#This still makes me emptional | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

houseofoddballs · 3 months

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Fuck it. Trauma bond Ghoap with a forgotten reader because all I can write is angst. Final word count is about 3,700, enjoy! Sorry about the lackluster ending and fair warning that Soap is a bit of a dick and fairly OOC.

Tw: Emptional neglect, light nsfw, mentions of torture. (Tell me if there are any more to add!)

You had never heard of trauma bonding, not before your 6'2 masked boyfriend brought back his Scottish best friend. Ghost was never one to be shy or sheepish, but the way that he bowed his head as he told you that he had fallen in love with Soap during their capture and torture, well, it broke your heart a bit. You thought that was going to be the end of it, that he was going to choose the mowhawked muscle over you (and you couldn't really blame him after the small tidbits about the incident you had heard) but then Ghost dropped to one knee and held your hands in his own as he looked you dead in the eyes and begged you not to make him choose, because he still loved you too. And how were you supposed to turn him down?

So, that's how you ended up living with two discharged military men. At first, things were a little rocky. You and Soap were getting along and getting to know each other after all. You weren't exactly dating Soap, but the threesomes made it hard to understand what exactly you were. Polygamy? It didn't matter, though, because Ghost was the one you loved. Ghost was the man who had stolen your heart and treated it like a golden retriever treats eggs. Gently, softly, sweetly. And you had done your best to do the same.

But Soap? Soap was... different. Where Simon was quiet and calm, Soap was loud and boisterous. Where Simon was introverted and kept to himself, Soap was ambiverted (at best) and loved social media. They were like night and day in a lot of ways, and it made your head spin. Another difference? Soap was SO *clingy*.

It was ok at first. Apparently, Simon and Soap had been captured for nearly a week and took turns watching each other get tortured. In the dead of night, when they got any reprieve, they spent that time whispering sweet words to each other just to keep them level-headed and alive. Trauma bonding. Ghost and Soap were bound to be connected at the hip for at least a bit. Right?

Well, 'just a bit' turned into months. Inseparable. You couldn't get five seconds alone with your boyfriend unless Soap was in the bathroom because he refused to do anything without Ghost.

That would have been OK if you didn't see how much it was wearing on your sweet Simon. Any time you got a minute alone together, he would gently hold your face and apologize to you. Murmur to you with his brows knit up about how exhausting Soap could be and how soothing your quiet company was.

He was burnt-out. No other way to put it. In the fleeting moments you got where you could hold Ghost and do things with him, he was simply exhausted and worn-out from Johnny clinging so tightly to him and making him a part of everything in his life. Simon was definitely an introvert, and hardly ever got time to recharge those batteries on touch and the like.

So what did you do? You gave him space. The time you got to spend alone was spent at a distance, small conversations about the things that interested Ghost, since Soap hardly ever talked about those. You had asked why Johnny was still here if he was really making Ghost so miserable, and all he had told you was that he couldn't leave Johnny, couldn't hurt him. So, you relented and just tried to be supportive. You could be happy like this.

Except you weren't. One can only live on table scraps for so long, but you were willing to try for Ghost, and even for Soap. So when Johnny told Simon that it was irritating how little alone time the two of them got because you were always hanging around and asked him to have a talk with you about it, what did he do? Well, he didn't defend you, that's for sure.

Groceries. How pathetic. Soap finally let you and Ghost get *Groceries* together, just the two of you, and your heart utterly soared. Just you and Simon, for possibly an hour. How long had it been since you could do this? How long had it been since you had even hugged or been hugged by your boyfriend? You had no idea.

But all of that went cold as you finished loading your haul into the trunk. Simon turned to you, dark eyes peeking out from behind his Skull balaclava that he only took off at home. He looked so tired, so exhausted.

"Listen, love... Johnny-..." You froze. Of course, you should have known better. No way Soap would let you and Ghost go somewhere together alone while he just sat at home scrolling through short clips on his phone. Of course, there was a condition, a caviot. But this was Simon, your Ghost, so you heard him out. "Johnny was wondering if you could... give us a bit more space. He feels like he doesn't get enough alone time with me. I'm sorry, love, I promise that I'll make it up to you."

If your heart hadn't sunk into your stomach, you would have had to resist the urge to laugh. Soap wasn't getting enough time with Ghost? The same Soap who had been draining every ounce of willpower out of Ghost until your strong-willed Simon was just complacent? The same Soap who drug Simon wherever he went and whined when you wanted to come with? The same Soap who had kicked you out of your shared room for reasons that you still don't know how he convinced Simon? And yet, he didn't get enough alone time with Simon.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to do or say anything to fight back. But one more look into Simon's weary, amber eyes shut down all of your complaints. He was slowly being worn down, and you didn't know what you could do to help. So, you just nodded.

The entire drive back was silent. At some point, you had reached over and gently held Simon's hand on the center console to let him know that you weren't mad, and he had let you. Your first physical contact with Simon in ages. You helped carry in and put away the groceries, acutely aware of Soaps eyes boring into and watching you for your next move, and then you simply retreated to your room. Alone.

That night, you had to listen as the two made love. Headboard banging against the wall, soft moans permeating through your headphones and into your ears, vibrations buzzing and echoing through the halls. You cred that night, just like so many other nights.

You were being forgotten, forced into invisibility in your own house.

And that's how so many months passed by. With you hiding away in your room and only coming out to eat or eagerly take Johnny's table scraps of Ghost's time. But Ghost hardly ever got any time to himself, so, sometimes you would just let him be and relax. Maybe it was simply time for you to move on.

That's when the texts came. Any time Johnny was gracious enough to give Ghost a moment of peace and you either didn't know or just let him relax, he would text you. "Johnny's still at work." "I miss you, love." "I'm on the couch." "Come see me?"

He was making you feel loved, needed even. Even though most of that time spent was him complaining about Soap, every time he would look at you with those soft brown heart melting eyes and thank you for being so understanding and supportive. He would tell you that he loved you so much and that you didn't know how much having you there kept him sane. And how could you leave him like that?

You wished that you had made Simon choose. Nearly five years of this neglect. Simon was so physically overstimulated by Johnny's constant need to be touching him, that something as small as resting your hand on his thigh made him irritable. Johnny would openly complain about you right in front of you, and Ghost would just sigh and let Johnny think he was having his way because it was better than fighting and dealing with Johnny being bitter and whiny.

It was fucking torture. Do you know what that's like? To be slowly isolated and forgotten in your own household? Yes, you do. Because Johnny has made sure of that. Are you going out too much? Johnny is complaining. Are you working too much? Johnny is complaining. You watch too many shows with them? Johnny is complaining. It was getting to the point where you only left your room to eat and when Simon texted you, period. Soap had insisted that with him and Ghost working civilian jobs, you should stay home to keep things tidy and make life a little easier. All it had taken was for Ghost to agree that that would make things easier for you to relent since your job wasn't the best anyway. But the pure isolation that you felt from only interacting with the two of them unless Johnny was gracious enough to let you come with them on an errand?

It was debilitating.

Finally, everything came to a head. "Hey Johnny, would you go to the corner store and pick up some soda?" "Would you come with?" "I would have bloody come with three hours ago right after work. Now I'm in my fuckin' pajamas. Not goin' anywhere like this." "Well, you know I dinnae like going right after work, Simon."

This was your opportunity, your chance. Soap was nose deep in some book he was reading and only half paying attention while you sat next to Simon on the couch, his feet propped up on your lap.

"I would go with you?" Simon's eyes flicked to you, a small smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah, love, that would be great. Mind makin' a list for me so I know what all we need to pick up?" A task. You loved when Simon gave you things to do, because whith those things to do was always some form of praise or appreciation upon completion. You ate it up whole and completely. "Of course, Si. I'll be ready by five tomorrow." "It's a date then, love."

And so, that's how you flitted around the house all day, straightening up and making a list of what you needed, absolutely giddy and buzzing wirh hopeless excitement. Soap got home early that day, which wasn't much of a shock, just made you retreat into your room early. Nothing new. Simon would text you when he was ready, right?

You sat by your phone eagerly with baited breath. 5:30. You guessed that work had kept Simon late again. It wasn't that big of a deal. But you sent him a text just to let him know that you hadn't forgotten about him. "I'm ready whenever you get off work, no rush. I love you."

5:30 turned to 6:00 and that's when you finally got the message. "I'm here." Short, sweet, to the point. That was Simon for you. You practically threw yourself off of your bed and ran to the garage with a large grin on your face. Even if it was as simple as groceries, you cherished every moment of time you got with Simon as if it were spending time with God himself. Because, in a way, Simon was your God. You looked up to him, depended on him, revered him, practically worshipped the ground he walked on; because he deserved it in your eyes.

Your grin fell at the sight before you. "Oh, hey Bonnie." Soap was hopping out of the passenger seat of Ghost's Jeep, going around to the trunk and popping it to pull out several grocery bags. Hurt, confusion, and betrayal all pooled together in your gut as you watched him take the bags inside all in one go. But, what about your list? Your phone felt heavier in your pocket as your stomach churned at the realization that to bring up the completion of the task would be pointless now.

"Hop in." Ghosts voice shook you from your haze, and you slowly took Soap's empty seat beside Ghost. Why? The question swam through your head in several versions and variations, like fish in a barrel, trying desperately to find the freedom to burst forth from your lips. But, you just couldn't ask, too afraid of the answer.

