So, a while back I said this post on my dash was them™️, and the person I was yapping with at the time said “They remind me of that Hallmark movie trope where A is a hot single lumberjack dad and the MC is trying to meet cute them but A's kid is so unimpressed by the MC”.
I joked that it would be them in a Hallmark au lmao, and promptly titled it Flufftober’s Mundane AU: Hallmark. (Day 14’s prompt is Mundane AU/Fantasy AU, and obviously, a fantasy AU is not an option when it’s already a fantasy story.)
Then I was like, “Pfft what if I actually wrote that? Lol.” I couldn’t think of what to do before, and kept overthinking every little thing. 😭
I think one idea I previously had was having Charlie be a cat, but I kind of thought that would be boring since he wouldn’t be able to talk.
I decided on human!Charlie instead, and fortunately, I already had an age for him; he’d be seven since that’s actually how old he is canonically! (In dragon years at least, lol.)
Started thinking about it again a couple of hours later, wondering how Merlin would’ve come across Charlie in this universe since he’s still his adopted child. Foster care and adopting him in the end? Some other way?
The same person I was yapping to when I first came up with loved the foster care au idea, so that idea stuck!
But I also wondered how he would’ve gotten there, since in the main verse his parents abandoned him as a baby… maybe the same thing happened? Or maybe they were addicts of some sort?
I didn’t know lol.
They suggested that “Maybe they surrendered him cause they couldn't take care of him? Baby Charlie spends a few years in foster care before Merlin adopts him”.
I said “Hmm maybe 🤔. Because in canon they’re shit parents, but maybe in another world they weren’t…” Yeah now I think they still are. Oh well /s.
Started thinking about it again a little bit earlier and made a Merl design!
I think he’d be a lot younger here for some reason? Lol
Also gave him brown eyes…
And here’s Charlie’s design! Little baby 🥺
I also made a possible design of Amelia lol since she’s the first canon love interest I published jsksksksk
So basically, if you don’t want to read all the yapping: I've started to write a modern au where Charlie is Merlin's seven year old adopted kid from foster care. Some love interest keeps trying to do meet cutes with his DAD and he is not impressed.
Picrew credits: Bright’s Picrew Hell, Fantasy Character Maker character maker pt 2
“Melia,” I breathed, the space in my chest tight and hot and aching. “The world isn’t a safe place—it never has been for me. It’s full of greed, packed with liars, thick with thieves. And they will steal everything important to you, everything you love, even your hope. But you…you are everything they aren’t. You are love, and you’ve shown me that love’s not only possible. It’s real.”
Decided I’m gonna make posts about visual references I’m using for TKN!
Idk if they’ll help y’all any but you might find it fun lol
For now, these are going to cover each day of Flufftober I’m doing. I might possibly have aphantasia since I can’t actually visualize things properly; everything is all just a hazy picture unless it’s right in front in me, and I forget as soon as it’s gone.
Frantically googling, staring at my commission art, making Picrews, tryingggggg my damned best to imagine things, and looking at past writing excerpts is what gets me through it mdkdkdkfooffo
Anyways, enjoy!
Day 1: Lost Pet Meet Cute
Day 2: “Left. Other left!” | Day 3: Favorite Scent
Art dump of the Babies™️ (Merlin and Charlie)
Picrew of Amelia!
The vine canopy that Amelia passes through
Art that captures the vibe of the enchanted lake, even if it doesn’t quite match the description or what I tried to imagine (maybe someday I’ll get it commissioned lol)
Cws/Tws: drugging of a character, though it doesn’t do anything besides put him to sleep, and a couple of swears, but nothing too bad
Slightly late but I did it!!! :D (And yes, Charlie isn’t a pet; I took a little liberty with the prompt because the other version I tried to write wasn’t working lol)
@flufftober
Merlin:
Charlie’s gone.
The ache that began to place itself in his chest when he first noticed his companion was hunting for too long (burrowing there like how his son used to bury himself in his arms) is widening into a chasm too wide to cross.
Panic makes his hands shake, makes plants begin to crawl up the walls and beneath his feet as he frantically paces, but at least it’s better than ice, and he knows his mind is spiraling and he has to calm down but he can’t.
Not until Charlie is safe. What if Charlie got kidnapped? What if he woke up in a dungeon after being drugged like he did that day? What if he was muzzled?
What if his captors wanted to-
No.
He’s a dragon- only the most sickening person would- would hurt him the way he’d been hurt.
But he can’t banish the thought now that it’s rooted itself in his mind. His searching has brought up nothing, and no one has seen him, and it makes no sense because it would be remarkably obvious if there was a huge dragon colored like soil and fire and lava around since people are always terrified of him-
He can’t breathe.
