Once More unto the Breach

Dipping my toes back into fandom: Sherlock, fanart, and other nerdly things

[shuukichan]

I love baby Colin, but Colin Morgan with a beard... happy birthday to me.

[greatdumbking]

pierrefonds on colour film

[colinmorgan-beautifulsmile]

Colin Morgan copies of his debut novel The Ballad of Ronan McCoy

[verothewise]

[teodor-vi]

Merthur doodle just because

[klimtsonian]

“None of us can choose our destiny, and none of us can escape it.” 🏰🐉✨

[ccrose-art]

My little guys,,

[cesiscribbles]

Some fluff~

[katieskeep]

Bradley & Colin introducing S4 of Merlin.

[rednavi]

For dear agnesanutter

NSFW version~ Yeah~ XD

[count-pudding]

Spoiled prince and "Dragon"

People kept leaving "gifts" to a creature in the woods believing that it will keep them safe in exchange for their gold and food, until one day it didn't seem enough, so they decided to offer him a royal blood

(little did they know that creature didn't need all the gold and treasures at all, but it still was funny to him that he kept silent, that is, until he was handed with the little prince...)

[girasoligialli]

for @merthurmicrofic | prompt : « stars » | ~800 words

Arthur wasn’t looking at Merlin’s shirt for any reason in particular, oh no, it just happens that one evening he notices the little golden ornamentation that now adorns it.

“Merlin, what’s that on your shirt?”

Merlin feigns innocence, and if Arthur happens to grab his sleeve and pull him close, so close that he can feel Merlin’s breath brush past his ear, then it is only to illustrate his point, nothing more.

Arthur lets go of Merlin’s sleeve, and instead grabs the hem of his blue tunic. There are three little stars embroidered there, just to the left of the seam.

“I’m sure these weren’t there yesterday,” Arthur says, eyes locking with Merlin’s.

And no, they hadn’t been there yesterday at all, and Arthur is nothing if not observant. And of course, it doesn’t mean anything special that he is so observant of his manservant, of all people. No, he simply notices things, like a good future king would. That is all.

“Gwen’s been teaching me how to embroider,” Merlin replies, voice chipper as always. “She says it’s a useful skill to have, and it’ll help me get better at darning all those many holes that somehow end up in your socks. Oh, and when you get another hole in one of your shirts, I can patch it up with some pretty little embroidered flowers. I bet you’d like that!” He smiles, looking down at the embroidered stars, as if admiring his handiwork. “Do you like them?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye.

Yes, they’re beautiful, Arthur wants to say. Beautiful just like you. He pictures Merlin’s deft hands working away at the golden thread, doing whatever it is that people do when they sew (he’s not sure of the details, being such a manly knight and all). Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “You’re such a girl, Merlin.”

Merlin laughs and gives him a little shove. “Of course,” he says, winking. “Just part of my charm!”

Arthur goes to bed that night dreaming of Merlin sewing, wondering what else those deft hands of his can do.

And so, the following morning, if Arthur just happens to deliberately cut a little hole in the sleeve of one of his shirts, it is only to give himself an opportunity to test Merlin’s newfound embroidery skills, nothing more.

He presents said shirt to Merlin, complaining of the hole that just appeared there, all by itself! If Merlin notices the surprisingly clean edges of the hole, he doesn’t say, and obediently takes the shirt away to be patched up.

The following evening, Merlin comes into Arthur’s chambers wearing his shirt. And if Arthur just happens to be staring at Merlin, transfixed, then it’s only because he’s trying to identify whatever flowery embroidery Merlin has added to it… nothing more. Merlin twirls around, clearly pleased with himself. “Do you like it?” he says as he spins. “It’s good as new! Better than new, in fact!”

“Stand still, Merlin, I can’t get a good look if you’re dancing around like that!”

After a few moments more, Merlin stills, and trots over to Arthur, sticking his arm out so that Arthur can examine the embroidery on the sleeve. There, Arthur sees a little dragon, rendered in shimmering golden thread, staring up at a constellation of twinkling stars. Merlin has even added tiny beads on to make the stars glitter just so. Arthur can barely find the words to describe his emotions (which, for him, is not so unusual).

Arthur is just beginning to compose himself enough to formulate a response when Merlin takes the shirt off. Arthur blinks, slowly. Merlin is standing in front of him, shirtless. “Come now, is it so bad that you don’t want it back?” Merlin teases, brandishing the shirt, seemingly unaware of the effect he’s having on Arthur.

“No, I– I want it back, please,” Arthur manages after a pause, his voice small.

“Please?”

Merlin grins, and gently places the shirt on top of the side table. His eyes travel down to Arthur’s lips.

And if Arthur just happens to kiss Merlin on the lips, right there and then, well, it’s because… If he’s honest, it’s because he really wants Merlin, and hiding his growing infatuation with his manservant over the past year has been becoming quite unbearable, actually. He is pleased to learn that this infatuation is seemingly mutual, as Merlin kisses back with such force that Arthur can’t help but emit a little moan from deep in the back of his throat.

