this is my new page after quitting social media for a bit! now iām here for mama posting and supernatural and bbc merlin and dimension 20 Ao3 profile: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixofCups/works
@morgwenmicrofic prompt: vampire ā Kat Dunn, Hungerstone // V. E. Schwab, Bury Our Bones In The Midnight Soil // Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless // Florence + The Machine, Hunger
at some point in your life you will be boiling fruit, water, sugar, and lemon juice in a pot to make a syrup or jam. the instructions will tell you to simmer for a certain amt of time. your timer will go off and you will look at the pot and go, "hm, this doesn't look thick enough. maybe i'll let it go for another 10 minutes." this is the devil speaking. it's only so liquid right now because it is at boiling point. it will thicken when it cools down. learn from the follies of my youth and do not let this happen to you
at some point in your life you will be making a sauce or a stew in which you need to add cornstarch to thicken it. and you will prepare a slurry of starch in cold water and think "this looks like way too little starch to thicken this amount of liquid." this is the devil speaking. cornstarch instantly polymerizes at 95Ā°C and if you add too much it will turn into an impossibly thick goop.
at some point in your life you will be making some sort of cream based dessert that requires gelatin to thicken it. and you will soak some gelatin sheets in water and think "this is too few gelatin sheets for this amount of cream." this is the devil speaking. it will thicken in the fridge and if you add too much you will end up with milk jelly
at some point in your life you will be baking cookies. you will take the sheet out after twelve minutes as the recipe instructs and the cookies will still be glistening and soft. "these don't seem cooked enough," you will think to yourself, "i should place them back into the oven until their edges are nice and golden." this is the devil talking. this is how you get dry, overdone cookies. the cookies will continue to bake on the warm sheet for several more minutes and then harden up after sitting on a rack for a while. trust the process. trust the process.
at some point in your life you will be adding a small pasta to a soup and you will think "that is not enough small pasta." this is the devil talking. the pasta will absorb the stock and expand. this is how you end up with a soup that is a solid mass of soggy ditalini.
At some point in your life you will be adding garlic to a dish and you will think "that is not enough garlic." These are angels speaking. They are correct. Add more garlic.
My first BBC Merlin collage for @merthurmicrofic -- prompt: WAKE
I'm not entirely sure if tumblr is going to destroy the image quality because I put a light noise filter over everything, the only way to find out is by posting!
we have to thank our brave soldiers in fandom who write gen fics. we have to thank our brave soldiers in fandom who write character studies and stories with no focus on romance or sex. we have to get on our knees and thank the brave soldiers in fandom who write about minor characters and friendship and family with no focus on romance or sex. i know itās hard to care about characters in a world that seems to only revolve around ships but i see you. and i love you
for @merthurmicrofic ļø±"enemy" ļø±1190 words ļø±also filling @merlinbingo square "arthur's chambers"
a special thanks to @haloud for helping put together this plot bunny
tw: off-screen attempted sexual assault
It was with no small amount of satisfaction that Arthur returned from Whitespire two days earlier than expected. The assignment to check on Camelot's northernmost outpost mid-January had been a punishment in all but name, and Arthur was happy to have it over with. All for daring to suggest during a council meeting that if Camelot's knights raided their subjects' homes searching for evidence of sorcery and found none, perhaps they could compensate the damage to property and means of livelihood. Mouths were fed with spinning wheels and yokes, after all. And when Arthur had dared argue the point instead of silencing at the first sign of his father's displeasure, well. He was shortly ordered thereafter to ride out to Whitespire, and anyone he took along would be punished as if they had directly defied the king.
But now that was past him and Arthur sighed with exhaustion as he entered his chambers, not caring that he tracked sleet inside. His cloak was soaked, his fingers numb from the winter storm that raged outside. Just short of a blizzard, but not by much.
A sharp bang made Arthur jump, and he turned to see Merlin burst into his chambers and close the door quickly behind him. Excellent, this saved Arthur the trouble of finding him. Merlin made the best fires, with the kind of warmth that filled the entire room, and if Arthur was lucky he could convince Merlin to indulge with him in a different kind of warmth as well. "Perfect timing Merlin, I'm freezingā"
Merlin startled like a frightened rabbit. He spun and pressed himself against the door, fingers splayed flat against the wood. His lips parted, but no sound came out save breathless pants.
Arthur took him in. His tunic was wrinkled, torn along the neckline, and the scrap of fabric Merlin called a neckerchief was conspicuously absent. On that pale neck Arthur saw a mark of familiar red, for he knew all too well the way Merlin's skin quickly turned pink when laved at with lips and teeth. But the most damning evidence was the way Merlin's wide eyes trembled with a fear Arthur had never seen him bear before.
His blood turned as cold as the howling winds outside.
"What happened." There was no sound save for Merlin's shallow breathing. "Merlin, what happened? Who did this?"
Still no response. Arthur's hands shook, his heart pounding as if in the midst of battle. He took two quick steps forward, and then saw Merlin's eyes squeeze shut as he tried to flatten himself against the door behind him.
Arthur went perfectly, utterly, still. "Okay, justā just come here and sit down. Please." He prayed Merlin heard it was a plea, not an order.
