#of merlin waiting all those thousands of years

[ladyofthelake]

[variousqueerthings]

okay I watched good omens s2 yesterday with my partner, and I was genuinely very surprised -- I think if you've grown up through superwholock/merlin/the 100/teen wolf type shows where (with the exception periodically of doctor who) you kind of had to make up the good show that something could have been in your head, that colours a lot of your viewing, and to be honest I thought season 1 of good omens was a fine little piece, honoured the book while modernising it somewhat, it was a nice, fun, low stakes time, with a couple of things I might have wanted a tad different but nothing overall awful.

so I was seeing all this meta and gifsets and discussion, while I was waiting to give s2 a watch with my partner and thought "ah, people have made up the good show in their heads again" not that I assumed s2 was going to be a bad show, but that people were taking extra deep plunges into possibilities, the way fandom does, and that was fine. I knew there was a big ol kiss, I had a sense of some kind of argument at the end, and that it was setting up a s3

I also knew that mainstream reviews were calling it (politely) self-indulgent and dependent on whether or not you enjoy david tennant and michael sheen having a good time for just under 6 hours

all in all, expectations of a somewhat mainstream show without too much to think about, a nice, fun low stakes time, moving on...

(EDIT: AND THEN I WROTE A LOT OF WORDS SO YOU CAN IMAGINE THAT MY REACTION WAS QUITE DIFFERENT)

as it turns out it seems these things that were being written on tumblr were discussing the actual text of the show and not things you could extrapolate if you squinted and tilted your head a little to the left as I'm so used to doing, so in fact there is much to think about!

and my first thought was "this is like when you read early discworld books that ask a question like a joke, only to find that over time the answer to that question becomes very serious (and also can be funny at times of course)." how terry pratchett would pick and pick at tropes and notions and social ideas and go "oh now hold on, this seems strange..." starting way back when he thought it was odd that women warriors always seemed to be dressed in metal bikinis and then realising he hadn't done a good enough job of subverting the trope, simply by depicting it and calling it a bit silly

why do goblins always get treated as the villains? what's with this divine succession of kings business? where are the female dwarfs? who do we treat as disposable?

good omens season one went: "haha what if heaven and hell were intensely incapable, bureaucratic, corrupt, and uncaring of the work they did, and we took an angel and a demon and had them actually care? wouldn't that be... a bit silly?" (and it was)

good omens season two went: "what are the consequences for caring when the people who have power over you are incapable, bureaucratic, corrupt, and uncaring? what are the forces that supersede systems built on fear, ignorance, and violent conformity? can people change and break out of/challenge/break down these structures by caring?"

and this was set up with a neat little sleight of hand (to reference aziraphale's switch-and-bait in the episode with the nazi zombies), because the majority of season 2 does feel a bit indulgent: hey, remember those two wacky angel-and-demon characters? watch some more wacky things they did through the ages, watch them take a sojourn through 1827 Edinburgh and do a magic show during the Blitz, and... stop the death of Job's and Sitis' children (actually maybe that whole segment ought to have been what they call "A Clue")

see them try to figure out a kooky mystery, all the while setting up a cute little same-gender romance on their street. watch as everything points towards a happy ending that's all about the two of them realising what they've been to one another all these thousands and thousands (and thousands and thousands) of years- but hold on. lest we forget - and the show has made this point over and over - there are powerful people who control them, who hurt them, and who plan on hurting others, throughout the whole season, and as it turns out they know what they've been to one another for far far longer, and know how to pull their strings...

season 2 then, has to show us these things, not because they're indulgent (well, maybe occasionally, but the apology dance is still important), but because in order to make the ending a tragedy, we first need to understand, properly, the impact that they have had on each other. we need to understand that Aziraphale relied heavily on Crowley to be his moral compass and leaned on black-and-white thinking in order to deal with things, because if it's all grey then where does he fit and what has it all meant and heaven has to be the good guys, even as Job's and Sitis' children are ordered to be killed, it's all he ever had...

and Crowley was always an anchor, needed to trust that Aziraphale was different, needed to bend to every whim that Aziraphale has, because otherwise what's his worth in all this? After having been already deemed worthless by the heaven that Aziraphale needs to believe in?

and that, simplistically described, is the narrative that we're seeing in s2, and alongside that the ways that the changes they have upon each other are noticed, and monitored, and placed under suspicion, and finally... broken up, not by the clumsy, brute force that's been attempted over and over again, but by a promise to return into a violent, controlling system and to "make it better from within"

and all of this is wrapped up in two queer relationships + a third queered-within-the-text relationship that creates the inverse of how it ends for Aziraphale and Crowley (so far). queer love -- whatever shape that has -- is explicitly the shape of non-conformity within this narrative, including within the symbolism of angel-and-demon love of Gabriel and Beelzebub, which in the context of the systems created is considered queer (and one can argue till the cats come home about casting cis actors, about angel-and-demon notions of gender/romance/sexuality, but the "queerness" comes from building something non-conforming to the systems they exist in), and enforced by the explicitly our-world-definition-of queer romance that Nina and Maggie have going on (which, while less high stakes, still contains the background controlling relationship that Nina initially is in)

all of this to say, that I disagree that s2 meanders, or that plotlines happen for the sake of showcasing Aziraphale and Crowley without purpose, or that characters get sidelined (I'd say it sets up a whole host of interesting characters to further get into actually), or that it's strictly mainstream easy-access narrative that's just an excuse for the main creators and actors to get back together.

the love is the point, and this show takes its time to show the love (and the unequal boundary-setting, and the fact that one of them has an undiscussed tragic backstory, and the desperation to belong again, and the fear instilled by oppressive systems, and and and), so that we understand why those last 15 minutes happen the way that they do

it's sleight of hand, and like all good magic, you don't notice until it's happened

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: HP Festival of Stars (Part 2)

HP Festival of Stars 2023:

Can I Be Yours? by Wanderingfair - E, 2 chapters - “Stop stalling.” She laughed. “Right.” he confirmed, “I’m off to have a dastardly time bashing around Londo- oh, wait, no, I’m off to go meet the gold-digger Mum set me up with,” he snapped. “I get those two confused all the time.” “Go,” she urged, tucking her mouth into the sleeve of her jumper to hide her smile. “I’ll be up reading when you get home.” “You’ll be asleep on the library sofa and we both know it.” He winked, before closing the door. OR Hermione is forced to watch her best friend Draco Malfoy go on dates and finally confront the fact that she doesn't just love him, she is in love with him.

Draco Malfoy's Five Step Plan to Being Forgettable by OneEqualTemper - E, one-shot - Five times Draco said, “New year, new me!” and one time Hermione said, “But I like the old you.”

happy xmas (war is over) by riddikulus_puff - M, one-shot - December, 1998. Thousands are devastated and still mourning the losses from the Second Wizarding War, now came along the celebrations regarding the Muggle tradition that had moved through into the Wizarding World. Many were holding on to others for support, yet Hermione Granger felt horribly alone. Wasn’t Christmas supposed to be a happy time surrounded by family and friends? A one-shot for the 2023 HP Festival of Stars Fic Fest Inspired by the song ‘Happy Xmas (War is Over)’ by John Lennon

Crystals in the Snow by JessicaLovejoyAO3 - T, one-shot - no summary

Open Last by nissasxnotes - T, one-shot - no summary

In A Sky Full of Stars (I Think I Saw You) by InAStarlessSky - G, one-shot - “There’s a solution for that.” As if to prove the truth of his statement, he divests himself of the heavy wool coat he’d been wearing up to that point and drapes it over one arm. He then extends his hand to her and says, “Come here, I want to show you something.” She hesitates a moment, as though expecting deceit. He only smirks and gives a small shake of head. “I won’t bite, love. Come.” She approaches, still shivering despite herself and stops only when she reaches his side. “Serpents do have fangs, Draco.” “And lions have claws. What of it?” Or the one where Hermione steals an invisibility cloak and Draco has a surprise to show her.

Christmas in September by MsPolaPotter - T, one-shot - One heirloom brings Hermione to the love that she had deserved all along.

The Holidate by likelyunfinished - M, one-shot - “I don’t want to be your bloody holidate ever again. I want to be yours instead.” “Mine,” she smiled. “Yours,” he kissed her then, and it was the first of many Christmas kisses to come. In which Hermione Granger needs a fake-date to her Christmas party only to be reminded that old feelings never fade.

Everything Gold Can Stay by charingfae - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy would give all the money in his vault for a chance to woo Hermione Granger. And he very nearly does. Year after year, he gifts her the most perfect, thoughtful, elaborate Christmas presents. So why in Merlin's name does she keep getting mad? One of these years, he's bound to get it right. Isn't he? Draco paused and drank in her radiant expression, her wisdom, her never-ending quest to make everyone in her sphere of influence better—all the individual components that added up to the mathematically impossible sum that was Hermione Granger. “I don’t agree with that. I’d argue that the things we love never stop being special. Not for a moment, Granger.”

Naughty or nice, Granger? by Dramioneinkdrinker - E, one-shot - Hermione sat down next to Theo. “What’s the game?” The three of them froze, staring at her like she was a boggart. Hermione cleared her throat, nodding to the game of cards splayed in front of Malfoy. Blaise was the first to recover. “Eh, we’re doing a holiday variation of King’s Draw.” Malfoy considered her. “Have you ever played?” “It’s like the muggle game truth or dare,” Blaise explained. Hermione ignored the way her stomach dropped. Shit. She held a palm out to Malfoy, who held the deck. “What’s this holiday variation?” A slow smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “We call it naughty or nice.” OR Where Hermione Granger decides to act like a normal teenager.

A Running Start by sundayviolet - T, one-shot - Hermione and Draco disagree with the DMLE’s assessment when their mutual friend and coworker, Theo, is poisoned. Alone at Hogwarts for Christmas, they must work together to find the truth. With their favorite buffer in the hospital, the two grow closer and finally admit what’s been long in the making.

All the Baubles by hermionejean99 - T, one-shot - Draco and Hermione are late twenty-something best friends, established in their careers. Draco asks Hermione to help him shop for his mother and his new mystery girlfriend while spending the day in Muggle London.

You and Me, Forevermore by Goldenbucky - G, one-shot - The one where Hermione chooses to go. And where Draco chooses to stay.

This fest is ongoing.

[merganalogy]

Part 1

Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

This takes place in the early 1900

“I thought you were dead,” he murmured, his voice a fragile thread woven through the centuries. For two thousand years, they had not crossed paths, and yet, the first words to escape his lips were as sharp as the sword that had once pierced her.

His rudeness was understandable, she mused. After all, he had thrust that very sword through her midsection during their last encounter. Morgana stepped closer, her gaze unyielding.

Was he ashamed of his failure to end her life, or merely unsettled by her unexpected presence?

His eyes avoided hers, but she persisted.

“How is it possible?” he finally whispered.

Ignoring the bouquet of flowers she had brought—flowers he hadn’t even acknowledged—Morgana considered throwing them at his face. With just one eye, he wouldn’t dodge them easily.

She retrieved a nearby chair, her tone dripping with wry amusement. “Honestly, Merlin,” she said, “for someone once revered by druids, your naivety remains astonishing.” She waved the flowers before practically tossing them at his lap. “A token for you.”

He used to give her flowers. She was merely returning the favour.

There were other favours she would love to return as well but those needed to wait.

His confusion was almost endearing. “I don’t understand,” he confessed, voice lowered. “I killed…you.”

She corrected him gently. “Stabbed. Fatally. But stabbed.” Her near-death experience had been more complex than mere mortality.

His gaze met hers at last. “I watched you die.”

Suppressing her cheerfulness, Morgana revealed her secret. “Almost die,” she clarified. “Dark magic has its perks—it anchors the soul even in death. And having a dragon on your side helps.” She leaned in, her smile sharp. “My dragon succeeded where yours faltered.”

“Aithusa? What did she do?”

She nodded, her eyes holding ancient secrets. “She led me to Avalon,” Morgana replied. “Healed my wounds—at a cost, of course, but one I willingly paid.”

His curiosity stirred. Here she was standing before him, veiled in mystery.

With a graceful adjustment of her dress, Morgana rose. “Visiting hours are nearly over,” she announced. “I must leave.”

His objection died on his lips. “Tomorrow,” she promised, her gaze unwavering. “Perhaps we can mend that eye of yours.”

From this list, send me a prompt if you'd like.

