#the wonderful clotpole

[bassguitarinablackt-shirt]

mutual tags! the tags im gonna be using for posts interacting with and about my mutuals from now on

#the boyfriend™️

(my platonic boyfriend @anartistwithamask)

#thalia my beloved <3

(my bestie my pookie my beloved @ssavinggrace whom im platonically married to for tax benefits)

#my wise girl <3

(@runwiththerain, the wise girl to my seaweed brain)

#the sink cat

(my dear friend @catinasink)

#my genderbend

(@literatureisdying whos essentially me but genderbent)

#mine dearest uncle perseus

(@genderfluidsgetguns, dont ask about the uncle thing)

#stellar lee

(@1am-star who is very stellar)

#the wonderful clotpole

(@that-one-clotpole, a relatively new moot)

#the beheader

(my tumblr twin @a-wondering-thought, he beheads people)

#professional lesbiab minny

(@midnight-thedyke, self explanatory)

#eve with no adam

(@evermorecatra, shes pretty gay)

#pelex the manwhore

(@joyliit, theyre pretty cool :D)

#the eldritch abomination

(@jarkinesbrainstew, im scared of them.)

#sneebs

(@sneebl, one of my earliest sweetest and most beloved mutuals :3)

#my beloathed worstie

(@agentwaffle, oh what would my life be without them annoying me)

#the bunnyboy

(@bunnyb1nk, FELLOW GAYBOY)

i will be updating this list regularly and it will be linked in my intro post for convenience, lmk if you want a tag

[onceandfuturewarlqck]

leon wonders when merlin had started to become friend, family, more than servant, more than arthur's, but his (theirs, gwaine's smiles said, was screamed by gwen's hugs, lancelot's quiet hushes. theirs.)

leon had grown up with morgana and arthur, and being a few years older than them he had taken on the role as the older brother.

it had been easy.

it was leon morgana arthur, never separated, holding each other's hands and backs.

thick as thieves, always together, and leon took the role of protecting arthur, and then he became a knight and he swore an oath to uther but mostly to the prince.

he looked at his friend brother prince king and he swore.

because leon would protect arthur no matter what.

and life goes on, in a way, and people grow, like they're supposed to do, and things change, and leon's days are filled with patrols and trainings and aching limbs and orders to follow.

it leavea him aching.

then.

then this boy comes in, all limbs and no muscles and even less brain cause he has to be at the very least a fool to pick a fight with arthur, of all people.

and leon watches, because he is a knight, no matter that the prince is being an asshole and a bully.

(which he wasn't as a kid. he was sweet and nice and shy and kind, and leon would always remember the way he used to shake when there were thunders, hiding himself under the covers; he would never forget the soft smiles he would give him, the time he had cried because morgana had fallen down and scraped his knees, the concentrated look when he wanted to comfort her but didnt know how to actually do it. arthur had been a sweet child, but he also was uther's son, and he wanted to make him proud.)

(and then the raid happened and arthur spiraled and closed himself and not even leon can reach for him anymore.

you're too far away, he wants to cry.

he offers his arm, but arthur turns around everytime.)

(leon nowdays wonders if arthur the kid is forever dead, sacrificed to arthur the son. it shouldn't sadden him, but it does. he thinks, leon morgana arthur, but now it's leon, and morgana, and arthur, with all those empty spaces, all looking at different walls.)

the gangly boy is lost and gone within the day.

until he saves arthur's life and becomes his manservant, that's it, and now leon has to spend all the time watching as this boy, merlin, keeps threatening the prince, calling him a prat, insulting him?

leon thinks he hit the head and he is in some other alternative universe because there is no way that this servant can act like that, without any sense of proprierty, almost friendly, with the crown prince without facing some punishment.

but arthur doesn't send him away. he talks back, jokes with him, and something slowly begins to melt in his prince. something blooms into spring again, weak and tentative, but it's there.

(and maybe leon is jealous, because when was the last time that he and arthur had joked like that? they used to run across the castle, hiding from maids. morgana would convince arthur to pull pranks, and arthur would drag leon along, and the three of them would laugh and play all day.

they used to spend nights huddled together, talking about everything, dreaming about the future. arthur would talk about slaying monsters and being a hero, and morgana would roll her eyes and say that leon was way more hero-like. leon would blush and say that he would defend them both from evil. he would later trip on the sheets and arthur would laugh at him while helping him up, before softly asking him if he was alright, corcern painting his eyes, and morgana would call him "my knight" with a cheeky smile, but they were happy.)

(now they talk less and leon calls arthur "sire" and "my prince" and all these titles, and he has forgotten how arthur's name tastes like in his mouth. and here he is, merlin, a servant, calling arthur a prat, a clotpole,  a dollophead, calling him arthur.)

leon doesn't know how to deal with merlin.

then merlin follows arthur into danger.

and again.

and again.

merlin is dead set onto going with arthur everywhere. merlin drinks poison for arthur. merlin jumps in front of bandits for arthur. merlin will do everything for arthur.

and once, leon tells him he shouldnt do this, he is just a servant, it is not his job to protect the prince.

and merlin gives him this long weird look and he purses his lips and leon doesnt know how to interpret all this, and says, you're right, its not a servant's job, and leaves it at it.

and he goes with them to the next quest anyway, which confuses leon even more.

it's not until one day merlin pushes leon out of a bandit's way, almost getting skewered by a blade, that he finally understands.

arthur fusses over merlin, pretending not to care, but his eyes lingers too much, and his hands are shaky, and merlin laughs at him and calls him a mother hen, which makes the prince pout. then the prince looks at leon and asks him if he is okay, and the concern is still there, it has never aged away, and leon is breathless and can only nod, and stare at merlin.

merlin stares back.

merlin was right, it's not a servant's job to risk their own life like this.

but merlin is not just a servant. he is their friend.

and leon thanks him, and merlin just shrugs him off, but there's a blush on his cheeks. then arthur calls for merlin, the moment broken and so many unsaid words piling in leon's mouth. merlin goes to aid the prince, leaving with an apologetic smile. he watches them as they joke around together and he watches as arthur's touch seems to hover on merlin's shoulder.

and leon understands.

(he thinks about how he has really failed. not as a knight, but as a friend. because leon had sworn to protect arthur but he had forgotten that, sometimes, what one needs protection from are not sorcerers or bandits or gigantic beasts. sometimes people need protection from themselves. and sometimes you don't protect someone with a sword, sometimes you do that with a kind word, a pulled prank or a gentle hand.)

merlin is always at arthur's side, at their side. and leon swears a second oath, one night, when the younger boy is lying too still on the ground, pained gasps rattling out of his lips as the fever rises together with infection.

arthur is asleep, next to him, he hasn't left merlin, and there is a furrow on his forehead he wishes to smother.

(arthur, sweet loving arthur, with scratches on his hands, and dirt on his cheeks, always full of love and nowhere to place it. looking for a father to give it, for someone to treasure it.

arthur and his bleeding heart.

merlin had stumbled his way in, with all his stubborness and loud loyalty and blinding affection, and without knowing it, arthur had placed that same heart in merlin's caring hands.

and merlin will die before any harm comes to it.)

(he does a good job at that, leon muses. merlin is too good for them all.)

you protect us all, he thinks, taking in the shaky figure, the flimsy blanket hiding the scar covered chest, but those scars are burnt on leon's mind and he doesn't need to see them to know they are there.

because merlin was never supposed to have scars.

friendship, a voice sighs in his mind.

you protect us all, but who protects you?

and leon kneels, in the middle of the night, between trees and sleeping knights, with merlin's shudders and the rustling of the wind, he kneels for the second time in his life, and he swears.

"to merlin of ealdor," he promises.

to merlin of camelot.

servant friend and brother.

[yourneighbourhoodtraumatisedkids]

You've done favorite music and fanfics... what's your favorite fan arts???

Okay, it seems like it’s favourite fanart this time! Not everyone could make it, but five people could, so we’re trying our best here!

*Clotpole and Hairdo Guy fixing the camera while Dark Raven goes through the script.*

Dark Raven: It says that it’s Claire this time on the list.

Clotpole: Yeah, I can’t deal with Toby anymore. He’s being an ass.

Hairdo Guy: *cracks knuckles* Need me to go talk to him?

Clotpole: Not unless you want a murderous time traveller on your heels. I can possibly get away with it, but don’t for even one second do you think you can get away with it, bitch.

Hairdo Guy: *flings hair* Who are you calling bitch here, darling?

Dark Raven: Hairdo, love you and all, but… no. Just no. 

Hairdo Guy: Fine. Get the first person on here so we can get shit over and done with.

Clotpole: *clears throat* CLAIRE, YOU’RE UP!