Charlie’s gone.
Gone gone gone-
Attempts to reach out with telepathy have been useless.
Everything has been useless.
Their souls are intertwined. Why can’t he feel him?
“Charlie, please,” he begs, exhausted and desperate. No answer comes.
His son is gone.
But he’s not dead, because he’d be dead too, and it’s the only solace he has.
He finally got tired of you, the voices whisper, and Kennard’s rises above the others. You’re alone.
You’re not helping, he replies internally, even though he knows it’s useless. Replying to them never helps.
He wishes he could bury his face in Charlie’s chest, listening to the loud purrs until they quiet.
Alone, his mind whispers, persistent, and now a headache is pounding against his skull and he can’t breathe.
Charlie’s the only one who knows what happened in that dungeon, what happened after, and he’s the only one who knows the entirety of what happened for his son to enter his orbit in the first place. Charlie wouldn’t leave him, not intentionally, not after how he’d been so comforting when he was finally mustering up the courage to leave that godsforsaken dungeon and he’d found him. Not after he’d stayed in the bathroom while he bathed the remnants of that place away, too scared to be alone like some clingy idiot.
He would never leave. So where is he?
Amelia:
“Have you heard that Charlemagne’s missing?”
The gossip easily spreads; no one’s being subtle, exactly, and Merlin’s too panicked to care, his magic leaving obvious effects on everything.
There are… plants, everywhere, and she’s glad that it’s not actually something dangerous, really! But they’re not anything she can use, all little flowers and ivy spreading onto the cobblestones, so she still has to make a trip to the woods after all.
She grabs her basket and heads out while there’s light, fighting the urge to scoff at everyone still gossiping. If she had any time, she’d help Merlin look. They clearly have the time to since they’re all just standing around.
She finds the herbs she needs quickly, knowing all of them well, but something tells her to venture further into the woods, and since she has more of her schedule than she thought she would before she needs to make herself some supper, she heeds the urge.
Her pace slows as she takes in everything. It’s all so beautiful, with huge, towering trees and vines hanging everywhere, and she’d easily believe it if Merlin told her the forest’s enchanted, magic teeming in the very soil.
Well… if he talked to her. She’s only heard of him, imagined what he looks like since she was a little girl (he’s never described besides being Black, really) what his voice sounds like, how he laughs…
She shakes herself out of it. He’d never pay any attention to her. Besides, she’s never heard of him having a romantic partner. Why would she be the exception in that regard?
Hanging vines block the way to the next part of the forest, and she cautiously stops, listening for anything abnormal.
There’s nothing as far as she can tell, and the urge is still there, so she slowly, quietly brushes them aside and steps through.
Somehow, this part of the woods is even more beautiful than the rest. A lake, shimmering and blue, is in the center of the clearing, trees covered in ivy surrounding it. Crickets chirp and frogs croak, adding to the wonder of this place.
She marks it as a secret spot in her mind, planning on returning whenever she can find the time. Maybe she can even bring a book and rest under one of the trees, and who knows?
Maybe one day Merlin would be here too.
Her past urge now feels sated, so she turns to leave when a huff, exhaled by something large, startles her. She freezes, heart pounding, praying to the gods that she wouldn’t be seen as an easy meal for this creature.
Nothing else happens.
Her grip on her basket loosens as she tries to process… this. She hasn’t heard anything leave, so it must be here still. But where is it? And why isn’t it attacking her? Did the gods answer her prayers that easily?
Thinking it’s near, she slowly walks around the tree she’s standing by, taking care to not crunch any of the fallen leaves under her feet, and for a moment she thinks she isn’t going to find anything; oh, Amelia, your mind is just playing tricks on you-
There’s a dragon.
A giant fucking dragon.
All she can do is stare at it, gripping her basket tightly again.
It certainly has lungs large enough to make the huff she’d heard, and fortunately, it’s asleep, but that doesn’t mean it won’t wake.
It’s… strangely beautiful.
Its back, part of its head, paws and upper half of its tail are colored like soil; its chest, stomach, and lower half of its tail are colored like fire, and the massive wings tucked by its sides as it slumbers are reminiscent of the pictures of lava she’s seen. There’s an ornate marking on its upper right leg, leafy swirls in a far lighter shade of brown than the surrounding area.
A half-eaten carcass of… something is in front of it, and its muzzle is still soaked in blood, like it fell asleep while eating. But that doesn’t make sense, does it?
Her fear dissipates as minutes pass and it doesn’t wake.
All right, she can leave and forget this ever happened, and next time she returns, it hopefully won’t be here.
Taking a deep breath, she begins to walk away.