[morganalefae]

s3 morgana being "beyond redemption" is soooooo crazy to me like yeah trying to kill the evil tyrant king whos been murdering every last one of your kind is sooooo evil lock her up and throw away the key!!

such a prime example of a kick the dog character too. like they cant condemn her for just fighting for her right to exist so they have her executing civilians and trying to have gwen executed to make her into the villian.

and! the same goes for morgause! literally what did she ever do wrong? uther conquered camelot (said by him in the episode where gili fights in the tournament) and then executed hundreds if not thousands of people with magic but morgause trying to kill the king is a step too far? why? its almost like the show is actually on uthers side 🤨🤨🤨🤨

which leads me to: the fact that we essentially watch the entire show through the pendragon perspective. merlin protects arthur so everything we learn about the purge and magic and the old religion is from uther/gaius. so, biased, to say the least. one of the most important things they tell you when researching history is to consider where your information is coming from and how that persons perspective influences their discussion of it.

which is why i also dont consider nimueh to be a villain. shes an activist! yeah she tried to kill arthur that one (?) time but he didnt even die so. doesnt count <3 but we SEE her having a conversation ALONE with uther where she says she didnt know what would happen to ygraine and i just cant imagine why she would lie. if she really wanted to hurt him she could have said she'd known and killed her on purpose but i dont think thats the case at all. she says she never would have helped him if she'd known what would happen. like, surprise, if you hunt and kill people for the crime of existing they will fight back and its not going to be the way you like it and innocent people will die. because thats war. you ruthlessly slaughter her people and she will slaughter yours.

worlds most unstructered post. professors hate her. anyway the show eventually starts to take on a very firm, "merlin has magic but ues not LIKE those other magic users therefore hes ok :) everyone else is evil tho. except the druids (sometimes :|)", whereby merlin using magic is only allowed if hes helping or saving arthur (except all those other times but we dont talk about those i guess) and his stance on magic eventually warps until hes just kind of horrible about it.

100% unpopular opinion but gaius should have died in s2 or 3. he influenced merlin far too much and basically never for the better. sorry to gaius lovers but i do NOT like that old man. he advises merlin EVERY time to not tell morgana about her magic (which she has no control over and therefore is manifesting in ways that will absolutely get her caught), to never help any of the unfairly persecuted people of the episode or even to use magic at all. hes a bootlicking coward who only helped people he cared for or when it suited him. how many people do you think he watched burn simply because he didnt agree with the way they used magic, whether it actually "evil" or not.

merlin's only friends who know about his magic are an old conservative man and a guy who dies right when merlin could have used the support of someone to help him "come out" to arthur about his magic.

im firmly of the opinion that had he told morgana about his magic everything would have been literally fine. because alone and with loterally no support system at all, is it any wonder that morgana would go down the road she did? after years of fear and watching people just like her be burned for the crime of existing, with no prophecy or friends to tell her that it wont always be this way. you dont have to be afraid because youre not the only one and i wont let anything happen to you. oh wait. she did get told that. by MORGAUSE. not about the prophecy but how can they be judged by trying to bring about change by themselves. by trying to kill a king whos killed so many of their own people.

if the intention of the show had been to give a poignant message about the cycle of abuse (morgana succumbing to bitterness and hatred just like uther) or how fear can control you (merlin eventually becoming essentially the bad guy, judging everybody who doesnt use magic the way he sees fit, staying silent and contributing to persecution of magic people because living in fear can make you paranoid and bitter (sound familiar?)) then i would applaud because wow did that make me fucking cry! and hit actually very close to home! and it was tragic and horrible but also inevitable

but as far as i can tell that was not at all the point, because in the end kilgharrah tells merlin the prophecy has been fulfilled, albion is united and magic returned! hurrah! but. um. did i miss something? when did that happen? oh, you mean when gwen is queen....? so.... gwen unites the land of albion and returns magic to the land? except, merlin seems to have lived on until the 21st century of our world and magic is not what i would call flourishing atm.

so i guess my question is... well actually i dont have a question. actually wait i do. what the fuck?

[merlintarotfest]

Merlin Tarot Fest - Round 1 Masterlist

Very belatedly, please see the masterlist for the first round of the Merlin Tarot Fest! All creations were posted July-September 2023.

FIC:

i will wait by the river by g0blincat

Tom the Blacksmith gets so much more than he bargained for when he decides to adopt the baby he finds floating down the river in a basket. Eighteen years later, Merlin has grown into quite the proficient swordsman-- and quite the powerful sorcerer. When Crown Prince Arthur Pendragon convinces his father to hold an open melee with a knighthood as the prize, Merlin, his brother Elyan, and a ragtag group of commoners decide to enter. They soon discover that there is much more at play in the tournament than stuck-up knights and a contemptuous king. As Arthur becomes smitten with Merlin-- whose skill with a sword is unparalleled-- he discovers that there is so much more to this strange, mouthy blacksmith's son than he had initially imagined.

**

I’ll be your strength – and you be mine by adrift_me

Merlin’s words ring in his ears louder than the surrounding silence. "I have magic, Arthur." “Why now?” Arthur asks, fearing to meet Merlin’s eyes. Will they be the unfamiliar gold? Will they be full of fury? Or worse, gentle and crystal clear, as he has gotten used to knowing them.

Merlin reveals his magic to Arthur, and Arthur has a lot to think about.

**

Unwavering by adhd_merlin

Merlin and Gwaine get along splendidly — except when they don't. In which there is a fight, a fight, and a discovery. (Set pre-S5.)

**

The Great Unknown by TheGhostMagus

Back from the Disir, Arthur made the decision to bring back magic, plunging both Merlin and Arthur into intense reflections.

Is Mordred a real threat? Has Arthur made the right decision? And what's wrong with Merlin?

**

The King’s Cards by smartypantsflute

The queen's pregnancy has made Arthur realizes some changes have to be made to Camelot. Gwen tells him about a fortune teller who is never wrong. Arthur decides it's best to talk to this strange woman to learn what is in his future. But this woman looks familiar...

**

the echoes of a thousand voices calling your name by ExcaliburnRowan

After Camlann, Gwen rides out to bring Morgana back home.

**

Home is where the heart is by Brechtjeeatscheese

Merlin is a history teacher with no friends and a boring life.

That is until Arthur Pendragon and his friends enter his life. Suddenly he has friends and his life is everything but boring.

Featuring; falling in love, keeping secrets, chaotic crying and realising that family is not blood but the people you can come home to.

**

The Rise and the Fall by HadrianPeverellBlack

Camelot was recovering.

Merlin had never realized how strong its inhabitants were, but after seeing their ability to return to everyday life after the horrors Morgana had subjected them to, he had to realize it.

Camelot wobbled, tried to hold on, and it did.

They had defeated Morgana, they had won. And, now, they could reap the fruits of that victory.

**

Magic Comes From Within by Pearl09

During a tough battle that injures Arthur, Merlin's magic is revealed. Now Arthur is left to deal with the consequences, angry, paranoid, and slowly discovering something he never knew before.

**

The Breaking Oath by Aro_Tarot

After seeing a sketch of Archdruid Emrys amongst his father's things, Arthur wanted to grow up to become a druid. He saw the beauty in nature but for some reason, his father hated druids, especially the archdruid. Instead, Arthur grew up to become a green knight, an Oath of the Ancients paladin. When he father died, he put his all into helping those around him, and due to this, he ends up stumbling across a druid in need. In the end, he's the one that really needs help.

A short story of Arthur, Merlin, and Gwen taking place in the Forgotten Realms.

**

Nothing by Flower after Blooming Flower by undermycoat

When Arthur sends him away, Merlin doesn't know what to do. For awhile, he tries going after every dark-haired, dark-eyed man in the Five Kingdoms, just to forget his blue-eyed, blond-haired prince, but it never works. Eventually, he returns to Ealdor. That ends up being for the better, however, when said prince ends up in the village too, lost, confused, and unable to remember his own name.

Merlin knows it’s up to him to send Arthur back to Camelot, but that's a lot harder to do when he can't leave with him. Perhaps the appearance of a familiar foe can get him moving, though.

**

The End of the Beginning/The Beginning of the End by SpookySweet

What is life, if not to love? And what is love, if not pain?

**

All I Want by Shana_Rose

Taking another deep breath, Arthur asked himself, for the thousandth time, what would Merlin say if he was here?

The image of Merlin riding next to him came quickly, painfully so.

"Your first act as King was lifting the ban, they may still be suspicious, but that’s a good first step on making peace with the magic community.”

He clenched his fists tighter, careful not to pull on the reins as he did so. And wished for things he could not change. Now king, Arthur goes to meet the Druid leader, Emrys, to make peace.

**

Crooked Trajectory by queerofthedagger

“How did you find me? How did you know I would be here?”

“I know you,” Merlin merely says, because it’s true, and he refuses not to say it out loud just because Arthur might want to pretend otherwise. He’s told enough lies.

Arthur could take Morgana's betrayal and Uther's death, could take the loss of Lancelot and the fact that Merlin had magic. Barely and his days singed with grief, but his kingdom always came first. The revelation, though, that Merlin had been by his side through all these years and hardships solely due to some prophecy? That—well, that is the one truth too bitter to swallow.

When he leaves for an ill-advised break to his mother's childhood home to get away from it all, more things come to light than the simple and irrevocable fact that no authority—no king, no prince, no destiny—could ever make Merlin do anything.

**

king of wands, the world, cups. or: merlin and secrets don't mix. By regicsillagok

what if merlin overthought and arthur was not quite as much a dolt as he seems

**

The Search for the Crystal Cave by thenerdyindividual

The year is 1901, and Merlin is a recent graduate of Camelot University's History Program. He lives in a crummy flat with his childhood best friend Gwen, and they both dream of doing something more with their lives.

When King Uther falls ill, Merlin sees his opportunity to earn his postgraduate degree, and change attitudes towards magic in Camelot. He makes a proposal to the king and his two children; fund Merlin's expedition to the Isle of the Blessed, and Merlin will bring back knowledge of great healing magic that might just save the king's life. While Princess Morgana and King Uther both reject his proposal, the king's bastard son Lord Arthur Pendragon has a different idea. Using his own money, he puts together a team. Merlin, the historian. Gwen, the cartographer. And Arthur's old friend from school, Gwaine, the muscle.

Together, along with Gwen's brother Elyan who they pick up along the way, they sail to the Isle of the Blessed in search of the Crystal Cave without King Uther any the wiser. Magic, adventure, and romance abound, and it's a race against the clock to find the cave before King Cenred!

**

The Last Bear by littelgreyfish

On a hunt, Arthur kills the last bear in the British Isles, and there are consequences.

**

The Lover to the King of Swords by Crimson_Fanfic_Writer_7

“Come on, Arthur! This is the first time they’ve had this festival in over two decades!” A raven-haired man in his mid-thirties exclaimed, grabbing his satchel from the kitchen table. “We have to go! It’ll be our first time and a way to really connect with the community.”

Another man, Arthur, walked up behind him and gently wrapped his arms around his lover, resting his chin on the man's shoulder.

or Arthur and Merlin go to a festival and get a lot more out of it than they were expecting

**

Always by youdgetbored

merthur hurt/comfort

**

ART:

The Once and Future King by Corisan

The cards I drew were The Emperor and Four of Swords.

**

The Lovers (Greed) by kairennart

It's all about choices.

**

All because of a butterfly… by Laevateinn

The first time Merlin felt like an outcast, he was six. Or maybe seven. He can't remember his age with precision, but he can remember how he felt then.

**

Love returned and Sorcery by GYRHS

Based on the Sidhe staff and the Chalice that appeared in the Labyrinth of Gedref.

**

Waiting For This Moment by sugareey

It's when they're surrounded by water that's surging and plummeting down the rocks that Merlin and Arthur decide to take things to the next level.

**

a-star-is-here:

Page of Wands

Nine of Cups

**

Art by wortvermis

**

Art by magicinavalon:

**

Art by multifandombullshitbabes

**

FIC + ART:

Remember Us, My Love? by mischel

“Please, don’t do it, Emrys” they all tell him. He doesn’t listen. After 500 years of waiting, there is nothing Merlin wouldn't do to bring Arthur back to life. And that includes erasing his love for the king in order to use it in a dark magic ritual.

[praesparo]

〆 —  @satellitewar  ,    ❝ sorry for all the mystery, merlin.  ❞

                    the sorcerer followed behind the queen almost obediently, eyes scanning across every detail & intricacy that decorates the halls. he was overwhelmed by the revelations that surrounded him & stood before him, guiding him through to the bulk of her city. merlin wouldn't admit it, but this place gave him hope. for almost one thousand years, he has walked this earth in isolation waiting for the once & future king. he was alone. his home long buried & constantly prey to those too ambitious or greedy ... or both. then, he met her. now, he was discovering civilisations that were older than he could imagine, even before his life in camelot. it brought to life the warlock that lost everything to prophecy. ❝ oh, don't apologise, i understand.  ❞ he answered honestly & earnestly, smiling at her before letting his gaze wander again. merlin understood, truthfully. it's been centuries since he even spoke albian by name, let alone elude to the fact he knew where it was. he wondered if he impressed her in any way, or if they've even heard of him. how much does his magic compare to technology like this? he could only wonder. & hope to find out. ❝ it's beautiful, your highness. remind me to show you excalibur if you ever pop up ...  ❞ he half joked, easing his own tension than anything. ❝ i need to ask ... how have you endured for so long? i ... struggle to do so myself, if i'm being honest.  ❞

[drarrily-we-row-along]

He'd taken hundreds of pictures today. Hundreds of pictures of the Christmas cheer around muggle London, the hustling and bustling, the lights and decorations, people dressed up in their winter scarves and hats, gifts piled in their arms. Wrappings and ribbons, bows and bags, piles and piles of gifts. Santas and children, snow, and ice skating. Lights, and trees, and ornaments, and a thousand other things.

