ofoffence replied to your post:
invite me to your queer fairy wedding but if you try and have a single pepe i will walk out on your i s2g
why wont u let pepe into ur heart
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@embrosius
ofoffence replied to your post:
invite me to your queer fairy wedding but if you try and have a single pepe i will walk out on your i s2g
why wont u let pepe into ur heart
what the fuck is a printer:
So. Okay, this is a thing. Upon closer inspection this is on inkjet paper. He holds the wallet closer to his face, ( short of pressing it against his forehead ) as if he can extract SOME KIND of information from this by virtue of osmosis.
‘ I didn’t know you even had a printer ‘
Printer? Printer? Is it that horrible machine that once decided to eat Merlin’s cardigan and refused to let it go (it was his favorite cardigan too and the technological beast ruined it), and Merlin had been unable to free himself with magic because this was the public library for god’s sake, and all three librarians had laughed at him for three minutes before helping him out.
Or was that the copy machine??
Play it cool, Merls, play it cool. “You don’t know a lot about me.” Cue hair flip. Perfect.
hOW THE FUCK DO U EDIT POSTS NOW HOW DO U DO ANYTHING WHAT THE FU CK TUMBLR WHAT DID YOU D O
Tagged by: youngwarloc and ofvalianceunborn [thanks guys!!!!! hopefully i prove to be interesting????]
Time and Date: August 2, 9:48 PM Average Hours Of Sleep: 6?? 7?? Birthday: October 5!! Gender: DFAB genderfluid [they/them/theirs pls!!] Sexuality: Demisexual panromantic Height: 5′1 [yo guys u don’t understand, like, i’ve been 5′0 since i was like, 12, and i went to the doctor and nOW I’M 5′1 FUCK Y EA H] Favorite colour: Red the blood of angry men, black the dark of ages past, and purple One Place That Makes Me Happy: Museums, libraries, orchestra concerts How Many Blankets Do You Sleep Under: Three or four because i’m a godless heathen What Are You Wearing Right Now: Mesh shorts and a t-shirt Favorite Beverage: Orange juice. Ok so. I’ve always loved orange juice bc that shit’s so good, but like, this ~*~organic~*~ supermarket opened nearby my house and I tried their orange juice there and like they juice it there in front of you and juST????? YOU CAN LITERALLY TASTE SUNSHINE?? I’M IN AWE Favorite Food: Pasta Last Movie You Watched: ummmmm....................all i remember is binge watching the borgias in like a week, i don’t remember life before that tbh Dream Vacation: Venice + Sevilla/Andalusia in Spain!! Dream Wedding: Lmao i don’t want to get married at all but like if I did, a small wedding, lots of dogs, fairy roses everywhere, and our lord Pepe’s face plastered everywhere Dream Pet: dOGS MORE DOGS ALL THE DOGS!! Dream Job: Running a non-profit for the betterment of queer poc youths!!
Tag 9 People You Want To Get To Know: ofoffence, ohshxit [V u can do this on whatever account u want like it cool bb], neckerchiefsandmagic [yOOOOOOO], sentimental-raven [did u do this already i don’t remember], squiirehearted, strengthism, clragoneye, druiidboy, mikaelsoniism, xxdraca, bravestandmostnoble um is this 9 people bc i refuse to do math on my break [alSO ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO DO THIS LIKE.............BRO...............]
ur smol friend has returned
embrosius & ohshxit | this
He’s nosy and he wants to see exactly how this plays out.