But then Merlin's eyes opened, and while he still said nothing, he obeyed. Arthur fought the urge to pull the chair out for Merlin, instead holding himself with a white-knuckled restraint to remain in place. Merlin folded his arms over his chest, and Arthur's chest ached to see how he was trembling. "Didn'tā didn't think you were back yet," Merlin whispered.
"Rode through the night to beat the storm." Arthur was desperate to keep him talking, for some hint of direction. "Merlin, Iā"
Now it was his turn to close his eyes, shuddering. He could no more calm himself than could a dog once it caught the scent of its hunt. "Youā you don't have to say anything, alright? I'llā I'll go deal with this." He would have his answers, one way or another. He would turn the castle upside down until he learned who hadā who had laid their handsā who had violatedā
It didn't matter. Arthur would solve it. And then he would either cast them out for the storm to take them, or he would throw down his gauntlet and duel as was his right. It was fortunate he hadn't even removed his armor and sword yet, so this could be dealt with all the quicker.
But when he took a step towards the door Merlin lunged at him, grabbing onto his arm. "Arthur, no, stop, you can'tā"
"Can't?" Arthur sputtered incredulously. "I bloody well can."
Merlin shook his head frantically. "You need to listen, you don't understandā"
"I don't need to understand," Arthur seethed. "I've seen enough. I don't care what you have to tell me or what you've done to think this is justified, I am the Prince, and there is no one in this castle who will not answer to meā"
Arthur's mouth slammed shut. He realized, at the same time Merlin's eyes dropped down, that there was only one person whose authority superseded Arthur's. A person who would be bold enough to allow or even encourage the abuse of a servant, even when Camelot law prohibited it. A person who could breathe new law for any infraction that displeased him.
He was so foolish to not foresee this. So prideful to think his father's attention would be focused on Arthur's growing confidence and proclivity to challenge, and not the man that had grown steadily closer to his side. Had dumbly relied on Uther's practice of turning a blind eye to whomever Arthur chose to bed as long as it resulted in no bastards or undue favor. Had lied to himself, calling it mutual convenient pleasure, and nothing more.
Arthur had tasted that lie until he could swallow it no longer, and had resolved to do something about it before he was unexpectedly dispatched to Whitespire. And here lay the price of his folly.
He let out a slow, even breath. "Alright. Alright, Merlin. Just stay here, and catch your breath. I'll be back."
"Noā"
"He will want to know I've returned," Arthur said, keeping his voice as steady as he could manage. He slowly put his hand over Merlin's where it clutched at his arm, and squeezed gently when he saw Merlin did not pull away. "I will inform him that I've completed the assignment without incident. That is all. Go ahead and make a fire, and I'll return with some food and water." He pried Merlin's fingers from his arm, soft, holding onto them like he would to help a lady off of her horse. "Bar the door behind me. When I return, I'll give three knocks, so you'll know it's me."
Arthur waited for further protest, but after a strained pause Merlin nodded. His trembling had subsided. Arthur dropped his hand. And then, finding he regretted it, leaned in to press his lips to Merlin's forehead, cradling the back of his head as he did so.
He had never touched Merlin like this outside the cover of arousal, but found it a sweet taste he immediately craved. Arthur pulled back regretfully. "I'll be back," he echoed, hoping Merlin could hear the promise in his words.
Then he turned away before he could grow any more heartsick. His armor was still cold from the winter storm, sword still dutifully sheathed by his side.
Uther Pendragon did not know what it meant to be his son's enemy, but in the coming months, he would learn.
Merlin stood in the front row, his hands clenched at his sides as the sunlight caught the cold gold of the newly exchanged rings.
His mind drifted back months to a quiet night in Arthur's chambers, the air thick with the scent of candle wax.
Arthur had cornered him then, pacing the stone floor as he spoke of Guinevere and debated whether to bring their courtship into the scrutiny of the public eye. The Kingās brow had been knitted with a conflict he couldn't quite resolve as he sat down; he knew Gwen still looked for Lancelot in the shadows of the courtyard. Merlin had swallowed his own heart to tell Arthur she loved him most, a lie and a truth tangled together in his throat.
Then Arthur had looked Merlin directly in the eye and, with raw vulnerability, asked, "Do you think I'm making a mistake?" He didn't wait for an answer before looking back at the flames. āIām terrified that Iām discarding other optionsā¦ choices I haven't quite dared to name. What if Iām missing the one life I actually wanted because Iām too cowardly to say it out loud?ā
Merlin had almost said it then. Everything about the magic and the love that was his soul's bedrock. But he was a creature built for sacrifice. He knew Gwen was destined for the crown, and so he had buried his agony and promised Arthur she would be a magnificent Queen.
Now, the cheers in the hall were deafening as the ceremony concluded, yet Merlinās heart felt like a sinking stone. Arthurās gaze sought him out across the distance, a look of silent questioning still flickering behind the royal mask. Merlin looked to the new Queen, then, only to find her staring at another point in the crowd, her attention fixed elsewhere.
A visceral, hollow regret enveloped him, a shadow that would never leave his body for as long as he remained to serve, longer still.
---
Prompt: Regret | Words: 327 | Written for @merthurmicrofic
it's true what they say about fibre crafts you know. the more I knit the more I am inclined to get into quilting again, because apparently the desire to create, once woken, is never satisfied. also I saw this gorgeous fabric the other day and I'm obsessed š
2087
kianamaiart
romaincrisis
germansingergirl
blakekathryn
