Colin, Bradley And That Origami Interview

Hunith’s baby is home :”)

Merlin and Arthur in a fight/argument, so Merlin takes Excalibur in the middle of the night and goes to the square market and magically stuffs it in something stony.

The next day the peasants see it and are curious. Some men and children try to pull it out. It doesn’t work. Knights and guards come by to see what the crowd is about. They recognise the sword and try to stand guard while someone goes tell the king. Some try pull it out themselves.

Meanwhile the King goes crazy because his prized possession is missing and Merlin just insists that he has no idea where it might be. When Arthur is told that Excalibur was sighted but couldn’t be retreated the dread sets in.

He knows if he goes to the sword and couldn’t pull it out because Merlin was still angry at him his people will think less of him. So he declares that it was his doing to see if there is anyone in his kingdom worthier than him to be king. At the same time he tries to come up with a plan to win his sorcerer over again.

modern arthur loves stealing merlin's clothes <3

(hc: merlin owns an obscene amount of wizard/magic merchandise because leon finds it hilarious and gifts merlin everything he can find)

Germany, 2020, Merthur

Merlin fandom: reblog with where you’re from, when you started watching the show, and your otp. It’s for science. 

I’ll start. U.S. 2015. ArMor. 

Got a bribe from an anon.

I always say that I will never do something like this ever again and I have shot my foot yet again...

drei ??? line-up! (firm believer of justus socken in sandalen)

heavily inspired by @captbexx i hope you dont mind :o

More Merlin doodle oodles from my school notebook

George’s favourite moment of each month

Yeehaw and abracayodle

Arthur is an Ally (a meme redraw)

I mucked up his proportions. Was going to scribble it out. But the chaos demon within me said “no. No…. Destined for meme greatness”

Tater tot date (incorrect quote from a tumblr post)

and Hate Date, 6th Century CE on Tapestry

yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: yours is the darkness of my soul's return —you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars

Happy 16th anniversary, Merlin! (timelapse available here ✨)

“You look like a startled stoat.” - Arthur Pendragon to Merlin, 3x05: The Crystal Cave

He says it as an insult, and Merlin reacts like it’s an insult. I have to say, it’s a pretty shit insult considering what a stoat is.

This is was a stoat looks like to those who don’t know:

Yes Arthur, you roasted him so good! He’s clearly so ugly and stupid looking for you to compare him to this disgusting creature! Just look at how hideous it is!

ADDITION FROM LOOKING AT REBLOGS/COMMENTS: I have been blessed with the perfect pictures to compare Merlin and the stoat. Behold!

arthur knows there is something to be said of the way a man wears his scars.

his father wears his, an angry silver cord right above his eyebrow, with defiant pride. time and time again, he has seen a visiting noble alight their gaze on the mar, and his father's bellicose stare in return, a silent war between them. i have survived this, the king would say without words. i will survive you.

on his father's men, a constellation of pink, raised flesh-- a rope of gnarled skin on sir bedivere's left arm from the slice of a blade; a thick, white tear in the fabric of ector's neck. when arthur's young, he sits by fires and listens to the tales of bandits, beasts, and brethren who leave the marks on the warriors who arthur loves.

and, in time, they come to arthur. a snaking vine on arthur's right hip. a thin slice along his left bicep. none of them grow angry and purple the way he's seen after the battle dust settles. he's lucky, in that regard, that all his settle into the skin like they belong there. a man who wears his scars not without pride, but whose scars wear him with the same reverence.

his new knights collect them with the same wonder arthur first collected his. a memory of a battle well fought. a time where death reached out its hand and missed. i have survived this. i will survive you.

but they never come to merlin.

at first, when he's young and naive to all the things merlin has done for him, it stands to reason that merlin is never scarred. he doesn't do anything. later, when the truth outs, arthur knows that was as foolish a thought as trusting his father blindly.

merlin fights alongside him, now, in their older years. he watches as blade lunges, as arrow pierces, as spear aims-- and yet, merlin walks away from battle without a scratch. surely, arthur thinks, merlin has just been lucky. maybe his scars are like arthur's-- not quite as visible as his father's, as his men's. hidden underneath cloth and armour.

merlin shares his battlefield, his kingdom, and-- on the luckiest night of arthur's life-- decides to share his bed, too.

it's after arthur has run his hands over every inch merlin will allow him that he realises. not once, in the fog of their union, did arthur's fingers ever stumble over raised skin, divots or grooves.

"what's wrong?" merlin asks, his voice quiet, his lips pressed to where their hands are joined. "tell me if you're about to kick me out of your bed, at least, so i can figure out how i am going to walk after all that."

it's a joke to mask how scared merlin must feel. this is a new development, though one as easy as breath, as predictable as the sun rising in the sky. arthur will tell him that later. for now, though--

"you promised," he whispers into merlin's neck, "to keep nothing more from me."

merlin frowns, his brows drawn together. "i haven't? i mean, if you're talking about my affections, surely we can both admit that yours were the more hidden--"

arthur places a hand over the groove of a lower rib. "here," he says, "is where you were almost run through by bandits, a few seasons ago." his fingers trail down to a hip. "here, you intervened in my fight with some beast or another, and i had to watch gaius give you stitches. and here--"

merlin stops his hand, sucks in a breath. "arthur."

"did you use magic to heal?" arthur finds he isn't angry, not in the way he expects. "i understand, merlin. you had to explain away so much; it would make sense--"

"it's a glamour," merlin admits in the space between his words.

arthur frowns. "a glamour."

merlin can only nod.

arthur knows what the word means, sort of, from the magical instruction and history merlin has given him in the time past their-- arthur's-- new found knowledge of their bond. but glamours, as merlin had explained, are oft for the use of enchantment, so as to make one's romantic interest view them as beautiful--

oh.

he rolls merlin onto his back.

"show me." it is a plea more than a command. it is not from merlin's king, but rather, arthur hopes, his heart.

merlin sighs. his eyes glow gold.

like roots spreading through the earth, a tide rippling over sand, his appearance changes. angry pink gnarls. fine, silver cuts. the faint shadow of where a burn once sat. they litter merlin's pale skin, old and new, in places arthur never could have imagined.

he knows his face must show something that makes merlin turn away from him. with a shaking hand, he turns merlin's chin back to him.

"tell me one thing," arthur says. it is a command, now. "were these all for me?"

there is no air in the room as merlin nods.

slowly, arthur draws in breath. he leans down, then, and presses his lips to one at the base of merlin's neck.

"then," he starts, shakily, "this is mine." another kiss, to his ribs, the puckered flesh of a sword wound. "this is mine." to his wrist, where chains must have sat at the behest of his father. "this is mine," and he's choking up, now.

merlin's trembling underneath him, a quaking branch in the wind. arthur spreads his fingers over merlin's heart, takes its beat in his palm, and looks him in his eyes.

"i will love everything you show me," arthur breathes, a promise, "because it is mine."

"as am i," merlin promises back. "as am i."