Capturing the "Spirit of Christmas" was meant to be a fun project. It was meant to be something that filled the gaping hole in Harry's chest, that let him feel a little bit of joy. It was meant to be a distraction from all that he was missing.

But the truth was that trying to fill the void wasn't working. He was scuffing his foot in the snow when he stumbled across the phone booths, bright red and framed by the lovely snowfall, cathedral windows and gaily decorated Christmas tree filling in the background.

This was it, this was his spirit of Christmas this year, all of the beautiful things in the world couldn't change the desire to reach out, to reconnect and right wrongs. That in mind, he stepped into the phone booth and picked up the phone, dialing a number that he knew by heart.

The phone rang, rang, rang and then a voice, that dearly beloved voice, answered. "Hello?"

"Draco?" he managed, voice hardly louder than a whisper.

There was a pause, too long, too emotionally charged, and Harry's heart stopped in his chest. Maybe it had been too long, maybe Harry's leaving too unforgivable, maybe there was no fixing it.

"Harry?" he asked, sounding like the word caused him physical pain and Harry couldn't believe he'd been selfish enough to call him.

What had he been thinking? Of course Draco didn't want to talk to him. Of course he'd ruined everything. Draco had probably moved on already, he probably-

"I swear to Merlin, Circe, and Morgana, if that is you Potter, you'd better speak up right the fuck now or I will not be held responsible for my actions."

"It's me," he said softly.

There was another pause and he could hear Draco breathing over the phone, the heavy, wet sound of when he was trying to compose himself when his emotions were too big.

"I'm sorry," he said, as fervently as he could manage, letting every ounce of truth ring in those words. "I was such an arse, Draco. I'm sorry that I left, I'm sorry that I thought I needed to go and find myself without you. I'm sorry that I only left a note sitting on the table and that I couldn't even tell you in person."

He could hear the sound of Draco's quiet sobbing, the sound wrenching his heart, twisting it into something painful and unrecognizable in his chest.

"Please," he whispered, "If you think you could forgive me," he added without any real hope that would be possible, "I want to come home for Christmas. I want to come home."

The phone went still, silent, and Harry felt his own tears choking him, blocking his airway and holding his chest tight.

"Where are you?" Draco whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

"Muggle London," Harry managed.

"Come home."

Harry didn't wait for any other words, didn't even hang up the receiver, he just apparated straight from the phone booth to the front door of the little house they'd bought together a eight months ago. A house Harry hadn't seen for almost six weeks.

Before he could decide whether to knock or not, the door flew open and Draco assailed him, fists flying as they connected with Harry's chest and knocked him back off the steps. He kept hitting and shoving at him until Harry fell over into the snow in their yard. And then he was straddling his hips and pressing him into the ground, "How dare you?" he railed, "How dare you leave me with nothing but a note, you obnoxious, self centered arsehole!"

All Harry could do was stare up at him, drinking in the sight. Godric he had missed him. Draco was beautiful, his blonde hair slipping out of the braid it was in, strands framing his face. He was wearing one of Harry's Weasley sweaters, the green one with the white H, and he was wearing leggings and socks; soaking through in the wet, cold snow. Harry loved him with a fierceness that bordered on senseless.

"How could you?" he whispered, all the fight draining out of him as tears started to flow down his cheeks.

And Harry couldn't bear it. He sat up, keeping Draco in his lap, and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, love."

Draco's long fingers cupped Harry's face and his lips pressed messily against Harry's, tears making everything wet and even messier but Harry wouldn't have had it any other way. He held Draco tightly, so tightly he was afraid the other man might have bruises later, but Draco was holding him just as tightly, as if he might never let go again. And Harry certainly wouldn't be complaining about that.

When Draco finally broke away to breathe, Harry cupped his face in his hands, thumbs brushing away his tears. "Can you ever forgive me?" he whispered.

Draco nodded, tears overflowing once more. "Just promise that you'll never leave me again."

"I promise," he said fervently, with the same honesty as when he'd first started apologizing.

"Good. Because if you do," Draco said, voice very serious and eyes deadly calm, "I will not be here when you get back."

Harry swallowed. That had been a very real possibility this time and he wasn't sure how he would have lived through that. "I understand," he said, leaning in to brush a tentative kiss over Draco's lips.

Draco hummed softly, then seemed to give in, kissing Harry back with just as much sweetness and gentleness as the first kiss had contained desperation.

"You're shivering," Harry whispered against Draco's lips, hands rubbing over his arms and back in an attempt to warm him.

"Come inside," he said, phrasing it more like a question than a command.

He nodded, "If it's alright with you?"

Draco huffed a little laugh and pressed him forehead to Harry's, "I may never let you leave again if you do-"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I won't leave you again," he promised. "Just for normal things like shopping and work, but I'll always come back," he swore. "Always, love."

He nodded, nose brushing over Harry's. "I believe you."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, "Let's go in," he said.

Draco nodded.

And neither of them made any move to get up, too caught in the feeling of one another's bodies pressed against their own. "This is silly," Harry said and Draco tensed in his arms. "I don't want to let go either," he assured quickly before apparating them inside and onto the sofa instead.

Draco cast a drying charm over them and Harry quickly stripped out of his jacket and tossed aside his bag and camera so he could wrap Draco back in his arms more tightly.

They laid on the couch together, pressed thigh to thigh, chest to chest, nose to nose, and heart to heart. Staring into each other's eyes, they re-calibrated themselves to the other, silently promising to bind themselves together.

A promise that would be made official, one year later in their own back garden at their wedding.

[achillesuwu]

The problem with having obsession that are very much of the same flavor (5 years of waiting, 13 years of waiting, 130 years of waiting and now ONE THOUSAND AND FIVE CENTURIES OF WAITING) is that when you listen to a song of one of you other obsession you WILL associate thing with your new one.

What song am I talking about ? THIS ONE AND IT FIT MERTHUR SO FUCKING WELL GO LISTEN TO IT

I CAN’T USE PHOTOSHOP FOR THE LIFE OF ME SO USE YOUR BRAIN BECAUSE THOSE LYRICS, THOSE LYRICS OMG

Translation is not from me (you can find it in the comment of the video but I added the pinyin so it’s even more easier to fellow) keep in mind that watching the flower fall=waiting

0:10 花落下泛开 清澈的涟漪

huā luò xià fàn kāi qīng chè de lián yī

Under the fallen blossom, clear ripples spread.

0:16 心间浮现 难以忘却 过往点滴

xīn jiān fú xiàn nán yǐ wàng què guò wǎng diǎn dī

In my heart emerges, the unforgettable, droplets of the past.

0:23 若非避世修行 聊寄此生于回忆

ruò fēi bì shì xiū xíng liáo jì cǐ shēng yú huí yì

If it wasn’t for the sequestered cultivation; while entrusting this life to the memories, (ARTHUR STORY BECOMING A LEGEND AND MERLIN WHO CANNOT GO IN AVALON BECAUSE OF THEIR DESTINY)

0:30 愿随落花 将你追寻

yuàn suí luò huā jiāng nǐ zhuī xún

I’d rather followed the fallen flower, to pursue you. (MERLIN WHO ALWAYS GO WHERE ARTHUR GO BUT HE CAN’T FELLOW HIM IN DEATH I’M FINE)

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

1:05 冰雪间 映照 寂寥星辰

bīng xuě jiān yìng zhào jì liáo xīng chén

Between frost and snow, stars shone in the desolated night sky.

1:12 泪水欢笑 悲欢���合 难以封尘

lèi shuǐ huān xiào bēi huān lí hé nán yǐ fēng chén

Tear and laughter; joy, sorrow, parting and reunion; can’t be sealed away anymore.

1:18情起 不知而至深

qíng qǐ bù zhī ér zhì shēn

Love began, without realisation but deepened, (‘sorry, how long have you been training to me a part, my lord?’)

1:22情深 而至复死生

qíng shēn ér zhì fù sǐ shēng

Love deepened, to beyond life and deaths. (*1500 years of Merlin living his life and yet being forever marked by some small 10 years*)

1:25你如一场梦 引我灵魂

nǐ rú yì chǎng mèng yǐn wǒ líng hún

You’re like a dream, guided my soul.

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

1:31少年风流 随心潇洒 无所不畅言

shào nián fēng liú suí xīn xiāo sǎ wú suǒ bú chàng yán

A teen being unrestrained and honest to his heart, spoke his mind freely,

1:37坦荡胸怀 侠义肝胆 挺身而出洒热血

tǎn dàng xiōng huái xiá yì gān dǎn tǐng shēn ér chū sǎ rè xuè

Magnanimous, chivalrous and heroic, stood for the passion in his burning blood.

1:44你风光明媚耀眼

nǐ fēng guāng míng mèi yào yǎn

You’re bright, vivid and dazzling,

1:47我按捺悸动心弦

wǒ àn nà jì dòng xīn xián

And I tried to hold back the strummed strings of my heart,

1:51 默默描绘 你的容颜

mò mò miáo huì nǐ de róng yán

Quietly, I traced your face.

1:58我愿 无声无言 无悔无怨

wǒ yuàn wú shēng wú yán wú huǐ wú yuàn

I wish to, without a sound, a word; without regret and blame, (‘And I didn’t want to put you in that position’)

2:01守护你笑颜

shǒu hù nǐ xiào yán

To guard your smile.

2:05愿你 无悲无痛 无忧无虑

yuàn nǐ wú bēi wú tòng wú yōu wú lǜ

Wishing you, no sorrow no pain; no worries and concerns, (Merlin burying Arthur WITHOUT HIS SWORD)

2:08 恣意如少年

zì yì rú shào nián

Wilful as teen age.

2:12恨他 世事莫测变

hèn tā shì shì mò cè biàn

(I) Resented the unpredictable happenings in this world, (‘there’s is no place for magic in Camelot’)

2:15恨我 竟无力回天

hèn wǒ jìng wú lì huí tiān

(I) resented the fact that I can’t even help, (‘All you Magic, Merlin…’)

2:18你化作云烟 不告而别

nǐ huà zuò yún yān bú gào ér bié

You turned into cloud/smoke, left without a goodbye.

2:25那夜 星光漫天 你灿烂笑颜

nà yè xīng guāng màn tiān nǐ càn làn xiào yán

That night, under the starry sky, your bright smile, (*picture of Arthur fondly smiling at Merlin, you know the one*)

2:29曾 映照我心间

céng yìng zhào wǒ xīn jiān

Once illuminated my heart.

2:32那时 相付背肩 我默默无言

nà shí xiāng fù bèi jiān wǒ mò mò wú yán

That time, we surrendered our backs to each other, I didn’t say a word, (*Arthur giving his sigil to Merlin*)

2:36却 许下了誓言

què xǔ xià le shì yán

But I have made a vow.

2:39突然错过了时间

tū rán cuò guò le shí jiān

But suddenly the timing was missed, (*Arthur dying*)

2:42一片痴情付琴弦

yí piàn chī qíng fù qín xián

And my unreasoning feelings can only be passed to the string of Qin,

2:45春来春去春回 等待你出现

chūn lái chūn qù chūn huí děng dài nǐ chū xiàn

Spring came, left and came back, waiting for you.

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

3:20我用 一心一意 一世一生

wǒ yòng yì xīn yí yì yí shì yì shēng

With my whole heart whole mind and my whole lifetime, (‘I have magic, and I use it for you, Arthur, only for you’ - Magic himself)

3:24将 情深诉琴弦

jiāng qíng shēn sù qín xián

I shall speak my deep feelings with the string of my Qin.

3:27陪你 笑谈笑饮 笑语笑言

péi nǐ xiào tán xiào yǐn xiào yǔ xiào yán

Accompanying you, through happy conversations and drinks,

3:30听 笛声绕指尖

tīng dí shēng rào zhǐ jiān

Listening to the sound of flute twirling between your fingers.

3:33昨日 俗世误尘缘z

Zuó rì sú shì wù chén yuán

The past, the vulgar world delayed fate and destiny,

3:36今时 束缚都抛却

jīn shí shù fù dōu pāo què

The present, all chains will be discarded, (I HAVE FEELING ABOUT THOSE TWO SENTENCES)

3:40只为 与你相牵

zhǐ wéi yǔ nǐ xiāng qiān

Only to hold your hands,

3:42落花撒满肩

luò huā sā mǎn jiān

When petals fall on our shoulders. (=NOT WAITING ALONE ANYMORE, BEING TOGETHER)

3:47今夜 星光漫天 你灿烂笑颜

jīn yè xīng guāng màn tiān nǐ càn làn xiào yán

Tonight, starlight filled the night sky, your bright smile,

3:51又 温暖我心间

yòu wēn nuǎn wǒ xīn jiān

Once again warmed my heart.