*Claire enters the room, grinning as she sits down on the first chair set up in a semicircle.*

Dark Raven: Hey, C-Bomb. If you don’t mind me asking, what is… your favourite fanart?

Claire: This one https://www.tumblr.com/inecole/649990950312181760/best-girl-some-more-of-my-weird-sense-of?source=share by @inecole. I really just like their type of style when drawing me, and typically, I’ve always been drawn to that sort of style.

Dark Raven: *glances at Clotpole* Yeah, no, we’re always going to be starting with her in the future, Boss.

Clotpole: Yeah, I’m going to have to agree with you there. NEXT!

*Douxie walks into the room, and sits down next to Claire*

Douxie: Ladies, my dear sir.

Clotpole: Okay, Douxie, none of the posh nonsense until after we get to cut the shooting.  Tell us, favourite fanart?

Douxie: Has to be this one: https://www.tumblr.com/honeyxmonkey/726948737517322240/more-of-him-douxies-hair-getting-long-in-the?source=share by @honeyxmonkey. I want my long hair back sometimes, and this piece of fanart certainly proves how much I need it.

Claire: *giggles* You’d look good with long hair.

Hairdo Guy: But my hair will always look better.

Dark Raven: Dude, we get it- your hair is amazing, it floats, and it likes whipping my boyfriend in the face. Speaking of which… where is Dollophead?

Clotpole: *blushes* Nowhere.

Dark Raven: I’m guessing it’s a secret, right?

Clotpole: You guessed it, sister!

Dark Raven: Well, as long as Lance and him don’t break into a museum again, I say we’re safe.

Clotpole: That wasn’t Dollophead, that was Lance, KK and Hairdo Guy.

Dark Raven: He was on video call with them. I was there.

Douxie: Wait, Hairdo Guy, Lance and KK broke into a museum?!?!

Claire: I mean, so did Jim and Toby. Nothing new to me.

Clotpole: Guys, I spent effort writing this script and we’re going off track already. And we need to get this posted by Tuesday at the latest we can! So let’s hurry up, okay?! NEXT!

*Mary walks in and sits down, before swinging her legs into Douxie’s lap*

Mary: I am so done with this room- I swear it doesn’t do our asks any justice.

Hairdo Guy: *shrugs* None can do, m’lady. You’re just going to have to do with it. Anyway, favourite fanart?

Mary: You’re not Chat Noir, so don’t call me, m’lady. Anyway, my favourite fan art has to be… https://www.tumblr.com/avirxy/701584713464283136/the-chaos-that-would-unfold-if-theyd-all-been?source=share by @avirxy. Way too good. I honestly just fell in love with this meme draw.

Clotpole: Avirxy and Honey have really been getting our attention lately, but then again, they’re both way too good at what they do. Oi, Dark Raven, did you see that one ask I sent Avirxy of a possessed Jimgana from her angsty art meme?

Dark Raven: Oh yeah… that one you sent me- I remember that one. There’s like a world of wonder to explore with a possessed Jim, but there’s even more to explore when it’s Jim and Morgana as a romantic pairing-

Claire: NO WAY!

Clotpole: Okay, moving on! Dark Raven, please for the love of god don’t say that again- it’s Jlaire forever and Ajim at the maximum for my wondering ass to bear as a multishipper-

Hairdo Guy: And then there’s Jeves-

Clotpole: That’s our secret, you idiot-

Douxie: I can’t believe I’m saying this but FOR THE LOVE OF MASTER MERLIN, NEXT!

*Toby enters, wearing sunglasses*

Toby: Hello, beautiful world!

Clotpole: Did someone give him tequila?

Hairdo Guy: Is that really your first reaction to Toby wearing sunglasses?!?!?!

Clotpole: Shut up, man. Anyway, Toby, what is your favourite piece of fanart?

Toby: *sits down* This awesome piece: https://www.tumblr.com/jae-in-a-trenchcoat/730304134181470208/this-tag-absolutely-took-me-out?source=share by @jae-in-a-trenchcoat. Love your work, Jae! It was super random when I found it, but the look on Douxie’s face was so worth it.

Douxie: What do you mean?

Toby: Not now, dude. I’ll show you later.

Clotpole: *rolls eyes* Someone definitely gave him tequila- or something spiked with it. Anyway, final person, YOU CAN COME OUT NOW!

*Jim walks into the room, smiling*

Jim: Hey, guys!

*Jim sits down, and leans back into chair*

Dark Raven: What’s got you so cheery?

Jim: Nothing really. What’s the question today?

Clotpole: Favourite fanart?

Jim: Anything Percy Jackson.

Hairdo Guy: *facepalms*

Clotpole: Dude, we know you’re obsessed with Percy Jackson. We mean anything in the TOA side of things.

Jim: Wait… Trials of Apollo?

Clotpole: NO JIM, WE MEAN TALES OF ARCADIA, GODDAMMIT!

Dark Raven: Jim, just say it, dude. We’re going off script, and Clotpole needs a nap.

Jim: Then… anything by @bluheaven-adw. Love all her art.

Clotpole: *nods* Okay, I’m out of here. Claire, create me a shadow portal back to my house.

*Claire creates a shadow portal and Clotpole jumps into it, before it closes. Everyone looks at the camera.*

Mary: If you have any questions, hit that ask button, I guess.

Douxie: And give us a follow for more content!

*Claire hides her head in her hands*

Claire: Dios mio, we sound like a Youtube channel at this point.

*Jim turns to look at his girlfriend with a raised eyebrow*

Jim: We’re worse than that. We’re a Tumblr account with no sense of self preservation.

Toby: That’s just you, Jimbo. I say we get Discord and Twitter.

Everyone else apart from Douxie and Hairdo Guy: NO TOBY!

Douxie: I say we give at least Discord a shot.

Hairdo Guy: I’m up for anything, honestly.

*Suddenly, the lights switch off, and electricity crackles. Dark Raven sighs*

Mary: I think that was Clotpole saying no.

*Electricity crackles again.*

Jim: And that was her threatening us with a fate worse than death if we do any sketchy shit.

Dark Raven: And that's why we don't talk about Twitter out of all the things you could, Toby.

*camera cuts to black*

[albentelisa]

Hello!!! Jim here from the @theonceandfuturetrollhunter blog, but I'm making this text anonymous because Clotpole (who owns my blog) doesn't want the reply back- I'll have to search for it instead 😂😒

Anyway, we love your headcanons and the AUs you create with adks back here in Arcadia- Claire is obsessed with reading them- and we wanted to know how you wpould take to this AU...

What if mine and Claire's roles were swapped over (me being the wizard and Claire being the Trollhunter) but we found out about our respective roles at the times we did in the show (me first, then Claire)?

Can't wait for the reply!!!!

:)

Hi, Jim:)

This ask is something I really like, so I've put it up my queue of asks (there are more than thirty of those in my inbox, holy trolls!).

Anyway, to the AU.

So, in this AU Kanjigar manages to escape during his battle with Bular, so Jim and Toby pass through the canals as usual, with nothing happening. Toby sees that his bro is slightly disappointed that it's just a regular day and suggests investigating the stone monsters Eli mentioned. Obviously, Toby doesn't believe in any supernatural creatures, thinking those are just another one of Eli's delusions, but he thinks Jim needs some fun (and a minor adventure is better than no adventure at all).

It turns out to be a horrible mistake as Bular is pissed because of his failure and is actively looking for a consolation snack. Jim and Toby look like a wonderful meal for him. Bular nearly catches Toby - and it's when Jim awakes his shadow magic, firstly blasting and injuring Bular and then teleporting Toby and himself to the safe location. Jim collapses afterward as he has pushed past his limits.

The next morning, Toby is excited, but Jim is conflicted as he isn't sure it's the kind of adventure he wants. Besides, his newfound magic keeps acting on its own, complicating his life.

Jim comes to Strickler to talk about his issue, but chickens at the last second and tells some lie. Strickler initially believes that it's something trivial, but later notices Jim falling through the shadow portal, and everything clicks. After all, last night, Bular came back enraged, cursing some fleshbag wizard who injured him and swearing to kill that bastard. Strickler deduces that the wizard in question could be Jim. Unlike Bular, he wonders if he can use Jim's talent (after all, all the changelings are connected to shadow magic) and decides to get even closer to his student.

Meanwhile, Douxie visits Jim (as he learned about him from Archie who witnessed the encounter with Bular). Douxie wouldn't get involved in most cases, but apparently, Jim's magic is too strong for someone born during this age, and Jim lacks control, which could easily lead to a lot of damage. So Douxie decides to teach him a bit.

