#numpty art tag

[numptypylon]

I’m sitting on some angsty unposted fanart, but it’s Valentine’s day and I can’t do that, so I dug up this, which I forgot to post, of Rayllum dancing at Janaya’s wedding, in fancy clothes. I’m no good at clothing design, hence why there are two versions 😄 Let me know your favorite!

Callum is in Sunfire wedding colors, because he’s in the wedding party, like Ez. There’s fanart of Janaya dancing and Ez and Zym dancing at the wedding, too, that in this series.

I imagine Amaya is way too strong and accidentally yeets the bouquet over the edge of the sun spire during the bouquet toss, and Callum jumps after it as he does. And he kind forgot he doesn’t have HANDS when he’s flying, so cathes the bouquet in his mouth and flies back up, spitting windblown flower debris at Rayla’s feet, and that’s how they officially get back together.

#rayllum #rayla #the dragon prince #tdp #callum #numpty art tag

[zuppizup]

Apparently the Rayllum braincell is very strong and while I was writing Already Dead, uber talented fandom marshmallow @numptypylon was drawn this stunning Rayllum art. And in keeping with her marshmallow-ness, she did this amazing variation for me!

I’m sorry for another traumatic haircut Rayla, but is it worth it for this beautiful, evocative art?!

Go raibh mile maith agat, Numpty! Thank you as always for enabling and encouraging me!

#the dragon prince #tdp #rayllum #rayla #callum #rayla x callum #callum x rayla #numpty art tag #rayllum fanart #tw: blood

[runawaymun]

biting tearing clawing bc my elwing art got reposted on instagram

#at least fucking @me so i'm properly credited #🔪🔪🔪 don't make me file a complaint #either ya took it from tumblr in which it takes 3 seconds to check if i'm on instagram to properly @ and ask if you can share it #or if you took it from my instagram then you should have asked me first #what the fuckkkk #i'm not tagged or anything #thanks for using my art to get your account views ya numpty #my celrond art got reposted to pinterest the other week #i'm just annoyed #there's like a fundamental lack of effort here #they restricted comments too so I can’t even comment to claim it

[kantraels]

his ass is rank 1 again...

#PLEASE let us change our names I had to KILL HIM. I had to KILL MY BOY #'are they aware that they actually killed him--' no. next question #kal #kenna #art tag #obviously this is noncanon but I do think that they've all had an incident with cleansing fire. kenna like but i thought you liked fire :( #kal like NAWT WHEN ITS ON ME YE NUMPTY....... ach don't cry I'm sorry see I'm only a little singed

[shrekgogurt]

I come to you on this “It’s Gonna Be May” evening with the news that I have once again started a new WIP before finishing any old ones. It’s Watford 8th year canon-divergence, no truce, still numpties kidnapped, Watford has an art’s program, Pippa didn’t lose her voice from the tape recorder but she does have mono AU. Watford is putting on Les Mis and like it simply is just Simon Snow’s gay crisis the musical.

This primarily was born from @facewithoutheart saying she wants Baz singing “On My Own” so here are actually ummmmm more than six sentences from that particular scene:

It’s as if someone wrote my soliloquy without my permission. I know her despair. I know about living inside one’s head. It’s practically my homeostasis. So, I channel most of my effort into keeping my limp from becoming too obvious…until the song really starts and Eponine stills.

I look out at the audience, “On my own.” 

I can't see anyone but I know they’re there. The spot is so bright even my inhumane night vision is blocked. It’s too intense. Like the sun. Like–“pretending he's beside me.”

ALRIGHTY ROO NOW BEFORE I SCURRY OFF FOR SUCCESSION SUNDAY @cutestkilla thank you @hushed-chorus @artsyunderstudy @larkral @thewholelemon @imagineacoolusername for the tags today and then also @ebbpettier @whogaveyoupermission (loving your current wip) @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @ileadacharmedlife @onepintobean @martsonmars @palimpsessed for previous weeks again i’m sorry my reblog game has been really sucking recently oh also i’m throwing in a @raenestee​ for good measure because I know you love Les Mis + a bonus @theearlgreymage

#six second sunday #les mis au different than the one i talked about on the co server #me when i change my mind #this one is more fun #and blurs the lines between crack and serious #we'll call it genuine camp #okie byeeeeeeeeeee

[kradogsrats]

Hi ks just found your page cuz numpty reblogged

So I wanted to read your fanfics and stuff but it's all sorted by newest on tumblr so is there a way to read your whole stories in order?

Maybe thers a way but idk its like 2am I shouldave slept

aaaaa ha ha um I assume you're most interested in the Ouroboros AU stuff since it was that Rayla that numpty reblogged, unfortunately that's just scraps I've written here and there out of order... I do plan to formally write it and I have a rough outline and everything, but I'm prioritizing my other AU right now since it's shorter and has a definitive end point

The bits of written-out fic, after the original concept outline, would be loosely in order as:

Servant of Katolis (full re-write in progress because I hate everything about it omg cringing rn)

Proprioception (also to be heavily rewritten due to canon shifts)

Matriculation

Rote Memorization

Callum's Dream

Ghost

If you want to see all the random Ouroboros stuff, including other art and me just kinda flailing around, it has its own tag.

... also I just realized I should probably put my AO3 in my pinned post, so gonna do that, rip me lmao.