3:54今时 相依身边 我真挚誓约

jīn shí xiāng yī shēn biān wǒ zhēn zhì shì yuē

At this very moment, by each other’s sides, I sincerely vowed,

3:58为 承诺你永远

wéi chéng nuò nǐ yóng yuǎn

To promise you eternity.

(IDK FOR YOU BUT THE IMAGE OF AN IMMORTAL PROMISING, VOWING, TO LOVE YOU FOR ETERNITY GIVE ME SO MANY FEELING. A love by a being made to be eternal ?!!!! CAN YOU IMAGINE THAT. IT’S LIKE VOWING YOURSELF TO A BUTTERFLY. Also immortal Merthur getting married because I think immortality is great 💅 SOME OF US HAVE THING TO DO)

4:01不愿 错过这时间

bú yuàn cuò guò zhè shí jiān

I don’t want to miss this spilt second.

4:04深情 描摹你眉眼

shēn qíng miáo mó nǐ méi yǎn

Deeply in love I traced your features.

4:07我在这里与你 看落花飞雪

wǒ zài zhè lǐ yǔ nǐ kàn luò huā fēi xuě

I am HERE with you, watching flowers fall and snow scatter.

——————-

Am I going to put this in a fic ? Maybe, who know, but if it happens I’m going to throw some pining Arthur because he thinks that Merlin wrote this for someone else (‘what is 10 years to 1500? :(‘ )while every immortal friends of Merlin are like ‘is he SERIOUS’

[dreamingbrownie]

Trick or treat!!!

dyou have a trick or treat to share? ᓚᘏᗢᓚᘏᗢ \(●'◡'●)

Hello there, thanks for stopping by! Oh, do I have things to share.

A trick, taken from a continuation of the Camelot AU y'all went a little feral over:

“Male remains of a high-status warrior uncovered at Roman fort near Huddersfield, West Yorkshire… believed to be legendary King Arthur.” Albus bowed over the papers like a man punched into the gut. The teacup ended up barely rescued from falling over the edge when he gripped the table so hard his fingers screamed in agony. “No. That is not – That’s not him. Merlin shoved Arthur so far into that godsforsaken lake with Avalon waiting on the other side, they could drain the whole thing and find nothing but wet soil under the murky water. And Yorkshire, that’s- That’s too far north.“

“Is it?” Gellert asked, very gently, covering Albus’ left hand with his own. There was something terribly afraid in his eyes, something as familiar as the howling rainstorms and the feeling of his magic washing over the splinters that Albus got into his fingertips. “How long did we take to ride as far north as we could before stumbling over that druid village? Three weeks, at most? It wasn’t a full moon’s turn. Had Camelot been any further south, we would have taken months to reach the Highlands.”

His attention was taken by the rest of the front page article and a photo of the open grave – poor taste at best, provocation for a well-deserved haunting at worst – so he stayed his tongue about the fragility of his own memories, a thousand and some four, five hundred years old, while Gellert rested his head on Albus’ shoulder. A mixture of that age-old rage, cold as iron, and desperation thick enough to cloy his throat shut against the scream trapped somewhere in his lungs made his hands shake when he turned the page for the full article. He had to read it three times for the message to sink in.

“Oh, those fools,” he muttered darkly, quietly, so he wouldn’t upend the table wholesale. “Necromancy in the service of archaeology? Wasn’t there an ethical code about grave openings last I checked?”

Gellert hummed deep in his chest. He was very warm at Albus’ side, a bit damp as though he’d wrangled the papers from some poor owl at an open window.

“There is a German saying for this sort of thing. Der Zweck heiligt die Mittel. Translated loosely… The goal justifies the methods. And they don‘t care for the person in that grave; how could they? Whomever they found – and I pray to all the old gods it isn’t His Majesty himself – it’s a skeleton to them now, one that gives information about a culture long lost. I can’t even blame the Prophet for running this on front page. Arthur always does excite the public, doesn’t he?” “Oh, did he ever,” Albus huffed, but his blood was on fire and a cold lump of ice settled into the pit of his stomach. “No matter whose rest they’re disturbing here, we have to see this ourselves. If they found what is left of Camelot –“ He looked up to find Gellert staring at him with something like flint in his eyes, cold and razor-sharp. Their hands found each other instinctually. Poets of the ages had called Gellert fair in complexion, pretty as a woman and yet he was anything but soft; his cheekbones were too pronounced for that, his shoulders broad and his hips slender. Little starling, Merlin used to call him. Gwaine found himself tripping over thin air more than once for naming him snowflake, affectionately so, teasing as ever, but honest, too: the gods had been sparing with colour when they created him in fine brush strokes. Albus cradled his cheek with a hand that wasn’t shaking anymore, but only just. “We did swear to come back.”

And a treat, taken from My Constellation 11:

With Paris at their feet, Gellert kissed him in front of Sacre Coeur. My sacred heart, Albus thought, overcome by the city lights twinkling like stars as far as his human gaze reached into the dark. The heavens were veiled once more. No guidance tonight. It really felt like they had time now. Solitary and isolated, far away from everyone they knew, there was a quiet pain in having to acknowledge that this resembled very closely what their far future would look like. Eventually, he was going to bury his brother and then, somehow, make peace with it. The future was coming no matter what. But at least… Albus exhaled a large part of the tension and let his shoulders drop. At least they were together in this.

“You know, I always wanted a forever home with you,” he confessed quietly in the chilly night silence. Gellert gave a high noise of surprise more than anything else. When Albus wrenched his gaze off the city below them, its lights were reflected in Gellert’s eyes. “Figures that it turned out to be Paris.”

Their hands were tangled together in Albus’ coat pocket to fend off the cold. The wind played with the ends of his scarf, a predictable Ravenclaw blue one which was complimented nicely by Gellert’s red one and the flush high on his cheek bones.

“You miss Hogwarts.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Albus answered without shame, “of course. But it is a distant ache. Something in me died that night at the foot of the tower. I could not name it if I tried, but its loss does not pain me any longer. It did for a while, because it all happened so suddenly, and I felt… unmoored. Untethered. But it has brought you into a clearer focus for me, and I will forever be grateful for that.”

“Albus-“

He was so beautiful tonight. The early spring night blew rose-coloured kisses to his cheeks and his Mona Lisa smile was worthy of the old masters, though they would never have been worthy of such a muse as he. Albus loved him so, he could barely breathe with it.