Because Bular has a personal vendetta against Jim, soon enough Kanjigar contacts him as well. Jim learns about the Trollhunter and his mission and proposes to help him (after some initial shock, Jim starts to wonder if there is some meaning to the fact that he got magic). Kanjigar is against it - he has worked alone since the very beginning, and well, Jim is a kid. Jim and Toby still sneak to the Trollmarket, and meet Blinky and Aaarrrgghh there. Blinky believes that having a trollhunting team might not be such a bad idea, so now there are four of them trying to help Kanjigar. Draal eventually joins too, becoming the fifth member. Jim keeps this fact from Douxie because Douxie forbids him to risk his life needlessly (out of concern that there might be another spike in Jim's developing magic which can be harmful to his soul). As for Toby, he gets his Warhammer early on.

Meanwhile, Strickler gets close to Barbara, wondering if she knows her son's secret. He discovers rather fast that she is in the dark about everything and uses it for his own profit.

Much like in the canon, Jim is in the school play, but he skips less because his outings are more controlled (be it magic lessons with Douxie or visits to the Trollmarket), so he has less friction with Claire. Claire still senses that Jim hides something and tries to talk to him about it.

Jim and Toby are the ones who discover the hideout at the museum and basically trigger all the changeling-related events, including Enrique's kidnapping. Enrique is picked because Jim is a regular guest at Claire's house by this point, and Strickler feels that he can use another pair of eyes.

Jim is the one who goes to the concert with Claire in this AU, while Toby babysits Enrique. Claire is initially upset with Jim afterward as she thinks that Toby and Jim decided to prank her together, but after giving it some thought, tries to investigate what is wrong.

Jim still gets Grit-shaka from Draal and ends up exposing his connection to trolls before Douxie before running to fight Bular. Much like in the canon, Bular exposes Strickler.

Claire catches her fake brother herself and encounters Jim, asking if he knows too. Jim decides to tell her everything.

Kanjigar decides to face Bular head-on together with his team (plus Douxie, who joins at the last second). Together they slay him and recover the Killahead.

Now that everything is more or less safe, Claire comes to Kanjigar and asks him to save her brother. Jim and Toby join her pleas, and Jim says that he'll travel to the Darklands himself if Kanjigar disagrees. Kanjigar agrees after some consideration (the previous Trollhunters are against it, but Kanjigar reminds them that his team has slain Bular).

Strickler frees Angor Rot, much like in the canon. Angor, however, disobeys the first command to attack the Trollhunter and judge his skill and goes for Jim instead (he senses his shadow magic and decides to get rid of someone who can possibly become a second Morgana). In this fight, Jim manages to wrestle out the shadow staff. After some examination, Douxie allows him to use it - as the shadow staff, apparently, stabilizes Jim's rather chaotic magic.

The Trollhunters recover the first triumbric stone, but during the quest at the Quagawumps' swamp, the tragedy happens - Kanjigar dies, taking the hit from Angor meant for Claire (it's something that will haunt her for a while). The amulet chooses her as the next champion, but she is conflicted wondering if she can be a good one. After all, she couldn't protect her brother, and Kanjigar died because of her. Draal also doesn't help as he questions her worth (he isn't as bad as he was with Jim in the canon, but his words are still mean).

Jim, however, believes in Claire and says that she can be the best (after all, she is a quick learner, brave, and loyal). Claire starts training, hoping to be able to catch up quickly. Draal warms up eventually and comes to help her.

Angor doesn't make any deal with the Trollhunters in this AU, as he doesn't trust Jim by default. Douxie is the one who suggests stealing Inferna Copula from Strickler, but much like in the canon it ends destroyed, and Angor unleashes his anger at Strickler, Jim, and everyone else. Barbara walks in amid the fight and gets wounded. In this AU she learns everything without losing her memories. Obviously, she is mad at Strickler for using her to get to Jim.

Angor Rot is the first Claire's major opponent, but she manages to defeat him with the help of Jim, Toby, and Draal. Draal feels that his father is avenged and thanks Claire.

However, for Claire, it's not enough. She doesn't want to lose another team member, so goes to the Darklands alone (besides, she was the one who requested that mission to start with). She saves Enrique but ends up trapped.

And here's the problem - only the Trollhunter can open the portal to the Darklands. Jim tries to find an alternative solution and finds a book in Douxie's library about summoning spirits and letting them possess the body. There is a risk, however, as the one who performs it is more vulnerable to possession later, but Jim is willing to risk. He summons Kanjigar's spirit and the team heads into the Darklands to save Claire.

Gunmar getting out isn't the only consequence of that venture. Morgana senses Jim's mind's vulnerability and starts to take over. She resurrects Angor first, then contacts Gunmar.

No one realizes that something is off with Jim at first, chalking most of the stuff to the shadow magic acting up. Claire gets suspicious first and goes to Douxie, demanding if all of that is actually shadow magic. Douxie admits that his fellow student Morgana was odd at times too. After hearing that, Claire is even more worried, and she and Douxie encounter Jim - only to realize that Morgana already fully possesses him.

Claire and Douxie restrain possessed Jim and decide to travel inside his mind to free him. They also bring Toby and Barbara with them, as more meaningful people should make it more likely to succeed. Jim is free, and fighting Morgana gives him a better understanding of his own magic.

With Gunmar and Morgana around the team decides to wake up Merlin (per Douxie's suggestion). And, well, Merlin isn't excited to learn that Douxie got involved and even took a shadowmancer as an apprentice (he is pretty much convinced that Jim will end the same as Morgana if not worse).

Merlin also plans to turn Claire into a half-troll, but as Douxie is around, he investigates the ingredients and discovers what they might do. The team encounters Merlin, and he admits his intentions but tells everyone there is no other choice. Strickler, however, intervenes and makes a guess that there might be some alternative in the Janus Order's records, which turns out to be true. The alternative just requires some blood from a shadowmancer, which Jim gladly provides. Claire becomes a shapeshifter with the ability to change forms at will.

However, Merlin also comes to Jim regarding Morgana. It's possible to seal her inside the Shadow Realm, but all the links between it and the outside world should be cut, meaning that Jim should stay inside the Shadow Realm for good. Merlin appeals to Jim's insecurities and reminds him that the shadow magic is evil, convincing Jim that it'll be better for everyone.

However, Claire overhears this conversation and confronts Jim about it. She also reminds him that Merlin's solutions have already proved to be not the only answer and that their team has already found an alternative once, so it's possible to find another one.

The encouragement from Claire prompts Jim to craft his own spell for the first time to use against Morgana. So, once the Eternal Night comes, both Claire and Jim defeat Gunmar and Morgana respectfully.

@theonceandfuturetrollhunter, I know that you feel down now, so hopefully, this one cheers you up a bit:)

[te0tae]

My wonderful childhood, every day on TV Merlin. Buying a DVD of Merlin. Over time, certain parts of the series stopped working because I watched them too many times (mostly the moments with Arthur and Gwen's kisses).

Now: I'm in love with you," he whispers hoping only Merlin will hear. "You were right. I'm a giant clotpole who needs a murderous ghost to admit it. Her magic did what it was supposed to do."

Merlin goes very still next to him.

"You're serious."

Arthur nods.

"Fuck." Merlin's kissing him possessively, passionately...

Took a snippet from a wonderful fanaction🥰 https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Round_Table_Gift_Exchange_2022/works/43688799?view_adult=true

[yoonnamjin25]

Ok but I need a post canon, Arthur returns, slow burn, Merthur, kind of fic where we can acompany our beloved king through the different stages of grief he will go through when Merlin tells him he's been dead for over 1500 years so he lost his kingdom, knights, friends and wife. A fic where we can see Merlin introducing Arthur to the 21st century and its technology that he insists is just magic, Mer-lin, I know it, I'm no fool. I know magic when I see it. A fic where we can see Arthur still struggling to fully trust on Merlin again because yes, he forgave him and he doesn't really care about the magic (except he does because Merlin's eyes look so beautiful when they are gold and where did that come from, Arthur Pendragon? Merlin, beautiful? Ha! The clotpole must've been right when he told you you shouldn't drink a third cup of that dark, strong, addictive beverage) but he still can't get over all the years of constant lies and deceiving, and Merlin feels guilty af so he tries to win his trust once again day by day and keep the promise he made to himself that day he finally confessed his magic to Arthur to not lie to him ever again. A fic full of fluffy moments between merthur where we can see them fall for each other harder slowly but surely until one day, after 3 or 4 months since Arthur came back, he finally kisses Merlin. And then they kiss some more. And more. And they are so happy grinning like idiots between kisses because finally they are on the same page. And everything is perfect. And Arthur suddenly loses his shirt somehow and things are getting heated although everything is still so soft and sweet and tentative. And then the doorbell rings. They ignore it at first, Arthur's orders, but the person behind the door is insistent so they have to stop so Merlin can go and see who it is. And when he finally opens the door, his jaw almost hit the floor because the person in front of him is no other than the fucking Queen of Camelot, his first and beloved friend, Guinevere Pendragon, the long ago dead widow of Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot, whom he's been making out with seconds ago. And then everything goes downhill coz Gwen sees her husband and Arthur is so shocked to see her again and then they are hugging and smiling and kissing and glowing with happiness and then there's Merlin, with tears in his eyes as he sees them reunite again. As he sees Arthur reunited with his true love. And when the king finally takes a moment to process everything that is happening while having Guinevere laughing crying in his arms, his eyes find Merlin, his Merlin, the one he had in his arms minutes ago and everything comes crashing. Reality hits him so hard he can't even breathe for a second. Because he was happy with Merlin and even though he hadn't yet admitted it out loud, he knew, deep in his soul, that he was in love with him, but then Guinevere is back! His beautiful, amazing, sweet and wonderful queen who he loves with all his heart is back from the death and how is that even possible???

