Reblog If You’re Over 20 And Still Read/write fan Fiction.

He's just like his dad

Gertrude Robinson

Quick Merlin Things Pt. 13

Arthur and Merlin on a hunting trip by themselves and are sitting down having a picnic or smth

Arthur: say Merlin have you ever thought about running away from Camelot to a farm

Merlin, not really paying attention: I mean I basically was slumming it as a small town farmer before I came here but sure yeah

Arthur, nodding: cool

Arthur: and how would you feel about living with other people? Like one other person? That you know and probably like and the other person would like hypothetically die for you

Merlin, still not paying attention but confused: I guess it’d be fine sure

Arthur, sweating: interesting

Arthur:

Arthur, probably feral: how would you feel—hypothetically of course—if that person wanted you to do all the work but then make out after and call you darling and brush your hair and kiss you and hang out with you and eat dinner with you and hug you and then love you a lot

Merlin:

Merlin:

Merlin: arthur what

Arthur: how would you feel if I proposed righ—

GIF if you need visuals or smth idk people like them on here

My sister is watching Merlin "The diamond of the day" for the first time... She is so clueless and I'm sitting here, crying my heart out.

one of the most relatable and useful things someone once said to me is that what saved her from her own ideation was the knowledge that suicide is always an option.

And this runs counter to what is very often told, and I’m certainly not saying that that narrative is wrong. There are people that absolutely need to hear that suicide is Never an option.

But when you’ve been in those particular trenches for so long, the old sayings start to wear thin.

So what this person talked about was, the knowledge that she could theoretically always kill herself made it easier to postpone. Sure she could have killed herself this morning, but then she wouldn’t be out getting coffee with her friend. And she can always do it tonight.

But maybe tonight doesn’t work either because what she wants more than to be dead is to be warm in bed. So she’ll sleep on it. Maybe next week after seeing her friend’s musical.

And maybe that musical gives her the strength she needs to hold out for a bit longer, to scrape just a bit more joy from the world.

And maybe in two months it comes back, and she can’t do it anymore. But well, two months ago wasn’t the only time, she can always do it next month. Might as well wait for spring, the flowers are only just starting to come out.

So hey, maybe you could kill yourself. But you’re a long time dead with not a lot to do, so might as well scrape some more joy and excitement and interest and disappointment and music and grief and community and warmth from this world while you’re in it.

There’s always the possibility of something around the corner. Be curious and stay safe loves <3 (love heart.)

Goncharov Lore (“Gonchlore” if you will) Masterpost

BUZZFEED DO NOT MINE THIS POST FOR CONTENT. THIS IS A TUMBLR PHENOMENON *ONLY*

Note: this is regarding the lore made up by tumblr collaboratively about a fake Martin Scorsese film. See the post that started it all and fake poster.

Goncharov was released in 1973. It was written by Matteo JWHJ 0715 and directed (?) and/or possibly co-written by Martin Scorsese. Scorsese’s big name helped popularize the film, but as a result JWHJ 0715’s significant contribution is often overlooked

Goncharov was forgotten and was actually difficult to acquire for many years. This may have been due to corporations hoarding rights and access, the actually mafia targeting distribution of the film, other factors, or a combination of these. This led to pirating of the film, which allegedly led to pirating discourse surrounding the film

There are talks of a Goncharov II or remake

Goncharov is a mafia boss in Naples of Russian origin. His wife/fiancée is named Katya, also of Russian origin. Goncharov may or may not have fled Russia, and may or may not have been pursued by someone trying to get him back to Russia, possibly to face legal justice. One such person trying to do this could be Valery Michailov

Valery Michailov is Katya’s sister. He may resent Goncharov due to his relationship with his sister and due to Goncharov being wanted by the Russian government. He is somewhat patriotic, possibly a former government worker or soldier.

Katya’s last name is either Michailova or Goncharova (although possibly with the wrong suffix). Her relationship with Goncharov is strained, tense, and possibly loveless. She ends up betraying him in the end. This is often seen as a subversion on the typical tropes for women in mafia movies.

At some point, Katya is on a bridge with Goncharov. At some point, Katya points a gun at Goncharov. At some point, Katya is injured on a boat/in a boathouse.

Katya is amicable with someone named Sofia, who has brown hair. She also has subtextual homoerotic tension with her

Sofia may be working class/poorer than many of the other characters are.

Goncharov has subtextual homoerotic tension with someone named Andrey. Andrey is Goncharov’s old friend/best friend/nemesis/enemy/competitor. There is at least one instance of one of them trying to kill the other.

Ice pick Joe is played by John Cazale, making this his 6th movie. He has a famous 10 minute scene with Katya, and at some point dies, also possibly at the hands of Katya.

