#i was told you can by someone who did it last year

[spiderbeam]

🎧+carlos+24

🎧 — ¿con quién se queda el perro? (“who gets the dog?”) by jesse y joy

a/n: it’s 1:50 am as i’m posting this && it turned out much longer than i expected so…. prepare for angst and enjoy <3

The first thought that crosses your mind as you’re walking across your flat to open the door is that this feels weird. No matter how much you try to push it away, you can’t help it. It’s weird, hearing him knock on the door. You don’t understand why that’s the thing has thrown you off most during a week like this. It’s not the piles of boxes, or the bed that is only half-undone, the emptied drawers, the missing pictures, the packed-up racing simulator. It’s him knocking.

He has a key. He has one, because he hasn’t yet given it to you. Because you still can’t bring yourself to ask for it.

The door creaks open, and you’re met by Carlos’ tired brown eyes. His hair looks messy, his complexion paler than it should. He hasn’t been sleeping well.

To be fair, neither have you.

“Hi,” he says quietly, eyes searching your face. You can’t look much better than him.

“Hi,” you repeat, opening the door wider for him.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, shuffling besides you and into the apartment he used to call home.

“The bed isn’t that bad,” you say. Even though you aren’t here. The thought comes to you unbidden. It makes a sourness seep into your mouth.

You close the door behind you. He stands a respectful distance from you, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And that distance… it’s too far away, but not enough altogether. Too close, too distant.

The two of you linger there, in a silence that seems to stretch between the two of you. There’s a ghost of laughter, of kisses and promises whispered against your lips. Of fingers toying with his hair and murmurs pressed against your navel.

You don’t remember the last time silence stretched like this between the two of you.

“I will be quick,” Carlos promises quietly.

“You don’t have to be,” you respond, and you can see his brown eyes soften. What’s done is done, you have to remind yourself. You made your choice. But there’s a tenderness for Carlos that you’ll never be able to shed. There’s a room in your heart for him—he made home of it years ago. It will take time for him to vacate it—longer than it will your apartment.

Carlos nods eventually, letting his gaze scour your flat. It feels hollow. A phantom. You had grown used to an empty apartment. With Carlos’ line of work, it was near impossible to have him with you for longer stretches of time. You thought you could bear it—seeing him once, twice a week, maybe less. You thought the breaks between races could make up for an empty bed. You thought you would learn to cope with it. That missing him would make being with him all the better. You thought you could learn.

But he loves being a driver too much. And when he told you about Ferrari not renewing his contract for next year, an ugly, venomous thing started festering in your heart. Maybe he won’t drive next season. It was a seed of hope tangled with a blooming selfishness. Because you weren’t sad, you weren’t angry, you weren’t sympathetic—you were relieved. Relieved at the possibility that your boyfriend could be at the end of his career.

And what an ugly, awful thing that is to think about the person you love. And while that rotting hope wasn’t the first sign, it was definitely the last one you needed.

Carlos loves driving. It comes at the cost of him being away more often than not.

You couldn’t keep living like this.

Carlos runs his hand down the line of his jaw. He does it when he’s anxious, frustrated. He doesn’t meet your gaze when he says: “A few reporters might reach out to you.” You don’t mention the fact that they already have. Your spam folder is not large enough. “I will—I will make sure someone from my team helps you out with that. But if you want someone else, I can arrange—“

“Thank you,” you say, a murmur, barely audible in itself. But the silence is heavy, and the way his lips press together tells you he heard you.

“I wanted—“

“Do you—“

And the silence snaps back into place near immediately, eyes staring at each other with something you can’t seem to place. Familiarity that borders on unfamiliar. You’ve known him for ten years, loved him for nine, dated him for eight. There are traces of Carlos carved into every edge of your life. He knows you better than you know yourself. And when the words can’t seem to dislodge from your throat, you know he can tell. You swallow, and instead nudge your head towards the door on your left. Carlos nods tightly, and leads first into what used to be your shared bedroom.

You follow behind him, almost hesitantly. He’s big—he blocks most of your view when you step back in. You almost wish he did entirely. But the moment he moves even slightly to the side, you want to shove him out of the room. You hadn’t realized just how exposed, how bare it would make you feel.

Your side of the bed is tidy, blankets straight without a wrinkle in sight. His side—

His side is messy, with blankets strewn together and his pillow halfway on the floor. You look away too quickly, but your heart stammers at the idea that the outline of you is still visible on the mattress.