#UH HI #sorry for you to show up and me immediately being like 'yeah that's on hiatus and a lot less of it exists than it sounds like' #god i actually haven't posted about it in forever whoops #i do think about it a lot though so it's still alive i swear #ouroboros au

[captain-aralias]

Six Sentence Sunday!

waited until 8pm in the hope i would have something from my fake fiancé @carryon-reverse-bang to share with you - and i do! so, here’s a double update:

We all fall down, based on @technetiumai‘s art 

I’m failing. I’ve failed. On what should’ve been my easiest mission.

How can I not love Baz? He’s the most beautiful person imaginable. He’s smart and powerful, he’s barely a dick at all anymore – really, only when it’s funny. He’s so brave about what’s happening to him, what has happened. (I want to murder those numpties, that’s something I could do.) He’s so much kinder to me than I deserve. He comforts me, even though it really should be the other way around.

He kissed me on the forehead today, the way his mum did. I was almost in tears, my magic rattling at the surface of my skin, because the rosebuds falling from Baz’s lips have started to open.

“It’s all right, love,” Baz told me, as I blubbered all over him. “I know you’re trying.”

should post this time next week 👀👀

[Unnamed fake fiancé fic], based on @asticou‘s art 

I’d just told him that my ex-boyfriend is newly engaged to a woman. Gerard told me he was completely gay when we were dating, but he’s from the Old Families. It was probably only a matter of time before someone threatened his inheritance or reminded him where his duty truly lay. Or perhaps he just wasn’t telling me the truth. 

My father didn’t know the specifics, of course, or chose not to tell me. He just brought it up deliberately over dinner amongst other interesting news. I could’ve handled that – it’s not as if Gerard and I were dating long, or that I even really liked him, I just liked him enough. If that had been all there was to the story, I would have contented myself with drinking too much wine and going to bed early to feel sorry for myself amongst hundreds of posters of Harry Styles. (Mordelia’s at Watford now, so I stay in her room when I’m in Oxford. It’s very teenage girl, but I don’t mind. I just prefer Louis.)

yes, gerard is back! why not? (here he lets baz down in a different way, what a prick.) almost everything i’ve written so far is exposition, looking forward to writing some awkward kissing and hand-holding instead. 

thank you for tagging me @messofthejess @facewithoutheart @artsyunderstudy @basiltonbutliketheherb @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @martsonmars @confused-bi-queer @ivelovedhimthroughworse

tagging: @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @j-nipper-95 @whatevertheweather @ileadacharmedlife @takitalks ​

#my content

[nokingsonlyfooles]

🤨?!?

WTF is this irritating bouncy graphic in the corner of my screen? Go away. Go...

Why?... What did I do yesterday?...

...😠You are rewarding me for scrolling through someone's blog looking for original art, getting frustrated because the format mixes reblogs with original posts and makes it impossible for me to find an art tag (if there even is one), giving up, and going back to clear out my feed. You are celebrating the fact that I got irritated with your format, Tumblr.

"Wow! Thanks for looking at so many posts!"

"...Because you made it impossible for me to find what I wanted?"

Is "I ask for what I want to see and you let me see it" not enough, Tumblr? Numbers Going Up =/= Satisfaction, you numpties.

#tumblr woes #hellsite #i guess that's enough scrolling for today huh? #“always reblog art” does not work well for getting my art seen #...and that's because my blog is full of reblogged art the algorithm served me... #...and my art has few notes and doesn't get served #well it makes sense now!

[vivi-the-sky-kid]

Hello Maam/Sir/Great One, can you please catch me up on everything lore related lately? I've been dead for at least a year and would like to hjonk my confusion. And can you also please explain them? Sky lore is very very vauge and I, as my classmates say, am a numpty so a short explaination is very much appreciated <3

Hm, I do like the sound of Great One :3 From now on, I will be referred to as Great One and Great One only (/j)

So to get everything that I've posted, I really do recommend going to my blog and using either the search function (if you're on the app) and looking up the tag "sky lore," or going into my archive on desktop and also looking up the tag "sky lore" because that will help you find everything. The tags "sky meta" and "sky theories" are also a good idea to search up, though they are my own musings and interpretations of what we see in game, so don't take them as the One True Lore. Overall, I'd recommend the desktop route because the app's search function doesn't always get everything

However, I'll also post a few links here that cover the big ones

This post has numerous handy links for people just like you :D

This post deals more with matters from the concept art stage, so take it with a grain of salt, but it is rather interesting to see how things changed in regards to who/what the Elders are, how the Sky Kingdom once was culturally, and the relationship the spirits had with the light creatures

This post goes into the meanings behind the Hebrew letters used in the concept art for the Elders, as well as how they pertain to each Elder

This post covers 5 different versions of the opening sequence (the English, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, and French versions), and also has interpretations given by the fandom regarding the wording of each intro

Additionally, I recommend checking out @sky-lore, @skyabove, and @whitebookposts (among others), as I did miss quite a few months myself due to personal reasons

But overall, I recommend just having fun with it! Take what you see in-game and come up with your own version

#sky children of the light #sky #sky lore #asks #ducksaregods #lore in this game is. kind of a mess #but i hope this helps!

[alpha-bread]

Inktober Day 18: Filthy

I’ve brought the filthiest thing I can think of

#welcome to my john cage hate blog #hey john cage fuck you #i agree with your broad definition of music in theory but also get f u c k e d #pompous goddamn rich motherfucker pulling pompous goddamn stunts like this and getting richer for it bec #ause hes already famous like fuck you fuck this who do you even think you are you goddamn fucking numpty #you long-dead fool #this is mostly in jest but also #i'm gonna scream about it #inktober #art tag

[palimpsessed]

I actually have a WIP to share! Ngl I am feeling weird about this fic so far, but I think it’s just going to take me a little time to really get into it. Anyway, this is from my COTTA fic, which is a very loose retelling of the Eros and Psyche myth. (It does have a complete outline so that’s cool!)

