Pronouns: They/He 🏳️⚧️
🇮🇳தமிழ்
I'm drowning in fanfiction, songs and memes, I am also a fanartist and fanfic writer who is a part of- well, maybe too many fandoms-
Putting a gay/lesbian spin on Indian Media is also something I really enjoy, apart from psycho-analysing all my fav characters :]
Alt blog: @batjokesaddict
https://www.tumblr.com/batjokesaddict
(New) Ao3 : https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACE_CantSurviveThis
[Old- Mint_CantSurviveThis]
[merthur - rated T - 2476 words - gorgeous artwork by @count-pudding!!]
The sight was unfamiliar to Merlin, which in itself was probably cause for some level of concern.
Indeed, Merlin's expertise was second to none when it came to Arthur's various facial expressions. He was also well versed in Arthur's arcane body language, and proficient in the minute nuances lacing Arthur's huffs and hums. Every set of that jaw, every sharpening of those eyes, every twitch of those distracting lips told Merlin something of the inner workings and subtle moods of his princely prat.
It wasn't exactly that Arthur was an open book — far from it. It was just that Merlin had perfected the delicate art of reading him, through many (many, many) hours (days, months, years) of watchful presence and dedicated, selfless service to the emotionally constipated clotpole who had become his raison d'être. It was not strictly a healthy thing to be so cognizant of another man's state of mind at any given moment, but it did help keep them alive — to say nothing of the many hurled boots, pillows and cups Merlin had been able to deftly dodge over the years thanks to said intimate knowledge.
One could say that Merlin had seen Arthur at his glorious best and at his very pathetic worst and all the shades in between.
Which is why Merlin had a bit of a pause when he saw… what he was seeing.
Arthur. Utterly drunk. His flushed face a pathetic, glassy-eyed, rubicund mess, resting on the unyielding surface of the sturdy oak table in a smear of his own sweaty misery.
Arthur made a distraught little noise upon recognising his visitor. Just that. A brief, wet, squelching whine that was almost instantly quelled.
"Arthur? What…" Merlin immediately closed the door behind him and discreetly released the tendrils of his magic far and wide to find answers. It found none. None but the drunken prince, hugging his tabletop like a drowning man. "Arthur, what are you doing?"
"M'thinkin," he mumbled thickly. "P'ondering. C'ontemplating. Mmmulling."
"Oh boy," Merlin said under his breath. "Care to share the fruit of your reflection, Sire?" he asked lightly as he placed an unassuming and, hopefully, nonthreatening hand over the very pretty flagon of exotic wine that the envoy from Byzantium had brought amongst the cartload of presents for King Uther and his court. A potent brew, apparently.
"What are you doing here?" Arthur muttered, his heated cheek still very firmly stuck to the table. "Thought you were having a little… chat with Lord Whatsisface?"
"Lord Julian?"
"Lord Julian Fucking Apollo Coriolan," Arthur corrected pettily.
"Ah." Huh. "Is his middle name really Apollo?" It would've been justified, because there was no denying the man in question was excruciatingly handsome. And rather statuesque in build.
A dark, drunken (and very rude) curse was Arthur's only reply.
"I was actually discussing the use of a remedy that might help Gaius with his bad cold. It turns out His Lordship is very knowledgeable in cures and restoratives."
"Oh His Lordship, eh?"
"Ye-es, he has travelled extensively and been able to study the practices of many a place," Merlin said, quietly going about tidying bits and pieces around the room. "He has collected many herbs and roots and he has some scrolls he thinks I should look at. He promised to show me a few things tomorrow."
A wet snort spilled from Arthur as he pushed himself to a slightly more dignified sitting position, that almost overbalanced into a tumble from his stately seat.
"Oh he wants to show you his thing for sure," the prince muttered, a bitter twist to his sullen mouth.
Ah. Alright. This was new.
"I very much doubt it," Merlin said patiently as he reached to take the sloshing goblet from Arthur's hand. "I think we've had enough of that very nice Byzantine wine, Sire."
"No-o," Arthur whined as he cradled the goblet against his chest and glared at Merlin's whereabouts. Gods, how much of the stuff had he imbibed?
And more importantly, why?