"Where do you want to go?" The question almost caught you off-guard. Where did you want to go? Did he mean Groceries? Were there some left? Or did he mean just in general? Was he offering to do something with you? "I um, I don't know." You admitted, eyes flicking between Simon and the road.

"...'M sorry love." He admitted with a sigh, shoulders sagging with the weight of the world placed upon them. "There was a bit of a mix-up, ya see? I got home and texted Johnny to ask if he would ask if you were coming-" Of course, the plan had been to bring Soap all along. That hurt a bit. "- and he told me 'no' so I thought he meant that you didn't want to come."

"I didn't get your message until we were already in the bloody market, and when I asked Johnny about it, he told me that he had told me that he didn't ask you. I felt so plum bad because I knew that you wanted to come with. 'M so sorry, love."

You were so close to losing it. Hot tears stung at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall when Simon was trying so hard, going so far as to take you for an extra drive just to make sure you had some time with him and felt loved.

"I already told Johnny, so he knows that I'm spending some time with you. Tried to throw a fit, but I shut him down." Simon sighed and ran a hand down his mask as he looked over at you while stopped at a red light. "It's ok, Simon, really. I'm just happy to spend this time together with you. That's all I can ask for. Even though you're tired after work and going for groceries, you're still taking the time to make it up to me even though it wasn't your fault. I really appreciate it."

Simon didn't pull away as you clasped his hand in your own, softly running your fingers over the back of his knuckles. He looked so grateful and relieved, as if so much pressure had just been released. He had been so worried about how you were going to take it, about if this small bit of time would be enough.

"Thank you, love. You have no idea how much I appreciate you and how-" Simon was cut off by a loud click and a light being turned on on his dashboard. "Bloody hell, check engine? I'm so sorry. It doesn't seem too big a deal, but I should probably check it out before it becomes an issue. Is that OK, love?"

What were you supposed to say? 'No!' 'For the first time in months, I get some time alone with you, and it's just 20 minutes in a car!?' 'I miss you' 'please don't!' You couldn't. Simon was tired enough as it was with Soap clinging to him. You simply felt dejected as you tried to smile and reassure him that it was ok and that you enjoyed your time together.

When you got home, Simon muttered about checking the engine tomorrow as he herded you inside, plopping down on the couch next to Soap. The sight made your heart hurt even more. You were ready to just head to your cold, lonely room to cry out your frustration when Simon piped up. "Hey, love, mind cooking up some chips for me? I'm bloody starving, and they sound wonderful."

How could you say no? Sitting in your kitchen waiting for the French fries to bake, you couldn't do it anymore. You sobbed quietly into your open palm as you clasped your hand over your mouth to quiet any noises. What were you supposed to do? Staying was only wearing you down and tearing you apart. You felt more like the ghost in this household, forgotten and lost. You were losing yourself, touch starved beyond belief and to the point of isolation where you were starting to sleep more than you were awake because it made the pain go away for a bit.

But leaving would be just as hard. You hadn't been employed for so long because the boys took care of you, which wasn't going to look good on a resume, and you had nowhere to go. But worst of all?

Worst of all was how you knew your leaving would affect Simon. Johnny was consuming all of him and leaving mere shreds, and the only time that Ghost got to indulge in his own interests was with you. But he just couldn’t bring himself to leave Johnny. You were his support system, his pillar.

You knew this, and yet, it still felt so unfair. Simon was everything to you. When you had been at your worst, he had held you and told you that you were beautiful. When he had been deployed for months at a time, you always texted him and told him how much you loved and missed him. He gave all of himself that he had to give to you before Soap came and statched that all away.

And you couldn't blame Simon for how badly the trauma had messed him up! He still had nightmares about that week. Being tortured and having to watch Soap get tortured as well. Sometimes, you would wake up in the middle of the night to one of them screaming and waking up on a picnic only for the other to softly murmur and reassure them that they were ok and alive. You couldn't do that, not for Simon, not like Soap could.

A sharp 'ding' cut off your thoughts as the oven beeped, signaling the end of the potato strings furnace treatment. You pulled them out of the oven and put them on a plate, heading to the bathroom to clean yourself up. The time for your little mental breakdown was up. Now you had to go take the fries to Simon like you weren't just bawling, like you were perfectly fine and happy, like you didn't want to scream and shout and beg for things to be different, to change. But that would be selfish of you to do, and Simon couldn't deal with you and Soap both being selfish.

God, you looked like shit. Bags were heavy under your puffy eyes, your nose was red and runny, your face all splochy from your crying, tear streaks running down your cheeks. This wouldn't do. You sighed as you splashed some cold water on your face and took a deep breath, trying desperately to distance yourself and disassociate from these awful feelings.

Once you were sure you looked fine once more, you towled your face off and grabbed the plate, plastering on your 'I'm fine' smile as you took the french fries to Ghost. The way he smiled so softly and gently at you made it all worth it, made you temporarily forget all of that pain. "Thank you, love. You're welcome to stay?"

"No, thank you, I think I'm going to try and catch up in some games. Thank you, though." Ghost didn't press any, didn't ask again. You wished he would ask again, would even try just a bit to make you feel like he loved you a shred as much as you revered him. But you had to remind yourself that you were getting greedy. He had just taken you for a car ride just the two of you, he had just stood up to Soap so you two could have a bit of time alone, he had just done exactly what you were asking him for. And yet you still wanted more.

The realization that you felt terrible for wanting the bare minimum amount of attention and affection for a relationship was just another reminder of how unhealthy this was for you.

"I love you." Simon said, his eyes so soft and sweet. "I love you too." You had to hold back tears as your smile grew a little bit, and you turned. You couldn't even wait until you made it back to your room to start crying. It wasn't fair. You did everything right, did everything Simon asked, and asked nothing in return, you loved him unconditionally with all of your heart and gave all of yourself to him; meanwhile Soap didn't even care enough to give Simon personal space when they were together because it made HIM feel better. And yet, Soap was the one who got all of Simon's time and love simply because it was easier for Simon to cave to his whims than put up with his bitching. You couldn't handle it anymore! Couldn't take it!

But what were you supposed to do? What could you do? Nothing. The only thing you could do was throw a fit, and that would just wear Simon even thinner and wouldn't accomplish anything because things would be the same again within a month.

And so, you did the only thing you could do. You fell asleep crying again, clutching your pillow to your chest, wishing desperately that Simon would finally come to his senses and put you first for once. But you didn't fool yourself into believing it.

Only shooting stars Grant wishes, and all of yours had been shot down.

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catiuskaa · 2 months

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new task: valentine's day |ACTS|

A/N: reposting by acts! [see full version here]. wanted to see if this format works better (and yes i will squeeze everything in this one right here cause its amazing and i 100% worked my ass off on it)

PAIRING! seungmin x reader ; enemies/rivals2lovers!

SUMMARY: boring classes, boring classmates, boring assignments…to seungmin, everyone is boring even if he’s used to pretend otherwise, but you seem to get on his nerves. you, your stupid poem, and his stupid letter.

WC: 2.350k

CW: fluffy comfort, use of spanglish (not relevant to the plot, dw), use of text format, the reader is stupidly short (which i know all about), academic rivals, bad student reader x good student seungmin, mentions of the unability to deal with complicated feelings, mentions of masking feelings, slight hint of bullying, mentions of being followed, (pet)names: little one, shortie, shortcake, smallable, pretty, hyunjin as a walking therapist, and the ending is kind of a reference to a show i'm obsessed with (not gonna say it so i don't spoil it for you guys hehehe)

|PROLOGUE| |ACT 1| |ACT 2| |ACT 3|

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 3: WINDOWS, LETTERS AND POEMS}

Wednesday. 9:56 am. 14th February.

Most of your classmates were still arriving from their next class as you stared at two papers in your hands slightly from afar, pencil in your lips.

You had discarded most of your creations all Monday and Tuesday when you finally ended with a draft you liked for the stupid english homework. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

But the letter in your other hand, however, was something you had never done before.

“What’s that you got there?”

Any kind of bubbly and nervous emption you had vanished at the sound of that low voice.

“Fuck off, Li.” You grunted in a husky tone, frowning at him and grabbing back the letter from his hands.

“Is it a love letter for me?” He chuckled, ignoring your behaviour.

“Why the fuck would I write that, huh?” You laughed, a chuckle full of acid, one that had much more hatred that you had ever said before.

Henry brushed a hand through his hair, and you couldn’t help but think he looked stupid. You had liked this guy? Ugh.

“Because today is valentine’s day, shortcake.”

You squinted and frowned at him.

“Swishing those dyed and damaged locks like a Loreal advert won’t make anyone fall in love with you.” You snorted, and realized the people in the hallway had fallen into silence, listening to your conversation. “Or maybe it worked with that blond girl in the club?” You pretended to ponder out loud, leaning against the locker behind you, facing him with confidence.

“Wait, what?” He mumbled.

You snickered, taking him by surprise. “Oh, silly. I was never going to date you. I kept hearing that you were an ass and figured that was right, because aside from me, little to no people talked to you. I guess I just felt pityful.” You faked a pout.

He clenched his fists, his shoulders tense.

“You’re lying.” He grunted.

You chuckled. “You wish I was. That blond girl didn’t steal my man. She stole my problem.” You heard some gasps from the people in the corridor, as they had formed some kind of circle around you two.

But then, Henry snorted, and cleared his throat, talking with a much louder voice. “So you’re not going to let everyone know about you and Seungmin?” He smirked. “I feel like that’s a bit unfair. Making it seem like I’m the bad guy and all.”