Thank you to everyone who has been tagging me even tho I have had nothing to share for weeks. I love you all. I am tagging each one of you back for whatever day you want to share something. @phoxphyre (my time period twin! 🥰) @stillmadaboutpetra (I am still constantly thinking of your Cupid and Psyche au art) @captain-aralias @mostlymaudlin @snowybank @angelsfalling16 @sharing-a-room-with-an-open-fire @amphipodgirl @effing-numpties @bloodiedpixie @dreamingkc @nightimedreamersworld @tea-brigade @aristocratic-otter @sillyunicorn @unseelieseelie @amywaterwings @waywardfangirl @caitybug ❤️ No pressure!!!

Here’s a sneak peek at chapter two, from the POV of Simonides, god of homoerotic love 😌:

I wonder if he's been silently weeping all this time, and I've only gotten close enough to notice, or if he started crying just now. I don't know which answer would make me feel less affected, but affected I most definitely am.

Prince Tyrannus is lovely. Sad, but lovely.

He turns to the door, but I think about the roses—roses he's left for me—and then I do something very rash and very foolish.

"Wait!" I call out.

A tremor of shock jolts through his body.

I'm afraid I've terrified him.

Of course I have. What was I thinking? (I wasn't.)

"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I just didn't want you to leave."

Some of the tension leaves the prince's shoulders and he turns back around, looking for the person who belongs to the voice. I duck back. I can't let him see me.

"Who are you?" He asks, uncertainly. Even in his fear, he sounds imperious. "Where are you?"

"Here," I say. "Before you."

"There is no one before me, or else I would see you."

"There is someone before you."

He's quiet, and I can't resist peering around to see what he's doing. I'm a bit afraid he'll sneak over and discover me cowering behind my own statue.

He's peering up at the giant, carved marble version of me, contemplative.

#wip wednesday #my fic #slings and eros

[numptypylon]

Missing scene from S5E2. She’s coming around to the little indulgences…

For @iwillhaveamoonbase 💙

#rayllum #rayla #the dragon prince #tdp #callum #numpty art tag #tdp s5 spoilers

[carry-on-big-bang]

FALLING BACK TO YOU

Author: @bazzybelle

Artist: @milliehilliearts

Warnings: Creator Choose Not To Include Warnings 

Tags: soulmate fic, soulmates, broken connections, Watford-era fic, 5th Year, 7th Year, 8th Year, Simon POV, Baz POV, Baz pining for Simon, Simon pining for his Soulmate, Angry Simon, worried Simon, emo Baz Pitch, an appreciation for early-2000s emo music, emo poetry, they're both oblivious, Baz with the Numpties, Simon finds him this time, Soulmate Magic, Angst, angst with a happy ending, enemies to lovers, first kiss, true love, Baz writing emo poetry, soulmate markings, getting together, Baz's Kidnapping, Canon Divergence, AU-Soulmates, tw: starvation, tw: blood

Summary: When a magician comes into their magic, they gain the ability to communicate with their soulmate. From the time they turn eleven, any message they write on their skin ends up on the skin of their soulmate. There are rules, as magic always has: only they can write to their soulmate and they can’t reveal their names to each other until they turn 18.

Losing a soulmate connection is practically unheard of. When Simon Snow suddenly loses his, he knows just who to blame: it must be the doing of his ever-scheming roommate.

For Baz Pitch, losing his soulmate is really just an inevitable side-effect of being a vampire. It confirms, once and for all, that he is a monster. After all, how can one still have a soulmate if they no longer have a soul?

Word count: Over 50,000 words

Art:

#masterpost submission #cobb 2021 #carry on big bang 2021 #cobb #carry on big bang

[phoxphyre]

Six Sentence Sunday

I wish I could say I was kidnapped by numpties, but alas, I've spent the last several weeks wrestling with a combination of work, a very energetic new dog, and a butt-kicking scene. Thank you for continuing to tag me during my disappearance, @nightimedreamersworld @bazzybelle @xivz @aristocratic-otter @amywaterwings.

Here's a snippet from my Pride & Prejudice AU. Next week--if the writing gods are good to me--I may have a snippet of Simon and Lamb hunting vampires??

~~~~

“Miss Stainton,” said Professor Bunce, laying her fork aside. “I think you very fortunate in your patroness. Lady Fiona’s attention to your wishes and consideration for your comfort appears…quite remarkable.”

Simon could see the sardonic glint in her eye, but Miss Stainton did not appear to detect it.

“Indeed, Madam, indeed!” Miss Stainton cried. “I have never in my life witnessed such behaviour in a person of rank—such affability, such condescension! She was graciously pleased to approve of both of the sermons which I had the honour of preaching before her, and she has also asked me twice to dine at Pitch Manor! Why, she sent for me only last Saturday, to make up her pool of quadrille in the evening.”

“Very kind,” murmured Professor Bunce.

“She is reckoned proud by many, I think, but I have never seen anything but affability in her. She has always spoken to me as she would to any other lady. I flatter myself she sees something of herself in me.”

“Mmmmm,” said Professor Bunce.

“I dare say she is a very agreeable woman!” cried Mr. Bunce. “It is a pity that great ladies in general are not more like her.”

“She was a noted vampire hunter in her time as well, I believe,” said Professor Bunce.

“Did you know her, Mama?” said Penny, startled.

“We have never met,” said Professor Bunce. “But her older sister, Lady Natasha, was the mistress of Watford College when I was at Oxford.”

“Lady Natasha?” said Penny. “The one who found a cure for gnomeatic fever?”

“The very same!” said Miss Stainton. “Their family is renowned throughout England!”

“I have not met Lady Fiona, however,” said Professor Bunce. “She had already gone to China to study the martial arts by then, I believe.”

“Lady Natasha Pitch is a legend,” said Penny, her eyes glowing.

“Pitch?” said Simon. “Is she any relation to the Mr. Pitch at Netherfield?”

“There is a Mr. Pitch here?” said Miss Stainton, pricking her ears like a foxhound with a scent.

“Yes, he is staying with his friend, Mr. Shepard, who has so honoured our Penelope with his attentions," said Mr. Bunce. Penny looked down, turning her napkin over in her hands. “Why, did you know he has five thousand a year?"

“But Mr. Pitch, my dear sir?" prompted Miss Stainton, apparently uninterested in anyone so little connected to her patroness.

"Oh, yes, him," said Mr. Bunce. "Mr. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, I believe his name was.”

“Why, that is her ladyship’s nephew!” cried Miss Stainton. “What a coincidence, that you should be blessed by a member of Lady Fiona’s family!”

“Yes, so blessed,” muttered Simon, and Penny kicked him under the table.