Arthur was always so cautious around drink. He drank with his fellow knights, partook in banquets, toasted merrily with everyone as the situation required, but Merlin knew that he was prudent with his intake. As the heir to the throne and the son of his exacting father, he had been trained in the underestimated yet critical art of engaging in diplomatic libations. In fact, one of the first things Merlin had been taught as manservant and cupbearer to the prince was how to pour his drinks and mix his wine with the right amount of water (an amount which was definitely more than Merlin himself would find enjoyable).
And yet here, one whiff of Arthur's breath told Merlin that the spiced wine had been consumed hardly (if at all) diluted.
"Go away," Arthur sulked, still cuddling his cup. "Leave me to my inoss… my interss… my introshpection."
Merlin stifled a smile at the fractious yet oddly adorable prince. A tipsy Arthur was a rare sight indeed. Merlin reached out a hand and placed the back of his fingers over Arthur's brow, just to make sure no fever was involved.
"Leave me be," the prince said in a small voice, eyes now brimming with untold emotions and conflicted dampness.
"I just want to make sure you're all right," Merlin informed him as he finally managed to gently pry the cup from the clumsy but grabby hands. "I think you should retire to bed, my Lord."
"And I think you should fuck off, Merlin," Arthur groused as Merlin laboriously hauled him to his feet.
"I most certainly will. As soon as we've put you into bed."
Something undetermined (but no doubt derogatory) was mumbled.
"Come on. That's right," Merlin encouraged. Then, "Nonono— Gods, why did you have to drink yourself into a stupor?" he griped as the prince sagged unhelpfully in his arms.
"You like him," Arthur hissed accusingly.
"And who are we talking about now?"
"Fffucking Apollo."
"Ah," Merlin replied eloquently as he staggered under the limp, disarticulated weight of his prince.
"What does he have that I don't?"
"What?"
"I'm taller than him."
"Uh… I don't think—"
"And I'm a better warrior than him."
"I guess he would— whups, sorry," Merlin said as Arthur collapsed face first onto the bed. "Are you alright there, Sire?"
"He's nothing special," the pickled prince muttered into the pillow.
"Well, he's a Byzantine envoy and he's travelled a long way to meet you and your father," Merlin argued as he rolled the prat right side up.
"Yeah, because I'm special. Not him."
Merlin quashed a smile at the childish remark. He was going to have so much fun tomorrow reminding Arthur just what a rambling, drunken arse he had made of himself. He was going to have months of teasing material by the time Arthur fell asleep tonight.
"His eyes look like puddle water," the prince then noted, a satisfied but wobbly smirk on his flushed features as Merlin peeled him out of his tunic.
"Do they? They seemed grey-green to me."
"Zactly! Dreary colour. Terrible colour."
"I thought they were rather nice, intelligent eyes," Merlin prattled perversely as he wrestled the boots off Arthur's feet.
"Of course you would, wouldn't you?" Followed by a string of mutterings casting aspersions on Merlin's mental acuity, powers of observation and rampant lust for some reason.
Meanwhile, Merlin went on undressing Arthur. Then he fondly arranged the pillows behind him, feeling the heat and affronted misery coming off his inebriated prince. Sometimes, he found the amount of love he carried for Arthur was unfair. Sometimes… Well, sometimes he just felt blessed to be able to stand by his side and take care of him in all matters big and small. He would obviously rather rip his own tongue out than admit it out loud, but he could no more deny the sweet ache of his feelings than he could grow feathers and fly.
Probably. He'd never tried.
He was at this familiar and dreadfully tender point in his thoughts, tucking Arthur in for the night as he went, when the prince, who apparently had been following his own chaotic train of plastered thoughts suddenly grabbed his face and drew him up close.
Almost close enough to kiss.
Merlin was about to make light of the uncomfortably delicious situation, but Arthur's gaze was a little wild and oddly entreating.
"Don't go with him," Arthur breathed, voice hoarse yet commanding. "I'm… I mean, my… That is, I really… My eyes are blue," he eventually managed on a desperate splutter.
"So they are," Merlin replied gently, daring to touch a hand to Arthur's heated cheek. "And a very pretty blue, too. The prettiest in the land." Which was, alas, deplorably true as far as Merlin was concerned. Arthur's eyes were blue flecked with constellations of azure and ultramarine. He could lose himself in those eyes. He already had.