Phew! A fic full of drama and angst and hurt/comfort and tough decisions that Arthur will have to make eventually because he loves them both, but he only can have one and that is breaking him apart because he is a righteous man at heart and he knows that as a married man, his choice should be clear as water, but his soul is screaming at him because it wants something else, someone else, and he doesn't know what to do as he knows whatever he decides, one of the two people he loves the most in his life will end up brokenhearted. But life is unfair and cruel to everyone. Even to legendary kings.

So.

Can someone please write it?

For me???

Pretty please???

[caniruineverything]

i get by with a little help from my friends

ft. merthur and a bit of whump/angst (and a teensy bit of morgwen)

Summary: Merlin doesn't understand why Arthur's acting weird, but when Uther takes it too far with his words one day, Merlin realizes why.

"Mer-lin!" At the sound of his name, the warlock spun around, only to be met with an irate Arthur slamming the door behind him as he walked in. And he had been in such a great mood earlier, he thought to himself.

"Yes, sire?" If he put a bit more ire in the greeting than normal, well that was between him and the long list of chores he was sure was heading his way.

"Have you really been cleaning this whole time?" The question was rhetorical, but Merlin answered anyway, foolishly.

"Yes, sire. Your room is quite messy. Really, it's a shame no one ever taught you how to clean up after yourself." And, well, on any other day, the jab wouldn't have been of any importance, but that day, Arthur was in quite the mood.

"Well, it's a shame no one taught you how to speak to your Prince. Leave, I don't want to see your stupid face." The words caused something in Merlin to shrivel up, despite his attempts to stop it. He'd thought he and Arthur had been getting closer. He'd apparently thought wrong.

He left, moving away from the room and the unreasonable prince as fast as he could. As he exited the palace, he realized Arthur had not given him anything else to do. Part of him wondered if that had been purposeful, but he quickly dismissed the thought. After that display, it was clear the prince had no intention of being generous.

With nothing else to do he walked home to see if there was anything Gaius needed him to do. The old man answered that he did not, in fact, have anything that needed to be done. Instead, he suggested Merlin go help out Gwen or the knights. Deciding this was both a good idea and a way to pass time, which moved slowly when he was away from Arthur, Merlin left to go do just that.

As he approached the palace steps, mentally making a list of the places Gwen was most likely to be found-he knew from experience that it was very difficult to find people in the palace-when a voice called from somewhere to his left.

"Merlin? I thought Arthur dismissed you."

"Gwen!" He couldn't help it, a grin broke out on his face at the sight of his friend, a sweet but slightly confused smile gracing her lips. "Just the person I was looking for!" At her questioning glance, he elaborated. "Yeah, the clotpole did let me out early, not sure why, so I wanted to see if you needed any help." He paused, and she took her cue to respond.

""Oh! Thanks." At this, Gwen smiled kindly and continued, "Nope! Morgana let me out early too, said something about the nice weather." Merlin smiled, knowing Morgana too was weak for Gwen's smile, just in a different way than he.

"That's kind of her. Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me!" She grinned back, seeing his smiling face, and continued on to her house. He stood there, once again with nothing to do. Should he check on Arthur again?

The urge to both see the prince and make sure he was okay was not something one should feel for their employer, let alone their prince and their friend, but, well, he had taken one look at the prince when the latter had been consoling a woman looking after her ailing son and fallen head over heels. Yes, that prat could be such a cabbage head, but he could also be caring, and brave, and kind. And handsome, that little voice in the back of his head spoke up, but he banished it with a quick not the time.

So yes, he did want to check on Arthur. But at the same time, what Arthur had said has hurt. Merlin worked hard because Arthur expected nothing less, and it still wasn't enough.

But Arthur was a prince, and he was Uther's son, so it was almost to be expected. Almost, because even though it was explainable did not mean that it hurt any less.

He decided against reentering the paper in search of a prince who clearly didn't want him there, and returned home. At Gaius's raised eyebrow, he just said Gwen hadn't needed any help, and walked into his room. And no, he definitely hadn't closed the door more forcefully than normal.

He used his free time to read through the book on magic Gaius had given him. Sitting under his thin blanked with aagically conjured light to see by, he could almost forget about Arthur and his behavior. Almost.

Merlin blinked awake blearily, light glaring in through the window. He brushed a fallen lock of hair out of his face, then sat up. As he did so, he both heard and felt paper rustle, and looked down. He had apparently been using the magic book as a pillow, and there were a few drool stains on one of the pages. He quickly magicked away the stains and returned the book it it's hiding place, then turned to his clothing to get ready for the day. Now, to wear the red or blue neckerchief. . ?

He made it almost to the palace steps before he remembered. Arthur. He had been in such a foul mood the other day, and with a prince with anger management issues and a tendency to bottle things up, Merlin did not know what to expect.

When he had gathered up the courage to walk to Arthur's room, he was greeted with the sight of the blonde glaring at him, picking at the good in front of him.

"You're late," were the first words out of the prince's mouth. "I had to get woken up and delivered breakfast by George." His distaste was clear, and on another day, Merlin might have laughed. Not that day, though, when he was already feeling the sting from the careless words.

"Oh, poor you." It was almost hilarious how obvious the double take Arthur was trying to hide was, as he had clearly been expecting sympathy, but Merlin was not in the mood. "You should be happy, you had a servant who didn't talk back."

"Well, Merlin, you should be happy. I have a long list of chores headed your way, just for being late." Merlin sighed. Why him? Why did he have to bother with the unreasonable man who happened to be both his employer and the prince of Camelot?

"Yaaaaayyy. . ."

"That's the spirit! Now, you'd better get started or you won't finish by tonight, and we can't have that." By Arthur's tone, Merlin could tell he was implying something important, and though he really didn't want to, he gave into the blonde's ploy to get him to ask.

"What do you mean by that? What's happening tonight?"

"Oh, did no one tell you?" God, the nerve of this man. "Father's having a feast in honor of the new alliance. And yes, before you ask, you do have to be there." Damn, how had he known that was what Merlin was going to ask before the latter even opened his mouth? "Because, idiot, you ask that every time. Of course I knew." Okay, now Merlin was slightly freaked out.

"Did I say that out loud, or did you somehow acquire mind reading skills?"

"I could read it on your dumb, expressive face. You didn't need to say it, and I don't need to read your mind to know what you were going to say." Arthur scoffed at Merlin's confused face and ordered him to get to work before he wasted the day trying to understand a simple sentence.

All day, Merlin simultaneously carried out his chores, fuming at Arthur and his pompousness, and ran their earlier conversation through his head, trying to make sense of it. And make sense he did. It was no secret that they two were developing a strong bond, but he hadn't realized how strong it was, if the prince was able to deduce what Merlin was going to say before he said it.

But of course their 'strong bond' wasn't enough to keep them from bickering like a dysfunctional couple. Resigned to his foul mood, and with no intent to forgive the prince any time soon, he got to work on the long list of chores Arthur had handed him.

By the end of the day, Merlin had somehow managed to get everything in Arthur's ridiculously long list done. Well, not somehow, he may have used a bit-just a bit!-of magic to help. The list was otherwise way too long for him to finish by midnight, much less in time for the feast. The only good part about any of it was that he got the satisfaction of seeing Arthur's shocked face when he realized Merlin had actually been able to complete the list. Well, he had also been given a bit of the food for the feast to taste test (impeccable as always), which had been nice.

His last task was to help the prince prepare for the feast. Bathing him, dressing him, and just making him look like the prince he was. If Merlin was honest, there were a few things he liked about feasts.

For one, there was the fact that he was allowed to eat some of the leftover food, which was even better than the food the kitchen normally prepared. There was also the fact that Arthur looked even more presentable than he usually did, and while Merlin thought the prince looked handsome in anything, it was nice to see him get dressed up a bit. And the feast provided something to make the evening a bit more entertaining, which was something, at least.