~~~~~~~~~

Tagging @palimpsessed @gampyre @vampire-named-gampire @xivz @ninemagicks @flammable-grimm-pitch @im-gettingby @ganseylike

#valour vanity and vampires #pride and prejudice au #six sentence sunday is for people who haven't been kidnapped by fucking numpties

[mageicalwishes]

Thanks for the tag @effing-numpties :)

Here’s a snippet from the next chapter of my ‘I’ll Give You The Sun’ AU

Baz

He’d never say so out loud, but I know that the whole art ‘thing’ embarasses him. He’d probably pay me not to go to the Institute - To save him from the humiliation at the next Grimm family reunion.

Thinking about him. Whether he thinks that I’m weird. Whether he’s angry at me for running away. Whether he’ll want to speak to me again. Whether he’s thought of me at all. I’ve thought of him. I can’t stop thinking about him, actually. Every single stupid thing I said to him smashing around my brain on repeat - ‘I paint in my head sometimes’ ‘You’ - Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

What’s going to happen when he realises that I’m me? What’s going to happen, full stop.

Alsoooo ... here is a lil sneak peek of my next drawing:

#carry on #my writing #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #tag #co/ws

[panharmonium]

@MERLINOBSESSIONIST I’M -

YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND HOW FILLED WITH LOVE THIS MADE ME FEEL

(^me @ you!!!!!  but also merlin @ will lbr can you IMAGINE)

i know you know i don’t really read much fic but in terms of just tag browsing, almost everything i’ve ever seen about reincarnation is either about just arthur or just the camelot crew and i will tell you right now, the ONLY acceptable explanation for this is that will hasn’t shown up yet, like - it is patently not fair for merlin’s ultimate ‘happy ending’ to do nothing but affirm the message that camelot was the only thing about his life that mattered.

so perhaps, instead: reincarnation runs in reverse, so that merlin finds the first person he lost last.  long after he stopped expecting to meet anyone else, long after he figured this new world’s roster was complete - even merlin assumed it was just camelot that was part of this grand story; destiny never seemed to care about any other part of him before.  

so he doesn’t even think about it.  it doesn’t even cross his mind as a possibility.  

until, of course, it does.

[in other words: i took your ask and wrote you a story.]

i really don’t care for this destiny shit.

merlin hasn’t done accidental magic for a millennium and a half (and it’s a good thing, too, considering his capabilities) but in that space between one thunderous heartbeat and the next, the pavement under his feet splits into a spiderweb network of cracks, and along each crack blooms a tangled vein of grass, shockingly green and decidedly un-urban and definitely not the result of any conceivable natural processes.

will is unimpressed.  “you haven’t changed one ruddy bit,” he says.  “you numpty.  it’s broad daylight.”

merlin wants to say that will hasn’t changed one ruddy bit either, because no one else on earth can manage to show up fifteen centuries after their supposedly permanent death and still make merlin want to strangle them within seconds, but it comes out like “mmmf  ffmm mfmf” because merlin is sort of strangling will after all, in a hug, and his face is mashed into will’s clothes, and he can’t enunciate properly with a mouthful of t-shirt.

(he also can’t enunciate properly when he’s crying, but that’s nobody’s damn business.)

merlin is insufferable for weeks.

that’s will’s opinion on the subject, anyhow.  merlin maintains that this is an exaggeration, in response to which will retorts, “yesterday when i woke up i cracked my skull on your nose ‘cos you were hanging over me while i was having a nap, merlin, you’ve gone completely round the bed - ”

later on, maybe, merlin will admit that perhaps will has a point, and maybe merlin was being just a little bit overbearing.  

but in the moment, all merlin can think about is zippers.

zippers are a clever little invention.

of all the innovations merlin has seen emerge over the last 1500 years, he has always been oddly charmed by the zipper, which up until now he believed to be a perfectly designed machine.  currently, though, he’s revised his opinion - zippers for fastening two bits of clothing together are handy, make no mistake, but merlin, who has resolved to never again let will out of his sight, thinks zipping two people together would be a handier function by half, and wonders if zipper manufacturers are open to suggestions.  

it’s just that not letting will out of his sight means not letting will do...well, almost anything, really, and it would be much easier to accomplish this if merlin could keep will where he wanted him while also having both hands free.  but merlin is willing to make sacrifices in the name of precautions, and he resolves to master the art of shadowing will’s every move even without the aid of specialized fastening apparatuses, for all that a zipper would have been more convenient.  

for some unfathomable reason, will seems to find this annoying.  but merlin tries to make himself feel better about his friend’s marked ingratitude by convincing himself that will’s reluctance to follow perfectly reasonable, safety-related rules is just a consequence of his natural anti-authoritarian streak, and not, in fact, a reaction to the fact that merlin has gone completely round the twist.

merlin is not being unreasonable.  he’s not.  

it’s a dangerous world out there.  you can’t be too careful.  