"And I'm blonder than him," Arthur went on, fingertips absently doing obscene things to Merlin's sense of duty and honour.
"You are," Merlin promised softly.
"Don't go to bed with him. Please."
Al-right.
"I wouldn't," he promised.
Especially as Lord Julian was clearly enamoured with his aide Nicodemus who also happened to be a powerful mage and a gifted seer. It was on Nicodemus' impulse that they had made the long and fraught journey to Camelot — to meet the foretold Once and Future King and confer with the 'Great Emrys'.
"I promise you Lord Julian has no designs on my virtue," Merlin murmured to the lovely but woefully shitfaced prat.
"That's what you think! He's no fool, he can see how pretty you are. How nice and… crafty… and funny…" Arthur's warm, spicy breath ghosted over him, intoxicating to Merlin in a way that had nothing to do with how much wine the prince had imbibed. "The truest friend and companion a man could desire." Then an upset frown creased his brow. "He can't have that. He can't have you," Arthur insisted, his hands awkwardly possessive on either side of Merlin's face, squishing his cheeks with loving fervour. Then Arthur seemed to run out of momentum, and he leaned his forehead against Merlin's. "Just…Tell him you're mine," he said weakly.
Oh the delightful pain that wrung Merlin's heart at those words. If only. If only he dared.
"I am yours," he agreed on a murmur. "I'm your manservant, aren't I?"
"Yes," Arthur said quietly, a mess of emotions brewed in the too-shiny blue eyes. "Yes, you are." Then with more intensity, "Sometimes it feels like that's not enough."
"Oh you want me to be your friend, now?" Merlin teased lightly, resorting to this old joke to shield them both from the bluntness of Arthur's cup-induced delusions of frankness
"You are my friend," Arthur announced, seemingly dredging up the admission from the innermost sanctum of his proud soul. "It's not right. And it's not what I want. But it's the truth."
Gods, could the clotpole be anymore sweetly hurtful?
"And I want you… to want to be by my side," the lost prince spelled out laboriously.
"Well, you know me. I'm apparently the self-sacrificing type," Merlin tried with a little smile. "And I have nowhere else I need to be."
"So… do you promise to always be mine?" The gleam of desperate longing in Arthur's wine-earnest eyes was gouging Merlin's heart out of his chest.
And Merlin saved himself with the only defence at his disposal — pained humour.
"Only if you promise to be mine in return?" was all he had the nerve to say.
Arthur closed his eyes, sighed a long tired breath. He released Merlin and leaned back against the pillows, seemingly exhausted.
Well, there was Merlin's answer. And here was his lacerated, shivering heart kindly handed back to him, a little worse for wear.
He let himself sit on the edge of the mattress for a moment — to recover from the ordeal.
He was about to get to his feet, when Arthur's hand found one of his wrists and held it, forcing him to stay. Anchoring him like nothing else could. Arthur then slowly brought Merlin's captive hand towards his own cheek.
"If I had a choice… If I didn't already belong to Camelot… There is nothing I would want more than to be yours," he vowed, soft and broken.
Merlin was speechless.
And Arthur forged on.
"If I wasn't…" The princely forefinger drew a wobbly loop in the air "…who I am. If we were not so…" The forefinger now waved back and forth unsteadily "…unequal." Arthur blinked and wet his lips unsurely. "Would you have me?" he asked on a poignant croak.
Yes. A thousand times yes.
The answer and the feeling caught painfully in Merlin's chest.
"I… I think we should…" The rest of the reasonable words momentarily died on his lips as Arthur closed his eyes and leaned into the palm of Merlin's hand. A hand made rough and callused by the daily toil of a serving boy. And here were the prince's lips seeking to meekly brush against the base of Merlin's thumb. The soft, intimate gesture, so full of promise and longing, was too much to bear for Merlin. "I think we should keep this discussion for tomorrow morning," he said in a breathless rush. "When you're well-rested and sober. Sire."
Merlin then gently, very delicately, retrieved his hand from the sweetest trap ever.
"I have upset you," Arthur observed despondently. "You only ever give me 'sires' and 'my lords' when I've upset you."
