They Really Are Two Sides Of The Same Coin I Cant

I wanna be able to do this with my girlfriend buried under the biggest hoodie imaginable and give her little kisses and tickles and scribbles but nooooooo instead i am forced to lie here alone, on my stomach with my hands tapping the keyboard instead of her sides ;-;

He's been there for hours-

Reblogging for the pun lol

AHHHHHHSHJDJWJJWJKKSOJWICBQKDLSJDQKHJSCNKSNCKSKDNCKDNFKWKSMD WTF WHY IS THIS SO GOOD HOLY SHIT I WAS GOING DOWN THE EMYRS TAG RABBIT HOLE AND CAME ACROSS THIS AND HOLY FUCK ANDOZMISBCJAJKD

of the old religion

there are consequences to being a creature of magic, of the old religion, of power and energy given form.

merlin is not human, no matter what he thinks. the body he has is just a second skin, a coat over the tumultuous magic beneath, so that it had shape, form. he looks human, he thinks human, he feels human. but he is not truly human.

it’s why shapeshifting spells work so well upon him. he’s not changing himself, just the look of the skin he’s wearing. the magic beneath has no true form, and thus cannot be changed when it is everything everywhere all at once.

(the magic that makes merlin is the magic that makes the world, so it has no shape and to look upon it with mortal eyes would be a headache inducing, nauseating ever-shifting thing, that moves through different features of different magical beings like the water of a lake rippling.)

OR

someone with a deep connection to the old religion can see that emrys is no true human. just a creature of magic wearing a human skin, a shapeshifter that refuses to show its true form. (because people say emrys is magic, but no one truly understands the roiling thing living and breathing inside his skin. so obviously there has to be a true form of emrys underneath the image of merlin.)

so they decide to rip that human skin off. force the shape beneath to show itself. tear away the visage of merlin to leave behind only emrys, the creature that will bring magic back to the land or so help them.

it takes a lot of energy and power, and the use of ancient artifacts of the old religion that have been slowly gathering magic for centuries. but they manage it, they bind the human skin to an object, and tear the object away, to leave behind only emrys.

…

except emrys is not made for mortal eyes. especially not the eyes of someone who had hurt them and tore away their shape, their form. (because emrys, as a creature of magic, is still heartbreakingly young. a child, really. maybe that’s why merlin is still so wide-eyed all the time. still young at heart, even as his body looks older.)

so they look upon emrys and burn.

and emrys, lost and confused and hurt and not understanding— where is their body why do they hurt what is wrong with them they are constantly changing shapes and cannot control it and theyre so scared— flees to the only thing they know for sure. and behind them, amongst the mess of ash and scorched earth that once was alive, the object holding their skin lies abandoned, forgotten.

OR

arthur finds the embodiment of magic huddled up against his bedroom window. he doesn’t recognize it immediately as such, but it glows golden and cannot seem to stop subtlety changing shape and growing features that were not there before while losing others. and really, he picks up on the fact eventually.

to reiterate, arthur pendragon, son of the magic-hating king, a young man who had not yet decided if he would hate it the same, has the embodiment of magic hiding outside his window.

he shouldn’t open it. shouldn’t let the pathetic, forcing-itself-to-be-small thing inside.

it howls and cries without words, a sad and fearful air pressing down on him, begging begging helphelphelphelpsomethingswrongsomethingswrongtheytookawaymybodyarthurarthurarthurhelphelphelphelphe—

arthur opens the window.

as the magic flies in, it takes a more solid, in the loosest form of the word, form, dragon-like and small. young. it hides in the crook of his neck, tucks its head in close and shivers.

arthur feels almost like he has let in a frightened bird, it is so small and fluttery.

merlin’s gone missing and there is something small and magical and highly illegal hiding against the small hollow between his neck and shoulders.

he leaves it there.

OR

arthur holds a power he does not quite understand in his hands. he knows it is greater than its form, can feel the pressing weight of something that belies the tiny body.

he knows it is magic. perhaps that is all he really needs to know.

and then he does something that feels exceedingly foolish.

“i’m looking for merlin, my… manservant,” he begins, and the golden thing ripples like a lake in the wind, “can you find where he was taken?”

at least seven eyes blink into existence upon the roiling magical creature, all of them looking up at arthur. another blink, and then they vanish. in their place, wings sprout, some of them draconian in shape, others more bird-like and feathery.

a tail, tiny and yet impossibly strong, wraps around his wrist, and the thing takes flight, pulling him along.

the knights startle, when arthur appears, being seemingly dragged behind a creature no bigger than a songbird, and so breathtakingly magical in spite of it.