He probably noticed it the second he stepped inside. You avert your gaze, looking up at the ceiling. But you can feel Carlos’ stare burning onto the side of your cheek.

You’re not sure what compelled you to sleep on his side of the bed. He rarely ever slept here at all—and when he did, the two of you would end up tangled together, meeting each other in the middle of the mattress. His pillow wouldn’t even smell like him.

Even then, it’s hard to imagine he won’t be here anymore. That you won’t be falling asleep knowing he’s coming back.

You clear your throat. It feels scratchy. “Um, I’ll be in the kitchen if you—“

“You don’t have to leave,” Carlos says, a little too quickly. He swallows sharply. “It’s your apartment. You shouldn’t be…” he trails off, his big brown eyes meeting yours. You nod in understanding.

You stand off to the side while Carlos rummages through the dresser. With his back turned towards you, you take the chance to steady yourself. Breathe in. Breathe out. You knew this would be hard. You knew. It doesn’t make it easier.

You remember the headlines from the day the news broke. Convertidos en extraños muy cordiales. It still makes your skin crawl.

Strangers. You’ve been a part of each other’s lives for a decade. You don’t remember what not knowing Carlos feels like.

He moves away from the dresser and towards his side of the bed. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turning slightly towards you.

He thinks you don’t notice it. He thinks you’re looking away when he opens the drawer of his nightstand. He thinks you don’t notice the small, velvet box he pulls out and shoves into his pocket. It wouldn’t matter, anyway—you found it two nights ago.

He was going to ask you to marry him.

This time you do look away, cheek muscle trembling as you force yourself to bite down any tears.

It was a mutual decision. It’s what you told the press, what you told your friends, what you told yourself. It’s the truth.

It stings anyway.

The two of you are leave the bedroom eventually, one after the other. It’s the last time he’ll be in here like this. Your vision blurs. You’ll have to sell the bed. Get a smaller one. You blink the tears away.

Carlos runs a hand through his hair. He tugs too hard, and you nearly reach for his hand. The chide rests on your tongue—you need to be more gentle with yourself. You swallow the words, but they stick to the back of your throat.

Carlos sighs. “Princesa—” It slipped out. He didn’t mean to call you that—you can tell by the way his shoulders tense, how his whole body seems to lock into place. There’s a flicker of panic, of anguish in his expression. He clicks his tongue, tugs on his hair too roughly again, and swallows whatever it was he intended to say.

Instead, Carlos hands you something, and for a moment, you think it’s the ring.

It hurts. Your friends told you the pain would dull with time. You wouldn’t say yes, you realize, even if he pulled the ring now. You’ve spent more nights alone than beside him during the past year. You’ve fallen asleep alone in a cold, empty bed more often than not. You love him—you do. A part of you fears you always will. Saying no would hurt just as much.

The cold metal presses against your palm. It’s not an engagement ring.

It’s his key.

You look up at him. His throat bobs and his fingers twitch, like he wants to reach out to you.

He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and your voice breaks at the end.

He nods his head, looking away. His eyes look glassy.

“Me too.”

eve’s 1k celebration 🎧

a/n: godd this song was such a throwback,,, i managed to sneak more than a few lyrics (many translated ones & one in spanish) in there so those that get it…. yknow. really really really recommend listening to the song even if you don’t speak spanish!!! spotify gives you the option to read the lyrics in english so u definitely should give it a listen <3

[paperclip-skz]

First Play

fem*Reader x Bang Chan

*WARNING*

contains: kissing, secondhand embarrassment, "first time" in a sense, fingering, oral (fem receiving), not proofread; I'm sure I missed something; let me know in the comments.

WC: 1.8k

*****

You sit patiently in the waiting room. Your nails dig into your thighs as anxiety spikes through your spine. 

“ Ms. L/N, the doctor will see you now,” the pretty secretary sparkles at you. 

This is it—your first-ever scene. Your friend signed you up for this because she knows you’ve been wanting to do this forever. She’s listened to you rant about this for years! Finally, she put in a good word for you with the intimacy company she works with. 

You knew what she did for a living, and it never bothered you. Actually, you thought she was cooler because of it. She helped people achieve their utmost hidden desires safely, securely, and thoroughly. 