By the time he was done getting Arthur ready, it was time for the feast. Merlin looked over the prince one more time to see if he was ready, and he was. But Merlin also noticed that Arthur seemed a bit more nervous than he usually did for a feast. Was it that this was celebrating an alliance and he didn't want to do anything to put that in danger?

Merlin wanted to ask, he wanted to make sure his friend was okay, but before he could, Arthur spoke.

"Well, Merlin, are you ready?"

"Wh-what? Why are you asking me if I'm ready? You're the one who needs to be ready, not me."

"Well, yes, that is true. But you know if I'm ready or not, and you're not ready until I am. I'll ask you again. Are you ready?"

"Yes, sire." For once, Merlin's voice was completely free of any sarcasm or mocking. He sensed that Arthur was nervous and he didn't want to make things worse.

"Alright then. Lets go."

The feast was a typical feast, all things considered. There was good food and wine, a few performers, and speeches from Uther and the allied kingdom. Arthur did not give a speech that night, which Merlin did not find particularly odd, as not every feast required a speech from the prince.

Though Merlin did notice that Arthur was more tense than normal, he figured it was just the blonde worrying about how the guests would find the feast. What he did not notice, however, was the way Arthur's eyes kept darting to his father, and the way Uther was nearly glaring at his son.

There was one slight hiccup during the whole thing, which was, in Merlin's opinion, not bad at all. One of the servants, a tall skinny boy with brown hair, spilled wine on Uther. In the boy's defense, it was not much, and Utter had bumped into him slightly, but that did nothing to quiet the king's rage.

But before Uther could say or do anything, Arthur leaned over and whispered something to his father. This calmed the older man down only slightly, and now his rage seemed directed at Arthur. Nothing happened however, except that Arthur apparently dismissed the servant, as the boy scurried away as quickly as he could.

If Merlin had paid a tiny bit more attention to the king and his son, he would have noticed how Uther's anger remained, and how Arthur was clearly masking his fear.

But he didn't, so he paid no notice as, when they were walking back after the feast, Arthur was silent. Merlin figured that he was simply tired, as a feast would tire anyone out, especially someone who was as involved as Arthur.

When they got back to the prince's chambers, Arthur dismissed Merlin as soon as the latter had finished getting Arthur ready for bed. Merlin once again figured he was simply tired, although he did begin to suspect something was up with the prince.

Hey, he wasn't stupid, not by a longshot, but he hadn't really seen anything that would make him worry. His whole job was to protect the prince, whether Arthur knew it or not. He would never purposefully do anything to put his friend in danger, and not just because it was his job.

That night however, he did remember Uther's angry glare at his son, and the way Arthur curled in on himself infinitesimally. Unfortunately, he fell asleep before he could think any more about it, and by the time he woke up in the morning, he had almost completely forgotten it.

The beginning of the morning the next day was pretty predictable. He woke up, got dressed, ate a hurried breakfast, and left to go wake up the prince.

When he got to the prince's room, however, breakfast in hand, he discovered that Arthur was already awake and dressed. Merlin set the food down on the table and looked the prince over.

"Wow, sire, you managed to put on your shirt correctly, nice job. However the back of your shirt is not quite tucked in. Here, let me get it." But when he reached over to help fix the shirt, Arthur batted his hand away.

"It's fine. I can do it myself. Thank you for telling me." This was very odd. When had the prince ever woken up and gotten dressed before Merlin arrived in the past?

Actually, he could remember a few times, and it was always odd. He was not usually able to get everything on right, either. Also, why had he not let Merlin help him? That was certainly unusual.

The rest of the day was relatively normal. They went on a hunt with the knights, as Uther had ordered Arthur to capture an assassin who had killed a few villagers overnight, for an unknown reason. It was nice to get back into the woods, and Arthur seemed happier because of it, joking around with Merlin and the knights in a way he hadn't in the last couple days.

The hunt, despite Arthur's best efforts, was unsuccessful, and they did not manage to capture the assassin. The hooded man escaped, after a fight that ended with Elyan slightly injured, and the entire party disheartened.

After a short visit with Gaius, Elyan was fine, and Arthur and Merlin headed back to the palace. Arthur was acting odd, not talking much, and when he did, he was very short with Merlin. Merlin opted for silence instead while he took Arthur's chainmail off.

"I have a meeting with my father to discuss my failure in apprehending the assassin. You are free to leave. Enjoy your afternoon." It was phrased so oddly. To discuss my failure. Was that really all Uther wanted to talk about? Arthur had accomplished a great many things, and yet Uther seemed only interested in the few failures. He really did expect his son to be perfect.

Arthur left, and though he had been dismissed, he did not have anything he needed to do, so he decided to stay and tidy up the room a bit. While he was in the middle of cleaning the fireplace, his magic suddenly became alert. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he became convinced something was wrong.

He didn't do anything about it, as he didn't even know what was wrong. He waited it out, and it dissipated slightly. There were a few more times during his cleaning that he felt it rise up, and then it began to rise steadily until the door creaked open.

Merlin looked up, and his heart seized in his chest. Arthur walked in, tears dripping down his face, and bruises on his face.

"Oh, Arthur, what happened?”

"Merlin?!? Why are you still here? I dismissed you." Though he sounded angry, the tears hitting the floor said otherwise, and his face did not show any anger.

"I, uh, wanted to do some cleaning. Seriously, what happened?"

"Nothing, Merlin, please just leave." It must have been serious if the prince was using please.

"No, Arthur." Merlin stood steadfastly in front of the crying prince. "You're my friend, and you're hurting. I want to help. What happened?"

"Nothing. My father just-he just got angry. That's it."

"Arthur. That is not it. You are crying. Please tell me what's wrong. It hurts to see you hurting."

"Fine!" More tears dripped down his face, and he looked up angrily. "He was angry that the hunt failed, and he yelled at me. When I told him I'd done the best I could, he just said that. . ." The prince trailed off, clearly very pained.

"Arthur. What did he say?" It was becoming hard for Merlin to just stand there and not go off to kill, or at least maim, Uther.

"He told me," Arthur sobbed harder, "he told me that Ygraine died for me, and I was wasting her death by just existing." The blonde broke down, sobbing loudly, not caring who heard him, and Merlin's heart broke. How could anyone say that to someone, let alone their own son?

"No, no. Arthur, you are a wonderful person, and your mother would be so proud of you for everything you've done. Uther doesn't deserve you, he never has, okay?"

"No, I'm useless! I can't do anything right! The feast, the hunt, and now I can't even take a lecture. Just leave, I'm not worth it."

"Never say that. Never. I love you because you are kind, because you always strive to do the right thing, even when it is harder. You saved that boy from getting flogged. You tried to catch the assassin, and the only reason you didn't is because you were protecting your friends. Uther is wrong. You are not useless. I love having you in my life, I'm grateful for it every day, and I know Gwen, Morgana, and the knights are too. You're amazing, Arthur."

That was the first time Merlin had gotten to voice his thoughts on Arthur in a long time, and it felt nice, even though it was brought on by Uther being an asshole.

"Do you mean that?" Merlin's heart broke impossibly further by Arthur's unsure tone.

"Of course I do! We're all incredibly lucky to have you around." Arthur just cried harder, stilling when Merlin wrapped his arms around the prince, sensing the blonde might need a hug.

When the prince sank into it, he realized that Arthur likely didn't get many, if any, hugs.

"Are you injured?" The prince was silent, and Merlin's heart rate skyrocketed.

"What?!?"

"He just slapped me a few times, and I have a few bruises. It's not that bad." This prince. Now Merlin was beyond pissed. He had assumed Arthur's face was red from crying, but now there was a handprint visible. That was why Arthur had dressed himself! He hadn't wanted Merlin to see the bruises.

"Are you alright?"

"I will be," was the quiet response.

"Take all the time you need. I need to go hunt down a king"

"Merlin, please don't. He is still my father."

"Fine. For you." They were silent for a few moments while Arthur composed himself and Merlin thought up ways to creatively harm Uther, not that he would actually carry them out. After a few minutes, Arthur's soft voice broke through his thoughts.

"You. . . love me?"

"I-What?" He thought back over what he had said, and blushed hard. Damn it, he had confessed to Arthur!

"I'm so sorry! I mean yes, I do, but I didn't mean to tell you. You can fire me, you'll never have to see me again, I'll-" He was speaking really quickly now, trying to apologize and reassure the prince.

"Merlin! Listen to me! I, uh, love you too. So please, don't leave. Ever." No way. No. Way.

"You-you love me too?"

"Of course I do. You're Merlin, how could I not?"

"What does that mean?"