You tried hard to make it seem like that hadn’t surprised you. You were so surprised by it that you didn’t have time to react when he yanked your letter from your hand.

“Such sweet words, all dedicated to him,” he mocked. “I think these people want to know.”

“Give it back!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes dull with embarassment.

Even if he wasn’t as tall as Seungmin, there was still a decent difference between you and him. And with a sly grin, he raised the paper above your head.

You licked your lips, anger filling your body.

“Give. It. Back.”

But then he started reading.

“I looked at him as if he were the Sun, in that I never looked at him except in frustration.” He read out loud, moving the paper from your reach everytime you tried to reach. “I seeked his warmth, I complained when he was gone, but I never looked, not until I noticed he was leaving, and in the beauty of the sunset, I wondered how I had never seen him before.”

You stared at the floor, a blush spreading through your cheeks, coming from your neck.

“And that’s basically what happened.” You mumbled to Abril and Lucas over at a bench in the school grounds, hours after that whole thing had happened.

“What?!” You flinched at Abril’s loud voice. “I’m going to kill him. I am so going to murder that nasty ass bitch.” She threatened to stand up, but Lucas grabbed her forearm.

“And what about Seungmin?” He questioned softly, a lot more gentle that what you usually would expect.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“I haven’t spoken to him since Friday” You stared at him with a weakness you had never felt before. “It’s like he doesn’t want to talk to me, I…” you sighed. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” You sniffed.

You had to stay in the study room for the afternoon, waiting for Atenea to get out of the club she was in so you could head to the library together like you had promised, but as you studied in silence, someone sat in the chair in front of you, frowning at you.

You took your headphones off and scratched your eyes. “Eh… Hyunjin?”

“Abril told Lara and she told me,” he mentioned in a huff. “And I’ve known Seungmin for many years. He’s not an impulsive guy. He hasn’t treated anyone like how he treats you.”

You blinked, puzzled, but frowned at him. “Are you going to scold me?”

“You better believe I am!” He scoffed. “Would you like me to politely tell you that you’ve behaved like a total idiot around him?”

“What are you—?!”

“You simply never bothered to talk to Seungmin about any of what Lara told me!” He stated with force, and you didn’t think to tell him to shut up, considering that the study room was empty that time.

“Do you really expect me to understand whatever was happening and tell him right away?” You blurted out with anger, a bit shocked at his rough approach. “Had I had the opportunity I would have!

He rolled his eyes, passing a hand over his face in a sign of desperation.

“You had every opportunity! For months!” He left his hand on the table, and started tapping at it with force, trying to make a point. “Admit it. Seungmin has been in your head ever since we both changed from the other class and you two started bickering.” Hyunjin’s eyes stared at you with a fierce glare that almost threatened to pierce holes through your skull.

“That’s bullshit!” You spitted out defensively.

“Oh, spare me!” He brushed it off. “There have been countless clues! Your stupid need to make everything a competition when it comes to him is infuriating. He talks to me about these things, you know?” He swallowed, and you leaned back in surprise, but he kept on going. “How you look at him when you’re angry, or how you mock and tease him back. It’s stupid!” He cursed out loud. “And these last two weeks have only made it so much worse.”

“What do you mean, worse?” You pondered softly, slowly taking in Hyunjin’s dramatic act.

“I mean, you were totally smitten by how he ridiculously kissed you at the back of the bus last week, considering that you kissed him back.” He stated clearly. “And he wouldn’t shut up about it and how you were ignoring him after, which, great fucking work, by the way, the dude wouldn’t shut up about you.” Hyunjin blinked slowly, trying to recall and voice what he was thinking. “And then he lends you his jacket when a mystery debutant shows up.”

“A—a what?”

“Motherfucker, eh, that Henry asshole.” Hyunjin rubbed his eyes. “I had to endure him talking shit about him for an hour because he saw him texting you some weird shit with cringe emojis.” The exasperation on his tone rendered you almost speechless. “And even then he struggled to admit how fucking jealous he was about that guy. He had your attention. He had your smile. You looked at Henry, not at Seungmin, and ah, for fuck’s sake.” Hyunjin covered his face with his hands. “He felt so ridiculously powerless that he talked to me about it. He’s never done that before!”

You were only able to blink, struggling to grasp everything he was saying.

“And then, with no word of warning, you called him, at, what, like, one in the morning?” Hyunjin said in a huff, the thought of that bringing back his anger, making him stare at you with a frown again. “He, jesus, he talked for AGES about how you hugged him, and the fact that you were wearing his jacket, like— like you’re doing now, what the fuck.” He stopped mid-scolding, staring at you with confusion.

“It’s… it’s his?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly as he nodded. “What, you didn’t know? You helped him with tecnical drawing, he gave you his jacket, bla bla bla. That whole thing?”

You blushed, shaking your head sideways. You had done what?

“Nevermind. You can talk to him about that later.”

It was your turn to scoff now. “Judging by the fact that he sent you, I don’t think he would like to see me anytime soon.”

Hyunjin chuckled dryly.

“Don’t you even dare keep ignoring him. This stupid game has lasted for too long. Besides, he doesn’t know I’m here. He thinks I’m in dance practice, but whatever. You needed to know, because he’s a mess.” Hyunjin stated, passing a hand through his hair. “He can’t sleep well, he can’t concentrate, he can’t do anything.”

It looked like the scolding was over, but there was a remaining anger that came back to him as a memory struck.

“And, moreover, you callously ignored the letter Seungmin wrote you, even though he told you he loved you!”

You were looking at your notebook on the table, halfly staring at your nails and fidgeting with them, but your head almost snapped when you stared at him.

“What letter?” You muttered, your eyes locked on his. He frowned, his eyes slightly widening.

Your heart started beating faster, almost so loud you could hear it in your head.

“Hyunjin, what letter?!”

[☆★🌷★☆]

Seungmin felt his lungs on fire.

Run, run, run.

His feet were hurting, because his old ass shoes were busted enough that their insides were almost destroyed from everyday use.

But he needed to find you.

Maybe it was because it was Valentine’s day, despite the obvious influence that a certain friend of yours had done.

“Wait, you— you missed school this morning?” Lucas had muttered with a puzzled look, eyes wide.

“I had to go to the dentist to take my braces off. Yeah.” Seungmin stated again. “So whatever you meant by ‘being an ignoring bitch this morning’, I know nothing about it.”

And then someone next to them had chimed in. “You’re talking about Henry and what happened this morning with—“

“Yeah. Why?” Seungmin had interrupted, frowning slightly.

“There’s a video of it.”

Run, run, run.

The look in your eyes when you spoke with Henry. Your smug smile when you caught him by surprise.

Your poem.

His eyes had widened when Henry started reading it in the video.

Was it…?

Could it…?

Could it really be for him?

He wanted needed to find out.

He needed to find you.

“Watch where you’re going!” A man grunted at him, and Seungmin quickly apologized, running off.

Run, run, run.

He knew where you lived just because of Friday, when you had asked him if he could head towards your house with you, still a bit scared from what had happened. He accepted in a heartbeat, reassuring you that it was fine with a million smiles.

His hand had never left yours. Your touch, colder than his, had something so adicting to it that he didn’t want to let go.

Time seemed to pass slowlier when he recognized your neighbourhood. He was about to ring on your floor, but then, your silhouette got out of the elevators, and you both blinked at each other, staring through the glass door.

You opened it slowly, approaching him.

The look in your eyes was different than what Seungmin was used to.

It wasn’t similar to how you had looked at him ever since the school year started, with a shimmer of anger that turned your cheeks pink. Or how you had looked at him that afternoon in the back of the school bus, pupils dark and lips red and slightly swollen from kissing. Or how your eyes glowed in hope and comfort that Friday night.

It was different. He wanted to savour it. He wanted to see every detail of it.

He walked towards you and cradled your face in his hands.

“Wait.” He muttered in a whisper, taking off his glasses in a movement that to you felt almost enticing.

“What is it?” You whispered back.

He blinked at you as he cleaned his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

“You’re fucking blurry.” He snickered softly, with a sheepish smile that tinted his cheeks pink.

You giggled.

He settled his glasses back in place, and smiled when your image made sense before him.

“Better.” He muttered.

“Seungmin, I—“

But you stopped speaking when his lips crashed against yours.

There it was. He tasted sweet like how hot chocolate tastes in a rainy day. You smiled at your discovery, wanting to taste it for hours.

He wanted to kiss you for days to come, even if there was a million things left for both of you to say.

“I’m sorry.” Kiss. “I wasn’t in school this morning.” Kiss. “But I saw a video of it.” Kiss. “And I needed to—“

You giggled, taking his glasses and settling them on the top of his head.

“We can do the talking later.” You smiled, your cheeks red as your hands grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Are you sure?” He gulped, blushing too as he mumbled.

“Yeah.” You smiled even more. “I’d rather do the kissing now.”

You'd never know what happened with his letter. But considering where that had lead you, maybe it wasn't totally bad that the wind had carried it out the window.

[☆★🌷★☆]

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sanderssideswriting · 2 months

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the new my roommate is hades is here so let's see if it's any better then the first. It'll go the same as last time, my live thoughts then conclusion/overall thoughts

I still don't like the guy who plays Hades. He's trying soo hard to be edgy and dark but it's so forced.

ahhh exposition about engineering of all things. "You did chemical engineering, why are you taking intro to engineering." "there's different types of engineering Hades. Keep up, you're the immortal one, how do you not know this?" "your lives are insignificant, I can't keep up with every technological advancement, especially these days."

