Are There Any Poems That Inspired TSV? I Know I Asked A Similar Question About Plays, And I Really Loved

what is it abt bbc merlin that makes it. linger

Merlin/Arthur | Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Word Count: 100

Rescue | Angst and Hurt/Comfort | Merlin's Magic Revealed

For @merlinmicrofic with the dialogue prompt "I promised"

Arthur saves Merlin from the pyre

☾ ☾ ☾

Arthur cared not for the blistering flesh of his arms, only Merlin blackened and coughing in his lap.

Voices, hooves came.

He covered his mouth.

They died away, leaving just the wind in the leaves.

Arthur’s whispered agonised apologies as Merlin wheezed for air.

“Go back, Arthur,” he pressed out. “You’re supposed to-”

“I don’t care what fate or your dragon has to say! I promised.”

Tears tracked through soot. “…Please.”

Arthur smeared them away. “Merlin… I can't manage without you. We’ll run.” 

Merlin laughed brokenly. “And if I can’t run?” 

A kiss, all ash and salt. “Need you ask?”

Gwen & Merlin | Teen & Up | No Archive Warnings Apply | Word Count: 500

Post-Canon | Ghosts | Grief & Mourning | Immortal Merlin

For @merlinmicrofic with the dialogue prompt "almost" and the @tavernfest Merlin Horror Month 2024

An elderly Gwen summons Merlin to Camelot on Samhain. Their old friends walk the Earth again for a night.

☾ ☾ ☾

She was sitting by the fire in the chambers she had once shared with her husband. The flames sputtered in the grate, attacked by the late autumn winds. Upon the hearth there were food offerings; it was Samhain, the eve of the night the dead woke from their sleep and roamed the Earth once again.

“Merlin,” Gwen called to him softly, her eyes shining and a little cloudy in the light, evidence of the cataracts laying claim to them. She stretched out her hand and he hobbled over with his staff and took it. It was soft, wrinkled, but strong. 

Gwen had received him earlier in the throne room but this, with the night blackening the windows, was when they could truly speak. 

He sat down groaningly beside her. Immediately, she leaned towards him in her chair and poked his knee. “I heard a rumour.” 

He leaned as well. “A rumour?” he croaked. 

“I’m told that you're not as you appear to be. That you…” she seemed to search for the words. “They say nature has not taken hold of you as it has me.” 

He opened his mouth but she stopped him.

“Let me see you as you really are... Please.” 

He changed, letting go of the glamour he had assumed. 

By the way she reached out, he knew she couldn’t help it. She cupped his unbearded face, swiped a thumb over his cheek like there was a tear there just as her own eyes filled. 

“It’s like…” she trailed off in wonder. 

“Seeing a ghost?” he guessed. 

“No,” she shook her head, retracting her hand. “No. I should know… I called you here because-” 

There was a knock at the door. 

She cleared her throat, emotion leaving her voice. “Come in.” 

A knight entered.

“Is it time?” she asked.

“Almost.” 

“Help an old woman up, Merlin?” 

They were on the ramparts of the outer walls, it had been a struggle to get up here, but Gwen, now bundled in Merlin’s cloak, had been singularly determined.

It was a full moon but the night was choked with mist. 

Merlin’s magic prickled, beyond the walls something had stepped back onto the mortal plane. 

He tried again to implore her to return to the palace. “Gwen, it's Samhain, we shouldn’t-” 

“Just… Watch.” 

He grimaced but did as his queen bid. 

A horse whinnied faintly, like the tail end of an echo. From the mist, three caped figures on horseback were given form. Ceremonial Camelot banners, washed grey by the night, waved silently in a non-existent wind above them. Their shape, their faces, tilted up, serene, their eyes on the queen – Merlin startled. “It’s-!”

“Gwaine… Lancelot… and Elyan,” she finished, her voice breaking more with each name. 

“But..? Gods, why-?”

“They came last year, and the year before that,” she said, breathing. She drew her borrowed cloak closer. “I know now. They're waiting for me.” 

In Avalon his friends would be together again. Death had never been kinder, and fate more gruel. 

Reblog if you love Gwen

Camlann Pod is just a little over halfway to its goal! If you're looking for a fresh, queer Arthurian story this is for you. Check it out and donate to their Ko-Fi because you're going to want a season 2!

LIVESTREAM MARATHON - THIS SATURAY 30TH NOVEMBER!

Come help us raise money for season 2 of Camlann by tuning in to our twelve hour marathon on the @tincanaudio Twitch channel!

There'll be 27 prizes available, including the only Camlann merchandise currently in existence: 9 posters with our show art, and 9 custom campfire patches made by our very own Ross McFarlane, as well as 9 hardback copies of Ella's TTRPG Upriver, Downriver thanks to the generous support of @macguffinandco.

Plus! We're going to be joined by amazing guests from all across the podcast landscape, joining us to chat about folklore, mythology and much much more. These guests will include: Motzie from @hinaypod, @laurenshippen, Eira from @hangingslothcentral, Cat from The Call fo Cthulhu Mystery Programme, Gabriel and Sarah from Wolf 359, Marc from Archive 81, Steve from Old Gods of Appalachia, Joe from Midnight Burger, Richard from Visionaries, and Eleanor and Martin from the Three Ravens podcast!

And of course, the cast and crew will be there to chat and joke along as we relisten to series one of Camlann, with an episode on the hour every hour from 3pm GMT.

So please - come say hi, tell a friend, and consider donating to help us make season 2. We can't wait!

Keep the fires burning.

✨COMPLETE✨

A hand grasped his arm, sending a brief thrill down Merlin's nerves as he was forced around to face the person behind him. Armour gleamed in the firelight: supple chainmail glinted, and the solid iron of a pauldron curved lovingly over one broad shoulder. The length of a sword blade separated them. The point hovered, steady and sure, over Merlin's heart, braced to run him through, but he did not care about any of that. He was too busy drinking in the sight of the man before him. He could never forget him, no matter how many centuries had passed. 'Arthur?' When Merlin ultimately fails in his destiny, the fading remnants of magic that linger in the modern world fling him not just back in time, but sideways as well. He ends up in a Camelot where all his friends are alive, well and aware of his magic. He ends up in a Camelot where his alternate self died almost a year ago. Can he, Arthur and their friends still forge the golden age he was once promised, or will grief and suspicion tear them apart?

It's finally done. I just posted the hundredth, and final, chapter on AO3. A huge thank you to everyone who has joined me on this ride. I'm delighted to have been part of your lives in some small way. 💖

If you enjoyed this fic, I'd love a reblog to help spread awareness that it's finally done 🙏

bbc merlin is a fun silly show that begs the question what if you were given a destiny you didn’t understand and you betrayed yourself time and time again in what you think is a selfless act of love that will serve a greater purpose, only for that to be the exact reason you fail and the undoing of the person you love most. and then the random filler episodes are like this witch is doing terrorism in camelot by sneaking magic mushroom bombs into the soup and merlin has to gaslight arthur into thinking he doesn’t like mushrooms or something idk

Юлия Гукова/Julia Gukova