“well?” arthur asks, acerbic. “prepare your steeds. we’ve finally gotten a lead on merlin.”

OR

they find a wasteland.

there is nothing left alive in a large circle, all of it surrounding an ancient building now nothing but rubble. the life is not burned away, or diseased into nothing, or anything that could be argued as natural.

instead, it is a wasteland that magic had abandoned. that intrinsic thing within all things, alive and not, had fled this place, ushered out by a fearful and terrified little godling ripped away from the only skin-home it had ever known.

nothing lives here and nothing will ever live here.

it is an ill omen indeed.

and then they discover the sorcerer’s bones, and the fact that said sorcerer was not in fact working alone.

“you,” the only other living being in about a mile spits out like a curse, upon sighting the king, “what have you done with them? where is the being below the skin?”

none of the knights nor the king understand. the little creature of magic had hidden itself in the folds of arthur’s cape, another golden draconian insignia among the rest.

“the what?” arthur asks.

“where is emrys?” the sorcerer spits, summoning a stream of fire heading directly for the king.

magic itself, given form, bursts from the camelot red cape, all golden edges and vengeful anger, the tiny thing no larger than an arm suddenly expanding rapidly. it forms a gigantic serpent, or something like it, lithe and long, but with the beak of a bird of prey, eyes like a feline, a unicorn’s horn on its head. it eats the fire whole, and the giant form bears down on the suddenly cowering sorcerer.

“but—but we freed you,” they mutter, afraid, “we released you from the human shell containing you. how else… how else could you bring back magic…?”

the thing cannot speak, it has no way to do so. what it can do is press feeling into your head. whatever this is, it is so powerful everyone there can feel it, and perhaps even some that are much further away.

G I V E I T B A C K.

it feels nothing like the helpless pained crying that arthur had heard from outside his window, like a yowling alley cat. this monster is nothing like the little bird-like afraid thing that had hidden in his collar, tucked against his throat. this beast of dripping fangs and deadly edges is almost completely separate from the creature of fluttery wings and wide eyes.

and yet he can hear something distinctly afraid in the wailing howl.

it is still desperate and afraid. it’s just angry enough now to cover it up.

Wow this obsession is sudden

so im posting my merthur wip hope its decent. concept is that there’s a shapeshifter that appears as your greatest love. Arthur has gone to tackle this alone and mysteriously. Merlin has followed him because of course. We are in the woods.

——

Merlin felt like he was intruding, seeing Arthur so openly in love like this. The envy festered in his belly, green and sickening.

And then the shapeshifter appeared. Dark, messy hair, an open grin, a clumsy gait, and a very familiar outfit.

Oh gods.

It was him.

Merlin was stuck fast, wide eyed, his heart pounding in his chest. This was not something he had ever prepared for. Not even something he thought could happen. Arthur cared for him? What on earth had that thing said to him to get him to follow?

He fast reasoned that it must be a platonic bond, built on trust, that cemented him as Arthur’s greatest love. His greatest love. Romance was clearly out of the question here.

And yet.

Merlin’s mouth fell open in shock as the siren ran his fingertips slowly over Arthur’s shoulders, and down his strong arms. He could almost feel the contours of Arthur’s body on his own fingertips. Having dressed Arthur so often, he knew the planes of his arms and shoulders almost like the back of his own hands. Long had he dreamed of tracing them like this. He gasped aloud when the shapeshifter tugged on his sword belt, causing Arthur to laugh, undoing it and throwing it into the undergrowth.

Merlin should have been concerned that the thing had disarmed him, but he was far more focused on its clear mission in touching as much of Arthur as possible. Its hands slipped under his white tunic, Arthur laughing as they awkwardly tried to remove it. They finally got it off him, Arthur dramatically throwing his shirt as he tugged Not-Merlin towards him to kiss his neck, Arthur’s hands running through its hair. Merlin breathed desperately, watching his love shiver as shapeshifter kissed and licked at his neck, bliss evident on his face.

Merlin’s blood seemingly had no idea what to do with itself or where to go. He should probably put a stop to this, and save Arthur, but watching his fantasies come to life was quite riveting, actually. The siren annoyingly had Merlin down to a tee. He watched himself melt into Arthur’s touch, and whisper something into Arthur’s ear that made him chuckle. Arthur smiled back.

“I’m yours.” He said, loving and earnest.

He then boldly took its face in his hands-

Merlin snapped back into reality. He had to do something now. He leapt out of his hiding spot and tumbled down the bank.