I guess they're trying to put in little bits of educational content like how they said last time that Benjamin Franklin never went to college. But there has to be a better way. But at the end of the day this is just a way to introduce Hephaestus to Thomas, sorry, Homer.

Hephaestus is a nerd, the reminds the teacher of the homework nerd. I do like the jacket though, it's a cool jacket.

soooo the gods just being at this community college is just a known fact? "oh yeah the greek gods? nah that's normal, we had the norse pantheon here last semester. They were great, they threw a ton of amazing parties. Loki was very active in the LGBT group, it was actually pretty cool."

this fucking script god damn. Like I get the message being that "education is important and it's important to always strive to learn new things" but does it have to be so blatant all the time. Is there no such thing as subtly.

all the talking in class is killing me.

Personally if I was trying to show the god of the dead the beauty in humanity and that humans are worthy of caring for I wouldn't drag him to an engineering class of all things. Why not a class on the history of music, art history, a class on literature.

Hermes jump scare, I smiled a little

there's so much exposition

Hades summoned the ghost of Nicola Tesla. why haven't they been booted out for being disruptive???

at least it was pointed out that they're being disruptive to everyone else who are trying to learn

Why is hades being nice and having an emption moment with Thomas Homer? they don't fucking like each other, Hades whole thing is he doesn't care about humanity

this also, just isn't that great of an emotional moment. Like it makes sense Hephaestus is being nice but why's Hades being decent

why was Hephaestus aware of him before they met?

this is a class, not group therapy

I skipped the bit of Thomas Homer standing up to yell at everyone. I got the bit about him telling the teacher to teach everyone and not just praise Hephaestus and yeah, that's fair. If you're going to not explain anything and be a dick of a teach you gotta be equally dickish to everyone

the teacher's a fucking robot. the explains why the teacher knew Hephaestus was a god and why they didn't get kicked out of class

final thoughts are I think that if I was 15 again I'd like it a bit more, back when I was younger and still admired Thomas and worshipped the ground he walked on. But that was a years ago.

Thomas specifically refers to being in a community college, but in community colleges all you can get is an associates degree and credits for a four year school to get a bachelors degree.

The editing, not great, but there was also way less effects, only a dark circle around Hades and the Nicola Tesla ghost being very blue and red lightning when the robot broke that was a few seconds too long.

And of course, Thomas's horribly ill fitting glasses I cannot get over because look at them.

#if the finale is like this I'm not gonna enjoy it #mostly because I've grown up since 2019 when I was deep in the trenches and because I'm here aren't I #and not with the fans still #it took me so long to get through that #ts crit #ts criticism #ts critical

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aspd-culture · 7 months

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Hey this is kind of a silly question but I figured I'd ask it anyway. I know pwASPD can feel fear but what are the limitations of that? This is mostly about myself because I'm questioning if I have ASPD and I'm really afraid of heights, in my case I think it has more to do with a lack of control than anything else but I'm not sure. Anyway I hope your well.

No worries, with a disorder with this little legitimate, unbiased research, I don't know that many silly questions exist, and yours is definitely legitimate.

In general, I would say there is not a cap to how much/how intense fear can be for someone with ASPD, any more than there is for anyone else. In fact, because pwASPD nearly always have it caused by some amount of trauma, and PTSD causes responses like anxiety and hypervigilance, I'd argue many pwASPD may feel fear more frequently and more intensely than untraumatized prosocials.

PwASPD can have blunted emotions, but that isn't always the case, and when it is, which emotions are blunted is entirely individual. For me, the main emotions that were blunted are sadness (the genuine, not depression one), contentedness, and affection. All 3 of these are emotions I *do* feel, but to a lower degree than most. They become extremely blunted during flares to the point where it feels as though I am incapable of feeling them, and then they come back.

I've heard of pwASPD who feel all "negative" emptions very intensely with "positive" ones being blunted, and I've heard the opposite where they almost feel numbed to fear, sadness, etc. because those are their natural state of being and have been for so many years, but when they are given genuine reason to feel happy/excited/etc. they feel that very, very intensely. Any combination thereof is possible, and it's also common for a pwASPD to not deal with any emotional blunting or nearly all emotions blunted.

The only emotions I've seen any contention about being able to be blunted are anger and its cousins (jealousy, frustration, etc.) and boredom. Because these are noted in associated features to be fairly intense for pwASPD, some say it isn't possible for those to be blunted. In my personal opinion, I don't think that's the case, or else those would be listed in criteria. Even criteria dom't all get met by every pwASPD, and when dealing with personality disorders, it isn't very rational to say for certain that an associated feature has to be present in everyone with that disorder.

Personality disorders exist on a spectrum in a similar way to autism because both affect a person's entire life. Every thought, action, etc. are influenced to some degree by personity disorders for those of us who have them; that's just the nature of PDs. When you're dealing with a range of symptoms that are *that* wide, you can bet that thete will be heavy variation between pw that disorder.

A fear of heights definitely does not mean you can't have ASPD or vice versa. That's considered an overactive survival instinct, which pwASPD still definitely are capable of having. In fact, many ASPD symptoms are direct results of unstable survival instincts. In some ways, we disregard our safety, yet our reactions to social situations and other people are a direct attempt by our brain to survive in a world we were taught was dangerous early on. So whilst there isn't a fear I think would exclude any person from having ASPD, this one in particular actually makes a lot of sense for someone with ASPD to struggle with.

I hope this helps!/gen

Plain text below the cut:

No worries, with a disorder with this little legitimate, unbiased research, I don't know that many silly questions exist, and yours is definitely legitimate.

I hope this helps!/gen

#aspd-culture-is #aspd culture is #aspd culture #actually aspd #aspd #aspd awareness #actually antisocial #antisocial personality disorder #aspd traits #anons welcome

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 months

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I was having some sad Turgon moments (he needs to be appreciated so hard) and honestly that line: 'And neither he nor his siblings are to blame, but it still feels like they’re saying “it’s not that we don’t love you - we just love the people responsible for the destruction of all that you built and cherished MORE”.' is such a hard-hitting one and so true in every way that it makes me love Turgon even more as a middle child myself because that's such a middle child experience (I think). On a serious note, this was what I also thought about Turgon's situation and you nailed it. Honestly, it is hard for me to love and sympathize with his siblings and cousins, because the more I think about it, the more I feel like his pain and his feelings were never really validated and taken seriously by his siblings that by the time they were reembodied in the fourth age, I won't be surprised if he maintained such cold and aloof behavior towards them and that he wouldn't reach out anymore. It's petty and doesn't go along with your thing about mercy and forgiveness but yeah. For once, I would love to see an AU of them reaching out to Turgon instead of HIM being the one to do it, because really, it is always Turgon who needs to right his wrong, and is always implied to be wrong in what he felt and that he's the one condemned for it and be yelled at. Sorry, for this long-ass ask and my rambling, it excites me to see a similar thought for a character that's been subjected to such hate for something he is completely validated to feel.

Oh wow, thank you for the long and thoughtful ask! ❤️ (The post referenced is this one.)

I think that, after returning to life in Valinor, Turgon would probably become closer with Orodreth and Thingol, because they have similar experiences in terms of ruling hidden kingdoms and trying to survive as the last safe places in Morgoth-controlled Beleriand, and because they all have very good reason to have no use for the Fëanoreans. He would also still have his close friendship with Finrod. And he would, after working through hus feelings of guilt surrounding the city’s fall, be close to all the people he knew in Gondolin. He would be close to his father abd mother. And these relationships could easily be closer and more meanngful to him than his relationships with his siblings.

At the same time, there’s also the emptional experience that the last time Turgon saw Aredhel, it was at her death, and the last time he saw Fingon it was right before his death. He’d have a ton of grief for them wrapped up with the pain. I certainly agree that he shouldn’t be the one condemned and yelled at!

For Aredhel - I have trouble seeing her being the one to reach out to Turgon because of all the ways it’s wrapped up in her own grief and guilt and pain and trauma. Her son betrayed his city to Morgoth! Her son tried to abduct and (implicitly) rape Idril! Her leaving and later returning to Gondolin was the catalyst for the city’s fall! And then she’ll have to grapple with what Celegorm and Curufin, her friends, did - took a woman captive and tried to forcibly marry her - and draw the connections between that and her own experience with Eöl, and Maeglin’s treatment of Idril. All that on top of dealing with her own trauma. I think there would be this terribly misery and guilt of Why are all these people who I loved evil? What is wrong with me, that I loved them? And even knowing all those, she can’t help but love her son; for so many years, he was the only good thing in her world. He wasn’t evil when she knew him, when she raised him. I think that this conflict - knowing what Maeglin did, knowing that people hate him, knowing that she loves him, feeling that they can’t accept her love for him and she can’t deal with their hate for him - and the shame around it, would lead her to avoid most people, and most especially to avoid her family.

And I think Turgon, even through all the pain, would want to reconcile with his little sister. And angry as he is at Maeglin, he wouldn’t blame Aredhel for the fall of Gondolin in the way that Aredhel on some level blames herself. (He blames himself for it, entirely. That feeling is the biggest thing keeping him in the Halls of Mandos and he doesn’t return to life until he’s finally wiling to face it.) I think he would seek her out and want to talk to her and let her know he still cares about her and doesn’t blame her, even though Maeglin remains the elephant in the room that they can’t mention. And I think that Turgon has a lot of confused, hurt, angry, betrayed grief for Maeglin of his own - they were very close and Turgon trusted him completely. And in the long run Turgon and Aredhel might be able to grapple with their grief together.