Things move on quickly from there, and soon they are both on Arthur’s bed. Merlin has a wicked grin on his face, as he whispers into Arthur’s ear, “Since we’ve been talking about embroidery so much, how about I show you how to put my needle into your hole?”

Arthur goes bright red, but remains very, very aroused.

[shuukichan]

This is perfect. So sweet with a touch of steam... 💖 💨

[mossvelts]

[shuukichan]

Awww. The framing and style of this is lovely!

[shergom]

[z3idan]

merthur fandom are you still out there...

[bakerharrystyles]

Soft merthur <3

Nettles - Ethel Cain

[girasoligialli]

for @merthurmicrofic | prompt : « party » | 888 words

Merlin was standing on the balcony when he felt it. He had left the party for a brief swig of fresh air, and had just been about to turn away from the inky view when the stars began to blink and the ground began to sputter. He knew instantly that only he could feel it, that the others inside were oblivious to this monumental shift in the fabric of the earth. It was finally time.

Merlin had been enjoying the party, certainly. Marcine had invited him – it was her older sister’s birthday, and she didn’t really want to make the journey south alone, and she’d never seen Merlin drunk after all, so would he please come with her – and Merlin had surprised himself, firstly by saying yes, and secondly by having a rather good time at said party. In the end, he did not get drunk, and in fact was very likely the most sober person in attendance, but if anything, the strange clarity only increased his enjoyment of the whole affair. Humans were a funny species, garnering so much joy from dancing around senseless in a shoddily-decorated kitchen, or playing silly games they would struggle to remember the following morning. Merlin remembered a time when he, too, had been like them. It was strangely comforting to pretend, just for one night, that he still was like that. He danced in the kitchen with them, holding the speaker aloft when his song came on; joined in with their game of spin the bottle, in which he planted a firm kiss on Marcine’s sister’s surprised lips; and mixed cocktails on the kitchen island with a man whose name he did not know, but whose smile was infectious.

It was late into the evening – or, more accurately, very early into the morning – when Merlin had stepped outside to breathe in the cold night air. The balcony was small but sturdy, and offered a sweeping view of the sleeping houses below, and the twirling stars above. He could hear the stars whispering, wanting to tell him something important. He couldn’t quite make out their voices.

He was straining his ears to listen to them when he felt it. A deep, trembling groan that shook the very core of the earth. Then – a golden light, dancing in the inky black, swirling and shifting and singing. Soon, the whole sky was illuminated with a soft gold glow that only Merlin could see. Its light reflected in his eyes, and thrummed in his soul. After all this waiting, it was finally time.

Merlin slid open the balcony door, and eased himself back into the kitchen. He surveyed the current state of the party, and his gold-blue eyes met Marcine’s green ones. “I’m afraid I have to go,” he told her, clasping her hand, “You’ve been a very dear friend to me – I hope we will meet again someday.”

Marcine nodded solemnly, not quite understanding the true meaning of Merlin’s words. He would write to her, he thought. She had been good to him, and it felt rude to leave with so little warning, but he had had no warning either. It was probably for the best, that way. The anticipation would have been unbearable.

He kissed Marcine on the cheek, and walked out the door, trading the hazy atmosphere of the party for the cool embrace of the golden wind. The sky was still glowing, and he followed the tendrils of light to the edge of the lake. It would have been a long distance for anyone else to cover, but Merlin was not like anyone else, not anymore. He covered the miles in a few short steps, the earth folding and reforming under his feet as he focused on his destination.

If the sky was golden, then the lake was incandescent. Merlin could feel the magic humming, vibrating his very being. He knelt down by the lake’s shore, and placed his hands into the water. The earth throbbed and the water spun, metallic ripples giving way to the grassy shores of a long-dead island. Merlin did not need the boat to reach the island, but he took it anyway.

Surging forwards on a sea of gold, it was not long until Merlin’s boat came to the centre of the lake. Merlin was so attuned to the magic reverberating off the surface of the water that he had forgotten to be nervous. It was only when his feet touched the soft grass of the island that he remembered where he was, what was happening. It was like the most beautiful of fever dreams. Merlin was hot with emotion. He felt his heart jump from within his chest when he saw the man lying on the grassy earth. He was every bit as beautiful as Merlin remembered him. He was dressed in his chainmail, his rich red cloak draped over his body like a blanket – or a shroud. His armour was freshly polished, his boots scrubbed clean, and a faint smile graced his lips. He looked as though he were sleeping.

Merlin bent down, and reverently kissed Arthur’s forehead. He sat on the soft earth next to his king, and felt the gold fade from the sky as Arthur’s eyes slowly opened. For the first time in a long, long time, Merlin felt whole again.