Princess Sofia - so it was gentle to say that your interactions with one another were inevitable.

Cedric had never been in love before - but he could physically feel the effects you had on him. When you speak, his breath begins to shorten and his heart beats so fast, even faster if you laugh while speaking. His chest tightens when he realises that Merlin, you've really encapsulated his every thought and made a home right in his heart. His priority was no longer his work, or the need to impress the king; it was you. He wanted you, just you, so so badly.

He'd try to work and get tasks done, tasks that he would normally complete with haste and ease, but it was different now. He'd be giggly and sigh, daydreaming and gazing out of his window rather than being focused on the spell he was supposed to revise for the royal performance tomorrow evening. It made Wormwood sick to see his master act so lovesick and pathetic. But oh, when Cedric thought of you, he felt his heart begin to flutter and his pale cheeks would tint a deep shade of red at even the smallest idea of you in his mind. It all seemed so silly, but you had changed the way that Cedric viewed the world and so he wished he could convey his intense emotions towards you and wish on every shooting star that you'd reproach the same feelings in return.

But how was he supposed to possibly tell you? Was it too soon - no, you had known eachother long enough now, it wouldn't be so sudden. He couldn't possibly lay down such raw emotions for you, to be vulnerable and broken at any ounce of rejection. What if you rejected him? Left him? Or perhaps accepted him? The outcome bared many possibilities and too much of a risk.

Knock knock. The sound snapped Cedric out of his puppy-dog trance, causing him to nearly drop the heavy book out of his hands.

"Come in!"

There you were, oh and how happy he was to see you. It was like some sort of God had heard his thoughts and sent you his way. It must be fate, he thought, as he greeted you with a warm smile, to which you returned.

Your smile. Your smile sent the sorcerer weak in the knees - it was like a sunshine after a rough day, something he could always look forward to seeing. By routine, you had picked up a chair and sat on it like it was nothing next to Cedric, peering over at the book he was neutrally hovering over before you had arrived. Cedric again resumed out of his thoughts and laughed somewhat nervously.

"No children today, hm?"

You giggled back and the noise alone sent a pang through Cedric's heart. With a shake of your head, you smiled.

"No, not today. I just wanted to come up and see you. I missed you a lot."

Suddenly, Cedric felt an adrenaline rush shoot through his body, giving him an odd boost in confidence as he turned his chair to properly face you.

"Would you mind if I say something out of the blue?" "Not at all, Ceddy. I'm all ears!"

"I think I'm in love with you."

[whenyouhearthedoorcreak]

Fuck it, I wrote the goddamn essay

I'm far too invested in this series so heres my far overthought essay on Merlin as a Shakespearean Tragedy

Okay this is just a rough outline of what I want to talk about, but the basic premise is that merlinBBC lines up to be a perfect Shakespearean tragedy (ST)

The nine points of a ST ~

The Tragic Hero ~ Arthur is The tragic hero but Merlin also fits into it on a more personal level. Arthur is a man of great presence and station he fights all the monsters and dies in the end, He has this great destiny that lays heavy on his shoulders and he unknowingly drives the plot for most of the show (I just realised how much of this show Arthur just doesn’t know about? Like the entire plot is happening behind him and he’s just having a sword fight (sub thought, that is exactly how I would frame this if I directed a play of Merlin))

Good Vs Evil ~ Morgana sort of handles this all on her own? She is presented as the moral compass of the show and is then slowly manipulated into a position of villain although there is a more complex look at this being represented by merlin gwen and morgause but that would take an awfully long time to explain

Fatal Flaw ~ typically this is given to the Tragic Hero™ but because Merlin and Arthur sort of split the spotlight this is applied mainly to Merlin. Merlin is deeply and unshakingly loyal to Arthur and while this is initially and somewhat veiled as loyalty to his destiny and the future he’s fighting for, it’s easily evident from his actions in “the sins of a father” that he is quickly becoming more loyal to Arthur than magic and chooses Arthurs well being over the fate of magic kind.

Tragic Waste ~ this is the idea that the hero will die before completing all he could do, and if that doesn’t sound like Arthur then we didn’ watch the same show.

Conflict ~ the corruption of merlins and morgana from morgause and Killgarah is the real core conflict of this show, if those two characters had never been there none of this would ever have happened. While i would agree that they could have done it better the main theme of this shows conflicts in manipulation,

Dichotomy of villainy ~ we are left by the end of this show unable to really take a side because everything felt preventable, for this reason morgana’s death and Merlins victory still feels mostly hollow

Supernatural element ~ I feel like this is fairly self evident

Ambiguity of poetic justice ~ “good will always triumph and evil will always suffer” is the simple moral code that most writing goes by, however a ST subverts this, often having its good characters commit acts of moral ambiguity and the hero inevitably fails or dies in the process. This is doen in MerlinBBC with Merlin never fulfilling his destiny and Arthur never repealing the ban on magic. We can suppose given Gwen's scene during the battle of camlann that she will most likely repeal the ban on magic and raise merlin to the title of Court Sorcerer as is vaguely hinted towards given his position in her coronation scene.

Comic relief ~ STs aren’t all sorrow and hannes acts, they have their fair share of jokes and funny moments. We can see that in some of the more joky episodes, but also in things like That tavern scene.

The last piece of this tragic puzzle is the most obvious, the five seasons of Merlin are the five acts of a Shakespeare play. I've made a handy chart to understand what I mean. Because it's a t because its a tv show and therefore worried about viewers returning the act structures isn’t broken up perfectly, but it still fits fairly well. The thing that leaves people bitter about the end of this show, I think, is because they expected the show to settle, to find a rest in its ending, what we got instead was a camelot that (while still having a trusted monarch) was still in turmoil, and a shot of merli alone and sad 1500 years in the future still waiting for arthur.

What happened with merlin is that we never got the finally, “everything will be okay�� moment and so we are left wanting

The themes of Merlin are a dichotomy of Peace and Equality Vs corruption and manipulation, this is displayed through the main characters of Merlin, Arthur, and Morgana, with each being manipulated and corrupted by Killgarrah, Uther, and Morgause respectively. This is shown best through the use of Forked Path. (which I weirdly can’t find any articles or anything for? Which is odd given how popular it is but anyway) the Forked Path happens anytime the characters are presented with two strict choices without much wiggle room, both of which could end badly in the long run but must nonetheless be chosen between. This is very clear with season two's story arc between merlin and morgana, in which merlin must either kill his friend to prevent a possible future, or let her win and risk the demise of albion. Merlin attempts to avoid this, temporarily disabling Morgana from enacting her plans and the like, but in the end he is forced to choose. Arthur is continuously presented with the problem of whether to trust and show mercy to magic. Morgana is presented with either killing Uther and freeing magic, or running from camelot and lending to the further persecution of the druids. The thing you might notice is that these are all linching on Merlin and whether or not he tells the truth, his silence provides false dichotomies for the other characters. This is the manipulation I mentioned earlier. Merlin is led to believe again and again that he Must commit acts against his morals to save Arthur and therefore Albion. But as no fan will hesitate to point out, he never really had to. This is a show of the trope of Self Fulfilling Destiny that's found in all tragedies since ancient greece. Merlin’s attempts to stop morgana directly lead to their conflict, his keeping his magic a secret to protect arthur ultimately leads to arthur's death (having only met “evil” sorcerers arthur never repealed the ban and so mordred sides with morgana). If Merlin had followed his own heart then all would have worked out well, but instead we see Killgarrahs manipulation stop merlin from acting in camelots best interest.

[bush-viper-cutie]

Messages || Part 1

(Part 4 of The Crystal Ball)

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word count: 9,099

Rating: M for Mature

Plot: Severus experiences a major bump in his relationship that he’s never experienced before. It’s easy to be confident in a working relationship when being together is a daily habit, but when the relationship turns long distance after summer is over, he just doesn’t know how to keep himself afloat.

Warnings: Sex scene :o (mainly at the end), tiny bit angsty

A/N: Hello everyone! :D This is part one of a two part arc within the crystal ball series so I hope I make sense in saying that Messages part 1 and Messages part 2 will both count as part 4 and 5 of the crystal ball XD (this one is long and part 2 might be just as long so I hope that’s ok :D) (also also this is officially the first of the 500 next part request… so 1 down, 499 to go XD) I hope everyone’s holidays went great! 

Posted: 12/31/20

Masterlist

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus stood in front of his shelves of books, looking for new titles to introduce into the curriculum but none caught his eye. He ran his finger along the spines, dust coming off each one in a long streak and collected under his nail. They were all worn, their binding fabric once rich in texture now flush and smooth as the hard cover underneath. Their once-golden names rubbed off from excessive obsessive use from years of studies during and after his time as a Hogwarts student. His eyes followed his finger as he tried reading the titles, hoping one would spark a memory of a passage easy enough for his students to grasp.

I should introduce the Odd-Stir Method to the fifth years after winter holidays. I think Rotus explains it best – though I doubt they’d be able to get over his outdated terminology… I’d have to give them translation sheets though… Perhaps E. K Nimgo uses more appropriate language… even the densest of dunderheads should be able to understand her phrasing.

He’d reached the very last shelf and stood, clutching only two books from his collection and sighed, not entirely certain that his efforts to make brewing easier would even be appreciated. He wiped his finger on the rough fabric of his black vest and sighed, realizing he’d just created a very visible grey streak across his chest.

He heard a soft giggle and looked up, blushing at the beautiful woman leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen, watching him intently. Severus smiled and shook his hair to cover his face. He tapped the books in his hand with his finger, trying to draw her attention away from him in embarrassment. “Should I even try this year?”

She pushed herself from the doorframe and walked over to him slowly with a finger tapping her chin as if in thought. She slid her hands under his arms and pushed her face into his shoulder blade. “No – In fact, maybe take a break from teaching and stay here with me this year.” She’d been begging him for several weeks now as their summer fun was coming to an end.

He wanted so badly to say yes… But Dumbledore won’t allow it. It’s still too soon after… He sighed. He ran his hand along her arm and pulled it away, freeing himself to face her. “Help me pack these?” Her smile dropped and he almost winced. “You know I’ll just throw them in,” he whispered.

She nodded and gave a slight smile. “You’re so awful at packing, Sev.” She took the books from his hands and planted a kiss on his unready lips. Her smile widened at his look of joyous surprise and laughed. “You act like a schoolboy receiving his first ever kiss every time I do that.”

He pressed his palm to his mouth until he felt his stupid smile fade and frowned at her, removing his hand. “I do not. Besides… it’s hardly my fault.” He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her in for a proper kiss. He let his lips linger on hers and made sure to speak low, just how she liked. “I can’t control what you do to me.”

She bit her lip and pulled her chin down, looking up at him with innocent eyes that sparkled wickedly at him. Merlin help me. He slid his hands down her sides and played with the hem of her skirt, loving the invisible sparks of lust and tension popping in the air.

The flames of the candles scattered around the room flickered under the influence of their accidental magic, brought on by their subconscious need to dim the lights and set their favorite evening mood. His living room had never held any romance to it until her. It was the one room in the house whose floors were maintained perfectly clean. It was the one room where they constantly found themselves on the floor of.

A soft tapping from the kitchen pulled his eyes away from hers. Merlin, I didn’t mean literally. He sighed. “I have to answer back.”

She dropped her arms that had snaked their way around his neck and folded them over her chest. “I’ll go pack these into your trunk.”

He watched her march out of the room and listened to her footfall on the stairs, heavy with anger. The door to their room slammed and he headed into the kitchen. A large brown owl sat on the rim of the empty potted plants outside and tapped its beak to the window again.

“Silence already!” Severus swung the window open and took the letter from the owl’s beak. “Tell that man if he wishes to be enraging he’s doing a fine job. Next time he hands you a letter, wait for the next one.”

He tore the envelope open and read the fourth letter sent to him that day. ‘I forgot to remind you the lists will be sent out next week, though if you have the required textbooks ready, the sooner the better this year.’ Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and walked back into the living room, scribbled the title of the textbook his students had been using for the last three years and folded it up, not bothering with a new envelope.

He marched back to the owl and held the note out for it to take. “Try not to come back – or better yet, get lost on the way.”

It hooted and took the note, tapping the window once more for the apparent pure satisfaction of seeing Severus scowl and fluttered away. He closed the window with a tight snap and pulled the curtains closed. He headed out of the kitchen and looked around.

Where is she? It was around this time he’d normally sit down to read at his chair, only to be interrupted and asked to join her on the small couch instead so she could lean on him while she entertained herself with her own books – or on busy days, her work.

Severus crossed the room and headed into the foyer, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He called out her name and listened. Silence.

He looked down at the long rug covering the center of the staircase. She’d found it on sale a couple of weeks ago and bought it for ‘the house’ claiming she was tired of the loud clomping of shoes on the stairs. Looking at the rug – along with the new matching towels and pillows and cushions for the couch – had made his chest feel unpleasantly tight for the first few days… Now he always felt a slight smile coming on when he noticed them. It was her way of moving in, knowing full well he was too scared to ask her to live with him in his grotty hovel of a house.

He headed up the steps and opened the door to their bedroom. She was laying on his side of the bed, face down on his pillow, with his books left out on his cluttered night stand. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. He closed the door behind him and stood awkwardly at the end of the bed for a few seconds.

This is all my fault. If I’d never… Merlin. I regret everything but you. “I’m sorry,” Severus whispered.

She pushed herself up onto her forearms and turned to him, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Oh Sev. Please don’t go… You’ll be gone for so long – ten months! I’m going to miss you so much! It’s going to be so hard not coming home to you every day… Everything’s going to be so much harder without you around.” She closed her eyes and fell back onto his pillow, shaking more violently than before. “Who’s going to make me soup after I finish ranting about how awful my boss is?”

He could barely make out her muffled attempt to lighten the mood and smirked, trying not to feel the growing hurt of seeing her so upset. Severus moved to the side of the bed, holding in tears that mirrored her pain, and kicked the open trunk away. He knelt on the bed and pushed her on to her side, holding her tight the moment she sat up for a hug.