“what are you doing?” asks merlin, alarmed.

will looks blankly at merlin over the hood of the car.  “getting in?”

“oh, no.  you can’t sit there.”

“can’t i?  i’m driving.”

“no.”

“no, i’m not driving?”

“no.”

“you’re driving, then.”

“no.”

“i don’t understand.  who’s driving?”

“...no.”

“...how are we supposed to do your groceries?”

“look, i just think, you know, let’s just...skip it.”

“merlin,” will says, with forced calm, “you have no toilet paper.”

“what are you doing?”

“...eating.”

“you’ve not had that before.”

“so?”

merlin hesitates.  “do you know, allergies are hundreds of times more common now than they were when we - ”

“merlin...”

“i’m only saying that if you haven’t tried it before - ”

“merlin - ”

“maybe i should just - ”

“merlin, if you try to take this plate away from me i am dumping the sticky bit all over your trousers.”

“what are you doing?”

“nothing, merlin.”

“you got up.”

“so?”

“where are you going?”

“...the loo, merlin.”

will tries his best to be patient with merlin, but unfortunately patience has never been one of his strong suits, so merlin’s fingers do end up getting slammed in a number of bathroom doors before merlin manages to finally (grudgingly) admit that will has, in point of fact, always been rather more self-sufficient than merlin himself, and that will has also, in general, been quite good about not getting himself killed in stupid accidents, when left to his own devices.

“so,” merlin concedes, “as long as no one’s actively trying to murder you - ”

“can’t promise anything,” says will, around a mouthful of toast.  “something about me puts people’s backs right up, merlin; i know a couple of blokes who’d be well pleased if i did drop dead of a freak nectarine allergy - ”

“ - then i suppose,” merlin continues, gritting his teeth, “you’ll probably be fine.”

merlin is proud of himself for deciding to be such a grown-up, and he thinks his insufferable period ends there.  

the rest of his friends quietly disagree, even if they never say so to merlin’s face, because for them, merlin’s insufferable period has just begun.  merlin, who has spent the last 1500 years diligently serving someone else’s interests, has now suddenly reacquired the one thing in his life that was ever just his, and the fact of the matter is that will’s reappearance, unexpected as it is, turns merlin temporarily feral.

even after merlin decides to stop (literally) breathing down will’s neck at every turn, he still goes virtually everywhere at will’s elbow (if they go out at all), and he comes home in exactly the same position, and he sleeps on the living room floor because that’s where he and will are lying when they talk themselves out in the middle of the night, and he gleefully declines invitations to do things with other people because he is already doing exactly what he wants to do, and he will continue to do so for exactly as long as he wants to do it, and now it is everybody else’s turn to wait.

people who haven’t seen him for a long time start asking him if he wants to come round, and he doesn’t even bother with ‘oh, i’m a bit busy atm;’ he just replies <no> and then "loses” his phone behind the couch.

(gwen is the only one who ever gets a clarifying text after one of these episodes, the content of which reads i didn’t mean that in a nasty way.  she sends back a little purple flower in response, because of course she knows perfectly well he didn’t - she laughed, to be honest, when she got the original message.)

(she thinks it’s nice to hear merlin using the word no as a complete sentence, actually.)

(she knew him the longest, after everything went to hell.  by now, they understand each other.)

most of merlin’s other friends don’t bother him too much after their first failed attempts at connecting, because they can take a hint, and they have their own lives to live, and they assume they’ll just see merlin when he wants to see them.

a few of them, however, are accustomed to getting everything they want, very quickly, almost all of the time, and said people (person) spent a formative chunk of their lives relying on merlin to (literally) drag them out of bed every morning, so these people (person) turn out to be a bit more persistent.

merlin’s email inbox pings him multiple times a day, asking increasingly curious and impatient variations on “where are u,” until merlin activates the out-of-office reply feature and sets the bounce-back message to “at the tavern.”  merlin’s mobile keeps ringing, until he magicks it to redirect all incoming calls to an in-home laundry service.  the landline starts ringing then as well, at which point will picks up the phone and says, his face utterly serious, “we’re not home,” while merlin cackles (unsubtly, audibly) in the background.

much later, when merlin has finally relaxed a bit and rejoined society, arthur will grumble about this, because he still gets Like That sometimes and doesn’t appreciate being Mocked, thank you very much (especially not by “that fellow”), but will isn’t the least bit concerned.

“i wasn’t taking the piss, mate,” will says, quite obviously doing just that.  “i thought you might fall for it, is all.”

arthur, huffy: “why in god’s name would you think i would believe such an obvious lie?”

will:

what eventually gets merlin and will out of their self-imposed quarantine is not, in fact, arthur’s exhaustive collection of attempts to hassle merlin by phone, email, and carrier pigeon, but rather a simple text from gwaine, which, in true gwaine fashion, asks no questions and makes no demands, but contains instead a single blurry photo of what might be elyan and percival looking disappointed and droopy in front of some kind of beach, though the sky behind them seems very grey and the camera lens appears to be smeared with raindrops.

