Behold. Lord Foog The 2st In Plushie Form

Chishiya in season 1 had everything planned out to every possible detail.

Meanwhile, Chishiya in season 2:

Mf ain't even hiding it that he lost control of his life and can't be bothered to deal with it

To escape a time loop, the witch demands virgin blood. And well, everyone thinks they know who the virgin of the group is. And they're wrong – or are they?

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“Are you completely sure they are to be trusted, Merlin? What if the witch goes back on their word!” Arthur exclaimed.

He was frustrated. But so too were the knights and Merlin. They had been wandering a neverending woodland path for what had felt like hours. After all, why would they give in to a witch’s demands before exhausting every option?

“No, Arthur!” Merlin snapped. “I am not sure we can trust them at all, but what other option do we have at this point?”

Merlin was the first to notice that they’d been looping the same path several times over, before any of the knights. This sort of magic was something he had seen before, and he knew it was the type of curse that was near impossible to break from inside the incantation area. In his mind, the witch’s words repeated endlessly.

When the knights had come across the witch, they were simply sitting by a humble campfire, watching a pot of water with herbs and leaves boil over. Of course, Gwaine had been desperate enough to accept a drink from this total stranger. And after just one sip, the witch had risen to their feet and laughed – a sound so shrill and chilling.

“And thus, thou, King of Camelot and thyne beloved knights of the round table are cursed to wander these woods for the rest of time. The world shall continue on without thee as thy kingdom crumbles. But do not despair, men of the sword. Lest you bring me 9 drops of a virgin’s blood, I shall grant thee freedom once more.”

“Alright, bickering will get us nowhere!” Leon interrupted. “Even if we were to do what the witch asks, where are we going to find a virgin in these woods if it simply keeps repeating itself?”

Percival quickly quipped, “Well, what about one of us?”

An abrupt silence descended upon the men as they exchanged glances.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve never seen a woman within five feet of Merlin,” Elyan spoke.

The rest of the knights turned their faces towards Merlin.

Arthur smirked.

“Well go on then, Merlin. If you really think we can trust the witch, then go ahead. 8 drops of blood is barely much of a sacrifice.”

Merlin grit his teeth. It was true that he had never been… intimate with any of the ladies he had admired. But he had a feeling deep down that something was wrong. Was it because he had the blood of a sorcerer? Would it potentially backfire – put them in danger?

As he racked his brain, he heard the familiar metallic rush of a sword being drawn.

“Gwaine, what do you think you’re doing?” Arthur said firmly, as Gwaine drew his sword.

“What, he needs a blade if he’s gonna bleed, right?”

“And you think a sword is a good idea? What if he accidentally impaled himself?” Arthur barked.

The king quickly drew his dagger and handed it very carefully into the hands of his servant. Gwaine rolled his eyes and put his sword away.

“Here, Merlin,” Arthur spoke. His words were ever so slightly more gentle than his usual biting tone.

Merlin raced through his thoughts to try and come up with an excuse. The creeping feeling that this was wrong refused to subside.

Finally he blurted, “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Oh come on, Merlin,” scoffed Gwaine. “It’s not like we’re asking you to cut off your entire arm.”

Before Merlin could think of a good excuse, the words slipped from his lips:

“I can’t be the one to do it… because I’m not a virgin.”

There was a beat.

Then, before anyone could react, Gwaine had swiftly taken Arthur’s dagger and lightly swiped Merlin’s arm.

“Ow, Gwaine!” Merlin huffed, but it was too late.

Small red beads of blood dripped quickly from the sorcerer's arm to the forest floor. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Nine. The sky above them whirled and hissed, darkening in only a few seconds.

And then, the witch’s voice boomed from all sides.

“This is not the virgin blood I seek. Do not deceive me again, lest thou art willing to suffer the consequence.”

“Huh, guess he wasn’t lying,” Gwaine shrugged.

If anyone had seen Arthur’s face as the witch had spoken, they may have noticed the slight snarl of his lips, the quick flush of his face. But it soon was gone and replaced with raging concern. Tearing some cloth from his cape, the King skillfully wrapped the wound on Merlin’s arm.

