Lunnym - Confused

forget about "imagine being loved by me" hozier said "it came easy darling, as natural as another leg around you in the bed" and it sent me on a month-long yearning streak

There’s a reason these people are fucking stupid and proud of it.

So listen guys, I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumor about Dreamworks not allowing Klance, but I just wanted to talk about it. So according to a theory or post by someone, the producers wanted to do endgame Klance and more Shadam but Dreamworks cut them off. They were forced to change it.

But guys think about it. It all makes sense. They’ve been working on Season 7 since Season 2 came out, and they said they’re still working on Season 8. You want to know why? Because they’re fighting right now with Dreamworks to give us the story we deserve. They already confirmed that they were fighting up until the very end to even make Shadam a couple, which is why there’s even existing audio where they aren’t. It’s why so much stuff doesn’t add up. Why Allura suddenly likes Lance out of nowhere, Why Lance’s family arc was given to Hunk. Why Axca and Keith made no sense at all. Guys. Those scenes were supposed to be for Keith and Lance. Keith was supposed to be the one who was there for Lance and fell for him. Just think about it. If you put Keith and Lance together in all those situations, the story suddenly makes so much more sense. Ezor and Zethrid teasing Lance and Keith about always protecting each other. Keith telling Lance to be safe. Keith comforting Lance at him being upset over his family. Jeremy even told us that Keith would end up comforting Lance. Guys he said that because the VA’s don’t always get to see the final product until it comes out. It was supposed to be that Keith does comfort Lance, but they changed it to Hunk. That’s why Hunk’s whole thing felt so forced and out of place. Why all of it did. Why Keith’s character felt so out of place. Klance was supposed to be endgame, and Dreamworks made them change it. That’s why they’ve been working on it all this time. Because they were fighting to give us that. And yeah there still might be some things that were bad about S7 after all that, but who knows how much else they had to change and even if they didn’t, that storyline would still make so much more sense than the one we got. Guys they’re trying to say all this stuff because they’re frustrated too. They’re frustrated that they’ve been limited from telling the story they wanted to tell. They know we’re upset and they’re upset too. They had all this promo and such for it because they wanted it to happen just as much as we did. They were fighting for it. They probably even went a little bit over what they were allowed to. It’s not them we should really be mad at. It’s Dreamworks for taking something this important away from us.

So you guys have a choice to make. You can continue being angry at the producers or even drop the show, or you can stand up and fight. Even if it doesn’t change everything. It will still change some things. It will still help future productions. It will still be a voice to everyone out there. They are not finished with Season 8 yet because they are still fighting for us. We need to stand united and make our voices heard to Dreamworks. They need to know we aren’t okay with what they’re doing. The producers aren’t perfect. They make mistakes and sometimes the choices they make in their shows aren’t necessarily the best. But you guys know that they love this show and they have always wanted to give us representation. They have always wanted to make this show something unique and amazing for us. We saw the thousands of production art papers and we have seen just how hard they’ve worked in the past to give us what we need. Were they perfect? No. But did they try their damn hardest to give every part of their audience an amazing show? Yes. They always had the best intentions in mind. Season 7 felt so out of place because it wasn’t the season they wanted to give us. It was the one they were told to give us. They tried to add as much as they could in there and tell us not to give up hope, but they can only do so much. They are under contract. But we aren’t. So make your voices heard. Protest what Dreamworks is doing. DO NOT MAKE DEATH THREATS OR VIOLENCE THREATS. Instead, make sure they know we aren’t okay with this season. That we want the producers to create the show they had in mind. We don’t want them to be limited by what a company thinks is or isn’t okay for a tv show. We asked for this rep and now it’s time we fight for it.

Look, maybe I’m wrong and this whole thing was what they wanted. But I choose not to believe that until proven otherwise. It makes so much more sense when you think of what went on in the sidelines. Why some of the article writers who got inside scoops kept telling us that they tried to give us as much as possible. Why everything seemed so vague. I know we’re all angry and hurt and upset. But this show needs our help guys. More than ever before. Maybe we won’t change the eventual outcome of the show, but we will make our voices heard and maybe save the fate of future shows. But who knows. We won’t know until we try. I really hope this reaches all of you. Dreamworks needs to hear our voice, so that someday someone else’s won’t be silenced.

one of the most important things, perhaps the most important thing I have learned in my life is that nice people can fuck each other up in monstrous ways. people can be bone deep kind and loving and self reflective and still lash out under pressure. people can be earnestly neighbourly and charitable and hospitable and generous and still find themselves in situations where they become selfish. people can be well meaning and easygoing and gregarious and hold deep seated opinions that turn them into vicious little bullies under the right conditions. nobody is just one thing, and nobody stays one way. every person is a kaleidoscope and they will surprise you. you will surprise yourself. it's not a warning and it's not a judgement and it's not an excuse, and it's certainly not a reason to stop trying or to stop trusting. it is just a fact.

an excellent tweet.

a warning about “defenders of tomorrow”

Don’t harass the fucking creators of Voltron with it.