>>freak thunderstorms on beach day/weatherman said no chance??? >>NOT ON, you funky little wizard

merlin laughs and lays his phone aside, not feeling any particular need to explain for the thousandth time that he does not, in fact, control the weather (well - all right, not usually, anyhow; there was that one time, yes, fine, but on the whole, natural forces were not to be trifled with), and then, as quickly as he puts the text out of his mind, he snaps up the phone again, struck by a thrill of realization.  “gwaine,” he breathes gleefully, consumed suddenly with anticipation.

“wossat?” will asks from the other side of the table, barefoot and pyjama-clad.

“we’re going out,” merlin says, popping up from his chair and pushing will out of his seat.  “put your shoes on.”  

will allows merlin to hustle him out of the kitchen, but grumbles, “can i put my clothes on, too, or are we trying to be somewhere yesterday?”

“you can put your clothes on,” merlin says, shoving will into the living room.  “i want you to meet somebody.”

will puts on the brakes immediately, stopping them both in the doorway to the hall.  “who?”

“a friend of mine.”

“what friend?”

merlin pauses.  will’s expression is suddenly wary, and merlin knows him well enough to tread carefully.  will doesn’t know any of merlin’s other people, and he claims he doesn’t care to, ostensibly because he’s got enough friends already, but merlin knows what the real issue is, and it’s that the picture-plastered refrigerator door in merlin’s kitchen is a disquieting, uneasy mystery to will, a puzzle he on some deep level doesn’t believe he fits into.  

merlin can’t blame him for feeling that way.  it’s not like merlin did much to disabuse him of that notion, after all, in their old life.  

“just a friend,” merlin decides, keeping it simple.  “gwaine.  you’ll like him.”

“i don’t know him,” will counters.

merlin spins will around by the shoulders and points him in the direction of the bedroom.  “trust me.  you want to.”

don’t leave, merlin texts gwaine, afterwards, while will is getting dressed.  stay at the beach.

merlin’s phone buzzes a moment later.  it’s tipping down out here.

merlin leans against the warm, rain-spattered glass of the window and checks the sky, which is grey still, but brightening, and then looks at will, who has emerged from the bedroom, shoes in hand.

don’t bother about the weather, merlin types.

why?  gwaine’s reply is almost instantaneous, but merlin ignores it for a minute, watching as will crouches in the foyer and does up his laces.  

merlin spent half his life at home watching will’s hands fly over more complicated knots than the bow in a pair of trainers - double-half hitches for calving ropes, halter loops for wayward goats, ring knots draped over gateposts and snap-releases for pulling legs up and out of kicking range.  will was always good at that sort of thing, at anything handsy - it was how he talked, when he finally ran out of things to say with his mouth.  his fingers were always moving, tying string or tilling soil or turning trees into harrows and haycarts and hundreds of yards of rough-hewn fencing.  he always had sawdust in the hem of his trousers and splinters in his hands, and - for far too long a period of their lives - a little frowny crease in his brow.

why?  gwaine’s inquiry is still glowing up at merlin, awaiting a response.

merlin watches will double-knot his second shoe in one brisk motion.  will is tidier now, and his hands are less scarred, but his fingers move as surely as they ever did.  and even if his forehead sometimes still sports that same little uncertain crinkle, merlin has caught will in a silly grin once or twice, too.

merlin ducks his head and taps out his answer:  

i think things are looking up.

“you were talking to lancelot?”

it gives merlin an indescribably warm and pleasant squirm in his stomach to see will and lancelot chatting together in gwen’s back garden.  lancelot is hardly ever in town these days, and merlin has dragged will out to this to-do specifically because if there’s one event lancelot will show up to this year, it’s gwen’s birthday.  but will hasn’t fallen into the rhythm of these things yet, and he’s always in danger of slinking off to the sidelines, to less well-tended patches of plants illuminated only by the twinkle lights wound into gwen’s fencing.  he is startlingly uncertain now, in a way that would have shocked merlin in another life, though these days merlin just takes it in stride, joining will on whatever patch of grass he’s chosen for himself, where they eat from a shared paper plate, and eventually the rest of the party comes to them, because people follow merlin like a beacon wherever he goes, even into dark corners.

will nods.  “yeah.”

eloquent, as usual.  merlin prods him in the arm.  “what do you think of him, then?”

will makes a face.  “i’ve only just met the man.”

“i’ve never known that to stop you having an opinion.”

will sighs.  “he seems fine, merlin.”

on the other side of the garden, elyan is building up the firepit, breaking up sticks for kindling.  arthur is watching lancelot, who is watching gwen, who is radiant and beaming in a bright yellow sundress, but she, too, is watching both of her observers, whenever they aren’t watching her.  

none of them look troubled, exactly.  just thoughtful.  

“he seemed to know who i was,” will says suddenly.

merlin is surprised to hear will offer anything further on the subject.  “well, i suppose he does, a bit.  he’s my friend, you know.  he’s heard of you.”

“the rest of your friends hadn’t heard of me.”

the rest of merlin’s friends are, at that moment, pestering leon to give elyan back a confiscated can of lighter fluid nicked from the grill, swearing on their oaths that the (former) blacksmith isn’t planning on doing any forge-appropriate stunts.  “lancelot’s different,” merlin says after a minute.  “it was different with him.”

“how different?”

gwaine pops the can out of leon’s hands with a pair of tongs and tosses it to arthur, who tosses it to lancelot, who looks surprised at being included.