Mario Ambrosini works with Goncharov, possibly as a lackey or number two. At some point in the middle of the story, he betrays Goncharov and Goncharov tells him that he “never wants to see [Mario] again”. It is unclear what happens to him after that. Mario also has a relationship with Andrey that some have described as “fascinating”. It is unclear how.

There is a clock motif in Goncharov, and a general theme regarding “running out of time” before death. There are a few characters who seem at the very least subconsciously aware of the fact that they have little time until their death. The film also deals with the theme of fate, of death and tragedy being and inevitable thing for these characters.

Goncharov dies at the end of the movie, due to someone’s betrayal.

Goncharov (1973) was heavily influenced by the American Cold War propaganda of the time. Some argue that it plays right into the stereotypes of Russians, others say it is a clever subversion of the propaganda and stereotypes of the time.

Feel free to add more/expand/add alternative information!

them sillies

hes ur “emotional support blorbo”??? girl he cant even emotionally support Himself

Fun fact! Saint Valentine was beheaded, and here is a photo of his supposed skull! (which is kept in a reliquary in rome because catholics are freaky that way)

Ever since Merlin was a small child, Hunith had always bombarded him with loving touches. She carried him whenever she could, and when he grew too big to be carried, she left him with warm hugs and soft touches on his cheeks. She wiped his tears when he cried, and intertwined their fingers on cold nights as they slept.

Arthur, on the other hand, could not remember the last time he was touched by his father in any way other than a firm clasp on the shoulder. All his life, he's known nothing but side glances and firm remarks. No one was there to wipe his tears away when he cried, and certainly no one was there to hold him on cold nights as he slept.

He was the prince of Camelot, after all, and everyone knew that princes cannot be soft.

Which was why, the first time that Merlin went in for a hug, Arthur immediately flinched back.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Arthur left, unable to stand the tension in the air. Not thinking much about it, he had rendered it just another one of those awkward little moments with Merlin that would soon dissipate from his memory.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Arthur found himself unable to move on from it. He spent that night turning in his bed, wondering what it would've been like if he accepted Merlin's hug - The warmth and comfort that he had only ever seen given to others. He fell asleep wondering what it would feel like to be embraced by another.

Merlin doesn't do it again, at least not for a while. It was understandable, especially after Arthur reacted so drastically at his first attempt at closeness, but Arthur still couldn't help but spend another few sleepless nights regretting his reaction.

Because he was the prince of Camelot, and if Merlin - irresponsible, reckless, sarcastic Merlin - wasn't willing to touch him, then no one was.

So when the second time came - when Merlin, most likely without thinking ("when does he ever think?"), went in for a hug, Arthur hugged back.

He wrapped Merlin in his arms, and oh, it was bliss. The warmth and the comfort and the closeness that he had heard so much about were all real. He couldn't help but tighten his arms around the other boy's thin body and lean in, rendered helpless by a sense of aching intimacy.

Questions immediately appeared in Arthur's mind: How had he survived up until then without touches like these? If Merlin had never been assigned as his manservant, would he have gone his whole life without experiencing this? And now that he's finally experienced this, how could he go without it for the rest of his life?

The thought pained Arthur, so he squeezed even harder.

They didn't talk about it afterwards, but Arthur knew that Merlin knew. Arthur had exposed the softness underneath his hard exterior, and now Merlin knew.

And lord, was it great.

Their previously rare touches turned more and more common. Soon, putting on Armour turned into lingering touches on Arthur's body, and training sessions turned into Merlin haphazardly wiping the sweat from Arthur's forehead as he leaned into the cooling touch on his skin.

It was like Arthur's mind was trying to reclaim all touches lost to the years. He craved skin - Merlin's skin - on his. He craved the way Merlin's fingers ran over his muscles. He craved these moments of intimacy where he wasn't Arthur Pendragon, the prince of Camelot, and he was just Arthur.

And as he was still human (despite how hard he tried), there were times when he wept.

Except it was not like the lonely nights that he suffered through as a child - There was no ache in his chest as tears ran down his cheeks. No biting the collar of his shirt as he attempted to stay quiet. No harsh words in an attempt to keep him silent.

There were, in their place, gentle caresses to his forehead as Merlin smoothed back his hair, murmuring words of comfort under his breath. A warm shoulder to lean on as he cried quietly. Thumbs that wiped under his lashes and nimble fingers that caressed his cheeks until they both fell asleep.

And what a joy it was, to have someone who wiped his tears away when he cried, and someone to hold him on cold nights as he slept. To be touched and held and loved.

What a joy Merlin was.