“We talked about it so little that I barely know how you are dealing with our new life. We are throwing ourselves headlong into the work that needs to be done because that is what we have always done, but we cannot pretend…” He trailed off, searching Paris for the right words. “We have been given time, so I would be foolish to remain blind at such a gift even though Perenelle and Nicolas have sacrificed their lives for us. I cannot know if they were tired or whether they simply saw no other way out of a path down which Hogwarts would have fallen along with us. But they literally gave us their life. Tom Riddle is going to die while we are going to build this new life and live it. Together. So I need you,“ he said, a little desperately, “right here. I need you to talk to me.”

~~~

My main problem right now is that I rolled from writing Grindeldore for over a year into half a year of frolicking through the Witcher fandom, the Accidental Warlord AU in specific (look it up, it's glorious), the Merlin fandom combined with research into Anglo-Saxon England, from there I stumbled back into medievalism and thus into the Hobbit fandom thanks to watching the LotR movies for the first time in cinema and recently I fell right back into Grindeldore again. My poor hindbrain already bursting with university research is going a little insane over so many different ideas, and I have... too many wips. A big Merlin project which might be the darkest thing I've ever written is only lacking the final battle (I suck at writing sieges and I'm bloody stuck there and I hate it), Constellations 11 is finally edited, smoothed down and only missing the final chapter now too, and a few days ago I started writing out the idea how King Thorin would react to dear Frodo with Sam, Gimli and Legolas coming back home to Erebor from the destruction of the ring. Bilbo is Consort under the Mountain, obviously. And seeing as it was midnight when I pulled up the blank document, it's just three paragraphs of word vomit yet. This should teach you about fandom hopping. Scary stuff.

Do feel free to feel trick or treated yourself, dear readers!

[burglarhobbit]

Imagined’s 2022 Merlin Fic Masterlist

say you’ll still be by my side (28k) merlin/arthur, canon era, magic reveal, getting together

The druids call Merlin Emrys. Arthur isn't sure why they think his hapless manservant is some sort of powerful sorcerer, but it's certainly a good way to improve Camelot's relationship with the druids. It's only a little bit of a lie, surely.

Except it turns out that it's not a lie at all.

 how I could love you (if I could let you stay) with scarlet_ribbons (54k) merlin/arthur, modern era, road trip, getting together

Lancelot and Gwen are getting married on the other side of the continent. Merlin is a reckless driver with a car that shouldn't be allowed on the road, and is the single most annoying person one could ever spend five days in a car with. He's also penniless, rude, secretive, has the broadest smile Arthur has ever seen on a person, and is a piano prodigy.

If only Arthur weren't afraid of flying.

after the storm (are you leaving) with scarlet_ribbons (59k) merlin/arthur, canon era, court sorcerer merlin, angst, tw for forced drug abuse

Arthur lends Merlin's aid as a sorcerer to an allied kingdom. He doesn't expect to find Merlin, two years later, in shackles, and only a mere echo of the person he used to be.

the way these flowers bloom (14k) merlin/arthur, canon era, magic reveal

“Flowers,” Arthur repeats dubiously. “Merlin is out… selling flowers.”

“The cornflowers sell especially well,” Gaius says.

How (Not) to be a YouTuber: A Comprehensive Guide by Idiots with scarlet_ribbons (7k) merlin/arthur, modern era, social media au

In which Arthur and Merlin flirt (despite Merlin’s mysterious fiancée), Morgana dishes out the hottest gossip, Gwaine keeps trying to fight the entire internet, and their fans are maybe just a little too overbearing.

by the way, didn’t I break your heart? (33k) merlin/arthur, modern era, getting together

Merlin’s life isn’t his own to live. The tattoo that sets him apart as a magic user has the annoying tendency to glow gold, and no one will give him a job, and he’s been pining uselessly after his straight best friend slash housemate—who, he knows, mostly lets him live there because Arthur is decent enough not to let him sleep in the gutter, even if he’s an annoying prat the rest of the time.

But then Arthur decides to take the world by storm and starts pushing for some new laws to be accepted, and Merlin finds himself in the middle of Arthur’s attempt to change England.

let life come find me wanting (19k) merlin/arthur, modern era, ghost!arthur

Merlin is a ghost hunter. Arthur is a ghost. There really shouldn't be anything more to it, but Arthur's inability to move on makes Merlin's job a tad harder than it ought to be. Oh, and then there's the part where he's falling in love with a thousand-year-old ghost who keeps insulting him.

The Court of Avalon (57k) merlin/arthur, canon to modern era, canon compliant, arthur returns

Under the guidance of the mysterious Lady of the Lake, Arthur spends the many years between his death and his revival in the realm of Avalon. There’s plenty of deals to make with the Sidhe, prophecies about magic to unravel, and mostly—there’s Merlin to watch, on the other side, always waiting for Arthur.

A tale spanning centuries, as Arthur finally returns magic to Albion.

when you let your fingers linger (6k) merlin/arthur, canon era, touch starvation, getting together, 5+1 things

Five times Arthur is a touch-deprived mess who really wishes he could touch Merlin without an excuse, and one time he learns he doesn't need one.

to the point of fear (10k) merlin/arthur, pov mordred, canon era, magic reveal

“Sometimes, I think those two just need to be close to each other. Hard enough to keep them apart anyway, even at the beginning, when they were just constantly sniping at each other.”

When Mordred looks back, Arthur’s arm is around Merlin’s shoulder, and he is smiling broadly. Merlin’s eyes are bright and focused on Arthur, and his lips are tugged upwards, as if he can’t quite stop himself.

Merlin loves Arthur to the point of fear, Mordred realises.

Lights Out, Away We Go (90k) merlin/arthur, modern era, f1 au, enemies to lovers

Arthur has been F1 World Drivers' Champion twice in a row, and fully intends to go for a third title. Newbie Merlin Emrys has, in a surprising turn of events, snagged a seat at top-team Dragonfly Racing. With the winning combination of a car fast enough to challenge Arthur's, a new driver who was born to the wheel, and a sharp-edged strategy, Merlin is an opponent who is ready to challenge Arthur's winning streak. It becomes even more complicated when things start to become tense between the two championship contenders, and Arthur has to fight to keep his head in the race.

After nine months, twenty-two races, and twenty countries, it all comes down to one thing: who will win this year’s World Drivers' Championship?

when it was easy to say (in praise of you) (10k) merlin/arthur/gwen, canon era, court sorcerer merlin, getting together

Gwen and Arthur set out to court a reluctant Merlin. Fortunately, Gwen knows exactly how Merlin wants to be loved.

the night will hold us close (13k) merlin/arthur, modern era, demon!merlin

Uther catches the most powerful demon he can find in order to bring back his wife from the dead. Emrys, however, stays adamantly mute in his captivity. He only speaks to one person: Arthur. And it is up to Arthur to choose between his father's grief and the demon that seems to have captured his very soul from the moment that they met.

Roast-Impressionism and Other Latte Art (12k) merlin/arthur, modern era, coffeeshop au, getting together

In a final bid to find happiness after leaving his job at his father's company, Arthur opens a coffee shop. Merlin just wants to make latte art.

The Inherent Limitations of Words (10k) merlin/arthur, modern era, modern royalty au, university au, getting together

Prince Arthur needs to find a new Court Sorcerer in the halls of Albion University. Merlin just wants to apply to a PhD in Magical Neo-Linguistics without being told that his destiny is to be by His Royal Horrendousness' side.

Of course, destiny doesn't take no for an answer.

What (Be)fits the Crown (10k) merlin/arthur, canon era, getting together, clothes sharing, 5+1 things

Five times Merlin wears Arthur's clothes out of need, and one time because Arthur asks him to.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Corrupted, Chapter Seven: Gods-Damned Merlin, a Malevolent x TMA fic

An escape.

An item lost.

A theological lesson.

A date.

AO3

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Hissing blood drips, as if whispering terrible secrets. Wind whistles through the torn metal of the hangar. Tim pants like he carried the manky armchair in here at a run.

He is amazed at the lack of sirens. He wonders if there’s any kind of security—some CCTV footage somewhere. Well. If there is, someone’s going to have a hell of a story on their hands.

He struggles harder. He grunts. It hurts.

Fuck! Stop that!

“Got to get loose,” Tim pants. “Got to get out of here.”

You are hurting me.

Tim goes still. “What?”

What the fuck did he do? Are you bleeding?

“A little? Look, we’ll be fine, I just need to…” Tim strains again.

The armchair’s seat abruptly collapses in on itself, and Tim is swallowed, just his legs and head sticking out.

“Oh, come on!” he says, sunk deep (and there are rusty springs or something in the bottom, and it is not pleasant). “Really? Really? ”

What is happening? Ah! What is that?

“Fell into the damn chair, that’s what!” Tim takes a moment and breathes. He can see. He can get out of this. He has to get out of this. “Hey. Bet all this sent up more than a flare, right? Gray-skinned monsters are definitely coming.”

At the very least. Though the power being flung around during that fight should keep things away for a bit, they will be coming. We need to move.

“I can’t. He’s tied me. Shibari is… it’s this fancy…”

I know what shibari is. I do not care. Get loose!

“Sure, I’ll just press the ‘get loose’ button. What was I thinking?” Tim mutters, and strains.

He can’t get out of the chair. The fabric and stuffing may have rotted through, but the wooden frame is unfortunately still sturdy.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he says softly. “I feel like a steak pie in a tin, only instead of cow and potato, it’s you and me.”

Almost unwillingly, Hastur asks: And which of us is the potato?

“Definitely me. I’m starchy and I taste great no matter how you cook me. You’re just beefier, no matter how you slice it.”

Hastur sort of grunts; not quite agreement, not quite argument. Absurd.

And Tim knows he’s starting to win him back.

It shouldn’t matter. It really shouldn’t. Hastur is a monster—one who has, apparently, inspired a three-thousand-year-old manhunt. But what Hastur said… hurt. Tim wants Hastur to like him again.

So, I’m pathetic, Tim thinks, and struggles. “Oh, what the hell, let’s try this: hey, Siri!”

And by some absolutely insane miracle, Siri’s voice pipes up—a little distance away, under something, but clear: “Yes, boss?”

“No way!” Tim laughs and shifts a little, trying to spot where the phone landed. “Now that is a military-grade case!”

What are you doing?

“I'm gonna call… fuck, who should we call? Police? Yeah, that’ll work. Hey—”

Don’t. Don’t call the police.

“Why not?”

We don’t have time to wait for them to get here.

Tim scoffs. “Got a better idea, then?”

My plan is to use a simple spell to loosen the rope.

Whatever else can be said about the being that is Hastur, he has balls of solid steel.

It takes Tim a moment to answer. “Okay, look,” he finally says. “I have zero reason to trust you right now. You know that, right?”

And I, says Hastur like some grand Duke of Motherfuck, have no reason to trust you after what you did. Yet here we are, and we must choose to work together to survive this.

That son of a bitch. As if their positions are at all equal…

But then, Kayne had called Hastur a narcissist. Well. This isn’t Tim’s first go-around with one of those.

He keeps his tone humble. “Fair. I fucked up, and I own it. But there’s still a pretty big power imbalance here, so my point remains.”

Oh, is there? Hastur challenges. And I suppose since you have the power, you think you should make the decisions?

Walked right into it. “No,” says Tim. “You have the power. You’re some ancient… thing? Thousands of years old? There’s magic, and you damn near tricked me into… I still don’t know what? Dog the bounty hunter is after your ass, and I’m caught up in the middle of all of this, and I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I’m terrified. You’re the one with the power. You’re asking me to trust you, and I’m saying I’m afraid, and I don’t know what to do.”

There’s a pause, and Tim can absolutely feel his volley worked. Whatever Hastur has for hackles smooths down.

(Why did Kayne think this was so strange? Don’t people usually know how other people feel? Tim always has. Body language, or something.)

(That would not explain Hastur, though.)

It was not… entirely your fault, what you did today, says Hastur as if making a great concession.

“Yeah, it kinda was,” says Tim, struggling.

You have been marked by a deity of destruction.

“So I’m terminal?” Tim says, trying to joke.

Hastur doesn’t take it as a joke. It’s why you lost your reason. Why you antagonized that woman, threatened me irrationally, and opened the book. I’m sorry, Tim. If I were fully myself, in my own body, I could save you. As it is… I cannot.

Tim just breathes for a moment, though it feels like his heartbeat is restricted, though his throat feels tight. “But it is possible. You’re saying it is possible.”

Not with the humans this world currently has. They don’t breed for magic anymore.

“Okay, that’s a whole host of what-the-fuck-are-you-saying, but… point remains. Possible.”

Maybe.

“Maybe nanobots can do what magic does.”

That isn’t how magic works.

“You don’t know that.”

I do. There are worlds where humans have mastered technology and magic, but this is not one.

That was… gentle.

Tim cannot handle gentleness right now, not from whatever the fuck Hastur is, so he moves right along, putting that in the box of fucking later. “I’m still the one who did it. I own it, Hastur. If that’s the name you want.”

It is my name.

“Yeah, but is it the one you want?” He grunts, trying to force the chair’s frame apart. “I don’t deadname people. You want to be called John or Sally or Aziraphale, I don’t give a fuck. I’ll do it.” An olive branch.

Surely I would be more of a Crowley. An olive-brach back.

“Nature-wise, sure, but I don’t know the vibe you’re going for. Still thinking D.B. Cooper, myself.”

Nonsense.

“Fitting. You must’ve stolen something real good to get chased for three thousand years.”

Hastur sighs. Three thousand years is a blink in the lifetime of one such as me, Tim. I feel like I barely got free. And the only thing I stole was myself.

“What… that guy owned you?

No.

Okay, so… that’s a growl, a completely inhuman sound, and Tim has no idea how Hastur is doing it. “Okay. Sure. Okay. Who is he?”

Let’s save the questions until we are in a safe place. Tim, I give you my word that this spell is a Minor Working. I could do it through a dead tree, if I had to; you require no magical affinity for it to work, and it will loosen the ropes enough that we can flee.

Was this another olive branch? “So you mean you could do it without my permission?”

I could. I am choosing to include you.

Definite olive branch. Tim licks his lips, tastes spores (or whatever the fuck is on the armchair), and spits. “Ugh!”

Disgusting!

“Wait, did you taste that? ”

Yes. Ugh.

Okay, that goes into the pile of fucking later, too. “We… we’ll come back to that. All right. What do I do?”

What do you do?

“Might as well test the magic-meter on this, right? A Minor Working, or whatever. If Kayne meant what he said, you want to know if I’m magical, and… to be honest, so do I.”

You’d trust me enough to do that?

“No,” says Tim. “But yeah. I will. And if it doesn’t work?”

It would cost neither of us, should it fail. If you can’t do it, I will simply perform the spell myself—which will feel mildly uncomfortable, as my power is not human, and your body will be confused, but will do no harm. And if you succeed… well.

“If I’m ‘gods-damned Merlin?’”

You are unlikely to be gods-damned Merlin.

“You really did what he said? Set a limit like that?”

Why would I bother inhabiting a body without the power to do what I wish? My vessels are carefully chosen for me.

So that's a bit of storytelling that chills Tim to his soul. Horrifying. People chosen. For all he knows, bred.

Can't deal with it now. Tim shakes it off.

He wants to know if he can do magic—a small and fluttering hope, like a candle in the dark.  “What do I do?”

Focus on the rope. Concentrate on where it lies on your body, its tension, its texture. Then repeat this word: ahahog.

“What’s that mean?”

Without magic? It will do nothing. With it? If you are magical at all, the rope will loosen, as the fibers themselves will be expanded, and you should be able to wriggle free. It’s extremely simple.

That doesn’t sound simple at all. It sounds like impossible physics. Did the ropes gain matter? Did they take in air molecules, somehow? How the fuck did this work?  Would it work?

There's one way to find out: he focuses.

He knows damned well what this rope configuration looks like, though it is over his clothes. Knows the material; he’d handled this rough, prickly rope himself before Kayne used it to bind him. Eyes closed, rope visualized, really wanting to get loose, he speaks. “Ahahog.”

The meaning flashes through his head: expand.

The rope explodes.

Pops like it was shot, completely blasting away from him and leaving his skin stinging, but free.

Ow!

“Woo!” he says, and scrapes his arms free to raise them like he scored a goal. “Also, ow! But woo!”

What just… that felt…

“It worked! Blew the fuck up!” Tim wriggles and writhes and pulls himself out of the damned armchair. “Ugh. You know, you are damned lucky we put on one of my least favorite shirts today, because it is definitely never coming clean. Where’s my phone?”

The rope exploded?

“Yep! Hey, Siri!”

“Yes, boss?”

“There you are, you glorious bitch. Oh, fuck, I’m sore. Damn those cleat hooks…” He pulls out his collar and looks down at himself. “I look like I’ve been mugged by gnomes.”

Gnomes?

“Yeah. Little guys wearing brass knuckles about the size of my thumb.”

Hastur makes a choked noise.

Tim knows he’s beginning to win Hastur back.

Good. He wants to. “Right. Okay. Ow. Fuck. Ow.” Tim walks.

Ow! You are badly damaged!

“I’m just scraped and bruised. What, none of your ‘vessels’ got bruised before?”

My vessels were treated as gods in their own right, pampered and adored to the end of their mortal lives. 

Into the fucking later box with that! “Right. Spoiled as hell. Got it.”

Hastur huffed a little. Spoiled? Do you know what you’re saying?

“Nope. Mostly because you haven’t told me.” Tim picks up his backpack and begins replacing what fell out of it.

Hastur must be able to feel that. Tim.

“What?”

 My book.

“Sure, I’ll just… hm. This place is a wreck.”

Try not to look at Dagon.

“Why should… ow.”

You looked at Dagon.