“Are you alright?” he asked quickly. A little too quickly.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Merlin quivered.

Perhaps if it were any other situation, he may have had his suspicions about Arthur’s tender touches. The way his king so swiftly and gently cleaned up the wound as best he could. But his mind was worrying about something else.

He was close to connecting the dots, he was sure. Virgin blood. He was a virgin, but obviously it hadn't worked. What did the witch mean by virgin if not a person who had not had sex? Virgin - what did that word mean? Pure? Untainted?

As Merlin fretted in silence and Arthur tended to him, Leon had quietly taken the dagger. And without warning—

“Ow! Okay, that actually really hurt!” Gwaine yelped.

The others turned quickly to him and watched as blood rolled down his palm and rolled off onto the forest floor.

And then, for Merlin, it clicked. Virgin blood – he had read about it before. Dark magic required ritual blood. And the most powerful of spells required blood that had never been used in magic before. And after so many escapades with numerous magic users, of course, Merlin’s blood had been used in magic before!

Once more, the sky hissed and darkened and the witch’s voice filled the forest.

“The deal is fulfilled, oh King of Camelot. Thou and thy company may leave this place freely.”

“Holy shit, Gwaine’s a vir–”

But before Elyan could finish his exclamation, the forest fell away and the men found themselves stirring awake by the witch’s camp fire.

Arthur was the first to scramble to his feet and brandish his sword at the woods surrounding them, his knights quick behind.

“Show yourself!” he demanded.

“It's too late,” Merlin said, simply, checking his arm – still wrapped up in Arthur's makeshift cloth bandage. “The witch would be long gone by now. That sort of spell is one you cast to get as far as you can from the people you're trapping. I've read about these spells plenty of times.”

Tired, Arthur resheathed his sword and collapsed onto the floor next to Merlin. The knights also sat themselves down, exhausted.

“Does it hurt?” Arthur whispered quickly.

“Not anymore,” Merlin answered, also in a hurried, hushed tone. “Thanks for the bandage.”

Arthur felt the words claw at his throat. He so desperately wanted to know. Who was it that Merlin had let into his heart to share a bed with? Who had this servant boy met that he did not know about? Merlin told him everything. Or at least, Merlin was such an open book that Arthur knew it all. Or at least he thought he did.

His heart beat heavy in his chest. And the question never made it into the air.

Finally, Leon broke the solemn silence that hung above all their heads.

“Look, Gwaine, you really don't need to lie about being a lady-killer. We'll love you either way.”

The knights burst into a much needed uproarious laughter and even a chuckle escaped from Merlin and Arthur.

“But I've been with loads of women!” Gwaine protested. “The witch was mistaken!”

“Sure, sure,” Percival spoke dismissively. “We definitely believe you and not some super scary witchy curse, Gwaine.”

And with that the knights rose to their feet and continued on with their journey. Arthur’s eyes lingering on Merlin's arm just a fraction of a second too long.

i was trying to collect more shitty ms paint doodles we all use and vibe with and then i realize i also have ms paint and can just MAKE some 

the real reason keith and lance get stabbed in the guts so often in fanfiction is bc their fuck ass armor has only fabric there. like what is that gonna do against a sword…. serving waistline will not stop a blade

i watch alice in borderland for the plot

the plot :

"You have Arthur's complete trust" Merlin laughs when Gwen tells him this and asks her what she is talking about.

Gwen looks at him strangely, as if she thinks Merlin is joking but then she sees Merlin's expression and can't hide her surprise.

"Merlin, you do realise that you're the person Arthur trusts most in the world, right?" Merlin chuckles again but this time it is with a sense of guilt and annoyance that won't let him alone.

"I don't think so."

Gwen, who until then had been mending one of Morgana's dresses, puts down her needle and thread and looks at him seriously, Merlin doesn't think he has ever seen her like that.

"You two fooling around and teasing each other is fine, Merlin, but you can't really think Arthur doesn't trust you. You can come and go from his rooms as you please, whether he's there or not, you have the keys to his room, and you're the only person who has them, and the whole castle knows perfectly well that Arthur has priceless things in there. I know you shave him every morning and believe me, that is not the job of a manservant,"

"But he is the one who-"



"That's right, Merlin. He's the one who."