Wait.
A dragon, in the woods? So near to where Merlin’s been searching?
She turns around, staring at it again.
That’s Charlemagne, isn’t it?
She hopes he’ll still be here as she walks as hurriedly as she can without dropping her herbs. Once she reaches her house, she sets her basket on the table before running out, barely remembering to lock the door behind her.
Merlin had to still be here, right? This had better not turn into a game of cat and mouse, just barely missing each other.
The flowers remaining in the cobblestones is all the answer she needs, and excitement races through her as she quickly asks James where the wizard is.
“He’s by the fountain,” he answers helpfully, if a bit confused; she thanks him and runs off, hoping Merlin’s still there and she’ll be able to spot him easily.
It is, actually. Only one man is pacing by the fountain, wringing his hands, flowers blooming under his feet.
He’s tall, towering over everyone else, man or woman, in the square. Long, coarse hair, far longer than hers, far longer than most women she’s seen, shines as white as freshly fallen snow. It would rest against his cape when he’s still, against his… massive thighs if he wasn’t wearing that, and she thinks it would go to his knees when fully down. It’s tied up into a mid-high ponytail, now, locked into thick strands that remind her of strong ropes. Every side of his head is shaved, showing softer but still coarse hair that glimmers like frost in the slowly waning sunlight.
“Merlin!” She calls, and several turns head turn along with his, but she can barely bring herself to care when he turns to face her.
And oh, he’s beautiful.
The gods themselves must have blessed him when he was born.
His skin is a warm, dark brown, descriptions of being Black ringing true with the real man. The scars on his face immediately draw her attention, the tinted yellow glasses he wears not helping to hide them.
The first and longest spans from above the wrinkles on his forehead, barely below his eyes; the second is on the left side of his forehead, stopping a little just above his eyebrow; the third is on his left cheek, cutting a diagonal line through it. They don’t harm his appearance despite their size, take away from the beauty of his face, adorning instead of marring.
She doesn’t know where they’re from, and suddenly wishes she did, but they’re most likely from dueling. He hasn’t earned the reputation of being a warrior from false fights, after all.
His eyebrows, long eyelashes (that would rest against his cheeks if he closed his eyes), and beard, which has a coarse, curly texture, are all the same shade as his hair. His eyes are clearly almond shaped even with the glasses, and his eyes seem to be grey. (Unless it’s an effect of the glasses, but why would he hide his true eye color?)
The bridge of his nose is prominent, making it curve. An aquiline nose, isn’t it?
He’s wearing a dark green bliaut, with a brown belt across it, as his outer wear (it shows some of his chest, and she has to quickly look away). Dark blue pants cover his legs, and they’re tucked into brown heeled boots, laced at the front.
Earrings in the shape of moons pierce both of his ears, and they’re even round like the real moon is. A necklace, which is simple in design, only a gem- Labradorite, maybe- held with black string over and around it, rests against his neck. A bracelet, which is possibly Fire Opal, is on his right wrist, and a ring is on his right hand’s second finger.
His dark blue cape swishes as he sways from side to side, hands still wrung together. It’s lighter than his pants, long and hooded, just barely not brushing against the cobblestones, held in place by two silver clasps. Dragons are engraved in them, and it helps her remember why she wants his attention in the first place.
“Why did you call me?” He finally asks quietly, when she tries to speak and nothing comes out. Her throat feels dry, like the air on a scorching summer day, and it has to be from finally seeing the man she’s only ever dreamed of talking to.
“You-” her voice cracks, and she curses herself before clearing her throat and trying again. “Are you still looking for Charlemagne?”
He nods, expression troubled and sad as he finally stills for the most part. His hands still quiver even if he’s no longer wringing them, and Charlemagne must mean more to him than most realize.
It already breaks her heart to see him like this.
“I found him,” she answers just as quietly, and hope immediately replaces the emotions he had only a moment ago, wild and unbidden.
“Where is he?” He asks, and his voice cracks, tears suddenly filling his eyes.
“I can take you to him?” She offers, because this is the chance of a lifetime, and she has no idea of she’ll ever get it again.
And Merlin nods. Merlin nods and waits for her to lead the way.
Her heart is going to burst out of her chest before they can find Charlemagne again.
Nothing is said as she heads back, Merlin right in step with her, and she thinks it’s because they’re both too anxious to say anything.
(For different reasons, but still.)
But then they’re at the hanging vines, and she brushes them aside, and Merlin’s face falls when Charlemagne isn’t there.
“He should still be behind this tree,” she says helpfully, and the hope returns as she leads him to it.