"That it was inevitable that I'd fall for you, you clumsy oaf." Of course Arthur would compliment someone and then insult them, all in a declaration of life. Oh my god, he loves me!

"Hey! Thanks?"

"Now get over here." What? Why? Then, his silent questions were answered as Arthur kissed him. Their lips moved together as though they were made for this, and Merlin wondered if they had been. Two sides of the same coin. How had he not realized how romantic that sounded?

When they broke away, breathing hard, Merlin pulled Arthur in for another hug, sensing how touch-starved he was. The prince melted impossibly more into Merlin than before.

"You don't need him. You have me, you have Morgana, you have Gwen, and you have the knights. You have people who love and care about you. You don't need him."

"I. . . don't need him. Okay. I don't need him!" Arthur sounded as though he had been freed from prison, and in a way, he had. As Arthur stood up and got ready for bed, tired from crying and professing love, Merlin realized that as long as they had each other, and their friends, they would be okay.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Will You Breathe With Me?

Hi I really love your work <3 would you be open to writing an ADHD!Merlin h/c fic? – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: executive dysfunction

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 1870

    Arthur walks into his chambers and sees Merlin sitting silently on the edge of the bed, staring off into nothing. He walks over, waiting for the loud thump of his boots to alert him to his presence, but he doesn't move. Even waving his hand in front of his face does nothing. Glancing around, he picks up a pillow from the bed and whacks Merlin across the face.

"Ow!"

"There you are, I was wondering what it would take to get you talking."

Merlin glares at him, rubbing the end of his nose. "That hurt, you prat."

"Well, you should've moved out of the way."

"How was I supposed to know you were going to hit me?"

"I didn't hit you that hard, and it's a pillow, you'll be fine." Merlin just glares harder. "Besides, you're the one sitting about, not doing anything."

Merlin mumbles something under his breath, hunching his shoulders. Arthur sighs.

"You know I can't hear you when you're doing that."

"I'm trying."

"Trying what?"

"To get up and do things."

Arthur snorts. "Well, you're not trying very hard, by the looks of it."

"What would you know?"

Now, Arthur would snap back at him, call him an idiot or a clotpole or something else equally devastating, but there's a cold sharpness to Merlin's tone that's never there unless Merlin's really upset. He pauses, tossing the pillow back down.

"Do you…want help?"

"What?"

"Doing things," Arthur offers clumsily, "do you want help?"

Merlin looks up at him like he's grown two heads. "Who are you and what have you done with Prince Arthur?"

"Shut up." He shoves Merlin's shoulder—gently!—and sits on the bed next to him.

His eyes travel over Merlin's form, looking for a wound or injury he didn't know about—Merlin has this awful habit of pretending he's not hurt and then letting them all worry about him far too late, he's just being thorough and making sure there isn't going to be any blood on his sheets, that's all—but he doesn't see anything. Not that he would necessarily be able to see anything, what with how much of a twig Merlin is, but even a twig shows some sign of padding if he's been bandaged. And he can't tell if Merlin's breathing funnily or anything, so he's probably not physically injured.

Did Arthur say something to him? Did he take one of the taunts to heart, or did he prod some sore spot he didn't know about? He'd thought he'd figured all of them out, the parts he wasn't supposed to poke at, the lines he wasn't meant to cross, but perhaps this is another one, one he didn't know about. Or has someone else said something? Merlin seems to be in this unique place where he'll gladly snap and bite back at Arthur but if one of the other knights or lords do something, he'll just grit his teeth and take it. Annoying at first, for Arthur was the prince and deserved the highest form of respect other than the king, and annoying now because Merlin doesn't deserve some of what those people throw at him and he won't even defend himself from it.

Not that Arthur minds the chance of getting to utterly humiliate them on the training grounds, though.

He's jolted back from his thoughts when Merlin sighs, a bone-weary and aching thing that tugs at some soft part of Arthur's chest. He glances up to see a forlorn expression on Merlin's face.

"I just…can't."

"Can't what?"

"I've been trying to get up and do things for the past hour. I just can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," Merlin bites out with such frustration that Arthur instantly gives in.

"Alright, alright, that's fine. You don't know." He shifts, propping his weight on one hand behind him so he can face Merlin properly. "Is—er, has this happened before?"

"Yes."

"What…what made it stop last time?"

Merlin shrugs. "It just went away. Or I forced myself to do things anyway."

"Could you…do that this time?"

"Already tried. Have been trying. It just isn't working. I must've…" He trails off and another one of those terribly old expressions flickers across his face. "I must be too tired."

The familiar jibe about laziness springs to the tip of Arthur's tongue but he swallows it down. If this happens all the time, or with enough frequency that Merlin seems more irritated by its presence than worried, then he's starting to wonder if Merlin really is lazy at all.

"Sorry."

It's so quiet Arthur almost doesn't hear it. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Merlin says again, sounding so genuine and so upset about it that Arthur's reaching out before he realizes it, stopping himself just in time, "I know…I know you want the chores done."

"It's alright."

"Really?"

Arthur glances around his chambers. Sure, they're not pristine, but they're at the very least passable and a damn sight near cleaner than the way some of the squire's rooms are kept. No one other than him and Merlin are going to be in here, after all, and those few that do come in aren't likely to be in any position to scold him for the state of his room.

"Yeah, Merlin, it's alright. If you can't do it, you can't do it."

Merlin's gaze slides to him suspiciously. "Why're you being so…nice about this?"

Arthur shrugs, feigning a casualness as he leans back to lie down. "It's not like this place is a pigsty. And you…you're a dramatic sod when you want to be but I can tell you're not lying."

"I'm not."

"I just said that."

He watches carefully as Merlin takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. Arthur lifts a hand to rest against his back, offer some comfort, but he clenches his fist and sets it purposefully back down on the bed.

"What's it like?"

"Huh?"

"Whatever's happening to you right now, what's it like?"

Merlin pauses for a moment, searching for the right words, before he sighs and lies back too. Arthur turns to look at him. "It's like—it's like something is buzzing right under my skin, telling me I have all these things I need to do. Like holding the reins too tightly on a horse that just wants to run."

"Could you…let the reins go?"

Merlin shakes his head. "I'm not holding them."

A small smile comes to Arthur's face. "You calling yourself a horse, then?"

He chuckles as Merlin swats halfheartedly at him. "No, you prat, it's like—it's like—"

"Take your time."

"Thanks." Merlin takes a deep breath. "It's like…it's like I'm in one of those tanks Gaius has. The big glass ones. I'm inside and everything I have to do is banging on the outside, yelling at me to do it. And I just…I can't. I'm just sitting there, on the ground, alone inside the glass."

Arthur falls silent, staring up at the ceiling. The picture Merlin paints renders itself vividly in his mind's eye; Merlin, alone, looking as helpless and forlorn as he does now, in the center of a massive glass cage with countless people screaming at him, banging on the glass as he stares unseeing into the distance.

It's…not a pleasant image.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, "that sounds…awful."

"Trying to do something is like pulling teeth. Every part of me is telling me how much I need to do it, but my body just won't respond. Even getting up."

"I'm sorry."

"'S not your fault."

"I'm the one giving you all the chores."

A small huff of a laugh, but it makes Arthur's chest feel lighter all the same. "It's hard with non-chores too, like getting up for a drink, even eating."

"Does Gaius know about it?"

"Yeah."

"Does he…help?"

Merlin sighs. "Not really. He knows what it's called and everything, can tell me exactly what's happening from one of those massive books he has, but he can't help. Not really."

"What's the point of a physician if they can't help when something's wrong with you?"

"You can ask him that."

They lie there in silence for a little longer. A horse trots by outside; they can hear the hoofbeats and the creak of the wagon wheels. Someone laughs. A bird calls. The well creaks as the bucket is drawn up.

"This helps," Merlin mumbles, "just…lying here with you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well. That's good." He turns to look at him again. "I do have a very comfortable bed."

Merlin chuckles. "Yes, you do."

"This your way of confessing to all those naps I know you take during the day when you think I'm not here?"

"…you know about those?"

"Oh, yes, Merlin, I know about them. You're lucky today was the first time I hit you with a pillow." At Merlin's obvious discomfort, he relents, shifting around on his very comfortable bed. "It's alright. I know you're tired. And you always remake the bed afterwards."

"If you keep being this nice to me, I really am going to start getting worried."

"Merlin."

It's worth it for the second laugh he gets, bringing a smile to his own face.

"If you had a broken leg," he says instead, "I wouldn't be making you do anything either."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"Alright, I'd be making sure you rested and got help from the other servants to do your chores, but I wouldn't just pretend that your leg wasn't broken and that nothing was wrong. It's the same for this. You're—something is wrong, Merlin, I'm not so much of a tosser that I'm just going to ignore that."