He stroked her hair and bit his lip. “It only seems hard now.” He swallowed thickly. “Trust me, you’ll forget you even want me around.” He forced out a chuckle. “You might even forget I exist.”

Her hands clawed his back, pulling him closer. He let her pull him onto the bed, careful not to crush her with his weight, and allowed her arms to keep him in her sweet embrace. She was still crying into his neck and all he could do was kiss her head and press his hands into her back, pulling himself closer. As much as his heart broke when she cried, a small part of him warmed at the idea of being wanted so bad it hurt.

He was used to his brain turning on him, trying to convince him she didn’t actually care for him, despite checking to make sure he’d eaten when she got back from work, asking how he’d slept every morning, and every other little show of affection. It often times told him the small frown she wore was because of him, something he’d done wrong, despite her whole face brightening at the sight of him. All summer he’d felt like he was sitting on the edge of his seat, dreading the day she’d wake from her trance and leave him. It was hard to accept his luck when all his life he’d had anything but that.

And now here she was under him, crying over the pain she swears she’ll feel not seeing him every day… and he can’t help but want to cry over just being loved so openly and plainly. He felt guilty.

It won’t last. He closed his eyes and held her closer to him, attempting to focus on her rugged breaths of sorrow and not the cruel words ringing in his ears. We’ve only spent three months together, no one could ever feel this way for me in such a small amount of time… Not me… Not Snivellus… Not ever.

She’ll forget about me after the first month apart – less even. I’ll only cause her pain for a handful of weeks and then… then she’ll be perfectly fine without me. He pulled away as her sobs calmed and kissed her smooth salty lips with the same longing he knew he’d feel the whole almost ten long months without her. “Everything will seem normal in a matter of months. I promise you won’t feel this for long.”

She wiped her eyes and gently pushed him off her, curling up to his side and shook her head. “No. It’ll hurt this bad and worse.” She sniffed and draped her arm over his middle, pulling him closer. “Will you go over the plan again?”

He nodded. “We’ll write letters every day. You’ll visit me every weekend at the Three Broomsticks. And twice on as many weekends as I can.”

She lifted her head and kissed his chin. When she pulled away, she was finally smiling up to her eyes behind her glimmering tears. “Promise me?”

The way she looked at him, with love and hope and need, made him want to melt on the spot. I promise you anything. He swallowed. “Of course.”

She pulled away and she was no longer smiling, instead searching his eyes for something. “I really will miss you, Sev.”

He nodded and sat up, feeling the strange tightness in his chest again. He felt goosebumps on his arm despite feeling no chills, and his shirt seemed oddly restricting again. “I’ll make us dinner. Anything you wish.” He kissed her cheek and turned away, swinging his legs over the bed. He stood and crossed the room to the door, opened it, and left, giving her just enough time to mumble ‘something creamy’ before he closed the door with a snap.

~ * ~ * ~

Severus stood over his trunk and started unpacking his things. The chamber was quiet and cold with new shining webs decorating the corners and connecting rows upon rows of glass jars. The fireplace cracked in the corner, vaguely illuminating the cavity he called his office, filling the air with the scents of cherry firewood, thickly sweet.

I should thank her for the new wood. She’ll surely gloat about being right, though just imagining her smiling is enough to be worth it. Severus grinned to himself and took out a folded piece of parchment where he’d been keeping notes on what to send in his letters since he’d left her at Kings Cross station. He jotted down the ‘thank you for the new fire wood’ she’d snuck into his trunk to help him relax and slipped it back into his vest.

“Ah, Severus. Finally here I see,” McGonagall’s voice echoed in. She stood on the threshold with hands on her hips, looking around at the state of things. “You’re normally on the first train back – You will be dusting won’t you? I’d give you my spell, but as you so kindly pointed out last year, it’s inelegant wording might disorganize your… ‘systemized assortment of components’… or as I call it – clutter.”

Severus rolled his eyes and faced her. “I had business.”

She arched her brow. “I see. Well welcome back, and I suggest you get started with Poppy soon, unfortunately several vials went bad over the summer – something about cheap valerian and the Ministry’s fat pockets – she’s been raging about it since she arrived. Afterwards I think Pomona’s having trouble reviving her oleanders.”

Severus nodded and waited until the crisp clacking of her heels could no longer be heard before gathering what he needed and headed out to his usual pre-term duties as the school’s only Potions Master.

After a long night of replenishing the hospital’s stocks, an early morning brewing Come-’Round serum, and an annoying evening spent with Sprout and her plants, dinner rolled around and he hardly noticed the maddening levels of screaming and laughing and talking coming from the house tables full of old and new students.  

“Severus,” McGonagall drew his sleepy attention to her. “Albus mentioned you expressed an interest in taking over monitoring the corridors at night.” She took a sip from her goblet.

Severus frowned. “I mentioned the need to double down on dawn and dusk hours. Not – ”

“That is a marvelous idea. I’m sure you will keep plenty of nosy students out of trouble this year.” She sipped her goblet again.

Severus blinked several times at her. “D-did you just hand over the entire position to me?”

She continued drinking as if he hadn’t spoken and turned back to her food, glancing over at him every so often to check if he was still glaring at her.

Severus grumbled to himself and turned back to his food. I miss ONE meeting and suddenly every tedious responsibility is handed off to me. Of course.

Soon the Great Hall was emptied of students as their prefects led them to their houses and Severus prepared himself for a short night’s rest. He spent three hours walking between corridors from one house entrance to the next, catching at least five students out after hours walking about the castle in the dead of night, and two in the early hours before the sun rose.

He sat back at the high table with a groan and stretched out his legs. The morning light filtered through the tessellated windows high above the tables and reflected off the maple-glazed sausages and glittering butter that melted over his toast.

A familiar wood owl soared down and landed on the top rail of his chair, hooting happily with an elegantly ribbon-wrapped note clutched tight in his foot. Severus suppressed a grin, keeping his usual scowl plastered over his face, and took the note, quickly unraveling it from its pink satin bindings.

2 September

My dearest Severus,

You have not replied to the letter I sent yesterday. How was the train ride and our first night apart in months? I missed you more than you could ever imagine. You said I’d be glad to have the bed to myself, but for the second night in a row I have missed your warmth and your embrace. I fear to even wash the sheets and erase your all too alluring scent… Although I will. When did we last wash them? A week ago? Please fake your death and come back to me.

Love,

Your already forgotten girlfriend.

‘Girlfriend’, his heart skipped as his eyes reread the word. He felt a strange forgotten ache deep in his core, of sleepless nights as a student wondering if he’d ever have someone to call his. It was within these very stone walls that he’d muttered curses under his breath at any student that pointed out the fact he was alone and would forever be alone. He’d been wrong, and it was a pain he wished he could go back and relieve from his younger self. He took out his quill, flipped the note over and smoothed it’s curves on the dark oak table.

2 September

My unforgettable girlfriend,

I’ve officially taken over monitoring the corridors at night. It seems McGonagall is trying to remedy my insomnia with hours of walking the halls like a soul-lost mummy in the deep caverns of Khufu’s temple. I caught seven just last night, and apparently my reprimands were deemed ‘unfair’ and ‘dumb’ by these pests we call students.

Severus

He paused.

Also, thank you for the logs. They were nice, but I will switch them out soon for something more menacing.

He folded the note and handed it back to her owl, who had been intently watching his quill feather jitter as he wrote. Her owl took the note in its beak and joined the dozens of other owls leaving through the windows.

Although the letter had suppressed his stress for a few minutes, it soon bubbled back up as the bells rang for the start of lessons. As he’d expected, none of the students had done an ounce of studying over the summer, resulting in the floors being covered in melted stirring rods, the high ceilings dripping with fluorescent watery syrup, and six cracked cauldrons from high-tempered concoctions.

But of course I’M the one writing to the ministry about replacing six cauldrons. If it were up to me, each one of those brats responsible would be writing apology letters begging for new cauldrons themselves. He started writing out the letter towards the Ministry’s Educational Mayhem Funds Committee explaining the need for new ones and how he would supposedly prevent the need for more. Perhaps suggesting teaching dogs instead is not a reasonable approach.

He skipped dinner and by the time it was a quarter to nine, he set out patrolling the corridor and this time checked every broom-closet twice. He slept, and by dawn was up again, pacing floors until the smell of eggs and citrus filled the passageways, wafting in from the kitchen vents.

Breakfast, he sighed. He made his way down and took his usual seat. At some point between his first and second poached egg-topped buttered crumpet the familiar aspen-feathered owl landed on his chair, delivering a newly ribboned note.

3 September

My hardworking boyfriend,

I do not envy those under your authority. I’m sure in the coming week, everyone will remember how strictly you rule the corridors and classrooms and will choose to stop breaking the rules. Perhaps slapping the desk harder while you yell will really make them quiver in their shoes. Speaking of heavy hands… will I see you at the end of this week? I miss visiting Hogsmeade and especially the butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks. This weekend will be a MUCH needed break from work and everything that reminds me of my boss’s red warty face. He’s driving me mad. Come down and hex him for me, won’t you Sev?

Yours always,

A previous pest.

Severus chuckled and replied immediately.

Do not tease, especially since the weekend is two days away – it feels like a lifetime when imprisoned within these walls. I shall see about a room at the Three Broomsticks. Regardless, Saturday for lunch. Noon exactly.

Severus

He handed the owl her note and stuffed the new ribbon in his pocket with the other. ‘Heavy hands’. He pressed his elbows to the table and his fists to his growing grin. He was sure Sprout would let him pick a few of her bluebonnets to take with him. It’d be a lovely surprise he was sure she’d more than appreciate.

He pushed away from the table and made his way out of the Great Hall towards the dungeons. His first lesson of the day was in a few hours. The first years are probably running Pomphrey dry on the Dreamless Sleep elixir. She’ll likely ask me about it this weekend… If I get started on it now ­–

The library doors opened and a shrill voice called out to him. “Oh! Professor Snape!” The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher came marching up to him with a determined look about her. “I was told to seek your advice – Professor if you have the time.”

Severus kept from rubbing at his temples and breathed out in what almost sounded like a groan. “In what are you seeking council?”

The new professor shook her head, her large bun bobbing from side to side, and placed her hands on her hips. “The library does not stock extra copies of the books I have assigned as required textbooks. I was told you’d had this problem when you first began teaching?”

Do not remind me. “Ah… yes. The library will not stock books outside the Ministry’s recommended reading. You could try convincing… Dumbledore,” the word rolled off his tongue distastefully. “But the Headmaster prefers leaving it up to the professors to figure out.” Severus turned to leave.

The woman laughed. “Is that your advice? Figure it out myself?”

Severus turned back and narrowed his eyes. “If the books you are seeking… are not stocked. Then they are not from the list the Ministry has provided you – as I’m sure you know, as we receive updated lists every summer. That means either your book is considered too dangerous – ”

“It’s not! I would hardly call unicorns and counter-clockwise counting clocks dangerous when – ”

“Or,” Severus interrupted, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. “They are too expensive. If some students cannot afford the textbooks, then it is your job to provide them or incorporate them into a learning plan.” Severus turned on his heels and started walking briskly down the dungeon stairs.

“And am I supposed to make a learning plan after term has already begun!”

He kept walking without turning back. “That IS the situation you find yourself in. Yes,” he yelled back. How many more of these incompetent teachers will Hogwarts endure before Dumbledore allows me the position? Talk about maddening ‘bosses’.

Severus hadn’t even sat in his chair for more than a few minutes before his fireplace burned with flames alit with minor Floo powder.

“Severus.” McGonagall’s voice drawled from within the flames.

Severus pinched his eyes closed. “Minerva,” he hissed.

“As much as I enjoy watching new teachers flop around from task to task, it is not me that applies for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position every summer. Perhaps showing some initiative would propel Albus to take you more seriously next year.”

He could hear the amused smile in her voice. He seethed in his chair for a minute. “Last time I ‘showed initiative’ I was given the whole bloody task. I am NOT filling my schedule with her poor attempt at education.” He thought for a moment. “Unless.”

McGonagall sighed. “What do you want, Severus.”

“I will be gone this weekend. Saturday and Sunday… And sometimes other weekends as well.”

The bright green flames flickered over the cherry firewood and a log fell, sparking tinier flames for a few seconds before the larger ones engulfed them.

“Alright.”

The fire cracked and then died down to the normal short flames that he liked. Well that solves that.

~ * ~ * ~

Severus stared at the densely grown purple wildflowers that filled the smallest planter in the greenhouse. The cool blues and purples of the bonnet-shaped petals made his mouth turn up in a smile, mirroring the very same one he knew he’d receive if he showed up to his date with these in hand. He clipped diagonal cuts into the stems and wrapped them in the two ribbons he’d kept from her letters. The pure pink of the ribbons shined brightly among the mellow blues of the flowers. Perfect.

Severus carefully tucked the bouquet in his inner cloak pocket and headed out towards the gate. Not feet from the door of the greenhouse he heard Madam Pomphrey calling his name from the castle doors.

“Ah! Severus! Glad to catch you before you left.” She waited for Severus to approach her. “The first years have just about drained my supplies of Dreamless Sleep. Minerva suggested having some flown in from that new shop across from Zonkos but I refuse to give the students anything I wouldn’t just make myself.”

Then why have ME make it? Severus sighed. “Of course… I’ll have that for you Monday.”

“No sooner?”

Severus refrained from frowning. “No sooner.” He turned – noticing Pomphrey’s eyes glancing down at the purple pollen smudged on his black cloak – and headed towards the gate.

~ * ~ * ~

Hogsmeade was busier now than it was when Hogsmeade trips started for students. He guessed it was because there was only one month during the year where there were no loud and screaming children bumping into people out on the streets or taking up unnecessary room in shops. If he’d realized just how pact the day would be, he’d have suggested meeting in the room he had gotten instead of out on the street.

He sat on one of the benches near the Three Broomsticks and took out his small journal, hunching over to see his small writing. On Mondays and Wednesdays I can help plan defense lessons in the mornings, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays will have to be in the evenings, so those days will have to be plans for the following day which means this Monday or Wednesday I’ll have to help plan two lessons… Sunday I can get back early… I’ll only be able to brew a fourth of the stock… I can catch up on it next Sunday if my visits with her are just Saturdays… at least for only a week or two. He quickly scribbled down his plans.