For Fingon it’s more complicated, because I think he would be fairly open about wanting to get Maedhros back from the Halls (I see him returning for the Halls before Maedhros does, but that’s another topic), and Turgon would be going He literally got you killed when you trusted him, he massacred my people, do you have a brain, do you freaking care about anything or anyone that’s not Maedhros?! Unlike with Maeglin, he has zero mixed feelings about Maedhros. I think they could have a good long while where they talked to each other rarely or not at all, and even if they did interact I think it would be rather tense and reliant on neither of them mentioning Maedhros or anything related to the Fëanoreans.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #turgon #aredhel #fingon #maeglin #asks

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transingthoseformers · 6 months

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Sometimes, I crave a very specific version of Rodiclash in which Thunderclash is absolutely obsessed with Rodimus, like borderline Yandere in old school animes, but is self-aware enough to know he should not be doing the creepy stuff he desperately wants like locking Rodimus up in a room away from everyone who "doesn't appreciate him" and worshipping him.

He actually has similar vibes to Tarn but is better at hiding it.

Rodimus's feelings about him aren't entirely jealousy/feeling threatened, but picking up on the mask of non-threatening Thunderclash was carefully keeping up. Their first meeting, Hot Rod called him out on forcing a smile, and Thunderclash at first didn't like him and actually hated him a bit for both his attitude, seeing through him, and all the Emptions. Slowly, though, he grew to appreciate the fact Hot Rod/Rodimus fully picked up on his real feelings and began to admire him, though Rodimus didn't pick up on the sincere change of feeling.

His agreement with the mutiny was meant to only have Megatron left and that's why he was furious with Getaway.

In Bad Ending, he manages to convince Rodimus to go off with him and it is fulfilling or bordwring on his fondest dreams and Rodimus picks up on this and realizes "holy shit Thunders wants me" and teases him about it starting up a not-quite toxic relationship that involves a lot of Rodimus having to set firm boundaries but also being way too willing, Thunderclash's, who is trying to keep some self restraint, opinion.

Drift hears about this and gets distressed because Ratchet is fully aware of both Thunderclash's crush and obsessive nature, and he is fully prepared to give him a threat.

Rodimus breaks them up and says "yeah he knows" about some of Thunderclash's more "innocuous" obsessive habits, like reading all his mail or preparing all of his food or "the watching him recharge thing", which makes Drift beep in distress.

He is very much going: "NO, RODIMUS THAT IS NOT SAFE SANE OR NORMAL!".

And Rodimus shrugs and says he is fully aware of what is going on and is okay with it before pausing looking at the camera and telling Thunderclash to "turn them off now because this is a private-private" conversation and Thunderclash reluctantly does because he Trusts Rodimus won't actually leave him if Drift shares the slightest interest while Drift is horrified.

Rodimus is actually improving, and Thunderclash is being more openly vicious when it comes to him. Especially in his defense. He may have had a lot of jeaslousy about Drift, Megatron, and Minimus. Drift makes a lot of distressed beeps and glares anytime Thunderclash is nearby.

In the Good Ending, Drift is deliberately blocking Thunderclash's courting attempts, with obvious faked innocence, until Thunderclash sabotages a mission to get Rodimus and him stuck together a while butbthen gets tongue tied until Rodimus starts talking to him of his own choice asking about "his weird thing with Drift". Rodimus is strangely delighted that Drift is the only person he shows outward disdain for and thinks its funny. He also states, not asks, that Thunderclash really does like him now. This flusters Thunderclash and Rodimus looks amused and invotes him to watch a movie together.

They still end up together but with Ratchet there to help them get a more steady relationship and without some of the rougher start they had in BE.

Drift is suffering.

OWO?

Yandere!Thunderclash??

Interesting situation comparing it to Tarn

ohhhoh so Roddie knows something. He doesn't know what this something is, but it's something

I can just imagine the blowout when Thunders realizes Getaway used him and this isn't what he wanted

Ooo on it finally clicking for Rodders? Of course Rodimus would consider this a win

roddie bae your amica and Amica in law are concerned about you

Interesting that Ratchet knows well of Thunderclash's tendency to be obsessive, has he seen others™️?

Rodimus that is not innocuous

Also YES ON MECHA BEEPING OUT OF EMOTION

oh rodimus

Thunderclash no—

So for the good ending Drift noticed i-fucking-mmediately

Makes sense he wouldn't like Drift and Roddie finds this somewhat hilarious

In general just poor Drift wow

#maccadam #transformers #mtmte thunderclash #mtmte rodimus #rodiclash #mtmte drift #mtmte ratchet #dratchet #mtmte megatron #mtmte getaway

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lilabella12 · 6 months

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1347 - Day 1

Turns out that all these rumours about an invasion are true - the neighbouring lords call for battle but strangely, there's no recruiter working in Windenburg. Cassian breathes a sigh of relief. He wouldn't know what to do if he had to leave his family now.

He takes care of the harvest instead an plans to visit Sir McKinely in a few days to talk about the work he needs done in his new home.

James realises that he just isn't made for farmwork. The only thing he feels capable of is taking care of the chickens now... he also has a rare moment of bonding with his brother Evan before he returns to his studies. He's reading a very interesting book about the stars and their alignment right now and he can't help but make some notes on it.

Rachel is walking a bit better now and all that work running around is making her quite hungry. There's no food in the house that's save from her!

Aunt Charlotte visits one day and brings gifts for the children. She and Madeline really have a close bond.

"Thank you so much, Auntie, I love it! I'm almost big enough to play that lute you gave me as well. When I can play a bit I will visit you at the abbey!"

A few weeks into 1347 Cassian visits the new McKinley homestead.

"I still need some structural work done and then there's furniture. I would appreciate it if you could help with that as well."

"I will do my best, sire. Do you know when you're family will be here, have you heard from them at all?"

"Not yet, boy, but I don't think they will be sending letters. The whole thing is dangerous enough as it is. We just have to be patient and wait. You said they would have started their journey around the end of last year, right?"

"Yes, that's what they planned to do."

"Then I will not be expecting them for at least two more months."

Cassian gets to work on his tasks.

He never had much skill in blacksmithing but carpentry is something he has a passion for.

After a few weeks he managed to build an awful lot of furniture for the house and the structural work is done, too. Now all thats left is the upstairs.

Even though the ground is still cold he also planted some crops so that the family will have something to live off when they finally arrive. He intends to take care of the garden until they come.

In Bergen Sven has to say goodbye to his family for now. His brothers call came and he needs to answer it.

"Be safe, Father.... and write, please, so that we know you're ok!"

Elsa is struggling to keep her emption out of her voice.

"Yes, love, of course. I will write as often as I can. Your mother will read you the letters, okay?"

He kisses Verna and Nora goodbye and walks off towards the castle.

The small family now has to learn to live on their own. But one day while foraging Elsa finds something amazing.... She stumbles upon a lost dog waiting for her right in front of their house!

"Why hello there... what are you doing here all alone in the cold?"

The small creature follows her footsteps to the house and she feels sorry for him.

"Do you want to come inside?"

"I promise I will take care of him, mother, can we please keep him?"

Nora agrees. A little happiness in their life is something they need badly right now.

"Of course, love.... of course he can stay."

#sims4 #ultimate decades challenge #atwood legacy #the sims 4 #1340

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mejomonster · 7 months

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Okay so im watching hannibal

Mads mikkleson confuses me greatly cause i thought he'd be idk offputting? Scary? Instead he's relatively comforting so i guess the whole "why is the whole fbi using him as a therapist" makes more sense now

Not as gory as i was concerned about (yet) so its been as easy to watch as the typical murder mystery case solving im into

Horror esque vibes tho for spooky season~

Jack is married to GINA TORRES. How hes fucking up that marriage??? Beyond me. If gina torres was my wife id have never let things fall apart this much. Damn jack. I can even tell u love her but wowza are you flopping the loving actions arena. Anyway im thrilled gina torres is in this i love her acting

Will graham is an experience. Not the weirdo the press and fbi treat him like, in fact if a bitch treated him mundanely normal itd probably lower his stress a lot (which is probably why hannibal has his trust the most now! Hannibal of all ppl talks to him the most regular... alana tried but shes got the "i think of you as broken" vibe in all her interactions with will when its like... bro needs some regular friendships, can u turn off ur work focus on a patient please alana. Which is also alanas issue with abigail too... treating her as a patient is good, but also treating her person to person equal to equal outside of treatment sessions wouldve added that normalcy abigail craved and hannibal suggested... without alana being cut out, with alana still present for emptional support AND seeming more trustworthy as a peer not just a doctor who influences abigails future. But you know. Love a story where everyones a bit fucked up.

If alana werent a bit fucked up, tunnel vision, one would hope she'd notice hannibals weird shit sooner

Anyway im only on ep 5, fun so far.

Very well made and keeping my attention is the main vibe so far.

Not nearly as creepy as i thought the show was gonna be???

#hannibal #lb

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eternitas · 9 months

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Iiiiii dunno if this is an unpopular opinion or not buuut after checking out the G3 animated Monster High Mysteries, I have to say that I personally preffer the previous incarnation and characterisations.