Merlin turns to look at him, fringe falling into his face. Arthur has to clench his hands by his side to stop himself from reaching to brush it out of the way.

"Thanks."

"'Course."

"Will you—er, having someone else—I mean—"

Arthur waits as Merlin screws his eyes shut, clearly wrestling with his words, before opening his mouth again.

"Having you here is helping," he mumbles, the tips of his ears flushing a bright red, "so…if you want to stay, I'd…that'd be nice."

"Sure, Merlin. I'll stay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Merlin's grin is making Arthur's chest do all sorts of weird things and he's not sure how he feels about it.

"So," Merlin says, shifting a little, "how was the Council meeting?"

Arthur just groans.

"That good, hm?"

"You have no idea."

"We're not going anywhere for a while," he says, "you can tell me."

Arthur hums. That does sound nice. Getting some time to vent while lying around, not doing anything…Merlin's right here, they don't have to go anywhere, no one's going to come and bother them…

Before he loses his courage, he reaches out and carefully takes Merlin's hand in his.

After a moment, Merlin's fingers wrap around his and squeeze.

Arthur smiles up at the ceiling.

"So, it started with my father demanding we increase patrol for the third time this season—"

"Oh, I'm sure they loved that."

"Right? So he keeps on about it for about ten minutes before Leon tells him he's full of it—"

"Wait, Leon what?"

[mayapleiades]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

I was tagged by the absolutely wonderful @excited-insomniac - thank you darling! I haven't done one of those in a while since brain refused to cooperate, but this one is going to be quick, since I have literally published a grand total of six fics lmao

The Knight of the Cart Comedic Retelling - the greatest thing I've ever written, merely because I had so much fun while writing it and banged this out in less than a month, which for me, is a lot. Arthuriana, 17k. Parody of Chrétien de Troyes' Lancelot the Knight of the Cart, written because I was trying to explain it to a friend and couldn't keep it short. No knowledge of the original is needed. Fun and light stuff, which is apparently my brand.

Toad Days - once again in the fun and cracky domain. BBC Merlin, Gen, 4k. Merlin accidentally transforms Arthur into a toad, and chaos ensues. It's the first fanfiction I've ever published, and I will forever be happy that the honour went to this one.

----ing Wizards - yep, still funny stuff. BBC Merlin, Gen, 900 words. Based on a Terry Pratchett quote. Arthur and Gwaine drunkenly come to terms with Merlin having magic. Written in mere hours while possessed by a writing demon. The friend who gave me the idea told me I managed to do Terry Pratchett justice, which is probably the greatest compliment I've ever received on my writing.

Love Languages - finally departing from the crack. BBC Merlin, Mergwenthur, 5k, still a WIP - but since it's a series of vignettes, can be read on its own. 5+1 mornings in a parallel season 5 where nothing changes except for Mergwenthur - until something actually does change in the end, of course. I think it has some of my best writing to date.

The Seduction of Merlin of Ealdor - this is just pure pwp. BBC Merlin, Merwainlot, 5.5k. I just love the chaos trio, and Dom!Lancelot, and I was absolutely delighted that a friend gave me the excuse to combine the two and write this. Writing porn proved to be incredibly hard, especially as an ace person, and I'm really proud of the result.

Tagging, with absolutely no pressure, @citharaposts @flight-of-fantasy @sparkly-angell @aeonthedimensionalgirl @highfunctioning-clotpole and anyone else who'd like to join!

[bassguitarinablackt-shirt]

ASHERRRRRRRRR

CLOTPOLEEEEEE

[secretivemessenger]

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. I wager you couldn't empty a boot of excrement were the instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have to us who think and reason? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh.

You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed , drooling meatslapper. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I'm sorry. I can't go on.

This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don't have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half-baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known, that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You're an idiot. A moron of the highest order. You're so stupid it's a wonder and a pity you can remember to breath. Intelligent ideas bounce off your head as if it were coated with teflon. Creative thoughts take alternate transportation in order to avoid even being in the same state as you. If you had an original thought it would die of loneliness before the hour was out. On an intelligence scale of 1 to 10 (10 corresponding to the highest attainable IQ) you're rating is so far into negative numbers that one would need to travel into another quantum reality in order to even catch a distant glimpse of it.

Your personality is that of a rabid Chihuahua intent on destroying its own tail. Your powers of observation are akin to those of the bird that keeps slamming into the picture window trying to get that other bird it keeps seeing. You are walking, talking proof that you don't have to be sentient to survive, and that Barnum was thinking of you when he uttered his immortal phrase regarding the birth of a sucker. You are, at varying times, tedious, boring, and even occasionally earth shatteringly hilarious in your idiocy, routinely childish, moronic, pathetic, wretched, disgusting and pitiful.

You are wholly without any redeeming social grace or value. If God ever decides to give the planet an enema you'd better run like the wind because anywhere you stand is a suitable place for The Insertion. There is no animal so disgusting, so vile that it deserves comparison to you, for even the lowest, dirtiest, most parasitic member of the animal kingdom fills an ecological niche. You fill no niche. To call you a parasite would be injurious and defamatory to the thousands of honest parasitic species. You are worse than vermin, for vermin do not pretend to be what it is not. You are truly human garbage. You are a fraudulent, lying, predatory charlatan. You are of less worth than a burnt-out light bulb. You will forever live in shame.

You have nothing to say, and Godwin's Law does not apply when writing about you. You are the anti-Midas, for all that you touch becomes valueless and unusable. Mothers gather their children close when you appear. You are an aberration, a corruption, and a boil that needs to be lanced. You are a poison in need of being vomited. You are a tooth so rotten it infects the whole body. You are sperm that should have been captured in a condom and flushed down a toilet.

I don't like you. I don't like anybody who has as little respect for others as you do. Go away, you swine. You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, and a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon. You are a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. Meaningful to no one, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts that sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I wretch at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, and the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell? Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. You are a waste of flesh. On a good day you're a halfwit. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, study, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libellous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystrophic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, abrasive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, and socially-retarded.

Shut up and go away lest you achieve the physical retribution your behaviour merits.

Thank you for your kind attention to and expected cooperation in this matter.

Yeah I ain’t reading all of that- fuck you

[lover-of-midnight]

Hair’s breath from death.

Merlin swallowed the curses that wanted to slip out of his mouth. Why on earth did Arthur think this was a good idea? No, that stupid clotpole always has to do what he thinks is the best.

And look now. Merlin whipped the blood away as well as he could, but it was never-ending. He glared at the still figure under him.

“You do not get to die! You will bloody hell survive this, that I can rip you a new one.” His voice broke slightly as he spoke.

For a moment he glanced around the clearing wondering if he can do this. The other knights were all around them, some having received serious injuries themselves. He forced himself to breathe normally.

If he doesn’t get this sword out of Arthur as fast as possible, well he will be dead within the next half an hour. But if he uses magic to heal the wound even just a little bit, there is a chance that someone would see.

And then what?

“Lancelot!” Merlin easily called the knight over. When the man was closed enough, he spoke with a mere whisper. “I need to use magic. Can you keep the other knights as distracted as possible please?”

The man just gave Merlin a nod. Knowing that the servant would do whatever it would take to keep the prince safe. Well to do that he needs someone that will keep him safe.

So that is exactly what Lancelot did. Keeping the men directed to him for medical help as Merlin focused on Arthur.

Merlin grimaced slightly as he pulled the sword out. Blood splattered against his arms and face.

His eyes glowed gold as he muttered a strong healing spell. Just enough to heal the inside, and outside he would be able to handle himself. Merlin kept the spell going until the colour started to return to Arthur’s face.

He took a step back when he was certain that Arthur wouldn’t just fall over and die. Well, the fact that he was already on the ground he wouldn’t fall.

“What am I going to do with you? I told you this was a stupid idea. You are messing with stuff you have no idea what it can do. And you do not want to learn.” Merlin’s voice cracked slightly as he cleaned and stitched the wound.

“And one day I won’t be able to be there for you. And you will fail. What then Arthur? Who is going to fill your shoes? The one and future king? The one that will unite that is all of Albion?” Merlin forced the shake out of his hands.

His quiet rant continued as he worked, knowing that Arthur wouldn’t hear it, that he more than likely won’t be able to remember the fight even.

When Merlin was finally certain that he would be alright he started to assist the other knights as much as he could, using magic to keep everyone that was still clinging to life alive.

It would hopefully keep until they reach the castle.

When they finally made camp for the night, Lancelot settled down next to Merlin. “How are you coping?” His voice was low as he poked at the fire slightly.

Merlin was silent for a few seconds as he tried to blink the tears out of his eyes. “I wish I understand why he is doing this. He knows about his destiny. But how can he reach his destiny if he is dead?” Merlin glanced at the figure near the fire. Sleeping peacefully for the moment.