“Arthur! That isn’t me!” He shouted, feet slipping on the muddy ground as he rushed towards them.

Arthur turned to Merlin, and jumped away from the siren as if he was burned, his face flushing red with shock and embarrassment. He looked between the creature and Merlin frantically.

“What are you doing here?”

“Saving your life, you git!” Merlin grabbed the shapeshifter’s arms, and shoved it away from Arthur, tackling it to the floor. It was very odd fighting himself, but his self loathing was deep enough that it was fairly therapeutic.

Arthur had somehow turned redder, with embarrassment or fury, Merlin wasn’t sure. “Well at least I know you’re the real you, this thing didn’t disrespect me once.”

“It had a bloody good go at it though! Good job I got here.”

“Yes, great job, well done Merlin.” Arthur said through gritted teeth.

Arthur, at this point, was feeling many things, most of which he couldn’t bring himself put into words. Confusion, horror, and the flames of embarrassment coursed through his whole body. However, watching Merlin frantically wrestle with himself also let in a few flickers of something that shot down into his belly, that he probably shouldn’t have been feeling in such a grave situation. He winced at his own insanity, and focused on the matter at hand, desperately searching in the leafy undergrowth for his sword belt.

The siren managed to push Merlin off, flipping them over, pressing his wrists into the mud. He was pinned there by the thing, still looking up at his own face, vindictive and angry.

“Ah… what have we here… you’re a different one, aren’t you. Complicated.” Merlin winced, as the thing tightened its grip, nails digging into flesh. “Must be difficult looking at your own face with so much self hatred. How’s this one?”

Merlin watched in horror as the siren’s face morphed from his own into exactly who he suspected he would see. Dark curls unfurled into a soft blonde, his narrow jaw became strong, square, and he saw the face he had shaved so many times, the eyes he saw blinking into the morning sun every day, settle before him on the face of the siren. The weight on him changed: Arthur’s shape was stronger, heavier. The hands around his wrists became familiar, callouses from sword fighting blooming on its palms, and he couldn’t help but slightly relax into its touch.

He dared not look up and catch the real Arthur’s reaction. He hoped he was still searching for his sword.

The siren smiled with Arthur’s face, soft and loving. Merlin had seen that smile on him just moments earlier, when he first broke into the clearing. He craved this. His traitorous heart filled with bittersweet joy.

Why is this how my girlfriends cuddle

sleepy guys

GUYS HELP MY GIRLFRIEND WAS BUSY AND COULDNT LOOK AT HER PHONE AND I MISS HER AND I ENDED UP RAMBLING FOR AN HOUR STRAIGHT BUT REALLY AN HOUR GAY I MEAN JESUS ON A POGO STICK I REALLY RAMBLED AND SHE ACTUALLY SAW IT NOW AND ANDJWBDJWBIGJEKGJEIFBKSJGIDHF

In love with the idea prophecies could never be prevented but trying to stop them makes only the craziest possible ways an outcome could happen happen

Odysseus Does Raise Him as His Own

And a seven-year-old Astyanax accidentally burns part of Ithica's castle down because he knocked a candle over. He's really sorry about it though, super sorry, please don't tell his new big brother -

Odysseus has been laughing at the king of the gods for the past three hours.

The oracles work in mysterious ways.

Why is this actually so sweet and pretty aksjsidhjdfhjdhcjdhfudjdjdj

i was gonna do more with this but i think this is about as far as ill go. maybe. who knows. happy late valentines <3

percy who refuses to let his anger into his home. percy who refuses to hug or kiss annabeth when he's angry because he doesn't want his interactions with her to be poisoned by his rage. percy who sits outside or goes for a drive or a walk until he calms down before reentering his home because he refuses to be the angry man that haunts a home, he refuses to become like gabe. if annabeth catches him off guard when he's angry, he tries to keep a distance as he trembles with rage that he tries so hard to quell because he doesn't want to scare her (again) or somehow hurt her. annabeth who reaches out to help him and assure him that it's fine. percy's hands that shake with anger and fear all tied in one, his touch feather light and barely there because he's afraid if he gives himself an inch with her, his wrath will explode from within him and he'll become the monster of his nightmares, the monster of his mother's nightmares.

The little sword flicks aiwnsjdndksmxmdmdmdkkskdjfjd

One of my favorite things in Merlin is how you can clearly see Bradley James getting sword fighting training and improving at it as time goes on. Like, season 1, all Arthur sword fights are Duels With Helmets and minimal closeups, and then by the end of the show he's doing these choreographed long takes that look effortless. I just love seeing the progression.