Don't get me wrong, I don't HATE the ghouls now, I think its just a different reincarnation of the cast, but I also can't say I really warmed up to them.

More opinions and thoughts under the cut

Now mind you I only saw the Monster High Mysteries up to episode 4 so my exposure is limited. I wont say anything about storytelling or the like and focus only on the girls new... Vibes, yeah lets call it that.

Now, I am a very filthy Draculaura stan. After watching (I think?) the entirety of the old episodes, except the movies, I really fell in love with her. I love her little accent and how she is this slightly unaware, rich, girly girl. She always seemed like she would spare no expenses for her friends, but also often forget that not everybody is as fortunate as her or Cleo (Ghoul build multiple two story tall lockers for all her things). She is messy, she loooves to talk and gossip, she is PINK and proud of it, super into fashion and just unapologetically girly, I LOVE IT, especialls now since I rediscovered my love for girly stuff after the very famous "hating everything pink" phase.

The new iteration seems a bit more serious and down to earth. An excited bookworm and raised to perfection by her father (from what I could gather). Her cute lil accent is gone, the pink now seems less *intentional* somehow and she seems more like a... Idk, very standart pink leader type? Its a shame, because i always thought G1Draculauras whole vibe was what so many rejected as a young teen when they go into the "hate girly and feminine stuff bc YOU'RE A PROUD NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS WOMAN!", ya know the kind that hates these shallow sluts who love boybands and pink and make up ew.

And I loved that about her. She is the typical "too much, but in a sweet way" girl, the type i would probably call when i got massive emptional turmoil, because she'd drop everything to be there for me and take me shopping to get my head off- no no no of course not, she'll pay, that's only natural c:

I dont have a lot to say when it comes to Frankie. (At least differentiating here is easier bc G1 Frankie used she/her and G3 Frankie uses they/them)

Frankie seemed not that much different from their old self. A tad bit naive, new to things, spunky, loyal and very caring, always trying for everybodies best, she is such a cinamonroll.

Frankie Stein in G3 seems mostly the same or very close to that? I can't say much considering I only saw these 4 short episodes, but they gave me very similar vibes.

Clawdeen is I think one that had a MASSIVE change from her previous version.

NOW

I am not qualified to speak about race related issues or the portrayal of POC in media. I dont know if the portrayal was deemed offensive, because it portrayed Clawdeen as the most "agressive" and fierce one, standing alone and independant, the only one without a boyfriend or other love interest, having a dialect I can not pin point, being one of the core group, yet seemingly having way less plot relevance and character arc that is purely hers (the whole arc with her brother dating draculaura was her 'meddling' with a relationship of one of the other ghouls) and being the ghoul with the most physical power after lagoona. I have no idea, I just noticed these things in particular. I personally LIKED G1 Clawdeen she seemed after Lagoona to be the one most earthed and steadfast. She is super family oriented, but even there i can not say if this is... A stereotype. I am not very versed on that topic, I will admit and I wont pretend I do. I am simply stating what I observed.

Clawdeen in G3 seems far more mellow, still very calm and collected, but more in alignment personality wise with the other ghouls (more on that later)

Lagoona my ghoul, after Draculaura one of my absolute faves. In G1 she was always kind of the mom of the group. A part of the core friendsquad but somehow still removed from most of the drama. She is the one that calls everyone back to the ground, she is the one most often keeping composure and being like that friend that doesnt have social media so they dont get super invested in trivial drama. i mean she is the only one not on the fearsquad bc she already has her position as captain of the swim team. She of course supports her friends without any hesitation! But you can tell that she is just one step outside the circle and therefore far more independant and seems way more mature. She is suuuper sporty and the type where I can see a guy saying "yer like one of the dudes". I love her whole australian persona and unpopular opinion but man you deserve better than Gill.

Her new iteration seems to have more of G1 Draculauras sweetness. She is even the only one with an accent. She seems more... Sweet and innocent and a bit younger. Like she'd be G1 Lagoonas lil sister.

Cleo de Nile. i always thought she gave me a bit of Most Popular Girls In School mckenzy vibes

G1 Cleo KNOWS she is a big deal. She is dramatic and in the beginning a straight up antagonist until she turns to be a really valuable friend. While Draculaura would be there for you emotionally and comfort you, Cleo is the type that will prevent you from going on a date if she isn't 100% sure your outfit is KILLER. the type to say "as your way more fashionable and popular friend, it is my DUTY to save you from this GROTESQUE jacket you are wearing!"

I always loooved her saying "Oh my Rah!" it was just so charming to me idk. She was always to me the rich girl that would say (again a mckenzie quote) "why don't you just tell me that I'm poor?!"

And honestly I loved her for that. She was dramatic (but a different type than Draculaura), but also so agressively caring, that its almost a THREAT. And that was pretty fantastic.

The new Cleo seems a bit more .. I think people call it "valley girl"? And ... I dunno how I feel about that. Its less overbearing but it also seems weirdly more... Arrogant in a way? I have a hard time putting it into words.

In general it feels like previously in Gen1 you could easily write down a sentance and IMMIDEATLY know who said it. The girls were SO distinctly different and unique, yet all SUCH good friends and i think that fit the message of monster high perfrctly. Everyone was a weirdo! Everyone could be themselves! And they all accepted each other! I wouldnt say they were very archetypical but they definitely all had their distinct colour. Everyone kind of had their own speech pattern, dialect or accent. I absolutely saw them as a wholesome squad that I'd hashtag as #goals. Aside of Clawdeen and Draculauras fight bc of Draculauras crush on Clauwde (how tf u spell his name) and the period in which cleo was an antagonist these ghouls were ALWAYS a tight group of friends. I think one of the most telling moments for me was when draculaura wanted to throw a party for frankies 16th day birthday and frankie organize a party for draculauras 1600th birthday. All their friends said they're busy and while it made both sad, they didn't dwell on it or got upset. Instead they said "well then we'll just party together c:". Their loyalty and friendship and its strength was just.. A given? Natural? Not even a question?

With the Gen3 I feel like its this almost... Fragile sort of middleschool friendship where even a small thing can drive it off balance and shatter it. They are all now more... Even? In a way? If the old squad was a plate full of different kinds of desserts then the new one is the same cake with different colouring but mostly the same flavour. It's not a hivemind situation, but it is also not as... Memorable.

i hope watching more of Gen 3 will make me think different. I hope i really get to like these ghouls.

And I guess that's my thoughts on it.

#monster high gen 3 #monster high #monster high gen 1 #this isnt hate!!!!#but i still wont add the characters names

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karizard-ao3 · 18 days

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My reactions to Evangelion episode 25: Do you love me?

Just the title of this episode alone is making me feel emotional. What is going to happen to these babies?

I'm going to try to fit these last two episodes in before I finish cleaning up for my friends who are visiting this weekend. I want to be an emptionally destroyed zombie for the whole time they're here.

Jk. I'm hoping I can withstand this and at least fake that I'm still functional after. I might have to take a break between episodes to run to Target, but fingers crossed I will have this finished tonight and then be able to watch End of Evangelion on Sunday!

Enough about me. Let's begin!

Shinji is either having a mental breakdown or he's got some Angel in his head. This reminds me of the Dirac (?) Sea and what he was going through then.

Is he being interrogated?

Asuka is the blunt voice in his subconscious lol

I do find it interesting how similar Asuka and Shinji's motives for piloting the Evas are.

It's interesting because it seems Rei is connected to all the different versions of herself that exist in other people's perceptions. And, it seems like that is entirely what she has based her current sense of herself on.

Her similarities to Kaworu (is that right?) are really interesting. They both were really disconnected from themselves and the world. Very different from humans, who cling to life. Instead, they are eager to die.

"You existed for today, Rei." And Kaworu said he believes he was born just to meet Shinji and was happy to die having done that. How to put this? All the Angels thus far have seemed to be created for one purpose. They always appear, do one thing, and then are killed. There's an essence of the mayfly about them. The fights don't even last long in the show, and sometimes we even miss them. They've never really felt like a real enemy because of that. They're just so unrecognizable, if that makes sense.

Shinji is maybe remembering when he disappeared into the quantum plane?

The instrumentality begins. Oh no.

Misato was shot?

They're gonna glomp everyone altogether into an amorphous blob of heart?

I heard the author was depressed. I get it.

Misato is tired of being clean and pretty for everyone else, and her apartment before the kids moved in was a pig sty. It was like her one little concession to herself. She has to put on the mask outside but at home she could be dirty and ugly.

Hmmmm Misato. Using sex to hide from the pain and disappoint your dead father, huh? I am uneasy. I've been trying to ignore certain vibes I was getting and I'm still trying to. I dont want to talk about it.

Why would they talk about Asuka like that right in front of her?

This is really something. Can't quite articulate it right now, but you know when you're just walking along and suddenly you become hyper aware of the fact that you are you and other people are in their own heads being themselves and having thoughts and sensations just like you but you will never know what it is like in their heads or how it feels to be them? That's what this is like.

"You wished for a closed off world that was comfortable for you and only you." Damn.

In Conclusion

When they say Shinji wished for the end of his world, is that because he wanted to connect with other people and end his loneliness or is it just because he hates himself and wants to die? Or, something else?

My head is doing contortions trying to figure all this out. But I was warned it was confusing, so I don't have high expectations from myself.

Dear Shinji, please stay safe. I love you.