"You know me too well, Your Highness."
Arthur gave a tired, damp snort. "Now you're just mocking me."
"I wouldn't dare." Said with an easy quirk of the lips. And there, just like that, Merlin had brought them back on a more familiar and more passable path. The one he walked every day, in thoughts simultaneously one step ahead and one step behind the man he loved, but never abreast.
Arthur rolled onto his side, trying to find a comfortable position as his eyes blurrily followed Merlin through the motions of closing down their day. Putting away the warming pan, making sure the chamber pot was clean and within reach, folding Arthur's still-warm clothes, patting the covers, snuffing out the candles. Letting the echoes of the incriminating, too-tender words die out, swallowed by the silk and velvet trappings of Arthur's power and status. All the little things to reset the clockwork of their improper, bristly and at times wildly intimate friendship.
Tomorrow would be another day. Merlin would do his best to forget he'd witnessed the longing because such notions were simply too fraught to entertain.
"I might hold you to it, you know?" Arthur's voice was raspy and drawling, tangled as it was in wine and sleep. "Tomorrow morning. You and I, having that long-overdue discussion."
"Goodnight, Arthur."
"Goodnight. Merlin."
Inspired by @count-pudding's sketches (first posted last December and now embedded in the fic!!). Thank you so much for sharing your beautiful art, my friend. 🙏🥰
This won't get posted to AO3 (unless it eventually becomes the first chapter of a longer thing instead of a standalone ficlet? 🤔), so feel free to reblog, like and let me know in the comments if you enjoyed it.
you can download current and past hi-res versions of these over at my ko-fi (ok to print for personal use): https://ko-fi.com/mxmorgan/shop/freedownloads
you can also snag shirts here which go to various orgs: https://mxmorgan.threadless.com/collections/pride
these get reposted a whole lot from here to reddit to twitter to tiktok and on and on, and i don't personally care whether or not i'm credited. i made these for everyone to use, enjoy, and find meaning in them. i appreciate folks who do credit me, but if able, please at least link to the threadless shop in the previous post - folks can get an official shirt where 90% of earnings go to trans led orgs focused on mental health (which is an important matter in general, but very personal to me) and not from a scam bot site selling AI-churned maga garbage where you probably won't get one anyway. i also suggest downloading the files from my ko-fi - they are free/PWYW and you can use them to make your own shirt, patch, embroidery project, whatever. tips are always nice, cuz i do like a pizza now and then, but never required for download.
final thought - breaking the pride tradition and more than likely won't make a new piece. the top one from TDOV is all i'm making this year. i have my focus on other projects currently and i don't want to force a poster design. these came from a specific head space and my current head space is Very Tired lmao so i wanna work on other things. 👍
Uzair: I just feel like we were meant to be together. I mean, look at how fate keeps throwing us at each other!
Hamza: it's 3 A.M. and you are stuck in my window. HOW DID YOU EVEN GET THERE?!
Uzair: fate, hamza. weren't you listening?
Rehman: Uzair, do you have any shaving cream?
Uzair: no, i don't like the way it tastes.
Rehman: wait
Uzair: what?
Rehman: do you eat shaving cream?!
Uzair: no, why would i eat it if i don't like the taste?
Iqbal: going to plan B?
Mir: technically, that would be plan G.
Khanani: how many plans do we have? is there like, a plan M?
Uzair: yeah, but Rehman dies in plan M.
Hamza: i like plan M.
*dinner in baloch house*
Ulfat: the food is too cute, i can't eat it!
Uzair:
Hamza:
Donga:
Siyahi:
Rehman: you're cute, but i'd still eat y-
Faizal: ONE DINNER
Naieem: *sighs* here we go again.
Faizal: ONE NORMAL DINNER IS ALL I ASK
Hamza, propping his feet on a table: so i heard you like bad boys.
Uzair: what??? no???
Hamza, immediately taking his feet off the table: oh thank god, that felt terrible.
*Yalina practicing for her medical practical*
Yalina: hi, i am your doctor today. I'll be drawing your blood as soon as i finish this capri sun.
Yalina: *misses hole four times then finally punches straw through the side*
Hamza: *sweats nervously*
Ulfat: sit down, i am gonna torture you now.