“Charlie!” Merlin shrieks, running forward when he sees the dragon still slumbering under the trees. His knees crash against the grass that she hopes is soft, and uncaring of the blood still on Charlemagne’s- Charlie’s? (Maybe she should stay with the former, for now.) face, he begins stroking it.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re all right,” he whispers even though the dragon shows no signs of waking.
“Sweetheart?” She asks quietly, thought of Charlemagne being more important than most think apparently true, and Merlin stiffens and quiets, not turning to her, only continuing to stroke his dragon.
Magic- white as his hair, comes out of his hands in wisps that remind of her clouds when the dragon still doesn’t wake a few minutes later.
Soon, Charlemagne stirs, and his eyes slowly open.
They’re a bright red that make her want to shy away, but Merlin’s face only shows joy as the dragon’s eyes focus on him.
“Merlin?” Charlemagne mutters groggily, mutters, and what the fuck he can talk?!
“He can talk?!” She yelps when Merlin’s expression doesn’t change in shock. Charlemagne stiffens, startled, and Merlin turns to look at her like he’d forgotten she’s there.
“Um- yes,” Merlin replies after a moment of them all just staring at each other. Then he turns back to the dragon, murmuring, “Shh. Are you hurt?”
Charlemagne shakes his head. “Only sleepy,” he rumbles, nuzzling into Merlin’s touch. “I was hunting that deer,” he begins without any apparent prompting from his- his owner? “I could smell some humans here at the same time, but I didn’t think anything of it. I only remember catching it and eating it- or some of it,” he amends, looking at the carcass, “before I started feeling tired.”
Merlin hums, hands never leaving his face. “They must have drugged it to make it fall asleep to make it easier to catch. I doubt they were expecting you to steal their kill,” Merlin theorizes, starting to laugh, and Charlemagne laughs too, surprising her.
“I can’t believe I got drugged.” Charlemagne grunts, unfurling his massive wings in a stretch and yawning before he looks into Merlin’s eyes again. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“I know. I know. It’s all right,” Merlin replies, pressing relieved kisses into the parts of his head not covered in blood. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
“I love you,” Charlie whispers, suddenly beginning to purr as he nuzzles Merlin’s chest, and she feels like she’s intruding on something private.
Maybe this would be how all pets acted with their owners if they could talk, though.
She tries to figure out a way to quietly leave anyways when the red eyes suddenly focus on her, and she freezes.
“Who is she?” He asks Merlin, pulling away slightly, only to speak more clearly, and the wizard pets him as he replies, “She led me to you. She found you first.”
Merlin pauses and turns to face her, expression sheepish even as gentle hands never stop their ministrations. “I’m so sorry. I never got your name.”
“Amelia,” she says softly. “And I know you were worried. I understand.”
Merlin smiles at her, sweet and grateful, and now that she’s reunited the two of them, she’s going to die from her heart bursting. Charlemagne stares at her oddly, but she doesn’t care because Merlin is smiling at her.
Then he turns back to his dragon, and she can breathe again, and remember that she wanted to ask about their relationship.
“Your bond seems very close,” she ventures; Merlin looks up at her and smiles a second time, making her lose her breath as quickly as she’d regained it. “It is.”
Curiosity makes her press on. “…Even though he’s a pet?”
“He’s not a pet,” Merlin snaps immediately, eyes shining brightly even behind his glasses, and the sudden change in mood is enough to put her hands up in surrender. But it… doesn’t seem to be entirely directed at her?
“I’m sorry,” he says a moment later, taking a deep breath even before Charlemagne nuzzles him again. “I got snappy.” He looks ready to say something else, but then he stops.
It’s only for a moment, though. “It’s… a lot to explain, especially to a stranger, and we’ve gotten so much shit from people who don’t know how important we are to each other. It’s not an excuse. And I’m sorry, again.”
She nods, accepting it, because how could she be angry with the man she’s wanted to meet all her life for long? “It’s all right. I shouldn’t have made presumptions, even if I was trying not to.”
Merlin takes a deep breath, visibly relaxing, smiling a little, and she smiles back as Charlemagne looks through the two of them, expression unreadable, and maybe one day she’ll know what their true relationship is.
And it’s too early to think of romance, really.
Maybe one day.
Teen Recreates Van Gogh Portray On Her Leg As an alternative Of Self-Harming
Teen Recreates Van Gogh Portray On Her Leg As an alternative Of Self-Harming
18-year-old Amelia Corridor has suffered from despair for a number of years. However when she had a very unhealthy day just lately, she didn’t resort to self-harm however as an alternative did one thing each good and provoking.
“Right now has been the worst day in a very long time, however I recreated an exquisite portray on my pores and skin as an alternative of self harming,” wrote Amelia on…