#neon genesis evangelion #evangelion #first watch #thoughts #reactions #shinji ikari #asuka langley soryu #rei ayanami #misato katsuragi #ritsuko akagi #gendo ikari

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

Text

Don’t Run

Prompts: hello hello hello i have a merlin fic idea (which you are Not obligated to write /gen) merlins been hiding his magic from arthur for ages (but arthur already knows about it, doesnt really care, and has just been waiting for merlin to tell him on his own terms). merlins magic gets revealed and merlin is Terrified. he basically begs aurthur to not burn him and instead banish him or something. arthur (who was not expecting this) decides hey maybe its a good idea to let all these emptions calm down before I talk about this with him because clearly merlin isnt okay right now. and so he leaves merlin to let him have a break. but merlin freaks (or gets kidnapped or something idk /lh) and decides 'fuck it time to run before he decides to kill me.' arthur now has to go find this magic dumbass (he's probably very worried about him) However, when he finds merlin, merlin assumes arthur is there to kill him and figures 'well if arthur wants me dead i suppose i'll have to die' or something. arthur is naturally horrified and rushes to clear things up. again, if you dont want to write this/dont feel comfortable writing it, dont /gen (i know its detailed brain went brrrr at like midnight and thought this up lmao) have a great day!!! drink water or get bonked /lh - anon

me, as the angsty person i am, am a sucker for the 'Person A gets kidnapped or captured for a bit and when they're rescued think they're dreaming/hallucinating' trope. no pressure for you to write this ofc, feel free to ignore this /gen - anon

prompt: can you please do a Merlin gets betrayed by someone he cares about h/c fic? also can merlin be aroace and trans? - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: panic attacks, betrayal, anti-magic sentiments

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3725

It was supposed to be a normal hunt. It was supposed to be a normal hunt.

It was supposed to be this: they get out of the castle so Arthur can be less of a prat, the knights have that weird banter that they always do where it’s ‘we can make fun of him but if anyone else tries, you will be eviscerated,’ and Merlin gets to enjoy being in the woods because it’s nice outside and he doesn’t actually have to do that much. They only tend to hunt small things like rabbits and birds anyway.

It was not supposed to be most of the knights having to stay behind for various reasons, including Gwaine who somehow got swept into helping Leon with a council thing.

It was not supposed to be just him, Arthur, and three random knights.

It was not supposed to end like this.

Merlin grunts, hitting the ground hard as a sword slams into his back. He gasps, struggling to find purchase on the loose dirt as the sound of shouts reach his ringing ears. He turns over, trying to get up, only to have the point of a sword leveled at his face.

“G-Gareth?”

Gareth, the knight who had actually been decent to him—which meant he’d helped put away his equipment, helped Merlin tidy up, and actually been nice to him—snarls down at him, sword still aimed right at his throat.

“What—what’s going on?”

“Don’t play dumb, you wretched thing,” the man growls, the point of the sword perilously close to slitting his throat, “I’ve had my eye on you since I came to Camelot.”

“Your eye on me—what? What’re you talking about?”

“As if you don’t know!”

Merlin’s breathing grows ragged as the sword forces his head back down on the ground. Gareth leans over him, spittle flying from his lips.

“You’re poison,” hisses the same mouth that called him kind, called him compassionate, called him hopeful, “you’re a plague that deserves to be wiped out. Scum and traitors, all of you, inhuman bastards that drag the rest of us down to your level.”

It’s the shock of the words that does it, bringing tears to Merlin’s eyes as the conviction in the man’s face drives the sword down further. “G-Gareth, I—“

“Don’t.”

He winces as the sword digs in.

“Keep my name out of your hell mouth,” the man spits, “don’t try and curse me.”

“What,” says the most glorious and furious voice Merlin has ever heard, “is the meaning of this?”

Arthur.

Arthur storms up to them, his own sword drawn, eyes like flame as he sees Gareth with his sword at Merlin’s throat.

“Drop it,” he warns in a voice of steel, “and I might just let you keep your life.”

“He’s a sorcerer, sire.”

Merlin’s blood runs cold.

No.

No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening.

Not like this. Arthur wasn’t supposed to find out like this. No, he was—he was going to tell him, promise, he was but—but after, after everything was fine and fixed and then—then he could—

Not like this. Please, not like this.

“A sorcerer? Merlin? You must be joking.”

“It’s no joke, sire.” Gareth snarls again. “I saw him with my own eyes. His eyes glowed, he threw a spear halfway across the arena without his hands. He has magic, I tell you.”

Merlin looks helplessly at Arthur but all he sees is a stony face. The blade turns him back after a second, back into the face of contempt and hatred and all the things that hurt far worse than any sword.

“We must kill him,” Gareth says solemnly, “to root out the poison before it destroys us all.”

And before Merlin can say anything, before Arthur can say anything, he lifts the sword and makes to swing.

“Merlin!”

A blast and Gareth is flying back across the clearing, smacking against the tree and falling to the ground with a clang.

It rings in the still air.

Merlin’s eyes widen.

He doesn’t hear the cries of sorcerer, magic, evil over the pounding of his heart in his ears. He doesn’t see the light glint off of blades as they’re pulled from scabbards. He doesn’t feel the threat of others getting closer over the dread of what he’s just done.

He’s killed himself.

He used magic to hurt one of the knights of Camelot.

He revealed himself in front of Arthur.

What have I done?

“Sire, what do we do?” He hears the voice from a mile away. “I’ve never killed a sorcerer before.”

Never killed a sorcerer before.

He’s asking Arthur how to kill a sorcerer.

Arthur knows how to kill a sorcerer.

Arthur has killed a sorcerer before.

Arthur is going to kill me.

Merlin shies away from them, curling up into a ball before realizing that could be seen as defiance and whimpering, throwing himself to his knees with his hands raised.

“I’ll go,” he croaks, “I’ll—I’ll leave, you’ll never see me again, just—just let me go. Banish me instead.”

Please, just let me run.

He can’t look at Arthur’s eyes, filled with rage and contempt like Gareth as he strikes him down. He can’t look at him like that, he can’t do it. He won’t survive that alone. It wouldn’t be the sword that kills him.

“Please—please, I’ll go. I’ll go and you’ll never see me again,” he begs, “just—just let me go.”

“Pathetic,” another one of them says, “is that the best he can do? I’ve seen a dog beg better than that.”

Arthur still hasn’t said anything.

“We need to kill him, sire,” Gareth says—oh, he must’ve gotten up— “who knows what he could do?”

Merlin finally looks up, if only to see how close they all are, and his eyes lock with Arthur’s.

He can’t see any of the man he knows.

“Return to camp,” says the stranger who wears Arthur’s face, “pack the supplies. We must make ready for a hasty retreat back to Camelot.”

“But sire—“

“Now.”

Two of the knights glance at each other and slowly begin to back away. Gareth remains for a moment longer.

“Be wary, sire,” he says, “he’s tricky. Did his best to seduce me, he’s a wily one.”

“I can handle him. Go.”

Gareth shoots one last truly disdainful look at him before he retreats into the undergrowth, the sheen of his sword the last to vanish.

Then it’s just the two of them.

“Arthur,” Merlin gasps, “Arthur, please—“

“Shut up.”

The words are different. They’re not playful, not irritated, not—not Arthur. They’re cold. Impersonal. An order. They strike Merlin like rocks from a sling, making him flinch into a sharp rock that jabs right through the thin material of his trousers. His throat closes until only pained and pitiful whines can escape.

They remain where they are for a long moment before Arthur begins to retreat as well, sword still held aloft, backing away until he’s far enough that Merlin can hardly see him. Only then does he turn.

Merlin watches the single spot of red walk away from him until it vanishes into the forest.

His magic tingles in the tips of his fingers and a soundless yell burns his throat as he shoves his hands against his chest, trying to make it go away, this is all your fault, you ruined everything, you always ruin everything!

He has to run. He has to run because sorcerers die in Camelot, they’re put to the sword or burned at the stake and he can’t look at Arthur while he kills him. He can’t. He just can’t. He’d sooner die of that than whatever execution they can dream up.

With stumbling and clumsy steps that are dragged down by his traitorous magic that for some reason doesn’t want him to flee from the site of his execution, he scrambles to his feet and runs.

If Arthur—if Arthur finds him after this, he can say he tried to run. He can run again, he’ll keep running. He’ll spend his life running if it means Arthur won’t kill him and he won’t have to see it.

He runs harder and faster than he’s ever run before because Arthur is a warrior who’s been trained to kill since birth and he’s stronger and faster and can run for longer and if he catches Merlin—

He loses track of where he is. He just runs.

But his magic, his damned magic, that has always loved Arthur more than it loves him, won’t let him.

Like a tether from his navel that twists through the forest, he knows exactly where Arthur is. And exactly when he starts to give chase.

A wretched sob tears itself from his throat and he pushes on, his magic dragging him back each step as Arthur gets closer, closer, closer, and he’s no longer just hearing his own breath and phantom footsteps as he crashes through the woods. He can hear the snapping of twigs, the rustling of leaves, and that voice.

That damned voice.

“Merlin!”

He can’t stop. If he stops he dies. If he stops Arthur kills him. If he stops he—he—

His magic all but throws him over a root and he yelps, turning into a frightened scream as he’s pitched down a hill and into a boulder with a crack.

“Merlin!”

Leaves rustle as Arthur skids down the hill after him and he’s so close, he’s right there and Merlin has to run, he has to run now, but his legs are shaking and his arms won’t work and his magic keeps tugging him back toward Arthur and he just collapses into a useless, cowering mess at Arthur’s feet.