Two hands pulled his hair up out of his eyes, and he found himself staring at a pair of shiny heels. He trailed his eyes up her legs and looked up, squinting at her smiling face already diving down for a kiss on his forehead.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Severus quickly stood and took out the flowers he’d picked just for her.

She smiled so bright her eyes glowed with delight. “Sev!” She took them and jumped onto him, clinging onto his neck.

He felt his face go red and cleared his throat, acutely aware of just a few stares pointed their way. She didn’t let go of him, however. She held on tight and all he wanted was to breath her in so desperately. To pick her up and twirl her and never let go, but there were so many people. He forced a simple hug and pulled her away. The room! It should be available already.

“What’s that little smile on your face for?” She arched a brow, hugging her flowers tight.

Severus bent down and pushed her silky hair behind her ear, gently tracing his lips on the soft ridges of her ear. “Room? Now?” Am I a barbarian? I haven’t seen her all week and all I can muster are two single-syllable words? He pulled back and watched as her teeth bit down her plump lower lip.

“Take me away, Severus,” she whispered.

His brain had turned into dense fog and all he could think to do was nod and take her hand, leading her inside. He slinked past groups of people thunderously enjoying their early morning drinks and up the stairs, gripping her hand tight, making sure not to lose out on a single second of feeling her skin on his.

He pulled out his key and slipped it in the lock, turning it until it clicked, and opened the door. The room had a single bed and closed curtains, which was really all they would need tonight. What if she was expecting something better? He couldn’t afford any of the nicer, larger rooms available.

He turned and watched her saunter in, paying no attention to the room and only to him as he closed the door with his heel. Her intense sultry eyes eyed him up and down as she bit her lip, taking him in like a cold sweet treat left out for her to have on a hot summer’s day. His face went red again, and he could remember the feel of her hands all over him, begging him to give himself to her to do with at her whim.

Did she lick her lips? He swallowed.

“My Severus,” she whispered.

Mind blank, he lunged for her lips and they both fell onto the bed. His hands roamed over the fabric of her dress, outlining her figure with a yearning need. She moaned and squirmed under him, making his temperature rise with desire. In one swift move, she had him pinned down, her knees straddling his hips. Her lips teased light bruises onto his neck and a deep moan escaped his mouth.

Before the new hour had even struck, they were already under the covers in an embrace deeper than ever before. Physically, the positions were the same, needy and wild; emotionally, his soul couldn’t get enough. Her scent, her touch, every minute sound that escaped her lips, breathy or fierce, sent a fire down his body. He’d missed her so much.

“Severus!” she moaned in his ear, holding him down with a shaky grip. Her body tensed with pleasure and finally relaxed onto him, limp with euphoria.

He shivered and closed his eyes, keeping the same steady rhythm that had undone her. His hands gripped her hips and pushed her down as his heels dug into the mattress and his own hips pressed up. She was huffing in his ear, moaning, whimpering. And with the same sudden flowing energy, he followed in her pleasure. He wrapped his arms around her as the waves washed over him and hugged her tight as their breaths caught and their rhythmic movements ceased, fully satisfied.

He smiled and chuckled, laughing louder as her giggles bubbled out as well. “The room was a good idea.”

“I see you can form sentences once again.” She laughed and pushed herself up to kiss his face.

He blushed, wishing she hadn’t noticed how utterly speechless her presence had left him in only a single week of not seeing her. “Yes – well – ” Merlin, a sentence! Finish a sentence. He cleared his throat. “Lunch? Er – Would you like to send for some lunch to have in here?”

She bit her lip, poorly hiding a wide grin, and nodded. “You can go order for me. I’ll be right back.” She took her clothes and headed into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar like she always did before a shower.

He dressed quickly, headed down to the bar and ordered two meals and a few drinks. It only took a few minutes to receive his order despite the crowd of wizards and witches sitting at tables talking with friends. He flicked his wand and the meal led the way back up the stairs and into the room.

The rest of the day was spent eating and laughing on the bed, talking about mainly her work or things she’d added to his house – or ‘the’ house as they had been ‘sneakily’ calling it. He liked it, maybe this summer it could be ‘our’ house. After several drinks and hours spent in each other’s arms, they got ready for bed.

Severus wrapped his arms around her, squeezing them between the mattress and her back, and rested his head on her chest. He closed his eyes as she played with his long hair, curled it in her fingers, and smoothed it out with her palm. Within seconds sleep seeped into every corner of his mind.

~ * ~ * ~  

Although breaking the news that he had to leave early that Sunday had soured their last hours together, Severus felt far more relaxed as the week went on. His memories of her warmth and softness were renewed and he could put more focus into his work, knowing what the ends of the weeks would more or less look like now.

Of course he had told her that the following weekend date would have to be canceled if only to ensure that the rest would remain free. He still had potions to restock in the hospital wing that took several days to brew single batches. And that lesson plan, he grumbled to himself.

The full week that followed had felt like one long trek up a mountain, only to reach the peak and see more mountain to climb. The weekend was spent slumped over one of his brewing tables with an elbow dug into the wood and his head glued to his palm. He stirred and stirred for hours, waited for the potion to turn purple, and then stirred for longer.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to replicate the feel of her fingers brushing through his greasy tendrils, and sighed, wiping his hand on his trousers. The room was quiet except for the slow pop of bubbles and he knew if she’d been in the room he’d have had to demand she leave, unable to brew under the tight squeeze of her hugs. He lifted his head off his palm and wrapped his arm around his middle, hugging himself close as his other hand stirred.

Once the tall jars were filled and stoppered, he walked them down to Madam Pomphrey’s office and headed to dinner. His eyes narrowed on a group of students suspiciously whispering to each other. Hufflepuffs. It was no coincidence dessert tonight was the Hufflepuff favorite, honey-stuffed bear biscuits. Their house door was only a corridor away from the kitchens and there was always left overs of this particular dessert for some reason. Sprout denied having anything to do with it, Of course.

He waited in his office watching the clock and smiled as the hands marked the start of After Hours. He stood and smoothed out his teaching robe, preparing for an eventful night of patrolling. He started with the other houses first, going from top floors to the bottom, and allowing the Hufflepuffs plenty of time.

He finished his dungeon rounds and headed up to the main corridor. He crossed it with a light stroll, and turned the few corners into the Hufflepuff and kitchen passageway. The kitchen door was left ajar, and a creamy warm light seeped into the shadows. Severus stalked through the dark and pushed the heavy kitchen door wider, observing the chaos in secret.

Six Hufflepuffs stuffed the cookies into sheer golden bags and tied them around their hips by the stings like valued coin. Two were reaching for the jars of deep golden syrup placed high above cabinets while the others overloaded the biscuits with slices of grilled pear chunks.

He stepped into the kitchen and held his hands behind his back, glaring at the back of their heads. He could see their shoulders tense one by one until they all stopped their movements and turned around ever so slowly.

Severus licked his lips and lowered his voice to a growl. “Detentions. Scrubbing cauldrons and boiling devilpods.” Severus flicked his wand and every last treat disappeared from their sticky hands. He marched them to their house door and slammed it hard behind them.

He was half way to his office when it suddenly dawned on him. Six detentions? Where in Merlin’s shiny bald head would he fit six hours of detention supervision in his schedule? His hands fisted at his sides and an angry growl roared out of him into the darkness.

“Shhh!” A portrait hushed from up the nearest stairs.

Potions. Severus stalked down the dungeons stairs. Lesson Plans. He threw his office door open. Detentions! He slammed the door shut and glared as a jar threatened to topple off his shelf. “When does it end!” he snarled.

It was two weeks into the first term and his patience had already run dry. If he wasn’t going to see her this weekend either, then there was no reason to hold out on punishments for misbehaving brats. There was no more scraping the bottom of the barrel for mercy for any student or coworker.

His words dripped with venom, his actions were sharp, and what little restraint he had shriveled and died. Everywhere he went the whispers followed, ‘Careful, Professor Snape is coming this way.’

~ * ~ * ~

20 September

Of course. Next weekend it is then. I miss you, Sev.

Yours Always

Severus sighed and pinched his eyes closed. The guilt in his gut had clawed its way into his veins and was now circulating his whole body, making him cold with worry. This was the second weekend he canceled on her and after expecting anger, she’d delivered a short but loving message showing how much patience she had for him.

20 September

I’m sorry. I miss you too. I’m sorry, truly.

Yours, Severus

He handed his reply to one of the school owls in the owlry and watched it fly off into the greying sky. The wind was chilly as it brushed passed his nose and hair, sending goosebumps down his arms. He stuck his hands in his pockets and squeezed his eyes shut as more guilt shivered up his core. She hadn’t yet mentioned the fact he wasn’t replying every day to her letters anymore, and that made him all the more scared. Was that her way of telling him she had expected he wouldn’t keep up with his promise?

Merlin, I’m an awful boyfriend. He forced a trembling laugh. Couples were supposed to hug and kiss and lay in each other’s arms and talk often weren’t they? He didn’t know anymore. It had seemed so easy over the summer. He’d felt so proud when she called him her boyfriend, especially when he knew he was doing everything right. Bringing her flowers, helping her with work, complimenting her every morning and night before and after work. He’d felt he earned the title.

But I don’t deserve it now. He barely talked to her, had broken all his promises, kept canceling on her, I keep disappointing her. He began walking down the spiraling stairs down the owlry, hardly taking in his surroundings, mind haunted by his past. Words floated in his head, voices that made him tense with rage. ‘Stop lookin’ Snivellus. You’ll never find a girl who’ll ever want you.’ The walk from the owlry to the dungeons was a tormented blur.

His office glowed green as the fireplace flames waved on an old burnt log, an inch high and ready to fizzle out. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and picked up one of the cherry wood cuts. He wrapped his arms around it and carried it into his room, placed it in the fireplace, and shot red sparks from his wand into it.

It caught fire instantly and soon a thick sweet scent filled the air. He wrapped his cloak around himself, still feeling the cold chill from the outside, and fell onto his mattress, pressing his face into his pillow. He welcomed the summer memories, allowing them to fill every crevice of his mind.

He missed the way she looked at him. Missed the way his heart skipped every time she did. He closed his eyes tighter and started to sob into his pillow. I miss her hugs. I miss her warmth. He couldn’t even explain to himself how much he missed just rambling to her about small unimportant things and blushing when she actually paid attention to him. It was hard to experience the fullness of their relationship over letters and two-day visits alone. And even harder now that he couldn’t even keep up with that.

He wiped his face and huffed roughly, turning onto his back. He felt exhausted and depleted and it didn’t take any effort at all to close his eyes. He gave one final sigh and – Fuck. I have essays to grade.

~ * ~ * ~

28 September

I’ll see you soon! Same room, order dinner, bring it up, and close your eyes! No peeking and no barging in! I’ve got a little surprise…

Severus smiled and put the letter in his pocket. He picked up the bronze key that she’d slipped into the envelope and ran his finger over the smooth edges. She’d picked the same room he had gotten them. Either she was as broke as he, Or that room actually meant something to her now. He leaned back in his office chair and crossed his arms, holding the key close to his heart.

There was a knock at the door and he quickly slipped the key in his pocket and sat forward. “Enter.”

McGonagall pushed the door open. She stepped in and sighed happily, looking around at his dusted shelves and turned, quickly erasing her look of satisfaction. “Well, Severus. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I must. Your requests to hold the meetings for week days next month have been denied. There are too many teachers and everyone is busy most class days.”

Severus gave her no response and stared at his hands as they began to tremble. He squeezed them into fists and pressed them to his knees.

She looked him over from across the room and frowned. “However, like always, Hogsmeade visits will be kept free… The meetings will be held on the weekends between Hogsmeade visits, and there are only two…” She stood for a few seconds, still looking at him, as if having expected some note of frustration from him, or any sort of disgruntled response. “You’ll only be missing two weekends…”

“I’ll have missed four in total by next month,” he whispered.

McGonagall crossed the room and waved her hand over the empty space in front of his desk, summoning one of her office chairs to sit in. “Might I ask what it is you’re missing out on?”

Severus leaned away and kept his eyes down, his hair falling over his face like protective curtains. McGonagall and him had never talked about anything other than lessons, Hogwarts, or the Ministry. She hardly knew anything about him and he had never asked a thing about her.

“Does it have something to do with whoever you gave those flowers to?” She smiled when he scowled at her. “Poppy might have mentioned…”

Severus looked away again, deciding to fix his energy on glaring at his burnt fire log and the bit of charred entrails he’d accidently dropped last time he prepared a potion in here.

McGonagall stood up and waved her hand over her chair. “I’ll see to it that after October, you get the weekends free, as you requested.” She looked around at his unswept floor and tisked. “Let me know if you need that spell I mentioned.” She fixed her emerald green hat and left his office.

Severus stared at the door and nodded. He had no doubt she’d keep her word. Some bad news… but mainly good? Maybe I won’t entirely ruin tonight with this.

~ * ~ * ~

The Three Broomsticks was just as crowded as before, except the wizards all looked like they’d stopped bothering to take any sort of sobering tonics. Severus ordered their dinner, sparing no expense. Cheesy onion rings, three types of dips, a lettuce salad, fruit salad, battered fish with onion gravy and mash, toad in the hole, two drinks, and garlic chips to share. It was a feast of everything she loved and anything she could be in the mood for tonight and anything they wouldn’t eat he was sure she’d be glad to take back with her.

He waved his wand and followed the trays up the stairs, hissing at rowdy wizards that almost bumped into the food as he went, and stood outside the door. He closed his eyes and knocked. He heard it open and a surprised gasp.

“Are we dining with the Queen?”

Severus’ lips pulled up into a coy grin. “I’m dining with a queen.”

She giggled and pulled him in by his cloak and shut the door behind him. She slid her arms around him from behind and pressed her chin into his shoulder, holding him close. Her breath fanned over the ridges of his ear as she spoke low and quiet. “Then you are my king.”