The blinding bright walls illuminate your way to the farthest door to the right. “Right through there, and the doctor will be with you shortly.” The lady opens the door for you. You walk in, but not before turning back and seeing the lady give you a wink before closing the door. You could hear the subtle click of her heels walking away from the door. 

Your throat closes in both fear and excitement. You take in your surroundings, noticing the “set” replicates a stereotypical doctor's room. It has a big foamy bed right in the middle, a counter with small gadgets and gloves organized right next to the sink, and a bright light right above the bed. The two things that stand out to you are the bright meddle poles with places for feet connected to the sides of the bed and the giant mirror plastered on the wall right in front of the bed. 

No one is in the room, so you assume the “doctor” is on his way. You told your friend you didn’t want to know who your instructor was; the last thing you wanted was someone you knew to see your most intimate sides of you. You slowly make your way to the bed, sitting down and crinkling the foam. You awkwardly fiddle with your hands as you wait patiently; you stare at yourself in the mirror, fiddling with your hair and how the top you chose to wear rests on your body. 

“Okay, so Ms. L/N, it says here. " Your head whips around to meet the eyes of your “doctor,” but you're surprised to find coffee-stained eyes parried with steel-rimmed glasses. His dimpled smile reaches his eyes, and his big hands grasp the clipboard. 

You feel a sudden drop in your heart as you see him. He's incredibly handsome, and his size is impressive. His broad shoulders and imposing frame make you feel tiny in comparison. Suddenly, you feel intimidated and nervous; the tingles of anxiety claw at your skin.

Chan’s eyes widen, seeing your discomfort. He’s quick to close the door behind him and turn his body to you. “Are you okay?” his voice is even sexier than he is. His intoxicatingly thick Australian accent captivates you as the dark strands of hair effortlessly fall against his handsome face.

You almost forget to answer him until he reaches out to touch your arm. “Yes…yes... yes, I’m okay. I'm just nervous,” you say weakly, still shaky with nerves. 

“There's nothing to be nervous about. You can stop this whenever you like, and you control how fast I go and every other aspect of this. All you need to do is trust me.” for whatever reason, you do. You do trust him; you trust him and his deep eyes that you could get lost in. 

You nod your head, not forgetting to answer him with a quiet “okay.” You read in the contract that verbal confirmation from both parties was a must. And with that, Chan snaps back into character. 

“Alright then, Ms. L/N. You're here because you had some complications with your canal?” Chan stretches the room around to reach a rolling stool. He grabs it to his at the end of the bed, right in front of you. 

“Y-yes. I tried masturbating, and I noticed the stretch stung,” you answer with as much confidence as you can. 

He nods his head in acknowledgment. “Well, my name is Doctor Chan, or you can call me Chris. Whichever you like works for me.” He flashes that wide smile at you one more time. “Shall we begin?” he asks, quirking his eyebrow. 

“Of course, doctor,” you whisper. You begin to lift your legs as Chan fixes the medal bars. 

“Oh, Ms. L/N., you’ll need to remove your pants.” Chan is trying to hold back his smirk, but you can still see his lips twitch. 

“Oh, right!” you giggle to yourself. You unbutton your jeans and start to shimmy your way out until two large hands stop you from lifting your hips. 

“May I help?” 

You swallow and slowly lay your back down. Chan makes a dramatic show of feeling out the fabric of your jeans, raking his hands up and down the sides of your thighs. Finally, he reaches the button and zipper of your jeans, irritatingly slow. His hands cascade the fabric down your legs, with the help of you lifting your hips, leaving you in just your innocent white panties. 

Chan bites his lower lip, seeing the little wet spot on your panties. His body rumbles with the idea that he created that little spot, that he’s the reason you're so wet right now. “I’m going to have to remove these as well.” You crane your head up, watching him stare at your covered sex. 

“Please do, doctor.” You rest your head back on the comforts of the bed. You can feel his fingers dance on the edge of the thin fabric. Eventually, Chan hooks his finger to pull your panties down your legs, leaving you bare for him. 

“You are stunning,” he says in a breath. It makes your skin heat and your core thump with need. 

“Doctor, I think we’ve gotten to a point where you can just call me Y/N.” 

“Very well. Y/N, will you kindly place your legs here?” Chan directs your attention to the perfectly placed feet rests on either side of your feet. You do as you are told, creating a perfect, open view for Chan. 