He doesn’t exactly push him away, but that being said, Merlin totally gives him the evil eye. And he totally, doesn’t stomp. Merlin’s an adult, thank you very much -- unlike soMEONE HERE.
ohshxit
Yeah, ok, he has a good excuse as to why the cute delivery boy’s picture is in his wallet -- you know what, scratch that, he doesn’t.
tfw that beautiful moment of silence before the karaoke roars back on
“rome is no longer the borgia pope alone, rome is cesare borgia also.”
written by E
❝ The lord [Cesare Borgia] is truly splendid and magnificent. In the pursuit of glory and territory he is unceasing and knows neither danger nor fatigue. ❞ - Niccolò Machiavelli
Indie Cesare Borgia from The Borgias
Non-fandom and OC friendly
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A U T C A E S A R A U T N I H I L
[home] [commandments] [statistics] [verses]
me on a date: so merlin's got a pretty good cast of characters right??
date: yeah. except for gwen, she served no purpose except to get in the way of merlin and arth--
me, shoving breadsticks into my purse: we all have a choice, but YOU'VE mADE THE WRONG ONE MOTHERFUCKer
Holy crap. How did this even happen. Like there are 300 people following me. I don’t know why y'all do but I am so grateful. I’ve said at my last two milestones and its this, I honestly thought I would never get past 50 followers. I mean I play young Mordred, I'ts such a different niche that I was certain I wouldn’t get past 50 and now there are 300 of you. Thank you so much, you guys are all so important to me. You are the ones who send me anons, and memes, and really make my day enjoyable. If I mention one of your blogs it means all your blogs that I follow and interact with. There are just so many people I couldn’t possibly list them all.
The Druids
serenitysalbatross - willfulsoldier - neckerchiefsandmagic - sorcereriisms - distruust - magiicisms - albionshope - prxmroseeverdeen - courageofcamelot - undercamelot - squiirehearted - dxdger - letsplaymurder
The Knights
embrosius - drunkknightofcamelot - nosleeveknight - greatxmilitaryleader - westxrnwood - eastxrnsea - pluriimus - mxrmoreal - psychoticpxn - sameodds - humanbludgers - notthehighkingedmund - vinylchanges - thehighpriestessx - wednesdayswithclara - wildmoored - almostsupermxn - hwitdraca - bornmagic
Magic Users
labcuff - offireandrebellion - cnceandfuturec - servinglies - ardentlyarthur - asabutterfielded - hardknocked - viingaal
Thank you to every for following my little blog. I am so humbled that there are 300 of you here.
hey reblog this if you’re a merlin rp blog [as in that your muse is merlin] so that we can make the merlin squad a reality
embrosius ♥’d for a starter
The dragon halls were sacred.
No one but the dragoneyes, their apprentices, and occasionally the candidates were allowed past the stone pillars where Eon was told once held a gate although the emperor ordered it torn down nearly a decade ago. Ranne had claimed it was in the first stages of the emperor’s illness, although not even bull-headed and pig-nosed Ranne was willing to speak such comments so near to the Imperial Palace.
Eon used his teeth to bite into the peel of his orange. His master had been so concerned of the secret being known that he hadn’t even allowed Eon to grow out his nails. Dark eyes looked back down at the man on the ground, tempted to wake him and move him before the sun rose and the dragoneyes would find him. Would he be killed for entering the halls? Eon thought not, but one could never be sure when the emperor was known for fits between bouts of hallucinations on his bed.
The dragons were watching him.
Eon began to peel the skin from the fruit. He had been told that the dragons would surely raise a warning, at least, when an intruder entered their home. Yet, if Eon hadn’t come here on his own he knew that the dragons wouldn’t have done anything to this man. He was special.
❝Have some food.❞ Eon murmured when the man began to stir. The boy painfully sat up, crippled hip throbbing, from his place against the wall to hold out one of the oranges to the man. ❝You will need it. How do you know the dragons? They protect you, they don’t raise a signal to their dragoneyes… They swirl around you now. Did they lead you here? Why?❞
{ he had felt like weeping, and perhaps he did, so overcome was he at the sight before him that he had collapsed onto his knees, his legs a trembling mess, and he had with palms open, face cast down, cried openly with fierce joy -- i’m not alone anymore, i’m not alone }
Oh, how could he have remained like that, so overcome, bursting with happiness, tears drying on his cheeks only for his eyes to produce them more in vigor, and he would have been content, oh, would he have been happy for the first time in centuries.
And like a pilgrim, like those great waves of people whom so flock to Rome, to Jerusalem, to the Ganges, he had bowed low, and in soft dulcet tones he had conversed with the dragons.