Severus bit his lips and opened his eyes. There were a few candles hovering around the room and red sparkling petals on the floor. He could feel himself shaking with anticipation and before he could tempt himself, he moved forward and placed the trays of food on the table by the closed curtains.

“Turn around, Sev.”

He let out a shaky breath. Whatever the surprise. I don’t deserve this. He swallowed and spun on his heel slowly, dragging his sight along the floor and stopped at her silver heels. His eyes trailed up her legs, her curves, her glowing face, and flowing hair. She wore silver lace that sparkled with her eyes and a sheer flowing green night gown with feathers at the cuffs and hem of the wide trail.

A heat started burning at his core, and his face flushed red with color. She was wearing his house colors again and an immediate rush of greed flowed through his veins. Since he was young it had been instilled in him what those colors meant. Silver and green were a Slytherin’s pride, a Slytherin’s territory, it meant it was Slytherin owned.

He trailed his gaze all over her body. “Mine,” he growled.

She bit her lip and slowly let the sheer gown drop and pool at her feet. He crossed to her and let his hands roam over her soft skin and plump curves, squeezing and gripping with need and want. She pressed herself closer, putting pressure on his hardened member and looked up at him. He met her eyes and whimpered; her eyes sparkled with a wildness that sent shivers down his spine.

“I need you,” he huffed, his voice low. He reached down and squeezed her curves, pressing her closer into him, feeling the pressure on him mount and the tense heat between them rise.

“I need you too, my wonderful boyfriend,” she whispered.

His breath caught in his throat. ‘Wonderful boyfriend.’ He looked at the deep red petals on the bed and pulled away. He squeezed his hands together, trying to stop the shaking but all it did was make it spread down his whole body.

She frowned with concern. “Severus?”

His breath came out in huffs and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling hot stinging tears run down his icy cheeks, cold with dread. I have to tell her now. I can’t wait ‘till after. I can’t… I can’t –

“Severus?” she repeated more urgently and pressed her palms to his jaw. She ran her thumbs over his cheeks and wiped away the river of tears. “Tell me,” she whispered.

He sniffed and sat on the edge of the bed, bending his head low enough for his hair to fall forward, shielding him from the world. “I’m not a good boyfriend,” he sobbed. “I haven’t been responding to your letters… I’ve been canceling our dates… And – I have to cancel two more. I can only see you during Hogsmeade visits next month and – ”

She sat next to him on the bed and pulled him into her, rubbing her hand up and down his back gently. “I know you’re busy, Sev. That doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend. Your job as a professor keeps you in the castle… and that’s ok…”

“It’s not ok…” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. “You were crying all summer and I promised you – ”

“I was just scared, Sev. I’m so sorry. I was so upset and I missed you so much already that I made you promise me something you couldn’t keep, just to make myself feel better…”

He nuzzled closer and ran his hand down her arm.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Sev. I should have asked you to send me notes and messages only when you had time… I shouldn’t have put you in a position to cancel dates we’d planned before the school year even started… You’re everything I want. I promise… Dates on Hogsmeade visits sound wonderful.”

He sobbed once more, taking in her words. He didn’t feel she had any hate or loathing, only understanding and care for him. He wasn’t used to this. I don’t deserve her. And yet here she was, giving herself to him, accepting him, caring for him, even after he’d broken his promise and disappointed her countless times. He let his nose trail up her neck and pressed his lips to her warm skin. She tilted her head in response, exposing more of her neck for him and all he could think to do was kiss her tender skin harder.

She giggled and pushed him away with a wink. She moved herself up the bed and laid back against the pillows, moving her finger to motion him over. He followed her, kicking off his shoes and kissed her lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He crouched over her, cornering her, and moaned when her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands ran up and down his thighs as his own hands tore at the delicate lace she wore, unwrapping her like a gift.

He leaned down and began marking her with needy kisses, leaving red marks all over her chest and replacing the ones that disappeared with newer ones. She held him close, encouraging more as her hands played with his long hair. He let his tongue slide out and licked over sensitive areas with hunger. With every moan she gave he grew harder, finally needing to undo the buttons of his constricting trousers.

Her hands found him, and released him from his pants. He groaned and pressed himself against her while her fingers got to work on the buttons of his jacket, vest, and shirt. He slid himself between her lips only, rocking himself, groaning as their bodies began to grind with eagerness.

He tore his mouth away from hers and shrugged off his clothes quickly, sliding off his trousers and pants and threw everything out of his way, unable to keep from her any longer. He closed his eyes and moaned as he slid in slowly, enjoying himself fully. He looked down and pulled back out just as slow and made sure he was fully slicked and glistening before pushing back in all the way and cuddling into her open arms.

“I love you Sev,” she moaned.

He moved his hips slow as he held her, savoring every sensation. He was warm and secure in her arms, like he often felt when they cuddled in bed after long days. He hugged her close and closed his eyes, moaning into her neck with every push he gave. He felt close to her, confident in their shared affection for each other and he realized there was never anything to fear. He moaned and trembled in her embrace as he built up their pleasure slow and steady, knowing soon the romantic mood would dissolve into pure lust and need. He needed to show her how much he loved her with every pleasurable push he gave.

She’s getting wetter, he couldn’t help but notice. Nor could he help the sudden throb he gave at that thought. I need her. He pushed his hips harder and whimpered at her moan. Her hands tangled in his hair and pulled, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine. The slow give and take of his movements turned into hard pounds sending more vivid waves of pleasure throughout his body and hers.

Severus pressed into her, holding her tighter, pounding faster, making sure every wave was immediately replaced by the next. He groaned and held her locked in place as every ripple of pleasure was followed by his name moaned in his ear. He breathed out shakily as her legs wrapped around his waist squeezed tighter and her back arched. Her nails raked across his back as he pounded harder, faster, until her breath caught and her muscles stiffened.

He throbbed as she tightened around him and pushed harder as she relaxed under his weight, letting him press his body back into her inviting curves that cushioned him so perfectly. His breathing was rugged, gasping, trying hard to hold out longer, feeling the pleasure begin to boil over. He dug his face into her neck as the final tidal wave crashed over him and the perfect rhythm he had going broke with every throb he gave deep inside her.

“You’re made for me,” he gasped, shuddering as the wave washed over every nerve in his body. He relaxed completely and her arms held him tighter as she rubbed slow circles on his back.

She pushed his chin up with her finger and kissed his nose. “We’re made for each other. Soulmates.” She whispered.

The message from fate couldn’t be any clearer as they caught their breathes and breathed each other in. They had thoroughly enjoyed not only each other’s bodies, but their hearts and souls as well in this blissful evening.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

(Part 4 of The Crystal Ball)

—–

@wow-life-love4​

@x-avantgarde-x​

@dandyrua​

----

General taglist:

@setsuna-meiou31

@severuslovebot​

@bionic-otp​

—–

Thank you to those who requested a fourth part and for all the lovely comments on part three and messages in my ask box (which I will answer in the coming days :D )!

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Feathers for the Pillows

Prompt: Hey there, I have a prompt for you if you'll take it! I absolutely loved your wingfics with Virgil, and was wondering if we could have something similar with Merlin? Maybe with his magic slowly turning him into a more ethereal magical being and giving him wings that he has to figure out how to deal with and hide? Possibly Arthur finding out? Thank you!

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3776

A bird falls out of the sky when Merlin is little. 

Merlin didn’t realize it was happening at first.

 He was young, still learning how his human body worked, how his magic worked, how to play and run and jump and laugh. His mother looked on fondly and shook her head, wondering how the gods could’ve created such a boisterous little boy and then had the idea to give him magic on top. Perhaps in some way, it was a way to keep himself safe, when he toppled off of shelves he’d managed to float himself up into, or when he fell from trees that he was too young to climb. Or perhaps it was another of their tricks, something to keep the mortals busy and entertained while they plotted. Either way, Merlin has magic and he runs about the woods, leaves dancing along in his wake, the forest itself opening up and welcoming him into its shadows. Patches of golden light draw forth the gold from Merlin’s eyes. The forest breathes.

 A bird falls out of the sky.

 It lands in front of Merlin, strangely still. It looks at him with dull, cloudy eyes. The light glints off of its feathers. There are three bent out of place. It lies on a bed of leaves and looks at Merlin.

 Merlin stops, tilting his head as he looks back. The bird’s eyes are unfocused, staring not at Merlin’s face but through it. The beak is open partway, the head cocked to the side. The wind ruffles its wings. The feathers twitch. It won’t look away from Merlin.

 Merlin gulps, reaching out his chubby little hands and taking a step closer. Does the bird want his clothes?

 “Merlin?” His mother’s voice comes from far away. “Merlin, it’s time to eat!”

 Merlin stops, looking once more at the bird before turning around and running back home. The bird’s eyes watch him go.

 Merlin dreams of flying.

 When he’s just turning into a young man, his back starts to hurt all the time. His mother frets that he’s working too hard, but he mumbles that he’s been using magic, he’s not putting any strain on his back. She cuffs him lightly across the shoulder, but the furrow between her brows doesn’t disappear. It only deepens as Merlin’s back worsens, when little lips begin to appear beneath his shoulder blades.

 She sends him to Camelot.

 Gaius looks him over and raises an eyebrow—the first time Merlin sees the eyebrow of magical disbelief, but certainly not the last—and points Merlin to a drawing of a man with wings.

 “They will grow,” Gaius explains solemnly, “but they will not hurt you.”

 “They’re hurting me now,” Merlin grumbles, reaching around to scratch at his back. Gaius stops him.

 “Growing pains are to be expected,” he says, “but they will get worse if you do not let them grow in properly.”

 “How’m I supposed to do that?”

 Neither of them knows. Neither of them knows because Merlin is magic, under Uther Pendragon’s nose, as the servant of the Crown Prince Arthur.

 They can’t bind the wings as they grow. They can’t excuse Merlin’s back pain as anything other than back pain. They can only pad Merlin up with ill-fitting tunics so much.

 Arthur doesn’t notice.

 After a year, they’re fully grown. The feathers are…unruly, but small enough and white enough that they can be passed off as ornamentation, discarded from some elaborate headdress. The wings can fold up under his tunic and stay hidden, so long as no one touches him.

 Well, that won’t be a problem.

 He moves through the castle too fast for people to get a good look at him. The knights don’t want to look at him. Arthur only cuffs him upside the head.

 His secret is safe.

 Then he undergoes his first molt and he lies in agony for a day, as Gaius tries his best to care for the wings. The feathers overflow, crowding the room, until Merlin can figure out that they can make pillows out of them. It takes a moment for them to appear in the rest of the castle, but Morgana comes by to ask whether she can have an extra one. Apparently, they help with her nightmares.

 Merlin is more than happy to oblige, at least until Morgana asks him where he gets the feathers from.

 “Um…”

 “Oh, don’t worry,” she winks, giving his arm a gentle pat, “I won’t tell. Just make sure you bring plenty, hmm?”

 Morgana touches him. It’s always sweet, just a quick pat on his arm or his shoulder, but she touches him. She notices. Gwen notices too. And Gwen sticks by his side, is allowed to stick by his side, when the feasts and the council meetings happen and they work.

 “Merlin,” she admonishes one hot night, “you must take off at least one of those shirts, you’re going to boil to death.”

 “I’m fine, Gwen,” Merlin says, wiping sweat off his brow, “I’ll only be cold in a few minutes.”

 His hands are always cold.

 The wings don’t like always being cooped up under his tunic, so he stretches them every once in a while. He goes out of Camelot, far away from the prying lights of the high walls, and sits in the forest, stretching his wings. They are a little stiff sometimes, but he works patiently until he can unfurl them painlessly, letting the extra feathers slide off to be collected.

 “You really must tell me where you’re getting all these feathers, Merlin,” Morgana remarks one day, “maybe I’ll have to place an order large enough for a shawl.”

 Merlin gulps. “I can—I can see?”

 “Oh, I’m only teasing,” she says, taking him gently by the arm, “I know you’ve got more important things to do.”

 “Merlin!”

 “Like tending to Arthur,” she mutters, rolling her eyes as Arthur storms around the corner.

 “There you are, come on. Job for you.”

 “Coming.”

 No, Arthur doesn’t notice.

 The knights…the knights.

 Leon notices, Leon notices everything. Although he doesn’t realize exactly what he’s noticing, Merlin watches him approach after a training session and carefully pull him to his feet.

 “Can it be healed,” the knight asks softly, far too quiet for the others to hear, “what ails you?”

 “What?”

 Leon gestures to Merlin’s back. “I have known men that…cannot be healed as easily.”

 Merlin’s shoulders slump. “No, it’s not…it’s the way I am.”

 “I understand. Please,” Leon says, resting a kind hand on his shoulder, “do not hesitate to tell me if there are things that I can do to make this easier.”

 Leon notices everything, Lancelot notices Merlin.

 Merlin doesn’t bother to hide his magic from Lancelot. The man met him and knew, and he takes very great pains to make sure that Merlin knows his secret is safe with Lancelot. Merlin finds himself leaning on Lancelot more than he would care to admit, even going so far as to physically lean on the man. Lancelot never minds, always reaching to stealthily make it a little easier for Merlin to stand. But Lancelot doesn’t put together that Merlin has wings.

 “I’ll help you,” Lancelot promises when merlin says he doesn’t want to tell him, “you don’t owe me an explanation.”

 Merlin lets himself slump forward into Lancelot gratefully.

 Lancelot helps quietly, Gwaine helps loudly.

 Whenever Merlin beings to slump, needing a break, Gwaine makes the loudest, most obnoxious distraction he can, be that some loud bawdy joke, some great exclamation, or knocking over a massive shelf of newly polished pie tins. He plays up his clumsiness, his ‘common’ nature, all to make everyone else more focused on him than on Merlin.

 “Let them think what they will,” he says to Merlin by the fire one night as they keep watch, “I don’t care. As long as you’re okay.”

 “Even if you don’t…know why?”

 Gwaine shrugs. “I trust you.”