Chan sucks in a break at seeing your already-soaked cunt, perfectly on display for him. He can feel his cock twitch in his boxers. Every sheer nerve inside him wills not to lose control in front of you right now; he wills himself not to devour your leaking arousal or to take you here and now, raw and with no end in sight. 

“Chan?” 

Your soft voice shakes him out of his head, and back to the scene in front of him, with your lust-filled eyes and your dripping pussy staring at him. Chan clears his throat and easily slips on his “mask.” 

“I’ll start by warming you up and seeing if anything makes you uncomfortable. You will tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable.” He says this like a demand rather than a question, and the mix of authority and admiration in his tone fills your body with an unfamiliar feeling… a good feeling. 

You can feel his fingers explore the outskirts of your folds, teasing you before actually touching you. It makes you squirm slightly.  

"From your consultation, you've said that you notice your canal being too tight for masturbation, right?" he asked, sitting on the stool between your legs. You nodded, "Yes, I tried inserting two fingers like I normally do, but the stretch stung,"

“Alright… tell me if this is too much.” he rubs his fingers across your slik folds, coating his digits. Slowly he inserts his two fingers into your warm cunt. He can feel you clench at the stretch, which makes his jaw clench. 

“Does this hurt?” Chan looks up from between your legs only for his breath to get caught in his throat; your eyes are closed, and your lip is biting into your lip; your face is the definition of pleasure, and he’s not sure how long he can hold back.  

“No,” you respond with a whimper. 

“Okay then, I’ll begin to move.” with that, his finger starts to slide in and out of your walls. Your pussy is gushing with your arousal. As you breathe, your chest rises and falls in sync with Chan's fingers.

Your body squirms for more, and Chan is quick to pick up exactly what you want. He curls his finger every so slightly to reach that gummy spot inside you. Once he hears the low moan, you admit he continues to rub against that particular spot. 

Your moans blend with your whimpers and they become the only sound in the room. Chan’s fingers have picked up a slight rhythm, enough to make your arousal drip over his fingers and down the curve of your ass. Your body searches for more friction; your orgasm is so close you can feel it on the tips of your fingers. 

Chan can’t take it anymore, with how much you are gushing around his, how your moans sing around the room, and how much your body is craving to be touched. He shouldn’t; he knows he shouldn’t. You're here to get fucked into oblivion. You are not here for his pleasure…..but he needs to taste you. 

Your orgasm is hanging on the cliff, and your repeated “yes’s” are a sign of it until his fingers are gone. Your whine is cut off by an unfamiliar wet muscles pressing onto your clit. Your head snaps to look at the man eating you out like you are his last meal between your thighs. Your hand reaches out to tangle into his hair, and your hips lose all control, grinding against his tongue. 

Your moans are louder than you care to admit, but you couldn’t keep them quiet even if you wanted to, not with how Chan’s lips suck around your clit and how his tongue darts out to enter your wet walls. It's not long until you're screaming his name and coating his chin with your juices. 

Chan looks up at you, leaving gentle kisses along your thighs and gently on your folds. He can see your pussy clench at the overstimulation and his cock throbs in his pants. He has to hold himself back. He can’t overstimulate with his tongue….not yet, at least.

Looked fucked out already, your head leaned back on the chair, your bare chest heaving with every breath you take, your thighs slightly shaking. “Did that hurt at all?” 

You look down at Chan. His shining eyes sparkle with a newfound hunger. Slowly, you shake your head, unable to gather your scattered thoughts fully. Your met with a wide evil grin, “good,” he took a moment to step away from your thighs, only to tower over your small frame. “Then I guess we can continue”....

a/n: I have a long one ready to post next week; I just need to touch it up a little. The thing is, it's also Bang Chan. I'm debating whether to wait to post it since I'm posting this one or if I should just post it anyway. Please, please, please let me know in the comments if you all care if I post two Chan fics in a row or not. Love y'all.

[sitp-recs]

i bet you've seen this one plenty of times before, but:

can you rec some drarry fics where jealousy is an important motif? it can be infidelity if they're an established couple, or just getting with someone else while the two of them are dancing around one another. would be great to see recs both where harry is jealous and where draco is jealous. i prefer a happy ending, but i'll be grateful either way.

since i'm here let me also say i admire what you do, your incredible ability to recall and sort through so many stories. this fandom is lucky to have you! <3

Hello friend! Thank you for the kind words, I really appreciate it ❤️ here are some fics centered on jealousy. I did a few other lists for this trope over the years, you can find them here, here and here.