“well...” merlin says, and pauses for a moment before continuing.  “he knew me.  not like the rest of that lot, i mean.”  he glances at will.  “like you.”

will raises his eyebrows and looks at lancelot again, as if re-evaluating him.

“i couldn’t tell them about you,” merlin says, after a longer pause.  “they wouldn’t have understood.”

will watches lancelot lob the can of lighter fluid to percival, who slings it back to elyan, who freezes mid-pour when gwen hollers his name in That Voice.  “well, that’s all right, then,” will murmurs, almost to himself.  then he turns back to merlin, lifting one curious eyebrow.  “how in the hell did that happen, then?”

“it was sort of an accident.”

“i thought you said gaius was an accident.”

“well - yeah.  also that.”

a disbelieving laugh bursts out of will’s mouth, startling them both.  it’s loud and bell-bright and it turns gwen’s head from where she stands over the picnic table, setting out a plate of desserts.  she catches merlin’s eye and smiles.

“right, then,” will says, recovering himself, but smiling still.  “i’ll have to give this lancelot bloke another go, then.”

“please,” merlin says.  “you should.  he’s worth it.”

will nods to himself, considering lancelot for a moment.  “a whole two of us, is it?”

merlin nods.

“we’ve got nearly enough people to start ourselves a little Society now.”

“a small one.”

“very small,” will agrees.  “...not that - well, i mean...”  he looks suddenly uncomfortable, like he’s said too much.  “i mean, not that i’m saying...well, cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it, so obviously it doesn’t matter - ”

merlin is already shaking his head.  “no,” he says, stopping will mid-sentence.  

will’s gaze flickers uncertainly between merlin and the group clustered around the firepit.  “no?  i thought you said - ”

“no,” merlin repeats, his voice quiet but uncompromising, “it matters.  don’t ever think that, will.  you have no idea.”

will turns slightly pink and diverts his attention to making an intense inspection of the grass under his feet; merlin decides to leave the subject there, for now, and let will have this moment to be flustered.  someday, maybe, it will take more than the barest scrap of appreciation to turn will sixteen shades of red, but will was always like this at home, too, quick to close himself down, easy for merlin to embarrass, taken off guard by unfiltered affection and squirming at too much sincerity, unable to conceive of himself as something anyone would need or want in any way that wasn’t “an extra pair of hands in the field.”  

merlin did not do much to correct that impression, back then, he knows.  but he’s been given a gift, now, a chance to amend his first and ugliest mistake, and he is going to be deliberate about this unexpected chance at atonement.  he is going to be better.  braver.  he will be less selfish, he promises himself, more patient.  gaius always says that allowing sufficient time for regrowth is the only surefire way to set a broken bone, and merlin doesn’t care if it takes him another 1500 years - he owes will too much to offer him anything less.

will returns his attention to the group on the patio, determinedly looking anywhere but merlin’s face.  “that looks like a torch in a hayloft,” he mutters, watching arthur, gwen, and lancelot’s unfolding dramedy of longing looks.  “long story there, i take it?”

merlin has to smile.  “i’ll tell you all about it, i promise.  you might want to clear your schedule for a week or two, though.”

will shrugs.  “i’m not going anywhere,” he says.  but then he looks sideways at merlin, teetering on the edge of an unasked question.

merlin does not make him wait.  not this time, not ever again.  

“neither am i,” merlin says, and settles in to watch elyan set something on fire.

there are, of course, less pleasant moments.

time has not mellowed will’s sharp edges in the slightest, and those associated with his tongue least of all.  now that he is up to speed, he’s formulated all manner of angry opinions to offer about the reeking cow pie merlin stepped into when he went to camelot, and every week seems to present him with something new to stew over, leading to episodes of simmering surliness that boil over every so often into bitter arguments.

will rarely makes these blunt and unflattering observations in the presence of merlin’s other friends, but merlin is all too aware that this is not because will is even remotely afraid to speak his mind, but rather because he is profoundly disinterested in what merlin’s camelot compatriots might have to say.  will does care what merlin has to say, even if he thinks 90% of it is “cow shyte, merlin, don’t try to feed me that rubbish,” but even merlin can’t escape will’s ire using explanations or placations or rationalizations of the Ultimate Good; will simply doesn’t care about the Powers That Be, and he tells merlin so, every time merlin tries to defend them or justify the part he himself played in their story.  

[^actual footage of will and merlin in the twenty-first century]

someday in the future, will and merlin are going to realize that they don’t actually want to accidentally (on purpose?) murder each other out of sheer frustration, so they decide they are only allowed to argue about this topic twice a year.  

for now, though, will can’t seem to shut up, and merlin can’t let will’s comments pass, and they lock horns every other week on things neither of them have any ability to change.

it’s tiresome, a little bit, and they sometimes have rip-roaring rows which are Horribly Worrisome to other people (‘oh dear, it’s really over for them this time, isn’t it’), but neither will nor merlin fret over it like the rest of their circle does.  they’ve known each other since before they could talk, and fighting with one another is a time-honored tradition, not something to be frightened of.  besides, these are not trifling, unnecessary tiffs they are having - these are necessary evils, lanced abscesses, scoured wounds.  these are bloodlettings, draining both their weary, aching bodies of accumulated poisons.  

merlin knows this has to happen.  he appreciates seeing will this way, up on his toes and full of fire, snappy and uncompromising, ready to shred illusions and evasions and excuses as if they were so many sheets of 1500 year-old parchment.  will in a fight is like a fish in the water, or a bird in the air, balletic and agile, strikingly at home, a creature in its absolute element, and merlin loves watching him, for all that it means he sometimes get bitten for getting too close.