“You just told me not to think about an elephant, all right?” said Tim, rubbing his eyes. Dagon wasn’t right. Huge; somehow taking up more space than he actually did, existing outside the dimensions Tim’s eyes were set up to handle. Fish-man to the thousandth degree. It hurt to look at him, strained something inside his head. “Ow.”

So I feel. You should be fine. Even dead, he can make weaker minds fail, but I begin to think your mind is not weak.

“Sure. All those hours playing Angry Birds paid off,” Tim mutters, still looking. “Bad news, Crowley. I don’t see your book.”

Hastur is fine. And it has to be here. It cannot be destroyed.

“All right. Under Dagon, maybe?” Tim says. “If so, we're out of luck.”

Damn. Let us be certain: we need to use another spell. For this, I would need your volition.

"Volition not on offer just yet,” says Tim.

Please. I can’t lose the book. It’s important.

Hastur means it. It feels like the most honest thing he’s said.

“Tell me why.”

Please, Tim. I promise I will once we have the book and are away from this place.

“Fine. All right. I’m keeping track of your promises, so you know.”

And I am good for them. Now: Picture the book. Feel it in your hands. Remember its weight, its width.

“Right,” says Tim, recalling with a little chill that it doesn’t quite fit right in the human hand and suddenly understanding why it doesn’t.

Then say this: mgah'n'ghft.

“Mgah'n'ghft,” Tim tries to practice. “Mgah'n'ghft. And what’s that do?”

Finds what you’re picturing within a small distance. It is a Minor Working; the weakest magic talent will do. Please hurry.

“Here’s to hoping I don’t blow it up,” says Tim with caustic brightness, and focuses. “Mgah'n'ghft.”

The meaning filters through, and he doesn’t have a word for it. Where, but like a command. Find, but more locational.

He doesn’t expect it to do quite what it does.

Flying?

No, that is not the word for this, not the word for moving through matter like a fish through water

Too much mind too much gaze too much existence

A fifty-dimensional expanse, a human brain trying to see through thousands of eyes

The book, clutched tightly by Infinite Cruelty And Laughing Death

Kayne says, “Well, howdy! Also, bye-dee!” and whacks Tim with the souls of a thousand worlds

Tim shouts and falls onto his knees.

What happened? What was that? You’re dizzy! Hastur declares.

That’s putting it mildly. He gasps, head down, braced. He can barely keep himself upright, even on all fours. It’s like he’s forgotten how to exist in three dimensions. “What the fuck was that spell?”

A finding spell! It’s a Minor Working! You shouldn’t be dizzy!

“Well, we are major fucked,” Tim gasps. “Kanye’s got your book.”

What?   Hastur breathes.

Tim tries to stand and can’t. The world spins more; his head is heavy. “Don’t throw up, me,” he tells himself. “Cast-iron stomach, we can do this.”

But you can’t—Hastur stops. But that would not have—Hastur stops again. Kayne has it? How did you even learn that? What did you do ?

“What you told me to, nerd,” says Tim. “Fuck. Got to get out of here. I swear, I can feel monsters about to tear my spine out.”

They’re about a mile out. Not that you’d know. Whatever else you may be, you don’t seem to have any skill when it comes to identifying the inhuman.

“Oh, what the hell, was that a dig? In the middle of this, a dig at that Sela thing? Really?” He grunts. “I’m so dizzy.”

Orr'eog. Strength for an hour. Hurry.

“You’re joking. You think I’m going to do another spell after what just happened?”

Tim. What choice do you have?

How dare he?

And Tim might have just gone with the anger rising in response to that if he hadn't been swallowed by rage within the last hour.

He will not do that. That's not who he chooses to be. He will not. Marked? Mad with rage? No. No.

Slow breaths. In and out. “I have a choice here, you fucking mark,” he mumbles, and clenches his fists, and redirects it to determined. “And I am going for it, whether you want me to or not. Orr’eog!”   Picturing strength, energy, the sensation of being young and strong and healthy and—

Tim’s jaw drops.

Oh… oh, Tim, Hastur purrs like some eldritch phone sex operator.

Tim takes a moment. “So,” he says.

Tim… we should…

“Sh-sh-sh. I need to find the words.”

Do you. Warm. Intense.

“I could climb a mountain,” Tim says.

Likely.

“I could fight a bear.”

Inadvisable, but yes.

“I could climb a mountain, and then fight a bear,” says Tim.

We are being hunted, Hastur reminds him.

“Catch me if you can, fuckers!” Tim proclaims, and takes off at a full run.

He does it while laughing like a loon.

Has he ever felt this good? Closest he can think of was being seventeen, fully warmed up on the track, at the peak of his physical health before he took a desk job. Running then had been easy, and never felt the same, no matter how long he spent on the treadmill.

It’s more than easy now. It’s joyful.

He laughs as he speeds out of the hangar, through the abandoned farm, past rusted bits of metal that for all he knows are just movie props (and the color is so gorgeous he could cry), under stormy skies filled with clouds that catch both light and shadow like the tempting curves of a body (he was never taking colors for granted again, ever ), toward the distant dark road and home.

Rain patters his face. He feels incredible. “You’d make a great drug dealer. Anyone ever tell you that?” he shouts.

Hastur sighs. Your bodily sensations are… distracting.

“Fuckin’ A, they are!” Tim says, and laughs as he runs on.

#

He doesn’t want to run all the way home (only because it will take too long), so he finally slows down and pulls up his rideshare app. That’s when he discovers that his real estate agent called him twelve times in the last day, leaving twelve messages.

That… dims the joy a bit. He listens to voicemails while he waits for his ride.

Insurance, she says. Police, she talks about. Contract, she warns.

It comes down to this: the house was damaged in a mysterious incident investigators fortunately think has something to do with a wild animal. While the buyer technically closed three days before on Friday, since they hadn’t taken possession yet, it falls to Tim to repair it—or they can, and will, back out.

The good news is insurance will cover it.

The bad news is Tim needs to make a police report and answer all kinds of questions and find affordable handymen in a limited amount of time.

“Fuuuuuck,” he mutters as he hits message ten.

This is an unnecessary complication. We don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, well, unless you fancy living in a box in an alleyway, it’s very much necessary,” says Tim, listening to the final two messages. “Damn it. I’m going to have to make a police report.”

How do you know Kayne has my book? says Hastur, circling back.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Tim says, raising his hand to get the driver’s attention. “I don’t even know what verb to use. I didn’t see, I didn’t feel. It was like…” He grips his own arm, hugging himself. “It was just… too much? It was awful. I think if he hadn’t thrown me back out again, I’d have exploded.”

You transformed the spell, Hastur whispers.

“Sure? Into what? Here we go.” And he’s in the car. “Hello! Sorry for the mess—had a great hike,” he says, and keeps the charm on until the driver is happy to have him no matter how he smells. Then pulls out his earphones. “Gotta take this call, sorry.”

If he has my book, Tim, I’m in trouble.

“Pretty sure you were already,” Tim murmurs into the mouthpiece.

Not like this. One: because much of my power is bound into it. Its absence limits me greatly. Two: because of my failsafe. When my host dies, I am returned to the book. It is the ultimate way to prevent me from going to the Dark World.

“Um… that doesn’t seem super smart? Books are really flammable, buddy. Don’t know if you knew that.”

Not my book.

“Not your book, okay,” says Tim.

My book was created by me and for me.

“Uh, huh,” says Tim, watching the city slide by.

It has protections, backups, layers upon layers of safety woven into the fabric of its pages. You could drop it in a volcano, and it would be whole and unblemished when it finally came free as the earth spewed its substance.

“Are you serious?”

You could drop it to the bottom of the sea, and it would be pristine as some fool of a fisherman pulled it from the depths and opened it to see what it said.

“Shit, really?”

It has never failed to work in thousands of years… until you.

Tim stills. “Failed to work?”

And now,  even if I can find a way to avoid him, I’m fucked—because if something happens to you, because my soul will go straight into his hands.

So that explains why Kayne took the thing.

Guilt pounds alongside his heart. “Three thousand years of successful hiding, for whatever reason, and I completely wrecked it.” He swallows. “I’m sorry. Again. But what do you mean, failed to work?”

Hastur clams up.

Oh. Great. So that’s probably fine.

#

The magical strength boost has faded by the time he faces the stairs to his walk-up, and he is sore. He groans the whole climb. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since you showed up,” he mutters as he locks his door and leans against it. “Feels like a year. It’s so not fair that I have to be a grown-up right now.”

Tim. He has my book.

“Have you been thinking about that this whole time?” Tim says, and stops halfway toward his little kitchen. He remembers, just now, that he has no food.

He really wants to cry.

Yes. I can’t think of a way to get it back.

“Don’t think it matters, mate,” says Tim. “He’s got your scent now, yeah? Book or no.”

This… this isn’t supposed to happen.

And Tim isn’t supposed to be facing police and insurance challenges, either, but this isn’t the time to say. “What was supposed to happen?”

Hastur clams up again.

Tim sighs and starts digging through a box he’d labeled “LA CUCINA” for some reason he’d found funny but now can’t recall.

I can feel you searching for something.

“Yeah. Food.”

There are spells we could use to conjure it.

“I’m sure you’re not just trying to get me to trust you with magic so you can wallop me with a mind-control spell or something down the road,” Tim mutters.

Tim. With the power I suspect you have, you could do far more than that.

Tim laughs. “What?”

I think you may actually be gods-damned Merlin.

Tim snorts. “Sure. Sure I am.”

I’m not joking.

He doesn’t feel like he is joking.

A chill rushes down Tim’s body, mild shock buzzing under his bruised skin. “Well, I’d better hope I’m not, or you’re taking my body, right?”

I don’t dare. Kayne would come for me at once.

That tells him two clear things: one, if Hastur could take his body, he would. Two: he's terrified of Kayne on such a level that he won't do the one thing he's been trying to do all day. “You’re really in trouble here, aren’t you?” he says, quietly.

More than you can imagine.

He finds a box of pasta. However, there is nothing to put on the pasta. “I am not desperate enough for plain boiled noodles,” he mutters, and keeps digging. “Are you going to tell me why? And who John is? And what that first spell had been going to do? Who are you, anyway?”

That one, Hastur is happy to answer. I am the King in Yellow. I am a god of vast and unimaginable power. I am Lord of Carcosa, the Unspeakable One, the Feaster from Afar. I am the Dweller in the Depths, and Him that Slept Beneath. I am Prince of the Great Old Ones.

“Wait a second. Great Old Ones?” Tim frowns at a box of muffin mix (long out of date) requiring eggs, which he does not have.

Yes.

“That’s familiar. Wait a minute. Cthulhu? Actually like Cthulhu?”

My fool half-brother. Even now, he sleeps in your ocean, assuming some faithful remnant will awaken him. Hastur scoffs. It’s never going to happen.

Tim falls back from his crouch onto his ass, mouth open, squashing the muffin mix box. “What?”

I am the—

“Wait just a damn minute! Cthulhu? That’s real? ”

Not the way you know it. Lovecraft was a poor cipher, as many of your poets and artists have been. He took in some information, went mad, and bungled the rest.

“Okay, I need a second. Right? Just fucking… hold on.” Tim shakes his head. “I’ve played board games with these names. King in Yellow? Wait—fuck, that was… there’s a book.”

Yes. Inaccurate, but yes.

“I don’t remember it, anyway. Skipped reading it. Nearly fucked that exam, but I didn’t care. I was already graduating.” Tim rubs his face. “It’s real?”

Some of it.

“So… so I’ve got a god in my head. An actual god. Is what you’re saying.”

Yes.

Mr. Eager, dark and hungry. Big spooky.

Funny, though. Tim would have bet money a god would be more… alien. “And who the fuck was John? I’m not familiar with the whole Cthulhu mythos, but I’m pretty sure I’d remember a god named John.”

Silence.

“Fucking Cthulhu,” Tim mutters, heading for the bathroom and peeling off his ruined clothes.

He is not part of this.

“Sure. Wait, so when I said brothers… wow. You really misunderstood me, if monster-squid is your brother.”

No. Softer. I have lived here for a long time, mortally speaking. I understand you loved your brother like yourself.

It’s Tim’s turn to fall silent.

He tosses the shirt—it was just a freebie, anyway, from a publishing conference years ago—and finally showers.

“Weird,” he says, soaping up.

Hm?

“Touching myself. Just… bathing. And knowing you can feel it.”

I can.

“Weird. Very weird. Deeply uncomfortable.”

Just ignore it.

“Welp,” says Tim. “I am not going manky for your sake, anyway, so.”

I’m glad to hear it. I also smell what you do.

Tim snorts. “Well, that cinches it.”

Cinches what?

“Here’s what we’re doing,” says Tim, toweling dry. “We’re in trouble. I know it. You know it.”

Yes. Softly.

“So we are going on a date.”

A what?

“I’m cooking for us. I make a damn good curry, and you’ll love it.”

Tim…

“And we’re doing a proper meet-and-greet. You are going to answer my questions, because I don’t know enough to be your partner in all of this. And I suppose you’ll have questions, too.”

Tim, this is silly.

“And after that, we’re going to make a plan. Look, I’ve already started on lists.”

Lists.

“Yeah. No gods in this universe, some guy named Kayne, some guy named John, the book not working right…”

Hastur sighs. Tim. This is—

“Nope. You were about to say hopeless or just a  matter of time or something stupid like that. We’re not going there.”

Hastur pauses. I was. It is a matter of time. You’re marked. Kayne has found me. Had I full access to my own power right now, I could perhaps find another way to run from him—but I do not.

“See, right there. You’re some fucking… god. Why don’t you have full power? Why is it in the book?”

As I said, one of my failsafes. Were I to simply enter the body of a human in my fullness, they would instantly die, no matter their magical skill. I needed a way to use my power without destroying my host.

“So you put your power in a losable thing. What, you didn’t learn from the One Ring?”

That fiction hardly existed when I was designing my escape, Hastur says loftily.

“See? That can be one of the things we’re talking about. That book. And what you meant by failed. ”

Tim… there’s little point to this.

“Bullshit. I’m not giving up so easy.” He has a few cuts that need butterfly strips, but most of the issue is bruising. He feels damned lucky.

You are so young, Hastur murmurs.

“Hey, now,” says Tim. “I’m gonna be thirty in a month.”

All of thirty years. Well.

“I can buy beer, and everything,” Tim says, heading for the door and grabbing his shopping bag.

What are you doing?

“Food. I know you feel how hungry we are.”

I do. Low. You really didn’t have anything here but a bit of peanut butter and bread?

Tim walks down the stairs, thoughtful. “I’ve been really low for a while, Hastur. It’s just… it’s just true. What happened to my brother was the final straw, but… yeah.”

That is unfortunate. You deserve better, Tim, Hastur purrs.

“Save it for the date.” Tim enters the small store.

This shop is one of the reasons he chose the apartment he did, even without elevators. It takes very little time to find what he needs for a damn good (if simple) curry, along with some other foods for breakfasts and possible midday meals.

“Might be a bit optimistic here,” he says. “I’ll get stuff for three days. That way, if we’re caught up in another dimension or something, I won’t have to feel too bad about food going bad.”

Very forward-thinking.

“You want something to drink?”

I… don’t know if it would affect me.

“Pretty sure it would.” He buys some lager.

Hastur sighs, but Tim knows he’s at least amused by all this.

Tim is just fucking hungry. “Hope you’re ready to answer questions.”

Do you think to get me drunk, and thus more honest?

“Yep!”

Hastur scoffs.

#

Tim wasn’t kidding.

He feels a little relaxation is deserved, after all of this, and his last act as an adult (in his mind) is to call his agent and set up a meeting for tomorrow. He still has to go to the police, but he will do it later.

For now, there’s curry to make.

That smells divine, Hastur says as Tim sautees garlic and onion. Perhaps I have been in my book for too long.

“How long? Why were you in there so long?”

Nearly seventy years. And because there were no worthwhile candidates.

Whoop, into the fucking later box with that. “We are about to drink beer on an empty stomach.”

Do as you wish.

Tim does. He’s into his second bottle before the curry is ready, and he hums as he stirs in the tomato puree. He feels great. Really damn buzzed. “Hope you’re watching, Bouchard!” he says, and toasts the ceiling above the stove.

He probably is. There is the tiniest hesitation. He’s probably touching himself.

Tim starts giggling.

Hastur laughs, low and wicked-sounding.

“Victory!” says Tim. Stove off (he double-checked), enormous curry filling a bowl meant to feed a family, Tim chows down.

Fuck! Hastur declares as approval of Tim’s cooking.

“Fuckin’ A,” agrees Tim, and eats the whole damn thing.

#

He lies on his mattress, staring at the ceiling. It has a sheet. He feels this is as far as he’s going to go right now. “That was a lot of beer.”

It was delicious, Tim. In my court, you would be celebrated as a chef of great renown.

Tim starts giggling. “Oh. Good. That’s what I want with my life. Line-cook.”

Oh, no, says Hastur. You would cook only for me.

“Oh, right, of course,” says Tim. “Who’s John?”

A beat. Do we have to do this now?

“Come on, Hastur.” Tim reaches and shakes his own hand. “We’re working together. I’m not giving up.”

You were giving up on yourself, though.

“Yeah,” says Tim. “But it’s different when you’re trying to help someone else, yeah?”

Hastur sounds a little choked. You really would do that?

“Yeah.”

But you’re not an acolyte.

“No, I told you—not all living things are assholes. That’s all.” And his instinct says to go quiet.

To let Hastur sit in it.

To see what he does.

John… was part of me.

Tim inhales. Hastur was actually talking? “What does that mean?”

I… made a mistake. I was cut in half. But I am a god; I am not like you. Thus, the part cut away was sentient. And he… first, he died. I couldn’t reach him. Then, he was summoned back completely by accident—bound to a book by people who thought they were trapping him. If they’d known where he was, they would have left him there.

“There, as in... the Dark World?”

Yes. But his book was designed poorly. It killed the first several people who opened it. They exploded.

“Fuck.”

Indeed. Then, someone didn’t. A human man named Arthur Lester. But… but my John… didn’t remember anything. Anything; who he was, what he was. Where he belonged. And Arthur took advantage of him. The two of them… stumbled around, and… and...