Jealous Harry:

Hourglass Heart by @bixgirl1 (E, 5k)

It only happened once — depending on how Harry counted.

Utterly Yours by @lazywonderlvnd (E, 6.5k)

Draco gets back at Harry for his late nights as an Auror by flirting with the new Arithmancy professor. Harry's not usually the jealous type, but he has his moments.

Intention by @the-sinking-ship (E, 7k)

Harry really ought to listen to whatever Ron is saying, but it becomes impossible to focus when a familiar figure across the pub curls his fingers around another man’s tie. And when that man leans in with a wolfish smile, Harry sees red, and all he can think is mine.

on the divine agony of longing by @flimsi (E, 25k)

Speaking to Draco is like poking a beehive - and Harry is a glutton for punishment. In which Harry makes some serious blunders and then tries to fix it. Somehow.

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout (E, 29k)

Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden?

Two to Lie and One to Listen by @fluxweeed (E, 84k)

It’s weird when Hermione announces that she and Ron have broken up. It’s weirder when this is followed by the revelation that she’s already moved on—and the new object of her affections is Draco Malfoy.

this heaven of mud by @garagepaperback (E, 94k)

A love story told in two somewhat unreliable parts, over six years. Featuring secret shagging, to friends, to the 'how is it fair for someone to say your name like that' sort of friends, to, finally, someone you could call a home.

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (E, 122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

Jealous Draco:

Packing the Flat by marguerite_26 (E, 6k)

Months after their explosive break-up, Draco insists Harry return to their flat to remove his belongings.

Don't Stop It Before It Begins by mischieviolet (E, 19k)

“I don’t understand how this is of any concern to you, Malfoy,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. Draco blinked at the use of his last name, something that Harry only used with him in jest these days. “I’m merely spending time with my Auror partner, who is from another country, and has no one here. I would do the same if it were you.” “It’s not me though, is it?” Draco all but shouted, unable to stop himself.

The Partner, The Rival and The Very Big Case by oceaxe (E, 24k)

When Harry and Nott are paired up to go undercover as fake boyfriends, Draco is disappointed not to get the assignment. It's just professional jealousy that's making him feel so upset. Obviously. He's engaged to be married to Astoria, after all.

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (E, 30k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

Make Me a Headline (I Want to Be That Bold) by @dictacontrion (E, 31k)

Draco never expected to see Harry doing that again. Especially with someone else, in a grainy photograph that's landed on his desk one Monday morning.

Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58k)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Favourite characters: Guinevere (aka Gwen) and Elyan from BBC Merlin.

They're brother and sister, children of a blacksmith, Tom, who is killed by the king (not Arthur Pendragon, Gwen doesn't marry the guy who killed her father) late in the first series. Estranged at the start, their relationship improves after Elyan returns to Camelot in s3.

Gwen starts off as Morgana Pendragon's maidservant, before becoming Queen Guinevere Pendragon later in the show. She's kind and brave, and she accepts shenanigans (two days after meeting someone: "oh you need a wheelbarrow? To move a dog statue up a flight of spiral stairs into your room off the physician's chambers? Sure, I'll help you"). She helps save multiple characters and smuggles a knight out from the dungeons under the nose of Morgana when she takes over and an immortal army, while still pretending to be loyal (okay, so Morgana technically lets her to bait a trap, but she doesn't know, so it counts). She's also the only character on the whole show to figure out Merlin's magic without being shown or told about it, and one of the first to discover Morgana's treachery because she's suspicious and investigates. She helps take down a witchfinder on the king's payroll, and can use a sword! And argues for other women to be able to fight! She's awesome! And she's still soft, and cares for people, including assisting the court physician (she has more medic skills than a lot of people seem to give her credit for). She also fits into the damsel in distress role multiple times. She's the daughter of a blacksmith and knows all about armour, and is very, very loyal.

And she becomes a queen! They cast a Black woman as Queen Guinevere! She gets to wear pretty dresses and she looks gorgeous in them (she looks gorgeous throughout but yk), and she has an important, strong role in her debut two-parter as queen.