 Merlin smiles.

 Gwaine distracts, Elyan suggests.

 The first time Elyan notices Merlin wincing every time something comes near his back, he brings Merlin to the armory and suggests a leather tunic.

 “It might help with support,” he says, pointing out the different points on the back, “and give your spine a little less to deal with.”

 “…could it be made to fit under clothing?”

 “Of course. I’ve got a friend that works down in the blacksmith’s district that makes ones to go under ladies’ clothes.”

 Merlin looks at it and promises to think about it. In truth, if it’s going to be fitted properly, they’re going to have to see his wings.

 That’s not a risk he’s willing to take.

 But he does promise that Elyan can make him something to make things a little easier.

 “I won’t pry,” Elyan promises, “but you’ll let us help, yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 Elyan puts things together, Percival pulls things apart.

 “Easy,” the knight mutters as Merlin winces, “almost there.”

 Merlin grits his teeth and pulls, straining away from the metal digging into his back. Percival grunts, holding it apart.

 “On three, ready?”

 “Ready.”

 “One…two…three.”

 Merlin yanks. The metal comes apart in Percival’s hand and the force sends the two staggering apart, panting. Percival tosses the remains over his shoulder.

 “That’s the last time I put one of those on,” Merlin grumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

 Arthur had the great idea to do full melee drills today. Problem is, with Arthur standing back to watch, the knights are an odd number. Which means that Merlin was placed in a suit and made to hold a lance. The metal pressed his wings flat to his back and squeezed, making it hard for Merlin to stand, much less fight.

 Percival had taken one look at him and ushered him away, using his strength to pry apart the pieces to get Merlin free.

 “Are you alright,” he asks, using a voice that Merlin has never heard before, “are you very badly hurt?”

 “No, I’ll be fine.”

 “Good.” Percival lays a large hand on Merlin’s back, only for Merlin to flinch away. “Sorry.”

 “Just…” Merlin shakes his head. “Go tell Arthur I’ll be back in a minute, yeah?”

 Percival leaves with a nod.

 The knights notice, even if it’s not everything.

 Then Morgana walks in without knocking while Merlin’s wings are out and he freezes.

 “Oh,” she breathes, dropping the pieces of fabric she holds, looking at Merlin’s wings spread wide, “Merlin, they’re beautiful.”

 Merlin is too shocked to make a sound.

 Morgana closes the door softly, walking forward with her hands outstretched. “I won’t hurt you, Merlin, I promise, I just…wow.”

 Merlin swallows. “Are you…you’re not afraid?”

 “You’re Merlin,” Morgana smiles gently, “how could I be afraid?”

 “They’re magic.”

 “Yes.”

 “And you’re still not afraid?”

 “No.” She reaches out tentatively. “May I?”

 Merlin shudders as her hands lightly brush one of his feathers. She makes a soft noise.

 “These are where those feathers come from,” she murmurs, “aren’t they?”

 “…they’re mine.”

 “They’re lovely,” she promises, her smile so wide, “and so are you.”

 She giggles as Merlin flushes red.

 Morgana vows to keep it a secret, and in turn, Merlin teaches her about magic. Her nightmares fade away as she sleeps on pillows they make together, as Merlin carefully grooms his wings and Morgana teaches him how to embroider. They keep it a secret, under the watchful eye of Gaius, sewing, and plucking and talking in the night. Gwen comes to join them, smiling wide and bringing Merlin into a gentle hug as he shows her for the first time. Her hands at the base of his spine feel warm.

 “Do they hurt much?”

 “Not anymore,” Merlin says, giving them an experimental shake, “I’ve…gotten used to it.”

 “Well, you must let us help you when they hurt,” Morgana says, rethreading her needle, “if only as an act of repayment.”

 “Repay—Morgana…”

“You’ve given us the gift of your feathers,” Morgana interrupts, “not to mention all that you’ve done for Camelot. For me.”

 “And for me.”

 “But I—“

 “You’re lovely, Merlin,” Morgana promises, smiling when Merlin flushes red again, “let us help you?”

 And what can Merlin do but say yes?

 They do help, but there’s not a whole lot they can do. It just…it hurts sometimes.

 The feathers will itch. The wing joints will grow still and stiff. And when the wings grow still and stiff they’re just pounds of dead weight, almost impossible to hide. Merlin grows slow on these days, unable to bound up the steps after Arthur or dart about the castle. Instead, he sits and does small chores, like polishing armor or writing speeches. Morgana will sit with him if she can, sewing. Gwen will fetch her own chores and they’ll do them together. The knights will sit with him and keep the other eyes of the castle away.

 Arthur…Arthur doesn’t do much.

 And really, really well…isn’t that why it might hurt so badly?

 Merlin spends nearly all of his time with Arthur. He knows more about Arthur than he does about nearly everyone, maybe even more than he knows about himself, and Arthur just…doesn’t care?

 That makes the wings grow a little heavier.

 One day, it’s very bad. Merlin can’t roll over, can’t dislodge the weight on his back. It makes it hard to breathe with his chest smashed as it is against the mattress. He stares at the wall, blinking, unfocused, not seeing anything but the vague light and dark spots against the solid gray of the stone. It hurts. He feels dull, lifeless, unable to summon any energy to move.

 His eyes begin to cloud over as he lies still.

 Soft footsteps outside his door. The door opening slowly and closing just as slowly. The creak of the floorboards as someone walks to sit next to his head. Red jerkin. Brown trousers. Golden hair.

 …Arthur?

 “Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “hard day?”

 Merlin nods, confused as to why Arthur’s here and why he’s not shouting at Merlin to get his lazy arse out of bed.

 “Are you feeling alright?”

 The answer that Arthur probably wants is ‘yes.’ The honest answer is ‘no.’ The very  honest answer is ‘why do you care?’

 Merlin settles for shaking his head.

 Arthur makes a noise of sympathy, reaching forward to card his fingers lightly through Merlin’s greasy hair. His fingers reach through to Merlin’s scalp, scratching gently.

 “Arthur?”

 “Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says immediately, “it’s only me. Does it hurt very much today?”

 Merlin frowns. How…what…what is Arthur doing?

 “Did Gaius…Gaius tell you?”

 “No, Merlin. I figured that when you didn’t show up today that something might be wrong, so I…came to check.” Arthur smiles and ruffles Merlin’s hair. “Good thing I did.”

“Not—I meant about my—my—“

 Merlin runs of out air, twisting his head as he is to look up at Arthur from his position on his stomach.

 “Easy,” Arthur says, gentling Merlin’s head back to the pillow, “rest your neck. I’ll talk, yeah?”

 Merlin’s too exhausted to do anything but obey.

 “No, Gaius didn’t tell me about your back, Merlin.”

 “…Morgana?”

 “No, not Morgana.”

 “Gwen?”

 “Not Gwen.”

 “…knights?”

 “Not the knights either.” Arthur’s hand reaches down to scratch at the base of Merlin’s head. “No one had to tell me, Merlin.”

 But Arthur…but he…

 “You never noticed,” Merlin mumbles, half into the pillow, “not…ever. Not before.”

 “About your back?” When Merlin nods, Arthur huffs gently. “Merlin, I noticed the first day you arrived in Camelot.”

  What?

 “I just…well, I figured you were…that you may be ashamed of it,” Arthur continues, a little sheepish, “or maybe I assumed you’d prefer if I never brought it up.”

 “S-so…so you…”

 “I always knew, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “but I…no, I’m—I’m sorry I never said anything.”

 “…oh.”

 Arthur shifts, getting off the stool to kneel on the floor, his face next to Merlin’s, his hand still rubbing the base of Merlin’s skull. “Can I make up for that a little by helping now?”

 Merlin nods.

 “Right,” Arthur murmurs, “now…thank you, firstly. Second, have you tried getting out of bed today?”

 Merlin shakes his head, growing more and more miserable.

 “Alright…would you like to?”

 “…’ve got work.”

 “That wasn’t what I asked,” Arthur chides gently, “I asked if you’d like to get out of bed.”

 He smiles kindly when Merlin seems to flounder for an answer.

 “I can help you get out of bed if you like,” he says, “but…you are also allowed to lie here for today. Especially if it hurts. I’ll stay with you.”

 “You…you will?”

 Arthur smiles, petting Merlin’s hair again. “Of course.”

 Merlin closes his eyes, losing himself in the gentle pats. It…it might be nice to try and sleep again, but…but his wings might just hurt more when he wakes up.

 “No?” Arthur nods when Merlin shakes his head. “Alright. Let’s…let’s see if we can at least sit you up.”

 He tucks a palm under Merlin’s head and holds it steady, reaching low and wrapping his arm around Merlin’s waist.

 “Hang on.”

 Merlin’s back strains with the wings as Arthur begins to sit him up, only for Arthur to grunt and pull harder.

 “You’re much heavier than you look, Merlin,” he says worriedly, “are you—are you sure you’re not hurt?”

 “I—I’m—“

 “Are they broken?”

 Merlin freezes.

 He looks slowly at Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow.

 “Come on. My Merlin doesn’t get to grow wings and not have me notice.”

 “I—I—“

“Shh,” Arthur soothes, his arms still tightly around Merlin, “it’s alright. Do I look angry?”

 “N-no, but—“

 “I’m not. I’m worried.” Arthur nods at Merlin’s wings. “Are they broken?”

 “N-no, just…just stiff.”

 “Alright. Can I…can I help?”

 Merlin swallows. Arthur…Arthur knows. Arthur’s not angry. Arthur’s not…angry?

 “My Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, gently bumping his head against Merlin’s, “of course I’m not angry, you’re lovely.”

 He chuckles when Merlin flushes red again, adjusting his grip to help the blanket stay on Merlin’s shoulders.

 “Will you let me help?”

 Merlin’s fingers tighten in the front of Arthur’s jerkin and he nods.

 “I’m going to take the blanket off now, okay?”

 The blanket falls to the bed and Merlin’s wings unfurl, spreading as wide as they can, trying to stretch. Arthur’s breath catches in his throat as he holds onto Merlin.

 “Oh, Merlin…”

 “They hurt,” he mumbles, “they hurt.”

 “Alright,” Arthur mutters to himself, “alright. Let’s do this.”

 The bed sinks behind him as Arthur carefully positions himself between the wings. He reaches out to gently card his fingers through the wings, going right to the glands.

  “Ah!”

 “Sorry,” Arthur mumbles, “I’ll be more gentle.”

 “How—“ Merlin shudders and gasps as Arthur’s warm, warm hands move easily through his wings— “how do you know how to do this?”

 “The stable has hawks,” Arthur murmurs, gently sorting out the stiff joints, “and I learned how to tend to them when the stable master taught me to hunt.”

 “So—so you—ah!”

 Merlin can hear the smile in Arthur’s voice as he rubs his thumb around the base of the joint connecting Merlin’s wing to his back. “Yes, Merlin, I know what I’m doing.”

 Merlin has never been touched like this.

 Arthur knows just how to stroke the muscles to get them to relax, to pull out the broken and crumpled feathers and work the oil throughout. He knows just how gentle to be when he swipes his thumb across the gland, knows just how firm to be when he runs his fingers through the base of the wings. He knows Merlin, knows how to pause when Merlin shudders too much, how to reassure him that he’s almost there, just a moment, please.

 “H-how—“ Merlin bits back another gasp as Arthur straightens a particularly stubborn feather— “how did you n-not tell me?”

 “I thought you were ashamed of them,” Arthur says softly, resting his hands at the base of Merlin’s sides, “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

 “I…”

 Was he?

 “…I was ashamed of my—of the magic,” he stumbles, “and I…”

 “Oh, Merlin,” Arthur says quietly, reaching forward to wrap his arms around Merlin’s waist, “you should never be ashamed of your magic.”

 He chuckles when he feels Merlin gasp under his hands.

 “That one you can blame on everyone else not doing a good job of hiding it.”

 “Don’t be mad at them,” Merlin blurts, “please, it’s not their fault—“

 “Shh,” Arthur rumbles, reaching up to scratch at the soft part of Merlin’s wings again, “I’m not. Just...you can exhale now, Merlin, it’s alright.”

 Merlin breathes. His wings flutter a little. A tiny gold glimmer darts around the feathers. He relaxes back into Arthur’s arms, letting Arthur hold his weight and his wings.

 “You’re alright, now…”

 A soft knock on the door.

 “Who is it?”

 “Morgana.”

 “And Gwen!”

 “Merlin?” Arthur chuckles when Merlin just mumbles. “Come in.”

 Morgana giggles as she catches sight of Merlin all sprawled out on Arthur’s chest. “Seems Arthur started feather collecting earlier, hmm?”

 “Feather collecting?”

 “You didn’t think those pillows made themselves, did you?”

 Gwen rolls her eyes as the two bicker, reaching to gently pull Merlin forward to hug him.

 “You feeling a little better?”

 “A little.”

 Gwen smiles. “I’m so glad. You look…a little lighter too.”

 Merlin smiles back.

 “He hasn’t told you either?”

 Merlin glances around to see Morgana shaking her head. Arthur huffs.

 “Well, now we both have to ask him.”

 Merlin’s face goes pale. “A-ask me what?”

 “Don’t look so afraid,” Morgana says, “it ruins your lovely face.”

 …well, he’s not pale anymore.

 “Stop flirting with my Merlin.”

 “Oh he’s your Merlin, now, is he?”

 “He’s always been my Merlin.”

 “What did you want to ask me,” Merlin interrupts before his face can get any redder.

 “Right.” Arthur claps his hands. “Can you fly?”

 “What?”

 “Can you fly?” Arthur gestures to the wings. “Or are they just there to be pretty?”

 “What happened to no flirting?”

 “Oh, that’s just for you.”

 “Rude.”

 “I, um…” Merlin twists his hands together. “I’ve never tried.”

 Morgana looks at Arthur. Arthur looks at Morgana. They both look at Merlin. Gwen giggles.

 Merlin sighs.

 “Tomorrow?”

 “Tomorrow.”

 Merlin dreams of flying.