Hastur was getting emotional.

“Hey, it’s okay,” says Tim, patting his own hand. “We don’t judge here. This is the… the safe-space bed. Yeah.”

Is it?

“I haven’t even had sex on this one,” he says. “It's brand-new.”

Hastur laughs.

Tim laughs, too.

I do like you, Tim, Hastur says, and then snarls: You are... nothing … like Arthur Lester.

“Yeah, so the way you say that? It’s bad. You don’t like him.”

No. I hated him. Hated… him. He entangled with John. He… kept him from me.

“Kept him?”

He even convinced John that he didn’t want to come home!

Oh. Oh. Oh, Tim has a bad feeling about that situation and Hastur's understanding of it. “Oh.”

Hastur puffs. I did everything to get him back! I asked. I ordered. I tortured.

“Oh,” says Tim, his eyes enormous.

It didn’t work. Finally, I had to break Arthur’s legs.

“Well, fuck that guy, I guess,” says Tim, who can feel his eyes are even wider, and wonders if Hastur can feel that, too.

It… worked. For a while. John came home! But he wouldn't... he wouldn't join. And then Kayne showed up out of nowhere and took John away again!

“I feel like I’m missing a lot of context,” says Tim. “But it sounds awful. Why’d he do that?”

I don’t know. Hastur’s voice breaks. He found them fascinating. I didn’t even… I never fucked around with Outer Gods. Why would I do that? I didn’t even know him!

“And an Outer God is different from a Great Old One?”

He is more powerful than I am even than I am more powerful than you are.

Tim has to take a moment to parse that. “Fuck,” he finally says.

But with all his fascination, and his… his interfering … he said he’d kill them someday. And eventually, he did. He just… Hastur’s voice shakes now. He just did.

“Oh,” whispers Tim.

And then I knew he was coming for me. I knew. He said he was coming for me, and he'd done what he said with them.

“So… you ran.”

He just killed them. They didn’t do anything wrong. He just… got bored.

Those last four words fill Tim with such broad, undefined fear that he shivers. “And why did you come here? No gods?”

The Powers. The fear-eaters that rule this timeline. They ate the gods. All of them. There’s none left here.

“None?”

Ah, Tim… Hastur breathes it. You have no idea what was lost. The variety; the power. Certain magics tied to gods, or magical beasts or elements, vanishing along with their creators. It is a tragedy. This place is a veritable wasteland, comparatively, compared to other worlds.

“And… he wouldn’t look for you here?” Tim yawns.

No. Why would I come here? I ran from him out of fear, and this place is dangerous.

“You’re like a mouse hiding between the front paws of the cat out to eat it,” says Tim.

Yes! That. I’m that. I'm. It’s that.

“Seems like it worked. Until me.” Tim sniffles.

Oh, Tim… I don’t blame you. I know your… kind of person. I know all about kinds of people.

“All of them, huh?” Tim blows his nose.

Yes! I’ve enjoyed… I’ve spent my time here… I’ve done everything.

Tim does not laugh. Somehow. “Shibari?”

Pfft, that’s only been popular since the Edo period. Of course I’ve done shibari.

Yow. "In… bodies. Chosen for you.”

Yes!

“Stolen?” very softly.

No! Most of the time, anyway. They were raised for me. Knew what they’re doing. It is an act of worship.

“Fucking… cultists? But how can you have cultists and… and breeding programs, or whatever, and nobody knew?”

Because the world’s full of cults. Mine just happens to be real.

Tim is sure he could argue with that if he were sober, but he is not. So. “And Kayne’s chasing you just… because?”

I don’t know the original reason. But… I suppose now, because I got away from him. I think my success is what fueled his rage.

“That tracks. Wow. Is he a god of death, or something?”

No. He is child of the Blind Idiot God, and… Hastur pauses. What was I saying?

“Kayne. Blind Idiot God?”

No, he’s not the Blind Idiot God. He’s child of the… of that. There’s only like… a dozen beings that powerful. And he’s an ass.

Tim starts giggling. “You said ass.”

Hastur laughs, too.

Tim has more questions. He does. Or he did. Right now, he can’t remember them. He rolls onto his side, pulling the blanket up to his chin, still giggling. “Ass.”

Ha! You said it this time.

“You’re not so bad like this,” yawns Tim, eyes closing.

Well. Well, you.

“We’re not done talking,” murmurs Tim. “Promise me.”

I promise, Tim.

“Keeping track of your promises,” Tim murmurs, and falls into an exhausted sleep.

[chaserpucey]

Hogwarts Legacy NPC Starter's ( 1 / ? )

I bet Durmstrang students don't have to put up this this kind of stupidity.

Haven't we enough chaos without Peeves?

It you singe my robes -

Pleasant bit of magic, isn't it?

Why, you cheeky little charmgrinder.

Next time it shrieks I shall bake the thing.

Would you mind putting me back down.

You call that an attack?

Perhaps you might set me down, moonmind!

Isn't a broom good enough?

Oh, I'm just out and about. Riding a Graphorn.'

Riding a Hippogriff's all well and good till it throws you.

When is _ going to learn to stay away from the Restricted Section?

Striking up a friendship with , are we?

Why would you want to spend so much time with ? Do you feel sorry for him?

I'm still struggling with antidotes. Startling to me that so many of them use Mandrakes. I'll be sure never to go into that line of work.

That reminds me, did say we could borrow the book overnight, or that we'd get detention if we had it out overnight?

The people I feel sorry for are the ones who don't receive any owls, poor things. Have you seen their little faces at the table?

If anyone needs help with an essay or assignment, I don't mind lending a hand. I wrote two inches for Binns yesterday while I was eating my lunch.

That poor first-year trying to get into the Gryffindor common room. I swear the Fat Lady was having them on. Poor thing had to wait till next day.

Someone was trying to come up with some sort of pepper hex the other day.

I like to keep a bit of Wiggenweld Potion under my bed. Not naming names, but someone's bought a few too many tricks from Zonko's.

Try working with a wand that's been passed down from three unruly sisters.

Well, my father naturally assumed I'd be a strong Seeker, just like him.

Thank Merlin Quidditch was cancelled.

I took my copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi to Herbology and I left it in the greenhouse, by the Mandrake seedlings. _ was horrified I didn't have it for class. Said I need to get my priorities straight.

What's the point of even learning about Herbology if we can't get ourselves into some trouble with Gillyweed?

If I haven't personally met a mermaid by the end of term, I can tell you, I shan't be happy.

Any of you know where I can find some Leaping Toadstools?

Did you get your Bitterroot from Pippin's? Or did you pick it yourself? I'm desperately in need of some.

I heard some chatter near the girls' lavatory about Boomslang skin. Do you think they're looking to brew a Polyjuice Potion?

I suppose I'd be curious about a Beautification Potion. What? Not for me, moonmind. For a friend of mine.

Don't be stupid. How do you look at a rock and say, 'Oh, I think I'll drink that.'?

Those French don't even hold their wands right so I don't know what they're teaching at Beauxbatons.

Almost makes you want to send them one just to give them a thrill.

Me? I'm dripping with owls.

Is there anywhere in Hogwarts you haven't explored?

I thought I was a good duellist, but I wouldn't dare cross you.. .

It was brilliant how you defeated _ in that duel.

Where did you and run off to?

Almost got me expelled, that did.

My father used to say that I looked part Erumpent. It's not funny.

If I Transfigure my poor toad into a goblet one more time, I think he's going to insist he stay that way.

Professor _ going to quiz us on rare water beasts next week.

Can't wait to tell _ I actually saw a Kelpie in Ireland over the summer.

Don't know why the common rooms all have secret ways of entering. Who wants to go into someone else's common room anyway? We were sorted for a reason.

Someone's parent sent homemade Cauldron Cakes and they shared them in the common room. Think they mistook salt for sugar, mind you. Half-eaten cakes everywhere for days, there were.

Our dorm's atrocious. I do wish people would clean up after themselves once in a while

A Bundimun destroyed my homework last night.

If I didn't know better, I'd say they were raised by trolls.

I was distracted by Peeves and ran face-first into _ the other day. Our books went flying. Think it made Peeves' entire week.

_ caught me making faces behind his back. It was awful – not to mention losing so many house points.

I need to get some dragon-hide gloves for Herbology. I refuse to handle Chinese Chomping Cabbages with bare hands.

Going to harvest some knotgrass from the greenhouses today. Did you know that it's used in Polyjuice Potion?

I'd like to open a shop in Hogsmeade myself one day.

I'd wager it was something to do with their time as an Auror.

Every time she pretends not to see me in the halls, I cast at her with a Trip Jinx.

I was trapped on the Grand Staircase for an hour the other day waiting for it to move.

My friends and I like to spend our evenings watching the sun set from the Quidditch pitch.

That’s all the pitch is good for this year, sadly.

Have you been to the Owlery lately? House-elves have fallen a bit behind in the cleaning this week.

I heard an ex-Auror lives in a hamlet outside of Hogsmeade. Think I'd want a quiet life too after years fighting Dark Wizards.

I'd like to retire to Hogsmeade one day. Open a pub. Bore future Hogwarts pupils with tales of my childhood.

Any news about the dragon near Pitt-Upon-Ford? Be enough to make me move, to be honest.

I met some of my best friends in Flying. Nothing creates a bond like thinking you're all about to die.

_ promised me his old broomstick once he's saved up for a new one.

I practised doing a loop-the-loop on my broom all summer.

I miss going to matches.

Cheering everyone on was magnificent fun.

The Chudley Cannons are going to be unbeatable next season; you just wait and see.

_ glanced at me the other day in the Great Hall. I spit out my breakfast. Not sure it sent the right message.

I used to write to my parents every week. Now I can't remember the last time I sent them an owl.

Wish I'd brought a pet owl to school.

So many letters arrive every day and none of them is ever for me.

I rather enjoy Transfiguration myself. The complexity – the precise nature of it; truly something to be admired.

Professor _ is a marvellous teacher. Never requires us to write more inches of parchment on a topic than necessary.

If I can just stop vanishing my notes when practising Evanesco, I think I can get an O on my Transfiguration O.W.L. this year.

Wish I had your skill. I'm like a drowned Billywig at Crossed Wands, I am.

Just curious, were you born with a broom?

Oh, you shouldn't be using that sort of magic. You'll get into a lot of trouble for that

[oakashandwillow]

20 Questions for Writers

Tagged by @bywayofmemory

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 91. A couple of those are 3SF compilations.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 115,642

3. What fandoms do you write for? Narnia, mostly. Used to write some Supernatural, Doctor Who but mostly in crossovers. Once we get into 3SF or "i've written this like once" - Star Wars (Mandalorian & Andor/Rogue One in particular), Battlestar Galactica, original stuff, Alex Rider, The Locked Tomb, Mass Effect, DC Comics, Middle Earth (movies, all books, Rings of Power), MCU - a lot. Twilight because of my "what if Renesmee was not... what Meyers wanted her to be" series.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Whose Other Side Is Salvation. Narnia/Doctor Who. Susan and the Doctor run.

we have to go on living. Young Justice. He can't hold it together forever. Robin, post-Failsafe.

to go nowhere with you. Torchwood/Narnia. "Minotaur," Edmund corrects automatically. Edmund/Ianto, time loops, minotaurs, coffee, and rift archaeology of sorts.

give me a world, you have taken the world i was. Hardy Boys. Joe wakes up alone in the dark. Things get worse from there, which sucks, because Frank is supposed to be home from college for Christmas break today.

Secrets Kept. Young Justice. Artemis knows Robin's secret. Spoilers through Young Justice 1x08.

5. Do you respond to comments? I... am nowhere as good as I would like to be at it.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? ... considering all the Narnia and specifically Susan Narnia stories I write that is a hard call. Probably we have come to our real work. AU. When Peter and Lucy hunt the White Stag, Susan and Edmund are in Archenland. Things go downhill from there. It's pretty early in my fic career so it could be a lot better in terms of quality but it is probably the saddest ending I've written. In terms of saddest story that I'm actually proud of? Probably we should take warning, we should forgive each other. Narnia, Prunaprismia, the bitterness of loss and pride and decisions it seems like are the only ones you can make even though they aren't.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Do I.... do I write happy endings.

I suppose my Renesmee series has a pretty happy ending! between one June and another September. Twilight, Renesmee/Leah. Renesmee Cullen comes full circle and falls in love. Does not make much sense without having read the previous works in the series though.

OH wait i gave edmund/bacchus (Narnia) a happy ending in one year since i've seen the mountains. I can write things that are happy!

8. Do you get hate on fics? I am extremely under the radar for almost everything honestly so no! And tbh I just don't have patience for that so would probably just delete and block if it was properly hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I've written some, though it's pretty mild!

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Look, what haven't I crossed over with Narnia. Merlin (BBC), Doctor Who / Torchwood, Mary Poppins, The Dark Is Rising, The Library Trilogy. I've done Leverage/Supernatural and I don't even know what I've done in various 3SF rounds. If we're counting my RP days I had some WILD character interactions while playing Padme Amidala in particular.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I doubt it? Never checked.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Once or twice! And podcasted once.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Several times! Only one is actively published and available as a fic though. Winds To Catch, Narnia/Mary Poppins, with @siterlas and animus in the city on A03. A Very Long Time Ago @bedlamsbard and I did like... an alarming amount of words on a BBC Merlin/Narnia crossover in commentfic. (Alarming for me who mostly writes like, maybe 1-2k a fic, not for Bed who's chapters number easily in the multiple thousands of words.) @siterlas and zempasuchil and I once wrote a bunch of AU BBC Merlin RPF commentfic where we wrote both the actors as if they were in a show about Marx and Engels instead and also parts of the fake show that they were in. Definitely various Supernatural and Narnia commentfic across the years. Probably more? Have also written friend fic for Las with Animus and Z. I also did a lot of RP stuff over the years! Which is cowriting though not in the sense we think of with fic.

Actually I really miss commentfic. It's so fun. I sometimes get to do it a little in 3SF but most people don't even know it's a thing you can do these days I think alas. Very informal collaboration is delightful!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Yeah I can't answer that. I'm very bad at picking favorites, ever. If we're talking ships I actually write, Susan/Edmund (Narnia), Bo-Katan/Din (Mandalorian) and Kara/Lee (BSG) are probably my top three? But I love... so many ships.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started a follow up to my Hardy Boys story and I've noodled with it occasionally and don't think I'll ever properly finish it.

16. What are your writing strengths? I have been told I'm really good at ending lines! I like to think I'm good at just character study.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plot. Who needs a plot. What is a plot.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I do not trust myself to get it right at all so I just don't overall.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Depends if we count doing RP in which case it's Lord of the Rings. If it's straight fic, Narnia.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? My favorites land in very different categories, so I think I will pick the first fic I wrote that I properly felt "wait, I think I can be good at this writing thing" and still gets received well. this temporary flesh and bone. Narnia. Susan/Edmund. Susan, Edmund, and the zombie apocalypse in England.

I shall tag. @svgurl410 @lyntergalactic @liminal-zone @callowyn @ravenlilyrose

[mslaevateinn]

'Fix-it' fics rec list - Merlin BBC

My final fill for the @merlinbingo !

I'm using this for the square "A4 - Fix it", which gives me a bingo on line 4 and one on column A!

Below are some fic recommendations that all fix some part of the show, whether a specific episode or the ending. I listed them by categories, with their title and author, rating and pairing, word count and summary, and my comments.

Episode fix-its:

I Forgive you by LovesickHeroReader G, Gen 707; One apology that should’ve taken place in Lamia Where Gwaine, in the midst of recovering from his encounter with the Lamia, shows he is an honest and kind person. Merlin angst (and tiny comfort). - 4x08

I Can See the Fire in Your Eyes by QueenoftheBritons (orphan_account) G, Merlin/Arthur 5.08k; The new king blinked, a slight frown settling, faint crinkles forming above the bridge of his nose, as his father finished, “the boy, your love, Merlin,” the phantom spat, “he has, is, magic. Destroy him, the one the Druids call Emrys, and you will wield a fear over magic we can only imagine.” “Merlin?” Arthur whispered. “Merlin has magic,” Uther reaffirmed, and Arthur was sure he saw flames burning in his eyes as he mentioned the name, as if memories of all those sent to burn passed across his mind in a flash.

Uther, being able to see most things in his kingdom while in the afterlife, reveals Merlin's secret to Arthur before the new King leaves the veil.

Uther's A+ parenting, a magic reveal and Arthur who is smarter than the show gave us. All topped with some good old hurt/comfort and characters that feel true to their show selves. - 5x03

Out of Sight, Out of Mind by BabyStepsAreStillSteps G, Gen 20.915k; When Arthur turned his back on the Dolma that he didn’t know was his manservant, Merlin reminded him that he was missing a very important member of their rescue party.

What if he hadn’t? Do you like angst? That's for you. You'll just want to hug Merlin very hard, shake Arthur very hard, scold the knights and kiss the author. There is also an entire series after this story! - 5x09

Ending fix-its:

“Maybe Kilgarrah only knew half the story” by Logan73 G, Merlin/Arthur 3.683; “I’m the other side of the coin, you said so yourself”

“You’re the king of Camelot, Arthur! The once and future king! The one to bring peace to Albion, to the whole bloody world!” He replied, stressed and nervous and so fucking scared.

“Maybe it’s time for me to bring peace to my world, and in case you’re too thick to understand, that’s you, Merlin”