I can’t believe I have to fucking say this, but your fandom? The vocal part of is, quite frankly, is insane. NOBODY deserves to have death threats, abuse, or this “Leakira” promoted and shoved in their faces as “the better story”. Whether you like it or not, these staff fought for Shiro, Dreamworks is still treading on eggshells around homophobic countries where a lot of their revenue comes from. 

Run with this idea! Make content for it! It’s fun and creative and original. Make fangames, fanart, stories, whatever! Cyberpunk is fun, and I encourage creativity wherever it lands. 

But don’t push this idea onto the staff. They did fight for you. They’ve had troubled production issues since seaon 3, and this would be a slap in the fucking face. They’ve apologised, they’ve tried to explain without potentially losing their jobs. 

Leave them alone.

you mentioned in one of your merlin hcs about how his magic doesn't like being repressed and at times it gets to be really bad and i was like wondering,,, if you would please write something on it-

Ohhhhhhh yeah, yeah! Here ya go:

Merlin knew it was going to bad the second he saw his hand. Black and blistered with a worrying amount of stiffness to it. He swallowed, looking around desperately for a bandage while internally reassuring himself this time would be no different than others.

...it was a lie. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. Merlin could argue that he had dealt with his, uh, issues by himself for years. Well, maybe not years. His mother had always been there. Then there was Gaius... and then Lancelot.

And now nobody. His mother was in Ealdor, Gaius safely tucked away in his quarters, and Lancelot...

He wasn’t going to think about Lancelot right now.

The point was that it was an inopportune time for his body to revolt while out in the middle of the woods with limited medical supplies and absolutely no moral support. He took a long breath. It would be fine. He would be fine. Perhaps he could just wait until everyone was asleep and -

“Merlin!”

Completely, totally, utterly fine.

“I already fed the horses,” Merlin said, hastily wrapping his hand. “And took care of dinner.” He added. Arthur barely looked up from where he was skinning a rabbit, eyes somewhere between distracted and thoughtful.

“Have you - what did you do?” He interrupted himself with a nod towards Merlin’s hand. “You didn’t fall over again did you?” He snorted. Merlin gave what he hoped to be a playful glare.

“I cut it on your - ah,” He gasped, falling forward a bit. Leon appeared from nowhere to steady him. “Javelins.” He managed and another sharp tug of pain radiated through his body. He felt it twist in his chest, moving down his arms and towards his stomach. He tried not to cry out. “Um,” He began. Leon was saying something. “I... might just need to lay down. Tired. Just tired.” He said, giving a shaky laugh. Elyan’s face appeared.

“Merlin?” He asked and the pain momentarily ebbed away. It was then he realized he was surrounded by bewildered knights. “Are you-?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, “I was just... working late with Gaius last night. Might need a quick nap is all.” He said. Gwaine was staring at him oddly, lips pressed into a thin line as he looked him up and down. “Is that okay?” He asked, turning to Arthur.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He said, waving him away with a note of exasperation, “I’m not sure why I don’t plan for your poor health.” He said lightly though there was a slight purse to his lips. Merlin gave a sneer in return, but it felt a little weak as he stumbled towards the cot he has thrown by the fire.

Then the world turned white... and Lancelot was there.

“Am I dead?” He mumbled, trying to sit up only for a wave of pain to hit, confirming that he was still very much alive. “Ah... no.” He whispered and a hand was on his shoulder while the rest of the world dissolved into whispers.

“Hey. Merlin, what’s happening?” Lancelot asked. Part of the weight on him disappeared. Thank God. He didn’t have to do this alone.

“Again. Shouldn’t have waited.” He mumbled and Lancelot frowned, rubbing the side of his arm consolingly. “Too tired to get rid of it.” He yawned.

“Okay,” Lancelot said, “Let’s fix it. Um, what do we do?” He asked. Merlin gave a sharp jerk as another burning pain jolted through him. There was an irony there to be sure. If he got caught using magic... he burned. If he didn’t use magic.. he still burned.