Rehman, smirking: kinky.
Ulfat: i think you are sweet and breathtaking.
Rehman: what-
Ulfat: you deserve to be cared for.
Rehman: stop, now-
Ulfat: your feelings are valid and you deserve to be heard.
Rehman: I NEED A SAFEWORD!
Naieem: Chachu, can i have some money for some coke?
Uzair: will 8000 be okay?
Naieem: its 20.
Uzair: wow this is cheap. who's the dealer?
Naieem: coca cola?
Naieem:...... i am telling dad about this.
*Hamza teaching the kids driving*
Naieem: what if i brake and hit the gas at the same time?
Faizal: the car takes a screenshot.
Hamza: you guys are hazards to society.
Hamza: you are my best friend but I'd totally fuck you if you ask me to
Uzair: what?
Hamza: what?
Siyahi, not looking up from his phone: he said he will fuck you if you ask.
Rehman, patting Hamza and Uzair on the back after a successful killing: good job gays.
Hamza, nervous laughter: did you mean gu-
Rehman: did i stutter.
Delia is a morning person and was surprised to learn that Jessie was even more of a morning person than her
Jessie's a massive romantic and is usually the one to plan all their dates
Jessie and Delia enjoy doing karaoke together
After finding out Delia wanted to be model, Jessie started making a lot of new outfits for her using her years of expertise from making disguises
Jessie enjoys giving Delia makeovers and Delia loves getting them
Delia enjoys being big spoon
Delia initiated their first kiss
Jessie cuts Delia’s hair for her
Once Jessie becomes a nurse and starts going to work, Delia starts packing lunches for her every day. It’s usually way too much food
Whenever Delia’s working in the kitchen, Jessie’s always waddling right behind her. Not really being much help but Delia doesn’t mind
Jessie's not great at cooking but makes an effort to make food for Delia when she notices Delia's tired. It's usually bad but Delia appreciates the thought
Delia is incredibly fond of Jessie’s Pokémon, Wobbuffet and Gourgeist in particular
Delia is terrified of snake Pokémon
Delia never really drank before meeting Jessie but now they have wine nights together. They usually end with Jessie passed out in Delia’s lap
When Delia gets really drunk, she gets REALLY affectionate and grabby
Delia can't swim and it's her secret shame
Professor Oak is very cordial with Jessie but also wary of her. He mostly wants to make sure Delia is taken care of and won't get her heart broken
Pikachu comes around to Jessie rather quickly after realizing she’s not really a threat and finding out how good at head scratches she is (she has nice long nails)
Mimey takes the longest to come around to Jessie
Jessie calls Delia “my Deerling” and Delia calls Jessie "Smoochum"
Delia loves when Jessie gives her kisses on the forehead
Delia is a huge Jessilina fan. Jessie reveals that she is Jessilina but Delia doesn’t believe her at first
Jessie and Delia do a lot of movie nights together. Jessie loves sobbing at romcoms and Delia likes really fucked up horror movies for some reason (Jessie’s terrified of them but doesn’t want Delia to think she’s a coward)
Jessie likes to randomly scoop Delia up and carry her around the house
Delia picked up a habit of talking to herself prior to Jessie moving in. It frequently catches Jessie off guard
Jessie gets irritated when people flirt with Delia. Mostly because that's her girl but also because she's mad they weren't flirting with her, herself.
Delia tends to keep a lot of her negative feelings to herself but after meeting Jessie and seeing how unapologetically expressive she is, she starts letting her guard down a bit. She rants about rude customers and Jessie could listen to her all day
Because she lived alone for so long, Delia sometimes needs her space. Jessie’s still getting used to this (as someone who hates being alone)
Delia is very particular about how chores are done as well as how things are organized in her house
Prior to getting her own job, Jessie would just do chores then sit around at the Ketchum house waiting for Delia to come home. She’s very bad at entertaining herself
Jessie puts on a healthy amount of relationship weight over time. Long gone are the days of Jessie eating snow (out of necessity) and starving
Jessie still likes snowgasboard as a treat
Delia and Jessie both have abandonment issues and require a lot of reassurance from one another
Delia's not super strong but she starts working out in order to one day carry Jessie on their wedding day
Jessie, who is used to being on the run, gets antsy from staying home more frequently. She takes up a lot of yoga and running. Delia joins sometimes.