it’s not the end of the world.  they have both known how to fight with each other for a long time.  and merlin - for whom a row with anybody else has always been tedious, uncomfortable, a bothersome disruption - does not mind rowing with will.  rowing with will is like getting his exercise.  it’s natural and familiar, and everything is where it’s supposed to be, in those tinderbox moments, even when Where It’s Supposed To Be is the two of them having an absolute cow at each other in the kitchen while the rest of their friends sit in the living room trading wide-eyed stares and trying to silently debate whether or not they should risk edging sideways out the back door.

merlin tells himself again and again that there’s no need to worry.  the other thing he’s learned from gaius is that a poorly healed fracture sometimes needs to be snapped again in order to set up properly.  

merlin wants his relationship with will to set up properly.  he’s willing to break a few bones to make it happen.

it takes a year for the cast to finally fall off.

it’s summer again by the time they come around to the marrow of the matter, to the tension undergirding all of their arguments, to the knot of grass stuck stubborn and tenacious at the heart of the concrete.

“why did you do it?”

will doesn’t answer merlin’s question right away.  they’ve just finished (or maybe are about to finish, merlin hopes, feeling strangely anticipatory, as is something tentative and promising is hanging just out of sight) a spectacular squabble, and the kitchen in which they sit seems to be sagging, unsupported in the yellow, windowless gloom, the painted cabinetry as tired as they are.

“i left you,” merlin continues, and even though the shameful taste of the truth burns on the way down, he swallows it willingly.  be better, he tells himself.  braver.  “i was afraid to tell you i was going.  i was afraid to get in touch with you after i’d left.  i never said goodbye.  i didn’t ask my mother to relay a message.”

will says nothing.  

“i let people line up to die for something i could have done myself.  i protected myself at everyone else’s expense.  i hid my secret behind our neighbors.  i got you killed.”  merlin takes a deep breath.  “i never said i was sorry.”

will taps his fingers on the table, his eyes focused somewhere off to merlin’s left.  he looks more thoughtful than angry.  “are you?”

the idea that will even needs to ask this question makes merlin want to cry.  merlin could talk for 1500 years and still never manage to explain how sorry he is.  he’s never breathed a word of it to anyone, but there was a part of him that was relieved to bargain his life away to nimueh, all those years ago.  he’d earned that punishment, he knew.  it was a just price.  

“yes,” merlin replies.  “i was wretched to you, and you saved my life.  i left you and you lied for me.  you - ”  merlin’s throat threatens to snap closed; he tells himself to finish.  be better.  be braver.  “i would never have asked you for that, will.  never.  i didn’t deserve it.”

will doesn’t say anything.  he is still not looking quite at merlin, but at the refrigerator behind merlin’s chair, which hums into the silence, blissfully unaware of the conversation taking place directly in front of it.  there’s a photo of will and merlin on the door now, added last month, and merlin still feels slightly strange, when he pulls out a jug of milk in the morning and sees will’s smiling face hanging there.  

merlin has never had a picture of will before.  he has never seen will’s face outside the confines of his own memories.

“well?” merlin prods.  “am i wrong?”

“no,” will replies, “you’re right.”

“then why did you do it?”

will sits up straighter, fixing merlin with a penetratingly direct, unflinching stare, the same startlingly candid look that merlin spent years searching for in other people’s faces, all those ages ago.  fifteen centuries of grieving later, and there it finally is - and one thing, it turns out, is exactly the same: will never did have any patience for foolish questions.  

“you know why,” is all will says.

merlin’s throat snaps shut for good.  he lets it, this time, and closes his eyes, taking a deep, wobbly breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth.  behind him, the refrigerator hums, and the tap drips onto a stack of dirty dishes lying forgotten in the sink, and somewhere, out in the heart of the city, the summer breeze ruffles a section of pavement overgrown with year-old grass.

in about three seconds, merlin is going to have a big, ugly cry in his kitchen.  it’s going to be mortifying and unsightly and sort of inconvenient, since he is supposed to be doing the washing-up, and it’s going to be even more inconvenient because will is right there, and will might not have a freak allergy to nectarines but he does have at least a little bit of an allergy to tears; his own, mostly, though merlin can’t imagine he’s going to love merlin’s very much, either, even if merlin only ever tried to test that theory once and didn’t exactly have a chance to collect any data after the fact.  

but before that inexorable wave rolls in and washes over them both, merlin takes three bracing seconds to remind himself of what he already knows: that will is going to accept merlin’s bawling, this time, or at least take it in stride, and he might even pull over a chair, and tuck up his feet, and have a silent sit with merlin for the duration, because will heard that calloused bone break, too, and felt the sharp, misaligned pieces snap finally, blessedly back into place, and he certainly knew exactly what he was doing when he answered merlin’s question.

you know why is as close to i love you as someone with will’s fraught history is ever going to get.  

and close enough is, for them - for now - close enough.

#the once and future slowburn #fic #no kings no masters #@MERLINOBSESSIONIST I WOULD LIKE TO FORMALLY APOLOGIZE FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS ASK #i really clicked into your message intending to write one flailing paragraph in response #and then... #i don't know #i wrote for six days #it turned into a real fic and i’m sorry it took me so long to respond to your message but i hope this adds something to your day #this ask really made my night and has now given me almost an entire week of enjoyment #so thank you #for the inspiration #and for being my merlin buddy #words can't express my appreciation #but i hope this story conveys at least a little of my gratitude #<333 #verse: everything that dies #[the rough draft version!]