Elyan's Gwen's brother. He leaves Camelot when he's a teenager and reunites with Gwen when they're both kidnapped by an enemy king as part of a trap. He's the son of a blacksmith, and has been a smith in the years he's out of Camelot. He reopens his father's forge when he returns to Camelot, in that episode, and although there's no timeline iirc, it can't be too long before he becomes a Knight of the Round Table instead. He's very loyal, loving of his family and friends, and although he's made mistakes in the past (leaving Gwen and his father and not returning voluntarily, not even when he found out Gwen was alone because their father was killed), he's making up for them. There's a nice (? not sure that's the right word but anyway) scene of them grieving together at their father's grave four series after his death and two after Elyan's return that shows that well (also some continuity, and them doing this despite all their duties to the kingdom is something I like, it shows the importance of family to them both).

They did them both so dirty in the last series though. They killed off Elyan (in the episode with that scene above, unfortunately) and it was in the first of a completely unnecessary three-episode storyline of her being enchanted, so there was a funeral but she didn't get to grieve and they never went back to it after the enchantment was removed, and they didn't really show any grief from anyone else either. The show just moved on. And sure they did that a lot but it's particularly aggrieving with Elyan because he's a knight of the round table, the queen's brother, the king's brother-in-law, they both grew up with the first knight, and they didn't pay enough care to it.

(this will be your surprised face when you find out I don't rewatch the last series)

ANYWAY. I love them both.

GWEN!!!! You have to understand she was the Original for me. The first time I'd ever seen a Black woman in a main role in one of those fantasy sorts of shows, where there are white people around her and everyone acts NORMAL about it. She belonged there!! So she holds such an important place in my heart and identity, even if I didn't even finish Merlin. Fuck anybody who says Black people don't belong in fantasy bc Gwen was there and she did it and I loved and needed that. And she's wearing the hell outta that dress 😤

Well I wanted to be excited about Elyan, bit of course he doesn't make it 🙄 I hate it when that happens, when a character dies and everyone's just like... All right! That's it! Especially if it's other Black person on the show, like wow thanks a lot. Well, we care about Elyan, even if I don't remember him 😤

[imagine-to-be-a-pike]

Leon knew he had failed. He did not fail as a knight. He failed as a friend. He failed as someone who swore to protect him.

He took a step towards the tent, a mixture of blood and sweat running down his forehead, reminding him of what he had just participated in. What Arthur had just participated in

Arthur. Barely 14 years old. Such an innocent and lovely soul. and now he stood in the middle of the tent and shook. The slightly too big armor (despite trying to adjust it) hung on his barely teenage body. The blood-covered armor. Not just the armor. That bright face, golden hair suddenly faded, flooded with a monstrous red.

He looked at him. He knew that look, he remembered it perfectly. Betrayal. He first saw it in the boy's eyes when his father first ordered the guards to take him to the dungeons. Leon swore then that he would never be the cause of that hurt, betrayed face.

He didn't even dodge the piece of armor thrown at him. If it hurt, he deserved it. How ironic the blond's words from a few hours ago sounded now

,,I can't wait to become a real knight like you"

A real knight should protect people. Not mercilessly murder them. Not what Leon just did. not what Arthur was just forced to see. "What a monster he must think I am now" Leon thought. He had seen Arthur's looks during the execution he was forced to watch and they were nothing compared to the horrified looks of those blue eyes as the horror unfolded around him. He saw the mouth open in a silent scream of terror, maybe both, as he swung his sword at the child.

It's funny how a person you thought was perfect can, in a matter of minutes, turn into the worst monster in your eyes.

He wanted to explain himself, apologize, say anything. He was ready to scream, cry, throw things. But the blond just stood there with shaking hands, rubbing his arms as if he was trying to scratch the blood away along with the skin.

,,why didn't you ever tell me?"

Good question.He knew what happened during raids. It wasn't his first time. But he was afraid. He knew how Arthur idealized him. He knew how much boy needed someone to be a role model, someone to give him some approval. But Leon was also a coward. He didn't want to lose someone he practically saw as a little brother. He didn't want to lose his little sun that shone even after the worst training.

He remembered his panic when Arthur, encouraged, told him he was going on another raid. Panic at the truth. Panic that this sweet soul would face a horror that a child shouldn't be exposed to. His prince was overjoyed but the road to the camp was a slow countdown for Leon.