[feather-dancer]

Trollhunters Fanfic Recommendations - Part 3

Somehow there is now a third one of these because I read far far too much fanfic and have no regrets about it. It’s with great pleasure I can also announce I’ve been digging around for Trans Jim fics and found some gems while I was at it that have been included below.

You can find Part 1 of my fanfic recommendations here!

And Part 2 here!

Plus one shameless plug for my own current fics.

General Trollhunters

(And you're my Arcadia.) - All you need to know is it’s Jilaire post Season 3 and one line in particular made me burst out laughing.

Bitter[sweet] - Sometimes the thing you need most is just a really good friend when your body plain sucks. Contains Trans Jim and is delightful.

the red book - Far beyond the humble days of Season 3 and after living beyond his human family and friends, Jim has started to forget who he was and that he was ever just a human kid.

The Halls of Arcadia High - When Strickler disappeared in Season 1, his absence was felt in many ways even in the form of a humble piano left un-played.

Not - Not!Enrique isn’t his name yet it’s what they call him anyway. An albatross reminding him of what was taken before he even had a chance to start.

On the Radio  - The final telling of the Janus Order.

Gay stories for Tales of Arcadia - Yeah I’m pretty sure you can guess where this is going, LGBTQ+ rep!

Through the Fires - There was a before time, one where Gunmar still roamed free and Deya had yet to be chosen let alone felled. These are the words of the humble witnesses of that war, from the changelings to the trolls who would oppose them.

Trollhunters: A Series of Disjointed Drabbles - This is so cute and fluffy I might just spontaneously combust.

Insomnolence - It is after the final battle and Jim has a lot of thoughts.

another tragedy - Anxiety is a bastard, it gives a lot of bad thoughts but sometimes there is a little bit of truth buried beneath it all and it whispers all about how you can keeping doing the wrong things for the right reasons. Season 2.

i will always hold you close (but i will learn to let you go) - Sometimes the hardest thing you can do is learning when to let go. Sometimes however, even when you want to they hold back even tighter. Season 2.

your eyes look like coming home - Toby has been the witness from the start of just how close Jim has been to death multiple times over and how Jim he is about the whole thing. It scares him how this time might be it, again and again. Season 2.

The Collected Tellings of Shigir and Other Changeling Folktales - I don’t actually know which category to put this under so I’m going the to heck with it route instead. Does exactly what it says on the tin for your Changeling lore needs, some of which will be off-hand mentioned or outright appear during the fantastic Terpsichore - The Comedy of the Danse Macabre - ACT I.

Please note: The main fic is Stricklake if that’s not your cup of tea, the folktales however can be enjoyed regardless.

~~~

Stricklake

all that dazzling dawn has put asunder - The sequel to in my sleep i dreamed of waking, this is filled with delightful fluff, internal panicking and the joys of trying to explain how you’re a not and how that does not change the fact Strickler is still a was. Being a changeling in these strange after times are difficult even before the other baggage involved but at least you're still here to start.

Two Pisces in Alto Mare - When in Rome as part of a study trip abroad, you meet the most curious people sometimes and  by fluke or nature you may even do so more than once.

Filling The Gaps - Possibly a bit of an unusual mention but! These are little pieces of Fallout that were going on while our eyes were following elsewhere and boy it can hurt.

Rehearsals and DvD Bonus Features - Another from the home of Terpsichore - The Comedy of the Danse Macabre - ACT I which is being listed here because it does have Stricklake in it. Some things don’t make the cut with writing fanfic, either because the plot wandered off, it doesn’t fit right or it’s some backstory you haven’t quite figured out where it can be naturally brought up yet and in this case they’ve found themselves a home. Be warned, one particular chapter is explicit and has been marked as such in warnings in the chapter summary.

~~~

Alternate Universes

(Un)Becoming - Not technically an AU in the conventional sense but I’m putting it under here anyway. It’s Unbecoming, as ever the road to hell is paved with good intentions but as Jim threw in the towel the storm that’s coming will not be stopped. However, what if others caught glimpses of a world that still had a human Trollhunter to defend it?

Steve the Kind - Steve became the Trollhunter but how the adventure unfolds differently than when Jim was at the helm might just surprise you. Very slow burn Steve and Jim that in a rather refreshing change doesn’t throw Claire under the bus for it to happen. Praise be.

31 Days in the Darklands - Strickmar that somehow kinda works?? It helps with Gunmar having the space to breathe outside of getting Morgana out and be more of his own character. Storywise, in order to rescue Jim from the Darklands Strickler broke a deal that would cost his own freedom and now has to somehow maintain a treaty between three very different factions all the while keeping his own neck intact. The intense distrust in changelings continues on to boot but hey, nobody said politics was easy.

Building Bridges - So Gunmar is distinctly of the more Eldritch variety with dream powers, the ability to easily see through lies for the true emotions and thoughts, Bular has the Insight as well to a lesser extent and everyone has somehow managed to hop onto Stricklander’s bandwagon of we must protect Jim Lake Jr. at all costs. Now the race is on as both sides try to sway the young Trollhunter to their way of thinking and the Trollmarket has no idea how dangerously badly they’re doing so far.

Lost Souls - A fic written in variable snapshots. Jim was kidnapped and changed by Merlin far earlier to be his Champion to ensure he did the “right thing” while Barbara in desperation to find her son falls into the hands of Morgana thus mother and son become enemies without even realising it.

Faithfully - Barbara died overseas and yet somehow Jim still managed to make his way back to Arcadia to become the next Trollhunter. This road is far harder for it as a seemingly homeless orphan though on the flipside he keeps on acquiring dads. Contains Trans Jim, timeline variable snapshots and I love it very much.

The Burning - There was a fire, it killed Barbara and Jim was thought dead as well. Nobody could have guessed the feral half changeling that is running around like a cryptid is the very much alive Jim.