{ and merlin felt alive -- that was the funny thing about immortality, you live for decades on end, centuries even, and you’re stagnant while everyone else is flowing around you, and while you can reach out, one slender, graceful hand to grip at those who pass you by along this great river, is it only a second, a mere blink, and then they are gone like the songs of yesteryear, as if they never truly existed in the first place, and you stare at their trail in envy }
{ so he lives and so he fell into slumber, a different kind of death of sorts }
He stares at the offering in the boy's hands, and tentatively, he grasps the orange in his own, a shy nod, a hint of a smile. Must Merlin tread steady, carefully here -- although this youth shows no sign of aggression, merely curiosity, his torso twisted in a peculiar angle, but does he know of the dragons well --
{ and the flame of suspicion is lit }
“Lead me here? I’m surprised any of them want more to do with me -- ” { a pause, as if he’s trying to balance his words, to give away and to conceal, a game } “You could say, that I’ve been chasing dragons my whole life -- tell me, dragoneyes?”
Lancelot, I’m not trying to be rude…But you died.
Merlin, Lancelot du Lac (via totallycorrectmerlinquotes)
It was hard for Mordred to not notice Merlin’s presence. Mordred could push down his powers, and not use them but he couldn’t just stop being able too feel when Merlin was present. The power that the warlock radiated, Mordred had always been keen to ever since he was a child. He knew Merlin was in the room.
He felt the brush against him, whether on accident or in disdain. Sometimes he felt as though Merlin was hard to read, and other times it was too easy to read him. He had hooked his cloak on, the Pendragon red, contrasted with his pale. It also seemed almost hypocritical.
He same red cloaks had destroyed his home, his life, and now he wore one. So much had changed and yet so much was still the same. He turned to face the warlock. The man he had looked up to since he was a child, he had stories about since before he could walk, but also the man who had some deep seeded hatred towards him almost since their first meeting.
“Are you done playing pretend? he quipped. He knew what Merlin was capable of, its something he admired in the man. He knew that the man that so many knew was not the man Mordred knew.
Red, a color that so devolved itself to lechery and sins; red, the color of valor, of courage; red was Arthur Pendragon, could only describe Merlin’s beloved king --
{ the passion, the blood, the fury }
-- oh, and how infuriatingly right red looked draped magnificently upon Mordred’s shoulders, and oh, how Merlin wished for him to burn.
{ and he will, merlin swears on it -- his faith in arthur only eclipsing such odious passions which so entrench deep within his heart, it’s as if he’s spinning helplessly out of orbit, an asteroid, a comet, his only destination is impact with another -- an explosion of sorts, a miasma of broken teeth and bloodied fingertips, his hands tight around mordred’s neck and mordred’s grip on him just as cruel }
Mordred looks born as if he was fit to play this part, to be this pawn in the whims of Albion’s destiny -- chest broad, legs strong and lean, arms gaining in their definition, the boyish young face, the handsome sweep of his curls across his forehead and at the nape of his neck -- the rosy knight, anxious to prove his worth, ready to lay down his life at the foot of Arthur’s feet, at his beck and call, and within those glimmering blue depths, devotion and awe and very image of a knight blinded for love of his monarch, for the lands which he so protects, fair Camelot in all her resplendent glory.
{ but all merlin can see is the frightened druid boy, eyes too wide for his face, skin pinched with cold and fear, the slight curve of the child’s mouth, and the trembling apprehension -- no, merlin is blinded. for all the light mordred may reflect, does merlin only see his shadow }
“I’m rather fond of the idea of my head being attached to my neck.” { he pushes himself off the wall, two steps forward, tentative -- and his hands come out to cup at the air, the space around mordred’s neck, as if to stroke, to caress, to strangle. and the air crackles between them, the electric force of their magic is it not ( pushing and pulling, ebb and flow, are they synchronized ), but is it something else that so fizzles in the air, something more primal } “Tell me, Mordred, do you dream?”
He realizes his ass is too fine.
My biggest fear
is that eventually
y o u will see m e
the way I see m y s e l f