“It is more than just that isn’t it Merls?” Lancelot made sure to keep his voice low, knowing that this information in the wrong hands can hurt Merlin in the long run.

Merlin was silent for a few seconds before he could just nod. It was no secret that he cared for Arthur a little bit more than he should. That he would give his life to keep Arthur safe.

“And then he gets himself legitly impaled by a bloody sword.” Lancelot looked up to the summer sky. “You need to speak with him. Before the regret eats you alive.” He placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Hoping to give him some strength.

“Maybe when we get back to the castle and he made a recovery. Maybe then.” Merlin gave Lancelot a tired smile.

The days passed slowly as they made their way back to the castle. Sending out a scout with a message to try and get some help sooner.

Knowing that the king would be pissed off with this mission being a fail.  All Merlin could do was try and keep the knights that were injured as comfortable as possible and their wounds clean.

If he spend a little bit more time next to Arthur’s side, no one said anything.

It was almost a fourth night before Merlin was finally able to speak with Arthur. Said man's injuries were just starting to heal properly even with the healing magic Merlin was applying daily.

And if the knights' tonics and salves had some extra kick to them with magic. Well, Merlin simply decided what no one knows won’t hurt them.

“Arthur, can I speak with you?” Merlin sat down on Arthur’s bed, not caring if he wanted to speak or not.

Arthur was silent as he just gave Merlin a look. Merlin ignored the disgruntled look as he looked at Arthur.

“Why didn’t you listen?” His voice cracked slightly. A tremor ran through his body as he looked at the prince.

The silence was all that met him.

“I know that you want to impress your father. But when is the cost too high for this? You can’t keep on doing this Arthur!” Merlin ran his fingers through his hair. Wishing he could understand why he was even trying.

When the silence simply fall over them, Merlin continued the rant. “I can’t loos you, and I know you will just call me a girl’s petticoat. But I really can’t lose you. You are my best friend, the one person except for my mom I will lay my life down. I can’t keep on doing this Arthur.

“I can’t keep on seeing you riding out to futile missions. To see you getting hurt. You would have died out there. And if it wasn’t for the fact that I have magic, you would have died!” Merlin forced himself upright.

“You would have died and I don’t think you care.” Before Merlin could continue Arthur pulled Merlin down next to him, just holding him close.

“I am sorry.”  A bittersweet three words, knowing that there won’t be any real change. Arthur would continue to do what Uther commands of him. And one day when it claims his life. He will go with a smile on his face.

But for now, all he could say was that he is sorry. That he hoped that Merlin could understand. That somewhy he survived and that they won’t get rid of him so easily.

And for the moment they will be okay. They will hug and stay together, both knowing that it will happen in dues time again. 

Ao3

[realisticsans]

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. I wager you couldn't empty a boot of excrement were the instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have to us who think and reason? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh.

You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed , drooling meatslapper. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I'm sorry. I can't go on.

This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don't have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half-baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known, that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You're an idiot. A moron of the highest order. You're so stupid it's a wonder and a pity you can remember to breath. Intelligent ideas bounce off your head as if it were coated with teflon. Creative thoughts take alternate transportation in order to avoid even being in the same state as you. If you had an original thought it would die of loneliness before the hour was out. On an intelligence scale of 1 to 10 (10 corresponding to the highest attainable IQ) you're rating is so far into negative numbers that one would need to travel into another quantum reality in order to even catch a distant glimpse of it.

Your personality is that of a rabid Chihuahua intent on destroying its own tail. Your powers of observation are akin to those of the bird that keeps slamming into the picture window trying to get that other bird it keeps seeing. You are walking, talking proof that you don't have to be sentient to survive, and that Barnum was thinking of you when he uttered his immortal phrase regarding the birth of a sucker. You are, at varying times, tedious, boring, and even occasionally earth shatteringly hilarious in your idiocy, routinely childish, moronic, pathetic, wretched, disgusting and pitiful.

You are wholly without any redeeming social grace or value. If God ever decides to give the planet an enema you'd better run like the wind because anywhere you stand is a suitable place for The Insertion. There is no animal so disgusting, so vile that it deserves comparison to you, for even the lowest, dirtiest, most parasitic member of the animal kingdom fills an ecological niche. You fill no niche. To call you a parasite would be injurious and defamatory to the thousands of honest parasitic species. You are worse than vermin, for vermin do not pretend to be what it is not. You are truly human garbage. You are a fraudulent, lying, predatory charlatan. You are of less worth than a burnt-out light bulb. You will forever live in shame.

You have nothing to say, and Godwin's Law does not apply when writing about you. You are the anti-Midas, for all that you touch becomes valueless and unusable. Mothers gather their children close when you appear. You are an aberration, a corruption, and a boil that needs to be lanced. You are a poison in need of being vomited. You are a tooth so rotten it infects the whole body. You are sperm that should have been captured in a condom and flushed down a toilet.

I don't like you. I don't like anybody who has as little respect for others as you do. Go away, you swine. You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, and a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon. You are a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. Meaningful to no one, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts that sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I wretch at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, and the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell? Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. You are a waste of flesh. On a good day you're a halfwit. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, study, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libellous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystrophic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, abrasive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, and socially-retarded.

Shut up and go away lest you achieve the physical retribution your behaviour merits.

Thank you for your kind attention to and expected cooperation in this matter.

[citharaposts]

Merthur Moments from Every Episode S2Ep1 The Curse of Cornelius Sigan Prev | Next Sidenote: If you want a fic where Arthur hears Merlin's speech to Sigan and becomes aware of his magic then let me recommend We Can Always Run by @queerofthedagger It's an absolute masterpiece and one of my fave merthur fics.

[fandomfoundmyart]

"Clotpole"

"Idiot"

The only decent digital art i have ever done, but i still don't rly like it :/

Inspired by @soia-jpg 's wonderful pjo art with hands, but i made it bbc merlin

Click for better quality

[arthur-rex]

ultimusdracodominus + canon!arthur

Plotted starter // @ultimusdracodominus​

“The Prince’s manservant. Yeah, the scrawny one. The King’s just given the order for his arrest. What for? Beats me. I just follow orders.”

Arthur keeps his back to the castle wall. Listening intently. Less than half an hour ago, he had been out on the grounds, training his men. His father had apparently thought to catch both him and Merlin unawares. Separated, and without recourse to question the decision until it was already carried out.

Tutting under his breath, Arthur’s eyes narrow as he peers around a pillar of white stone, watching the two guards make their way towards the Court Physician’s chambers. Would Merlin be helping Gaius at this hour with his herbal remedies? Unlikely, since Arthur had rather fortuitously decided to instruct his manservant to clean his bedchamber and prepare a bath for his relaxation after putting the knights through their paces. Arthur still has time to warn Merlin of the danger he seems somehow to have landed himself in.

Taking a quicker route to his rooms, the prince breaks through the door, heart hammering as he scans the chamber for ay sign of the boy with his mop of dark curls, wide sardonic smile and a mix match of scruffy clothes a few sizes too big for him.

“Merlin?”

Arthur looks towards the hearth. It is well lit, as is the rest of the chamber with candles. Merlin knows how he likes to stay up late after washing to work through reports. Working too late often made the prince a terrible man to rouse in the mornings, however. Arthur chews on his lower lip, wondering where the clotpole has got to. A loud bang of a closing cabinet door behind him turns his head.

“Merlin! Excellent, you were just setting aside my clothes for tomorrow’s council session weren’t you? Put them in a separate bag, and make sure you grab a few of those apples on the table as well. You’re leaving. Tonight. Take it-”

Striding forward and gripping the other man’s arm, Arthur hauls Merlin across, picking up a leather backpack as he does so. A set of Arthur’s clothes, tunic, breeches and belt are thrust inside. So too is the fruit, acting as meagre rations. Hands reach out and snatch a small blanket lying folded up on the coverlet of Arthur’s bed to strap down on top of the travel pack.

A change of clothes, food and a blanket for the night while Merlin went on the run. It’s not a lot, but it’s the most Arthur can offer at such short notice.

Aware of his manservant’s confusion (well it had to be confusion, right?) Arthur lowers his voice, tone laced with concern.

“You’re under arrest Merlin. For what reason I can’t fathom, but I can hazard a guess that you’ve managed, yet again, to do something exceptionally foolish. Did you say something out of turn to my father’s guest? You know the Sarrum does not take insults, even subtle ones, well.”

Manhandling his servant even further, Arthur spins the boy around, making sure the backpack goes over his shoulders. Merlin still hasn’t been able to get a word in edgeways, but that’s because Arthur’s panicking. He knows they don’t have much time.

Not if he plans to get Merlin out before the order for his arrest is made city-wide.