Finding Daylight - Jim is a very low ranking changeling, terrified of Bular and his home amounts to little more than a spot in the woods. Things started to go pear shaped for him when he accidentally stumbled over Blinky and only more so when the amulet picks him after Kanjigar is felled. Tis not a kind world for a changeling child out there and he has nobody really to help watch his back until he stumbles on a potential maybe.

~~~

The bonus shoutout for an excellent MSA fic   

A Sleep Like Death - Who wouldn’t want to go visit a tower you’ve inherited apparently and has haunted as all hell all over it? Not Vivi that’s for sure. Poor Arthur is just along for the ride and then things start to get really weird when they find it’s still occupied and thinks Arthur is his jailor.

[llendrinall]

Imagine. 1/2 The war has ended & the Wizengamot are currently holding court & reviewing Dumbledore's memories that he saved. In the span of months they find many containing Death Eater spy Severus Snape, & Ministry spy Percy Weasley. With one dead & the other Missing the British wizarding world is thrown upside down as they review the Memories & realise just how much Percy Weasley was a Mastermind Schemer in saving the lives of many Muggle Borns, Goblins, Half-Blood's and Blood Traitors.

2/2 The Wizarding world are looking for where war hero Percy Weasley is. Especially his family (In this story Percy saves Fred's life & then vanishes). They see that Percy Weasley had worked as an informant during his entire Ministry career, also being the one who thought out Dumbledore's death (Shocking the courthouse) "You're already dying Albus, why not have Severus strengthen his position with the Death Eaters by being your killer?" 'He used every situation to his advantage to end the war'

Ah, the reveal of the wronged hero, what a simple and satisfying trope. It gives us angst, the bitter taste of not being appreciated mixed with the sweet sauce of late recognition and regret.  

But Percy doesn’t care about that or any other tropes because he is exhausted. Winning a war is a tiring job and he was being doing more than winning. So as soon as Voldemort keels over and dies, Percy checks that his family is alive (they all are, good job there, Percival) and he makes himself a portkey and goes away.

One wizard can’t make a portkey, you say? It takes at least four? Barty Crouch Jr had to imperius three other wizards to enchant the Goblet of Fire? And portkeys don’t work in Hogwarts under normal circumstances? Well, these are not normal circumstances, there was a battle and Percy has a lot of practice making portkeys, all right? A lot.

(There are less than twenty goblins in Britain right now and it is all Percy’s doing).

He goes to East Asia because Percy is vaguely aware that a single white man in need of enlightenment and self-discovery should go climb a mountain on Asia. Percy doesn’t climb any mountains, though, because he can never do things as he is supposed to. There must always be a twist. In this case, he gets food poisoning twice and spends over a month trying to learn how to play a plucked string instrument. He is harassed by a flock of geese and meets a talking dragon. He fails to realize that there are no accounts of talking dragons in history (at least the history badly learned and repeated in wizarding Britain). Dragons do not talk nor do they speak. Your brother works in a freaking dragon reserve, for Merlin’s sake, Percy. You should know this.

After that Percy goes to the Caribbean, because he feels that his stress-relief and self-discovery journey should also involve a stay in a tropical beach. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the experience because he is a red-head. Also, sand is annoying. He freckles all over, eats a lot of pork, learns to play the maracas, to the locals’ amusement, and leaves.

By the time Dumbledore’s memories are uncovered Percy has made his way to a Greek island. He dresses almost exclusively with a t-shirt tied around his waist like a loincloth and a pair of trainers. He also carries with him a bag made from a t-shirt like some sort of wild instagrammer. He carries all kind of knick-knacks in his bag that he uses to create himself a house at night, as if transfiguring a nutshell into a bed were a normal thing, Percy, you utter maniac.

From time to time he goes to a wizarding community and offers to do some chores or magic in exchange of goods. If a goblin woman sees him, she will give Percy a loaf of bread. He has no idea why they do that but it’s very good bread, so Percy is happy to take it. One time Percy met a male goblin and he gave Percy some salt, that he still carries with him. It is possible that for the last seven months Percy had been eating goblin bread and whatever fresh produce the Greek witches offer him in exchange of doing chores.

It is at this time that the Puddlemere United goes to Greece to do some pre-season training.

(This is something that football teams around Europe do. Go somewhere outside the country to train for a month or two in different conditions. The Manchester United often goes to Malaga, in Spain, for a warm-weather training. I don’t even like football, I don’t know why I know this.)

When Oliver Wood sees Percy Weasley standing around in little more than a loincloth he naturally assumes that he is having a hallucination, a combination of the relentless training under the hot and punishing sun, the hours spent fighting the wind (they don’t know what it is with the wind there, but it will try to kick you off the broom. They are all coming out of this with iron abs) and the constant stories in The Prophet about yet another plot Percival Weasley had conducted, saving a dozen lives.

“Percy?” Oliver asks, sweaty and thirsty and half mad from training.

“Oh, hi, Oliver!” Percy answers, and then, because Percy is simultaneously the cleverest and dumbest wizard alive, “oh shit”.

*

Percy has not been reading the news. He refuses to. He is on vacation, he is still tired and he has a white hair on his temple. Just the one hair, but Percy is twenty-two and far too young for white hair.

Oliver nods. He gets it. He is still telling the Weasley family that he has seen Percy and that he is not dead at all, only slightly insane. But he will wait until he is back in England. Oliver doesn’t know if all the things in the paper are true, but even if Percy has only rescued one thousand five hundred goblins instead of the fifteen thousand the papers claim, he is still entitled to a nice quiet vacation in which clothes are optional.

Did Percy Weasley stop a goblin genocide in his free time? Does he not realize it? How dumb is this boy?

Come September the owls start to arrive. Letters from the Ministry, from the papers, from his family. Percy watches the owl fly around and doesn’t allow himself to be found. He does read Oliver’s letters and even answers explaining that no, his family is not heart-broken. They were heart-broken five years ago when Percy very publicly acted like an asshole. They got used to it, so there is no need for this new sentimentality now that Percy is on vacation.

Percy might be acting a bit like an asshole now, but he has very complicated and ugly feelings over his family and he would rather not think about them. Mostly, he is irked by the fact that they were so quick to follow Dumbledore’s lead. Perhaps because Percy never worked for Dumbledore, he worked with Dumbledore and had the distinct pleasure of pointing to his face, on multiple occasions, what a sly bastard he was. He has little respect for people who never confronted Dumbledore.

(So basically Percy only respects Aberforth Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall).

Also, Percy always did what he was supposed to: he washed his hands, minded his siblings, got good grades and he yet he was not the favourite son. This is all subconscious, of course, but he resents it.

Oliver keeps writing so Percy keeps writing back.

 “Did you actually side-apparate a family with twelve members?” writes Oliver.

“I have no idea.” Percy writes back. “Wait, do you mean the Johnsons? How are they?”

 “They are going to give you an Order of Merlin, 1st Class”.

“Surely they realise I don’t want one.”

“I think it is evident they realise nothing, Percy.”

 By October it’s getting cold and Percy finds that he doesn’t particularly care about wearing clothes, so he is getting ready to portkey himself to Argentina when Ginny arrives. She has such a driven and purposeful look around her that Percy assumes that she must be in the middle of a very important quest, so he hangs back and follows her as she treks all over the island and vanishes a thousand year old monster. It doesn’t occur to Percy that her quest is finding him and that the monster was merely an unfortunate bystander.

Eventually he reveals himself to Ginny because she is screaming incoherently at the sky and Percy thinks that she might be suffering hypoxia and dehydration. Ginny throws the water bottler at his head.

“I’m not the jerk here.” Percy says. “I needed a vacation and if you hadn’t seen those stupid memories you would have been fine with me being out of the country indefinitely.”

Ginny hexes him seven times, but afterwards she lies on the beach next to Percy and they look at the clouds. They spend a week together, nicely quiet and wild. They go for walks, play on the beach, make a house at night out of random transfigured things (Percy doesn’t notice Ginny’s look of utter bafflement and awe) and eat goblin bread (this time Percy does notice the look but assumes it’s because Ginny loves the taste).

Percy refuses to go back with her but he promises Ginny that he will be there for Christmas. Two days later he does go back to England, the bastard. His correspondence with Oliver has become… heated, to put it some way, and waiting a week for the owl to arrive is intolerable.  

Percy thinks this might be some sort of penance. It’s nippy in England and he can’t be dressed in a t-shirt/loincloth anymore. There is a flock of owls permanently following him, trying to deliver their messages from the Ministry and the papers and maybe, even now, from his family. Worst of all, Oliver writes him all kind of randy letters but refuses to shag Percy, even though he is right there, because of sports. Something about turning frustration into spectacular athletic performance, Percy doesn’t know. He is so frustrated that he goes and stops a plan to assassinate Potter all by himself.

On Christmas Eve Percy goes home and he is yelled at, cursed at, cried at and loved, very loved, it’s embarrassing. He is rescued from the madness by Potter who easily admits he has been fuelling the newspapers infatuation with Percy because that way they left him slightly in peace.

(And on Boxing Day he moves in with Oliver).

[badly-explained-merlin-plots]

The Nightmare Begins - Merlin and Gaius gaslight Morgana

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

Hi!! I don't know much about the death&destiny verse as I'm a bit new here so idk if this has been brought up before but I'm curious so: If you had to explain the biggest change between each of the 4 versions how would you do so?

( I'm sorry if this is annoying. )

Anon this is not annoying at all, in fact this has made my night!

Spoilers for Death and Destiny ahead!

Okay so the way I wrote Death and Destiny was in google docs and after a while the document would lag really badly because I was at 40+ pages so whenever copying chapters for AO3 took ridiculously long, I would copy whatever I had written that I hadn't posted yet into another document. Because of this, things I had written in the beginning of this au for later chapters got preserved in the early documents. Document one has the final versions of chapters 1-12, document two is 13-18, document 3 is 19-20, and document 4 is 21 and 22. For the completed and final chapters, that is. There are scenes written in those documents that haven't happened yet or never happened because of changes.

The biggest change from document one to document two is chapter 16, which is the lamia chapter. In document one, the chapter is outlined as being aftermath only, as the only change from canon would be that Lancelot was there. In document one, I hadn't even decided to have Agravaine banished yet (which is chapter 15 of Death and Destiny). But all the knights would have been enchanted and would have remembered everything and felt guilty. Merlin's magic also wasn't going to be revealed to the other knights and Gwen. So that was definitley the biggest change from one to two

The biggest change from Document two to Document three is that originally, Merlin's magic wasn't supposed to be revealed to Arthur until around the time of the Disir. I planned for Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival to be the ones to rescue Lancelot, Leon, and Gaius from the dungeons. But when I wrote chapter 19, I removed the smugglers because I didn't want to do the sword in the stone plot and deal with Arthur being mopey about Tristian hurting his feelings. So I removed them and patted myself on the back, problem solved. Then I realized that Isolde saved Arthur's life and I needed an Isolde. I decided I was going to have it be a main character rather than a generic background character so Merlin would reveal his magic to Arthur in order to heal his friend. This was not planned anywhere in document two as it spawned from a very lively struggle with myself on how I was going to proceed.

The there are no major changes between documents three and four, mainly because they each only hold two chapters and the path I went down in document 3 continued directly into document 4. I did almost have a different ending to Death and Destiny though which was basically meta as hell and I realized I didn't like it as soon as I started to write it. Basically Kilgarrah uses his dragon breath to give Leon a dream that would have showed him how things would have happened had Leon never died during the dragon attack and never fulfilled his destiny. And it would have been flashes of scenes from canon. Again, meta as hell and I really didn't like it.

So yeah! Those are the biggest changes between documents!

[gremlinbehaviour]

“Don’t ever scare me like that again” kiss for lancelot + percival? 👀

Set just after the fighting in The Coming of Arthur Part 2 because I am obsessed with those episodes. I had originally written a Gwainecelot fic with a very similar plot to this one (I stole a few lines from it) but I think this works better, given that Lance and Gwaine had never met by this point (at least not in canon)

"Where's the warning bell?" Percival demanded as soon as the fighting was over. Leon looked at him questioningly, as if wondering why he would need to know that now that the fighting was over. Gwaine clearly understood, though, as his own eyes widened. "Lancelot and Merlin were supposed to stop it from ringing. The fact that they didn't…" He didn't have to explain why that boded poorly.

"I think I can find it," Gwaine announced, taking off with his sword in hand. Percival followed after him, only his long legs allowing him to keep up with the rapid pace set by the long-haired knight. Despite the speed, they did not quickly arrive at the bell tower. Or arrive at all, as Gwaine slowed to a stop in the middle of a corridor.

"Okay, so, I've only actually spent like two days in the castle, and might have been a tad over optimistic about my ability to find my way around," he admitted.

"You got us lost?!" Percival demanded. He didn't have time for this; Lancelot could still be hurt or in danger.

"Well, yes... Or actually, noo!" Gwaine all but shouted, turning down another hallway. Percy looked after him to see Lancelot, Merlin, and Gaius limping towards them. The knight was leaning against the servant's shoulder, but his head was held high and there was a smile on both of their faces.

"We did it," Merlin announced proudly as the other two knights rushed towards him. Gwaine, who was not known for his restraint, immediately grabbed Merlin's cheeks and kissed him hard. The servant let Lancelot's arm slip off his shoulders, which was alright since Percival was there to hold him steady with strong hands on his narrow hips. The large knight was a little more cautious with his affections, but was so relieved to see Lance on his feet that he only glanced up to check the hallway was clear before placing a kiss of his own on his only friend's lips. Gwaine and Merlin obviously wouldn't tell on them, as they kept a secret of their own.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," he pleaded, leaning down to press his forehead against Lancelot's as the other man reached up with his left hand to hold behind his neck, both for support and to draw him nearer. His right arm stayed hanging limply at his side, and Percival could see a line of red where he'd taken a hit to the shoulder. There wasn't too much blood, however, and Gaius didn't seem worried about it either, so it was probably alright for the moment. "When the warning bell rang, I could only think about the reasons you might've failed to reach it…"

"I'm sorry to have worried you," Lancelot said sincerely. "We were on our way there when we saw the Cup of Life in the throne room and thought that emptying it and making the soldiers mortal again would be useful."

"You didn't just make them mortal; you made them explode!" Percival said almost reverently. "And I'll forgive you, given that you did apparently save my life. We were cornered down in the dungeons when you made the enemy blow up."

"Is everyone else alright?" Lancelot asked, even as he shifted his shoulder slightly and a wince came over his own face. It was so ridiculously in character that he cared for the people he had just met yesterday more than for his own aches and pains that Percival wanted to simultaneously kiss him again and shake some self-worth into his thick skull. In deference to his injury, he settled on the former.

"Yes," he answered after pulling his lips away. "Elyan was cut on the arm, but it isn't bad. I'm more concerned about you. How badly does it hurt?"

"It's not too bad."

"Regardless," Gaius piped up from behind them, where he'd been waiting for the two couples to finish their heartfelt reunions. "You should head to my chambers. I must see to the king first, but I'll return to tend your wound if Merlin can't handle it."

"He can handle it," Gwaine insisted. Evidently, he had every confidence in his partner's abilities.

"We'll all look after him," the physician's assistant agreed with a meaningful look at Lancelot and the man who held him on his feet. Percival wondered if maybe he didn't need to be so worried, since now his friend clearly had someone else looking out for him. They both did. That didn't mean, though,  he would be letting Lance out of his sight anytime soon.

[fuckyeaharthuriana]

Cursed - review (spoilers) up to episode 8 (very long post)

I am going to write a non spoilers review and a spoilers review when I finish the show as well, but for now. Here we go.

The review will be divided in:

Plot: alias, who I am supposed to root for? What the hell is that sword? Characters: alias trying to peek around Nimue to get more scenes from the secondary characters, plus... name droppings? Romance: zero chemistry?? tropey endings?

I generally enjoying the show, especially after the first episodes, which were just boringly long and could honestly be avoided.

1. PLOT

The story starts to be a bit more delineated by episode 7, I have to say. When I started it, I was extremely confused about who I was supposed to root for, what was happening, why all the arthurian names where mixed up. 

First of all, let me say that the show looked very pretty. A part from the hideous transitions (animated transitions), the way the show uses colors was absolutely lovely. 

a) The plot is this: Someone made a magic Sword (let’s call it Sword) which was able to give very good fighting abilities (and magic) to whoever was using it. Merlin came to use it, at some point, but the Sword ended up fusing with him, corrupting him into a need for revenge. He helps raise kings with the use of his sword, until the Sword consumes all his power and almost kills him.

He is saved by a Sky Fay woman who takes the sword out of his body and hides it, trying to save Merlin from his dark power. They fall in love and are together, until Merlin leaves, angrily, when he finds out that the woman has “destroyed” the Sword (but she has just hidden it). She later marries a guy, and has Nimue, who is actually Merlin’s daughter.

The story starts when the Red Paladins attack Nimue’s village and Nimue’s mother asks her to bring the Sword to Merlin. During her journey he encounters Arthur, who is a thief, and Arthur’s sister, a nun called Morgana who actually works with the Fey people, trying to save them.

The plot picks up once we are around episode 6 and 7, and Nimue is finally back with the hidden Fey, alongside Arthur and Morgana, and they decide that they will keep the sword and fight against the Red Paladins.

b) This is the overall plot. The beginning of the show is extremely slow. The show is heavy handed in his need to show us how oppressed and suffering Nimue is. She is shamed by her own people for being “demonic”, she is discriminated by humans (even if she is one of the fey who has zero fey features), she is attacked by both. When the Red Paladins destroyed her village... I was confused, because we didn’t really see any positive feelings Nimue had for her home (she hated everyone, she was discriminated, she was trying to leave). Also, somehow everyone could tell she is Fey? I was confused by how badly she was able to hide, her who looks like a normal human and could have easily cut her hair or something.