~~~

Arthur returns, and Merlin doesn’t understand why.

Merlin is weary, but what's new? Well, 1500 of waiting. Merlin is so lonely he imagines talking to his friends.

thought i had it right (but i'm still lost) by istalria T, Merlin/Arthur 3.089k; The thing about hope is that it makes disappointment so much harder.

Merlin knows a lot about hope. It's all he's been doing, isn't it, for the last millenium? Hoping and waiting and trying and failing to move on.

Lazy prat, he thinks, in a sudden bout of fury. Lazy, ungrateful sod, lying around for thousands of years, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

He drains his glass and relishes the burn of alcohol down his throat. This pain he can deal with; this pain is clean and sharp and leaves relief trailing in its wake.

Very angsty but including humour, a nice OC we would all want to have on our corner

Bonus:

Where the Grass is Greener by FandomLife54 G, Merlin/Arthur 12.330k; “Merlin?” There’s something close to awe on Valamir’s face as he blatantly studies the man. “Your name’s Merlin?”

His cheeks go hot under the intense gaze, more so when Arthur’s is added. He could practically hear those blue eyes swiveling back and forth between them. Composure. He needs composure. “Yes,” he clears his throat. “Merlin. Y- I am. I’m Merlin.” Some composure. “Um, please, allow me to show you your room, Your Highness.”

OR

King Valamir is not all he seems. Coming from a land of magic, his view of Camelot is anything but positive and that makes any talk of a treaty between their kingdoms seem futile. Of course, the king seems to be only interested in Merlin, especially because he knows Merlin is Emrys and he sees it as his duty to whisk Merlin away from the evil place. All the attention he gives the warlock doesn't help Arthur, either, who's trying to confess a thing or two to his manservant.

Off category, but it was too nice not to include. Set in S4 or 5, with Arthur as King doing what we never saw on the show about magic (and a magic reveal). Hurt/comfort, friendships with the knights, pinning from Merlin and Arthur.

[closetsof-backlogged-dreams]

thoughts on the merlin ending because i need merlin rants to fuel me

i am literally the perfect person for this, i have so many contradicting thoughts abt this

ok SO: the whole show we kinda know that arthur is doomed and that he's going to die but we just ASSUME that he won't, yk?? but then if yk literally anything abt arthurian legend then yk how the show is gonna end. so it felt kind of pointless to me?? it was like being told who the murderer is at the very beginning of a murder mystery, having to watch the detective puzzle everything out and figure out the clues but you already know who did it so its really underwhelming.

in that same line of thought, the whole time we are told that arthur and merlin are destined to "unite albion" and all that, that arthur will be the greatest king albion had ever seen. but that doesn't make any sense because he died before he could do any of that. all those prophesies are completely false—potential ≠ actually doing something.

but at the same time, i LOVE that it ends that way. merlin spends the whole show fiercely believing that he can arthur from this fate, that his love and protection alone will keep him safe. obviously, this isn't true. arthur dies and it isn't for merlin's lack of trying—he did everything he could do. it kind of represents how love isn't some all-powerful force. merlin's love for arthur couldn't save him from his fate.

this ending also represents wasted potential. if arthur had welcomed magic then he wouldn't have died, simple as that. (i'm not blaming him for never having done this, this is just a fact.) and if he hadn't of died, he would have fulfilled all those prophesies. then, in the same breath, those prediction that he would die at mordred's hand would also probably be false. all of the druid's prophesies make no sense, tbh, and it's one of my least favorite parts of the series.

but drifting away from arthur's death and all those complication, GWEN. the fact that gwen became the sole ruler of Camelot was a brilliant way to conclude the series. considering she was one of the few characters who was very neutral abt magic, i like to think that she began to repeal the bans on sorcery after she found out abt merlin. it probably would have taken her years to restore the kingdom to its pre-uther days but i think she would have accomplished it eventually.

also, the whole "merlin is immortal" thing? literally what the fuck. WHAT were the writers on, bc i want it as far away from me as possible. the once and future king shit?? the whole "oh yea just sit there and wait a couple THOUSAND YEARS until your medieval bf comes back from the dead" thing they had going??? LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK.

but yea, that kind of all i rly have to say abt it?? thanks for the ask and the rant request tho!! i'll take these any day<33