“What... what you normally do.” Merlin hissed and Lancelot reached forward to wipe some sweat from his brow. “Please. Knife?” He asked. Lancelot winced.

“Knife? What does he mean knife-”

“-what it said!”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier? We should have-”

“-even know what’s causing this.”

Merlin let out a soft whimper and the noise went silent. Right. He turned and reached for his pack blindly, ignoring the burning in his arms growing more and more demanding.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Lancelot said. Though to who was unclear. Merlin’s brain felt too fuzzy to sort it out. “When he came back with Merlin after the dorocha he gave me the letter. I didn’t know what it was, but my guess is he was talking about whatever this is-”

“Knife.” Merlin said, a bit impatiently. He was so stupid. How could he let it get this bad? Lancelot normally reminded him, but Lancelot was...

He was right here, wasn’t he?

With a stab of relief, his hand curled around the handle of the knife in his bag. Good. Good, he could start then. There was a yelp when he brought it out and suddenly a hand was covering his.

“Let me, okay?” Lancelot said. Merlin flopped to the ground. That was good. He was too tired anyways. An angry buzz followed, “I trust Lancelot, okay?! Even if he is dead.” Lancelot snapped. Merlin frowned in confusion, but the burning held his attention more than the voice. Something touched his arm and he felt his sleeve roll up. Silence followed.

“Holy shit.”

That didn’t... that didn’t sound like Lance... but... he took a deep breath, thoughts wandering. He could imagine how his arms must look by now. Blackened with purple and brown like bruises that covered every inch of skin. He held out his arm impatiently. Nothing happened at first, but then something soft touched him and he could feel the very tip of the knife go in.

Thank God. The release was pretty instant. He glanced over to see black blood trickling down. It wasn’t nearly as deep or long as he normally went with - Lancelot was hesitating for whatever reason - but it worked. The pain began to ebb away as panicked noises rose around him. Lancelot went to the other side to for his other arm.

“Okay, now... um, give me that bottle.” Lancelot said. Merlin groaned. He didn’t want to grab anything. He wanted to sleep. “No,” Lance said, perhaps reading his mind. “Stay awake, Merlin. Drink this.” He said and Merlin opened his mouth. Right. Drinking. Important. He ignored the cuts and grabbed whatever was offered, downing the liquid. It was blessedly cold. The burning subsided even more as he took a few more gulps.

“Thank you.” He murmured. A hand was running through his hair. “Better.” He said. He wasn’t done yet though. Not... not yet. Lancelot would already know that though.

“...hey, um. Merlin? Do you have to go alone?”

Or maybe he didn’t.

“Yeah,” he said and sat up. The world spun. “Yeah. I got it. Stay... stay with the others. Just in case, okay? It only takes a bit.” He promised and staggered up. Hands steadied him.

“I don’t like this at all.” Someone said. Merlin shook his head, trying to focus on the ground in front of him. “Someone needs to go with him. What’s he even doing? I don’t-”

“I don’t mean to be mean... but do any of you seriously think you are closer to Merlin than Lancelot was to question this?” Lancelot said quietly. There was a low murmur. “Merlin,” he said and stepped in front of him. For a moment his form shifted... shifted and... he looked different... “Hey. Don’t take too long, okay?” he said. He nodded. He never took too long. Too many things could happen.

Leaving behind what sounded like a swarm of bees, he walked out deeper into the forest. He wasn’t sure how far he made it, but his body seemed to determine it was far enough because he fell - gagging a bit as he did so - before letting go. It felt kind of like breaking to the surface of water and breathing deeply. The world stop spinning and everything seemed to snap into place all at once. The burning turned into a warmth that burst from his chest to the fingers. He breathed again and this time when he looked around he could see a field of flowers and vines surrounding him.

He smiled a bit. Then he reached out and let his magic burst forth once more, growing a small tree and allowing it to sprout. He stayed out for a few more minutes, growing plants and making butterflies until he couldn’t think of anything other than sleep. He rubbed his eyes, standing up to grimace at the remaining blood on his arms - oddly black like he had smeared ink all over him. After washing it off in a nearby stream he walked back to the camp.

“Merlin!”

Wait. Lancelot was dead. He hadn’t...

With rising panic, he turned to see Gwaine watching him curiously. A few of the other knights were also awake, looking towards the rising sun as they each packed and readied the horses. Arthur paused in looking at his satchel.