Ash Headcanons
When Ash first found out that his mom was dating Jessie, he was, justifiably, suspicious of her.
Early on Ash would secretly prank Jessie in hopes that it'd make her leave
Jessie and Ash slowly bond through Pokémon battles as well as sharing Pokémon facts with each other
Ash never calls Jessie “mom” and she’s very okay with that. He does however call her “dad” to piss her off
Jessie calls Ash “champ” in retaliation
Jessie's been quietly invested in Ash's love life, having seen him travel with so many people and witnessing all the crushes people have had on him.
James Headcanons
James is aroace and happy not being in a relationship
Now that he's settled down in Pallet, James spends a lot of his time indulging in his many hobbies (bottle cap/Pokéball collecting, gardening, building miniature models of various things, raising and training Pokémon, etc.)
Because Jessie kept passing out at wine nights, Delia started inviting James to them and it's now become more of their thing
James started off as just a waiter at Delia's restaurant but Delia found out he was great at cooking so they exchange roles sometimes
Jessie frequently goes to him for advice on how to impress Delia and be a better person for her. He's the nicest person she knows.
Jessie is still pretty affectionate and close with James and he gets freaked out about it, thinking Delia would have a problem with it (she does not)
James and Ash really get along. Even early on when he was still getting used to Jessie being around the house, he'd confide in James (and James, like a secret helper, would help Jessie out by letting her know Ash's needs)
Meowth Headcanons
Meowth took getting fired from Team Rocket the hardest
Delia and Professor Oak filled the Giovanni shaped hole in his heart
Oak had a really hard time trusting Meowth at first and whenever he translated anything from the Pokémon, Oak wasn't sure whether to believe him or not
After some time working at Oak's lab, Oak gave Meowth a pet on the head after he did a good job and it altered his brain chemistry forever
Meowth had a hard time making friends with Ash's Pokémon at Oak's lab (obviously) but Infernape, right away was happy to have him around. He helped all the Pokémon come around and get to know Meowth
Meowth was the first one to pick up on Jessie's crush on Delia. Unlike James, he didn't get too involved, worried that Jessie dating Delia then potentially blowing it might ruin a good thing (his views on love are a bit jaded after his experiences)
Meowth is now very supportive of Jessie and Delia, and is happy that one of his best friends found love
Other Headcanons
Professor Oak is very cordial with Jessie but also wary of her. He mostly wants to make sure Delia is taken care of and won't get her heart broken
Pikachu comes around to Jessie rather quickly after realizing she’s not really a threat and finding out how good at head scratches she is (she has nice long nails)
Mimey takes the longest to come around to Jessie. Jessie's asked Meowth to help her figure out what Mimey's deal is but Meowth is also scared to talk to Mimey.
Seviper desperately longs for Delia's love and attention but she's too scared of it. She eventually gets to the point where she can pet it with no issues as long as Jessie is also in the room
Early on, Delia's customers start to pick up on the fact that Delia was happier. They assumed she'd finally found a new boyfriend but they were very surprised to find out she was dating a bombshell of a woman
The people of Pallet were initially a bit scared of Jessie. Not a lot of women there look quite like her. She has an intimidating aura but over time find that she's quite pleasant, especially when she's with Delia
General Team Rocket Heacanons!
Headcanons for Jessie, James, Cassidy, Butch, Attila and Hun! Wanted to type something like this up for my own reference and future drawing
Jessie: ugh cant believe I got sick when delia is out of town leaving me with the Brat // Ash, emerging ominously from her bedroom door, somehow both backlit and bottom lit: I made you soup. You will die in seven days. // Jessie: thanks. You will die in three.
AHAHAHAHHAHA
theres a fic like this except ash is sick and it’s a little sweeter haha
Do you think Jessie would ask Brock for cooking advice so she could make a nice meal for Deliah?
i think she’d initially go to james or meowth since they all cook together well as a team. but if they weren’t available for any reason or if it were a recipe neither of them were familiar with she’d go to the best cook she knows (brock)
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