,,These were innocent people... children... women... and all of you....just"

Arthur's eyes were wet, tears mixing with the dirt on his cheeks.

,, Arthur .."

,,leave me"

There was something new in these blue eyes. Not just hurt and betrayal. Coldness. Coldness that Leon saw in one person. The person Arthur should never be reminded of. And he left. And if only he knew that was the last time he would address his prince by his name.

[bomberqueen17]

moo

there is a cow lying in the park across the street being very idyllic in the morning mist.

last night we finally asked at the front desk if this hotel has a pool. it does. it closes at 9pm tho. the guy gave us directions and we went to find it. it was a four-minute walk at fairly high speed, through several fire doors, down several hallways i would never have guessed were part of this building, and there was absolutely no signage of any kind. but there's an attendant. so it feels to me like. they should want someone to know about this so they can justify the cost of the attendant???

anyway it was a truly wild odyssey. we arrived like ten minutes before closing and the attendant was like "..... can i help you" very weary-politely and we were like "no! we just wanted to find the place!" and he was visibly much happier then and told us all about it.

my new phone is huge and clunky and one of the camera lenses is slightly damaged, but the lens that works is really good so i did take a bunch of good photos and at some point i will organize and present them. today is another outing, however. and i will take even more photos of this outing.

i looked at my credit card statement and in fact they did *not* charge me a hundred quid to not fix my phone, they only charged me for the new phone and then the new-new actually-working phone on top of that.

the cellphone store clerk also asked us, since we'd admitted to being americans, who we were voting for, and when we answered, he said "she's totally going to win! i have asked eight americans recently and seven of them said her!" and dude was like, diplomatically, sir, the sorts of americans who travel to europe are going to be disproportionately the ones who vote like they know there's a rest of the world that exists, so your sample might be skewed. i was still being horrified that an american traveling abroad would admit to supporting That One. blggh if you're going to be a troglodyte stay the fuck home, you don't deserve europe.

i said "politics have been sort of weird here yah?" and he was like "people here aren't political" and i said "what a luxury!"

he also was like "your election affects us though" and i was like "that is a true and reasonable statement."

last night i ordered fish and chips in a restaurant and i had made conversation about how much nicer the weather was than i'd prepared for, for this trip, so the waiter was like ah is it your first fish and chips and i was like oh i used to live here, rather than attempting to explain to him that actually fish fries are a regional specialty in buffalo and they are remarkably identical to the experience here only we have better side dishes XD (srsly britain try german potato salad sometime it's p great as a potato delivery vehicle and it also includes bacon)

i will say when i came here as a teenager i wound up with a really weird accent, but on this trip the combo of traveling with a fellow american and also not being immersed in it to the same extent and also not being seventeen means my normal accent has just gotten slightly stronger i think. i mean also i was here for most of a year then, and this hasn't even been a week, so.

ok time to go out on the balcony and take a picture of this persistently scenic cow.

[woodfrogs]

why are banks hellbent on making your life as hard as possible

[inkskinned]

it mattered because when my brother asked me what if this is the happiest you'll ever be? the best you'll ever get? the thing i felt was fear, not peace. everybody thought you were so perfect for me. even i thought you were "helping me grow". i had to challenge every internal clock. make myself more thoughtful, more kind, more beautiful.

i told my therapist it was good because i like the changes i made and there's something so strong about saying i did that. the problem is that i can like the difference all i want, but i changed for you. something akin to getting your name tattooed, all my progress is stamped with fuck you.

it was the happiest i'd ever been and also the best i'd ever gotten. i would still get in the car and think what the fuck just happened.

[carcarrot]

OH MY GOD A YEAR AGO TODAY .

[literally-12-people]

If you can not forgive you are destined to never heal.

Like, sorry, you can not be mad at someone for making a mistake and then be angry about it for 3 years and be like "why am i not over this".

[orcelito]

Did the stuff exchange 👍 that sucked 👍 wahoo

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

girlies I'm losing my mind.

[trannakinskywalker]

.

[dancing-with-stars]

guys. guys !!!!

[earlyspringtranscendence]

i wish betting on wrestling was like a thing because while i would never win if i bet on anything else (am bad at recognising patterns that actually mean anything) i would cash in soooooo much because i can ALWAYS tell when a jericho feud’s gonna run way too long again 😌