Shit, shit, shit-

Elyan put a hand on Arthur’s arm and whispered something to him. Arthur frowned, but gave a small nod before turning away. Merlin wasn’t sure what that meant so he looked back at Gwaine with what he hoped wasn’t guilty eyes.

“You good?” He asked, walking up to him. He grabbed Merlin’s arms to look at them solemnly.

“Um, yes.” Merlin answered and rubbed the back of his neck, “What... exactly happened?” He asked. Gwaine grimaced before digging into his pocket.

“Well, you scared the shit out of everyone mainly. You were kind of like a zombie. Called us Lancelot a few times. You know, typical stuff that would freak people out.” He reasoned and pulled out a piece of parchment. “Luckily, I had instructions.” He explained. Merlin frowned but accepted it. The page looked worn - ink slightly dulled over time but still legible despite being hastily written.

Gwaine, the first line read.

I hope that, for once in your life, you listened to me when I asked you to wait until you returned to Camelot to read this. Also, do us all a favor and keep this on hand. You may have a lot of questions, but I need you to trust me on this one particular topic. The topic being Merlin.

There are many things that are kept strictly between Merlin and me. Seeing as you’re his best friend and I’ll soon be dead... I think I should let you in on one of those things. I can’t explain everything - I would never betray his trust completely - but I do know him well and know he isn’t someone to particularly seek out help. At least once a month (sometimes more) Merlin gets... sick. Really sick. His skin bruises from his chest to his fingertips, his blood becomes black and burns him from the inside, and mind is completely out of working order. It’s a unique condition that could kill him if he waits too long to deal with it.

Expect him to wait too long to deal with it.

When it inevitably happens, the first thing you need to do is (very) carefully bleed him out a bit. It’ll clear his head a bit to do what he needs to get done. Honey and crushed peppermint with yarrow also helps. Ask Gaius (and only Gaius) to make you some to have on hand. Say I asked you to get it and he’ll know what you mean.

Now - and this is the most important part - when he is conscious enough to deal with the rest himself do not follow him. It’s strange, I know. Consider this a dying wish of sorts. Leave him alone and make sure nobody else goes after him. No matter how bad he may seem or how worried you are... just make sure he gets twenty minutes to himself.

Lastly, to Merlin... when this happens, I know Gwaine will probably hand you this letter as an explanation for how he knew how to help out. Hi. It’s me. Hopefully, I haven’t given away too much of what you were concerned about. If I may offer you some advice... just accept some help. Maybe let Gwaine in on everything. Or don’t. That’s up to you. Just try your best not to do this completely alone. There’s really no reason for it.

Good luck,

Lancelot

Merlin stared. He blinked a few times. Then reread it... and reread again. Slowly, he looked up at Gwaine. There was a long pause before Gwaine gave a small wave.

“So... I won’t ask questions,” he said and grimaced in the direction of the others, “Leon is too polite to ask. Elyan is too smart to ask. Percival... well,” he smiled fondly, “Percival is also too polite to ask. Arthur though?” He said and gave a slight shrug. “Yeah. You should have seen his face at the black blood.”

Merlin paused.

“I... have a blood disorder.” He said slowly. Gwaine looked at him. “Thank you though. Um, sorry Lancelot stuck you with that-”

“Are you kidding?” Gwaine snorted and reached up to put a hand on his shoulder, “Him calling me your best friend was the best. I couldn’t show anyone this letter for so long!” He snorted and squeezed tightly, “And I’m glad I could help you. Even if I’m wildly confused and pretty sure you’re cursed rather than dealing with a blood disorder.” He said and let go. “And don’t worry, I’ll keep Arthur off your - oh, hey.” He said when Merlin shoved his hand off and pulled him into a hug. “Nice.” He decided. Merlin snorted.

“Thank you,” he repeated more genuine this time. “I... one day I’ll explain it all to you.” He said a bit slower. Gwaine shrugged.

“Whatever you want. Just try not to die and I’ll be happy.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what he expected. Dear or alive... his friends somehow kept looking out for him.

when i say i’m from ukraine, people assume i live somewhere else now. when i say i live in ukraine, they assume i’m somehow immune to war, and there’s a logical division between a ukrainian they chat with on discord and a ukrainian on the news. bitches my yaoi is written from the bomb shelter

calling my lover "mine" but not in the way that my toothbrush or notebook are mine, mine in the way my neighborhood is mine, and also everybody else's, "mine" like mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love. "mine" not like possession but devotion.

Joan Jett at the Aragon Ballroom, Chicago, Illinois, United States, 25th March 1977

📷 Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images