“Merlin!”

“No—no fire,” he gasps out, “please, you—you can do it here, I won’t fight, I won’t—you can use your sword, please, no fire, I don’t want to burn—please, no fire—“

A strong hand grips his shoulder and pulls him in to—

No sword pierces his chest. No dagger finds a home in his gut. There are no hissed words, no glares, no low solemn speeches about magic as a plague.

He can’t even see Arthur anymore. Just the hill. There are two tracks in it. One where he fell and one where Arthur skidded after him. Red fabric flutters in front of him too. Arthur’s cape.

Why can he see Arthur’s cape?

Only when a head turns and breath starts to puff over his neck does he realize what’s happened.

“A-Arthur?”

“Don’t you ever,” Arthur says in a rush, chest still heaving against Merlin’s where he’s pulled him flush against him, legs tangled in a heap, “scare me like that again.”

He’s…he’s in Arthur’s lap. Arthur’s holding him. Arthur’s hugging him.

Arthur has his face buried in Merlin’s neck and he’s telling him not to scare him like that again.

“Arthur?”

“You,” he says, and he sounds like Arthur again—a very angry Arthur, but at least it’s Arthur— “are the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

He pulls back and his eyes are still on fire but he’s looking at Merlin like a starving man.

“Why did you run? You could’ve been hurt! You were hurt, you slammed into the rock like it broke your back.” He runs a hand over Merlin’s spine as if reassuring himself Merlin’s not hurt. “You idiot, I almost lost you.”

Merlin just blinks. Almost…lost him? Doesn’t Arthur want to kill him?

“Well?”

Oh. Arthur’s waiting for an answer. “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

Arthur’s face goes white, slack in horror, then contorts anew in red rage. “No, Merlin, I’m not going to bloody kill you.”

“B-but you—“

“I didn’t want the others to try, you absolute petticoat,” he says, still glaring, “because you’re a little lamb who rolls over whenever anyone is trying to fight you except me—which is rude, by the way—and you wouldn’t so much as lift a finger to defend yourself if they tried!”

…that’s why he sent them away?

Arthur rolls his eyes when he voices that thought. “Yes, Merlin. They’re under the impression that they’re to start back to Camelot without me to gather reinforcements.”

Reinforcements—the knights—no—

“Calm down, you idiot, they’re not actually going to—oh, for the love of—Merlin.”

Merlin listens to that. He freezes in Arthur’s arms as Arthur’s hand comes up to cup the back of his head. He stares at him pointedly, gaze flicking from one eye to the other.

“I lied,” he says slowly as if he’s talking to a child, “so they would leave.”

“You…you did?”

“Yes. Because then I could talk to you about having magic—hey,” he says firmly as Merlin tries to pull away again, “none of that. Stay with me.”

Another order. He can do those.

“Right. I wanted to talk with you about having magic so that now we can work together to keep things like this from happening and—where are you going?”

“What do you mean now,” Merlin asks, eyes widening as he tries anew to struggle away from Arthur, “what does that mean?”

“Merlin, I’ve known you’ve had magic for a while now, and—“

“You what?”

“Come on, you’re not exactly good at hiding it all the—hey!”

Merlin had flailed, succeeding in loosening Arthur’s grip and sending them both falling over. He scrambles up, trying to claw his way free but Arthur is faster and he’s on him in an instant.

“This isn’t working,” he hears Arthur growl to himself before arms like steel bands close around him, hauling his back against Arthur’s chest as legs lace through his and pin him well and truly.

“N-no—“

“Shh,” comes Arthur’s voice, suddenly soft and gentle and Merlin hates the way he instantly relaxes, “easy, now. It’s alright. You’re alright.”

A truly pathetic whine leaves his mouth and Arthur hums.

“I’m not going to kill you,” the gentle voice says again, “I’m not going to burn you and I’m not going to use my sword. You will not die.”

But he’s a sorcerer. Sorcerers die in Camelot.

“I sent away the others to protect you. They’re not going to hurt you either. The knights—our knights—won’t let you be hurt and neither will I.” Arthur’s lips brush the shell of his ear. “You’re safe, Merlin. I’m going to protect you.”

“But,” Merlin gasps, “but I’m a sorcerer.”

“Yes,” Arthur says patiently, “you are. I’ve known that for a while. You are Merlin, you are a sorcerer, and I’m going to protect you.”

“Sorcerers die in Camelot. You—you should kill me.”

“I am not going to kill you. You are mine,” and there’s a hint of steel in his words now too, “and no one is going to touch you.”

His magic thrums in his veins and slowly, slowly his breathing slows.

“If I let you go, will you run again?”

“N-no.”

“Alright.”

Arthur lets him go and Merlin doesn’t run. He lets Arthur turn him around and cup his neck again, the other hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t look mad anymore.

“Is that why you ran,” he asks, still speaking softly, “did you think I was going to kill you?”

When Merlin nods, looking away in shame, he just hums again.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“I know that now.”

“Mhm. So when we go back—“

“Back?” Merlin’s head jerks up. “You’re not banishing me either?”

“What part of ‘I’m going to protect you’ did you not understand?”

“B-but I thought—“

“No, you didn’t,” he says in that soft voice that makes the insult almost an endearment, “you didn’t think because you didn’t realize that I could never kill you or send you away. I’d sooner leave with you.”

His magic hums as if to verify the truth in his words. “You…you would?”

Arthur frowns, but it’s not an angry frown. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“How important you are.”

The forest seems to fall silent.

Merlin’s eyes widen so much he’s afraid they’re going to fall out of his head. And Arthur’s just looking at him with his face all sincere and his voice is still soft and his hands are gentle where they hold Merlin like he’s something precious and—and—

“What?”

“All those jokes,” Arthur says, “about you and being replaceable and being the worst and a coward…I never really meant them. Never. Well, you are an awful servant, but none of the others. I don’t want you to leave.”

Slowly, like he’s coaxing a skittish animal to him, he pulls him closer.

“I want you.”

Something in Merlin’s chest breaks and he’s sobbing into Arthur’s shoulder in the next moment, hands scrabbling uselessly at his cape, his armor, his hair, every bit of him that he can reach. Arthur weathers the storm like a castle in a gale, holding him tight enough that he won’t blow away.

“I want you,” he whispers, sweet rain in the clouded sky, “I want you to stay, Merlin.”

————

He’s on his back. He’s got a sword at his throat. Arthur stares down at him like his glare is enough to burn him alive and he’s snarling out Merlin’s name.

“Magic is a plague. You’re poison. You’ve betrayed me. How could you do this?”

Merlin can’t speak. His mouth trapped shut. Arthur lifts the sword.

“You’re nothing but an inhuman beast,” come the words that hurt far more than any mortal weapon, “you, who cannot love, who are of twisted mind and body, you who do not understand what it is to be a human.”

All of the secrets he’d hoped to hide…exposed for the world to see.

“May all of Camelot curse your name,” he growls, “Merlin. Merlin, Merlin—“

“Merlin!”

Merlin gasps, jolting upright, trying to get away from the sword, just run—

“Merlin, calm down,” Arthur says, wrapping his arms around him and coaxing him to his chest, “it’s only a dream, Merlin, it’s only a dream.”

No, no, this must be the dream. Why would he be in Arthur’s chambers, at night, in bed, in bed with Arthur—this can’t be—

“Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart,” Arthur murmurs, lying back down with Merlin in his arms, “I’ve got you. It’s only me. You’re safe.”

“A-Arthur?”

“Yes, sweetheart. It’s me.” There’s a mouth on his neck. “Just me.”

He’s still panting, the run still pushing through his legs. Arthur hums, settling him into the blankets and propping himself up over him.

“Where are you right now?”

“Forest,” Merlin chokes out, “sword. You were going to—to kill me.” He swallows. “Said all of Camelot would curse my name.”

“You’re with me,” Arthur says gently, “we’re in the castle. I’m not going to kill you. Can you see?”

He looks around. There’s the desk. There’s the window. Arthur’s white nightshirt is shining in the moonlight.

“…yeah.” He swallows. “I’m—I’m not abusing you, am I?”

Arthur almost reels back in shock. “What? What on earth are you talking about?”

“I—‘cause I can’t—I can’t love the way that—“

“Stop right there,” Arthur orders, leaning down and cupping his face in his hands, “don’t you give a damn about that, you hear me? I care for you, I’m fond of you, you care for me, you’re fond of me, yes?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Merlin swallows again. “And I’m not…wrong?”

“‘Wrong?’”

“…you don’t mind—“ he blushes— “my—my body?”

“Your bod—goodness, Merlin, this must’ve been quite the nightmare.” Arthur shakes his head. “No, Merlin, your body’s yours. You do what you like with it.”

It says something about how rattled he is that he doesn’t reach for any of the jokes he could make right now.

“Hey,” Arthur calls, leaning down and carding his fingers through his hair, “be gentle with yourself, alright? That was a horrible thing that happened, let it heal in its own time.”

“But it’s hard.”

“I know.” Arthur leans over to kiss his cheek. “Trust me, I know.”

Merlin rolls over, wrapping his arms around Arthur as he chuckles in surprise, pulling him into a proper cuddle.

“You just have to stay, then, until it feels better.”

“Oh, Merlin,” he hears faintly as sleep begins to tug at him once more, “you don’t need to make reasons for me to stay. I’m staying with you, sweetheart, for the rest of our lives.”

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #fic #dragonbabbles

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