Her meeting with Arthur is also... strange. He is introduced as a love interest, we get bits of his story (thrown away from his family, his father has been killed, seeking honor) with the show, he is a thief and his “attachment” to the plot could have been a bit more... consistent. He helps Nimue, bringing her to Morgana, and conveniently Morgana is working to help the Fey and working for an underground smuggling operation. I think I would have enjoyed it much more if Arthur had been more involved in Morgana’s smuggling operations.

The other side of the plot revolves around Merlin or the Vikings (Pym). He is Uther’s advisor, and Uther is a shitty king. He is just there to... give Merlin something to do? I think the show would have worked well without him.

c) Uther and Pym are the comic reliefs of this show. Uther is shown as having no spine, so I am not sure why he was there. He had no interest in the Red Paladins, or the kingdom, he just wanted the Sword because apparently that gives power to the king? At the same time, we have Pym (Nimue’s friend, thought dead in the attack), who ends up as a healer for a raider ship. Honestly, the people in this show were so horrible that I definitely rooted for Pym’s Vikings. I am not sure if the show wanted me to root for the fae or the vikings, but I definitely wished for the vikings to keep raiding.

Now, for the main plot point that confused me:

d) The Fae and the Red Paladins

I was very confused about why the fae were chased and hunted. The world has Christianity, the Pope and the Church but is basically in a fantasy land (but also it has the Ninth lost legion and the Roman Empire, but the gods are not from anything I could recognize). We are supposed to believe that there is an old ancient religion, and that the fae follow.... Hidden gods? shadows? they have power related to the land? But do they? None of them seemed to have any powers, only Nimue had magic. The show seems to imply that they do, but we only see Nimue using her powers, while the fae is powerless against the Paladins. So... I suppose the Paladins attack them just because they look different? Or because they follow another religion? 

I wish there had been a bit extra information about why the Red Paladins are so anti-fae. Something maybe related to the sword, like the Sword murdered a bunch of people and it was made by people following this specific religion? 

How powerful are they? Why do they have a fortress? Are they getting taxes from the kingdom, is that why they have the “money from the Beggars Land”. Furthermore, in episode 8, why don’t the Red Paladins fight Nimue? Why leave her fight one on one? There has not been enough time for the reputation to build yet, and we have not seen her reputation building (I take as example Black Sails, and the way John Silver’s reputation was built there). The conquest of the Red Paladins in episode 8 was a bit... too easy. All these religious zealots suddenly are like nope, we surrender. The politics were generally quite confusing, I was never sure where the characters were because they could fast travel to any point at any time.

e) The Sword

I have to say that I really enjoyed the idea of the Sword as something that drains (took Merlin’s power) and corrupts. I definitely want to see what happens to Nimue after using it, and how Arthur will end up with it, as king.

f) Too much gore

TOO

MUCH

GORE

There is no point in it. The Red Paladins are shown to mutilate and torture and kill more than once. It is not needed. We need to see it once, then... just cut away. The guy who is following Merlin to kill him? He is immediately shown torturing a poor person buried alive. There is no point for the majority of these gore scenes.

g) Characters just ends up at the right place at the right time

There is no map or order. We NEVER know where character are. They can instantly transport themselves to any place. They are hidden in the forest and surrounded? It’s okay, they can immediately teleport an army to the Red Paladins’ castle.

Nimue is in the caves, hidden? No worries, she can immediately reach Arthur who is in another place, when she needs to.

Gawain is wandering the forest? The Weeping Monk is right there!

h) If you’re a secondary character you die

Unless you have an important arthurian name (and unless you are Kaze), then the character is dead. Ambushes will happen, the main characters will always survive.

2. CHARACTERS

Name dropping

I want to start with something that really annoyed me because of the over use. The name dropping.

The show did this at least four times, if not more. A character would be introduced with a name (ex. here is the Green Knight!) and then the character or the narration would rectify it by giving us a new name (”He is Gawain!”), with a long pause that leaves us (the audience) the time to GASP IN SHOCK BECAUSE “I KNOW THAT NAME”.

It just seemed.... too much, after the first time.

Gawain

Alright, let me start with Gawain because he literally came out of nowhere. It almost felt like the show introduced him at the beginning (Gawain is supposed to be Nimue’s dearest friend) but then they edited out the scenes so when we meet Gawain we are supposed to be shocked by we are not. 

A part from this, he really grew on me. He is the Green Knight, the hero of the hidden fae, and he hates humans (somehow all the main fae, Nimue and Gawain, look like humans). His character arc is well done, because he learns to trust Arthur and that is basically his character growth. 

Morgana

HANDS ON, BEST CHARACTER EVER. Morgana’s journey was amazing, also because of what we know of her arthurian character. She starts in a convent, using the family name Igraine, and having Celia as her lover.

I wasn’t too impressed by the fact that the show seemed to use her being wlw as a way to show how progressive and different Nimue is. Still, at least we have our first tv wlw Morgana! She fights for the fae and helps them escape, which shows her sense of justice, even if it is never really explained why she would do this, or even how she started to relate to the fae.

Still, she was soon set to the path of her personal pain when she lost Celia (I’ll talk more about them down in relationships), and the show is never cruel to her pain. We see that she wants revenge (when she writes the letter! Amazing! Stunning!) AND justice most of all, but she accepts the deal with the demon when she sees Celia again, when she is offered something she really desires. Love THIS FOR HER. I am sure her journey will be more and more interesting by episode.

Nimue

I wasn’t too impressed with Nimue. She feels like a character who needs to be there to forward the plot, but I was also sad when the scene moved from other characters to return to her. I understand the need for her character, but I was not too invested in her character arc? I don’t want to sound cruel, I understand the need for her character development and how she had to discover herself and her destiny, but it was all very guidebook and very expected.

At episode 8, Nimue becomes queen of the Fae and conquers the Red Paladins and allies with the Red Spear? This... happens so fast. Nothing had really happened before this point, no plan, no showing us how the Paladins were in one place only... there is really no sense in it. It was just so fast, as if the show didn’t want to spend too much time investing in grand battles or showing us things. 

Pym and the Red Spear

Pym is the comic relief of the show. She miraculously escape the massacre and ends up with the Red Spear and her raiding ship. Honestly, they were the best characters. I wish they had had more screen, more than comedic relief. They just conveniently are at the right spot at the right moment (somehow the Red Paladins don’t kill them? After normally slaughtering everyone they find, they are just captured) and thus are thrown back in Nimue’s main plot line, but I am afraid that because of this they will just disappear from the show??

Arthur

Arthur is a mixed bag for me. I really enjoyed how his character arc revolved around honor. He felt like he lost honor and had to reclaim it. But when he steals the Sword we never see him regretting it, which was disappointing, as that would have been part of his arc. Also, he somehow ends up working with the fae but he never shows any emotional investment in justice because the show is too occupied to show us how Arthur and Nimue are falling in love.

I think he shines the most in the episodes where he works with Gawain. We see how he is smart, strategic, and a good fighter, but also able to lead (he saves Gawain with a sacrifice) even when surrounded by people who distrusts him. I truly enjoyed it.

I think his character loses when he is in the same scenes with Nimue.

Kaze

KAZE WAS SUPPOSED to be Nimue’s right hand, giving her advice. And her character is shown to have both advice for Nimue but also being wiser than her. Nimue needs her counsel. Still, when Nimue actually takes the throne, Kaze is not really seen counselling her, as the show needs to immediately pass to the next plot point, and only shows us Nimue and Arthur.

Merlin

Merlin’s plot started strong and then... sort of got lost. He starts being Uther’s witty advisor. He doesn’t really care about Uther, but wants to use his need for the Sword to also get the Sword for himself (to get his magic back?). He doesn’t have magic anymore, and his character arc shows us how he goes from being selfish (he wants the Sword to get his magic back) to selfless when he finds out Nimue is his daughter. 

Still, many parts of his plot were...??? He steals fire from the Beggar King (supposedly to destroy the Sword) and this leads to the Fisherman being hired to kill him? But this whole Fisherman subplot was a bit out of nowhere. 

He allies with the Vikings (sorry, I forget the name of the king) because their king also wants the Sword... and against Uther... but Uther is literally doing nothing worthy and he could easily manipulate Uther, but ends up losing any upper hand against the Viking king? What was the point of all that?

3. .Romance? Relationships?

Nimue and Arthur? Nope. Their relationship just happens. I have nothing to say about it, a part from the fact that I always found Nimue and Arthur more interesting when they were interacting with other characters because those were the moments where we got characterizations. Arthur with Gawain? We see Arthur’s ability to lead, and the way he reclaims his honor. Nimue with Kaze? We see her insecurities and her hope for the fae.

DOF AND PYM? Yes please. They were just so cute, and Dof’s death was useless.

Morgana and Celia? Yes? But here we are again with the “buried gay” trope, because we cannot have a happy wlw. I understand that she is Morgana and she is not supposed to be happy, so I am not too annoyed at it, especially if Morgana’s love for Celia is used to give conflict to Morgana.

[sourcherrymagiks]

Carry on Countdown 2019

Day 18 - Crack!

Lamplight

Ao3

Simon

He’s trying to avoid talking to me. That’s how it happens. There was kissing. Amazing kissing. Merlin and Morgana, he’s beautiful and when he kisses me back.....

But anyway. He’s also a stuck up twat who can avoid the shit out of anything. We were back in the room after the kissing (Great Snakes,that kiss though) and he was taking forever to hang his blazer up so he didn’t have to look at me or talk to me. What was I going to do but come up behind him and kiss his neck? I ask you, what else could I have done?

Which is how we came to stumble and fall into the wardrobe. And then straight out of the back. Into a drift of snow.

“Erm Baz, this is going to sound pretty stupid but I think we just fell into...”

“Narnia”

“Yes”

Baz

I know that this is somehow his fault. Why does he always have to involve me in his ridiculous heroics. Although, to be fair, this is well outside of his usual remit.

“Snow, might I suggest we go back? From memory Narnia has its own set of chosen ones. Lots of them. They can probably get by without you”

“I’m not sure that’s how this works, the path has gone”

I look around and he’s totally right. It’s just us, in the snow, under a lamppost.

I can’t keep the petulant tone out of my voice as I say “But you are our chosen one, you belong to the world of Mages”

He laughs and kisses me. “Didn’t know you cared you big softy” I briefly toy with the idea of snapping at him but instead I pull him back into another kiss.

When I pull away to catch my breath and try to get a hold over my treacherous body, Simon gets up. I grumble a bit under my breath but then I decide to co operate a bit. Grudgingly. It seems very unfair that we are here and not snogging in our room. Even though I was the one avoiding the snogging (Why?, I’m such an idiot)

Snow’s sketching in the snow with a stick. It looks like nonsense until I’m standing right next to him. Then it hits me at once, he’s drawn a map of Narnia. From memory.

I must be staring at him because he starts laughing.

“I know you think I’m a thick urchin who’s only ever read cereal packets but I’ve loved Narnia my whole life”

“Me too, that part is not quite right” I alter the shape of the western forest slightly so it ends further from the frozen lake. “I would definitely remember if you were the hero in it. I suppose you do have a bit of Peter about you”

“Fuck off Caspian” he throws a snowball at me. I throw one back. Then I kiss him again because this is all unbelievable.

He’s sketching plot points out now, trying to work out the timeline.

“Right you gorgeous villain, we need to get to the camp here in time for the battle. There’s enough footprints and sled tracks here to show they’ve all been through fairly recently. I don’t think we can help at any point up until the end, do you agree?”

“I do, excuse me while I try to absorb the shock of you being a reader.” He lightly punches me on the arm, he’s blushing. “Is your magic working?”

We both laugh

“As well as it ever does, yours?”

I take out my wand and cast ‘lights out’ at the lamp post. It blinks off.

“Cool. Let’s get moving. Keep your wand out. I don’t want to draw my sword until I need it and I, Erm, can I hold your hand please”

“Come here” I grab his hand and before I can stop myself I’ve kissed his knuckles.

“I like this, you,like this” he bumps my shoulder with his.

Simon

I’m really excited. I dunno if it’s the Baz thing or the Narnia thing but I’m so amped up I’m practically skipping.

“So, Caspian then?” Baz asks with his eyebrow up.

“It’s possible that I might have been not entirely straight for a while”

“You think?”

“There’s no need for that tone you wanker”

Then I’ve got him up against a tree. This want is everything. I need to touch him, kiss him, press myself against him.

He doesn’t just let me, he right there with me, pulling my hair, licking my neck, moaning into my mouth.

He pulls away gasping “Right Snow, let’s get back to the mission and stop debauching the pristine Narnian forests”

“But I like it, I like you” I’m whining a bit.

“You aren’t completely intolerable either Snow”

We seem to have been walking forever. I slept about ten minutes last night. I would kill for some Turkish delight.

“In the books it doesn’t seem this far”

I moan to Baz

“Heaven forbid that the made up world is larger than the children’s book made it appear”

“I get your point, even though you’re a twat, but its hardly made up is it?”

He shrugs. I’m rubbing off on him. That makes me smile. I nearly don’t hear the crack of the twig, I’ve disarmed the guard before I’ve had chance to worry about my sword or magic. They aren’t the best written soldiers.

“Take us to either Peter or Aslan please” I ask the battered looking Narnian as politely as I can be arsed to. I’m not great at manners when I’m hungry and tired.

Baz

Peter is beautiful, not a patch on Snow obviously, but still. The two of them together are blinding. Simon offers our assistance and Peter accepts a little unwillingly. I’m not sure he would at all if not for the wonderful Lucy. She never sees herself as the protagonist so she doesn’t have the same struggle as Peter. To be fair I wouldn’t want to share my story with Simon bloody Snow if I already had three siblings and a lion muscling in on the action. Poor fuck.

The two of them spend the afternoon practicing, Snow is better trained and in great shape but Peter is faster and lighter in his feet. It’s glorious.

When Simon fights Edmund it’s a different thing. No longer a master class in heroic swordplay fought by two golden leaders. Now it’s like a cunning bar fight. Simon has to stop himself from head butting Edmond. When he throws an elbow at Edmond’s face,then stops before it connects, Edmond is not so polite and punches Simon in his exposed ribs. It’s very feral.

When they’re done he comes over and presses his sweaty lips to mine. I don’t know how I avoid making a scene.

Obviously it’s still a bit of a scene. Uncomfortable coughs and averted eyes abound. Then simultaneously everyone decides to ignore it and peace is restored.

I leave to speak with Lucy. She’s got magic and I want to see if I can help her use it. It doesn’t work like ours though. She can’t harness it. I advise her to go to Watford as soon as she can when she returns home. She probably won’t.

She gives Simon a small banner embroidered with a dragon holding a blazing sun. He tucks it into his pocket because the courageous fuck won’t wear armour. He kisses her head. I’m completely flabbergasted when she gives me one emblazoned with a flaming moon. I must be allergic to it because my eyes are watering.

After dinner we talk tactics. Simon keeps quiet about upcoming plot points and focuses on the battle. Simon and Peter lean over the map, blond hair and copper curls tumbling together as the argue over every inch. From his plan I deduce that Snow’s aim is to kill the witch while keeping all the kids well out of the way. This goes down like a sack of shit with Peter. It’s his story and he is the king. Gorgeous (and capable) as Simon is he can’t lead this army. They aren’t loyal to him. Also he won’t play by their outdated battle rules, fight in a line and die, because he knows better. They finally agree on enough compromises to keep everyone happy and save lives. A lot of lives.

In spite of the protests I hold my ground. I will stay by his side regardless of what he thinks he’s going to order me to do.

It’s fun. Really. I mean there is an impending battle but, Crowley, I’ve read that battle so many times. It’s going to be brilliant. I catch Simon’s eye and I know he feels it too.

Simon

I can’t fucking sleep. This is going to be epic. I’m traipsing around the camp looking for anything to take my mind off the combination of wanting to get into this battle and wanting to do unspeakable things to Baz.

It’s not the time though, right?

We still haven’t talked. It’s possible we’ve managed to bring a fictional world to life to avoid talking. But I’m going to tell him after the battle. Hopefully it will be dead romantic.

Baz

The battle starts off early and badly, not quite as badly as I remember because Simon is genius at this and Peter listened to about a quarter of his suggestions. Plus there are two of them.

The absolute confidence of them helps keep up the morale that’s been damaged by Aslan fucking off.

Simon hadn’t mentioned that he was the bearer of a flaming sword or that he had a particularly impressive brand of violent, pulsing magic so when he calls his sword, the fear it causes slams the first wave right back.

I cast quickly and use so much magic that I’m nearly spent in moments but I have taken down most of the ogres and a couple of hags. Peter, Edmond and Simon smash through line after line of the White Witch’s army. Simon is actually grinning, the prat.

I wait for Simon’s signal to disarm the White Witch. Then he’s on her in a moment with Edmond and Peter. She never stands a chance.

By the time Aslan arrives back with the girls there’s only cleaning up and healing to do. He growls at Simon and Simon shrugs at him. He turns his back clearly as pissed off as a magical lion gets.

“This was not your battle Mage”

“Explain how it just was then wise one?”

Simon is brillant at one liners, when he’s not fighting me. I guess it’s in the job description. Aslan grunts and continues back to his tent. What a prick. I guess he’s not willing to let the homoerotic subtext turn into the story.

It’s very clear we’ve outstayed our welcome.

Simon

That was mega. But now it’s time to go. I don’t want to fuck with these guys and I also don’t want Aslan to eat me.

It’s a pretty shitty deal those kids have got anyway. Kings and queens in one land but not able to stay. We hug them goodbye. At least I live where I live. Except for right now obviously.

I grab Baz and we set off back to the lamppost.

“That was amazing, you were amazing” I say to him

He looks at me like he thinks I might he taking the piss.

“You did an ok job yourself Snow. You’re not as pretty as Peter though”

I’m glad he catches me when I jump on him. “Take that back Pitch”

“It’s an objective fact Snow, he is more dashing, I just prefer you”

“You do?”

“Yes you attention seeking numpty, I have appalling taste so I prefer you to most people”

“Good. Because, well, I’m, I think I might be, falling, you know, for you” Merlin. I doubt he’s even going to understand that.

Then he kisses me and I know he does.

Baz

I’ve been kissing Snow for hours. We don’t know how time works here relative to Watford so we should get back. But it’s complicated there and easy here under a lamppost in a forest full of spring.

It’s also not our story.

Simon still has his own story to finish.

“Ready Sweetheart?”

“Not really love”

“Shall we do it anyway?”

“After you”