Gwen seems genuinely annoyed that Merlin doesn't grasp how much Arthur trusts him, and Merlin finds himself having a chasm in his chest because he doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to think about Arthur's trust in him, he doesn't want to think that Arthur thinks Merlin is a person worthy of his trust, because Arthur is the most noble and sincere person in the world and Merlin is hiding most of his life from him.

"I have to go, Gwen."

Merlin leaves everything where he is and does not even turn around when Gwen (probably guilt-ridden from that lecture) calls him back.

Merlin hides in the first crevice he finds and struggles to breathe.

He struggles to breathe because Arthur trusts him and he knows it, but he tries to think about it as little as possible. He tries to live life day by day and not think about tomorrow and how long it is that he is lying to him. He tries not to have a heart attack every time Arthur looks at him and smiles or pats him on the back saying "good job!" or when Arthur is the first to worry about him when they are attacked by bandits.

Merlin tries not to think about Arthur's scream when they were separated on a mission and Merlin had to drop rocks to protect him. He tries not to think about the time he had to steal the keys from Arthur's room and Arthur, finding him in the room early in the morning, didn't bat an eyelid at the excuse of the woodworms because Arthur trusts him and simply told him to leave.

Merlin is a horrible person who does not deserve this kind of trust, not when he is lying to the most important person in his life.

"Breathe."

Merlin, caught in the middle of a panic attack he didn't even realise was happening, jerks at the voice and Arthur's hand resting on his shoulder.

"Breathe, Merlin, come on, in and out, calmly, follow me" Arthur takes deep breaths and Merlin tries to keep up with him but Arthur's mere presence makes the situation worse and Merlin finds himself with tears in his eyes as Arthur looks at him more and more worried.

"Gwen!" shouts Arthur then and Gwen is at his side within moments "Go get Gaius, I can't move Merlin from here in this condition."

Gwen looks at Merlin and she's so worried and feeling so guilty that Merlin wants to say something to her but is already so much if he can breathe.

Gwen leaves and Arthur and Merlin are alone and Arthur strokes his back trying to calm him down and Merlin bursts into tears. 
Arthur lays a hand on his shoulder and settles him on top of him, not holding him too tightly for fear of Merlin's breathing getting worse.

"I was looking all over for you, you know? I thought you'd be at the tavern or having fun somewhere and instead, I find you here doing the doppol-head."

Merlin laughs between sighs and sobs and Arthur continues.

"You have a myriad of tasks to do. My armour is completely ruined, I have no idea where my sword is and you were supposed to revise my speech for this afternoon but apparently, you had better things to do."

Merlin's breathing calmed and he was finally able to concentrate better, noticing that the king was sitting on the dirt floor next to him and practically rocking him.

"Arthur…"

Arthur turns his head slightly but they still can't make eye contact.

"I have magic."

Arthur stiffens and Merlin already feels lost without his king by his side even though he is still physically there.

"Alright," Arthur murmurs and Merlin gets up to look at him because there is no way he is hearing correctly. Arthur turns to look at him and his expression isn't the happiest but Merlin can't blame him "we've been through a lot worse, haven't we?"

And etiquette be damned, what is right or not right to do at court, Merlin throws himself onto his king and holds him as if he never wants to let him go again, holds him trying to tell him everything he is unable to say right now in words.

Arthur holds him just as tightly and Merlin finally knows that everything will be all right.

And that is how Gwen and Gaius find them, embraced tightly in the middle of a corridor in Camelot.

paddington and winnie the pooh would be best friends and i’ll fucking fight anyone who dares to disagree

So… when people go to Starbucks, they sometimes use celebrity names, right? I saw this post on Pinterest (one of those older Tumblr screenshots) and this person said their name was Tony Stark and they ran into someone who called themselves Bruce Wayne. So that happens, right?

Okay, so, imagine you're working as a barista at some place and you get so many people telling you their name is a pro hero name. The amount of Dekus you have served this week is off the charts and you had no idea Shoto could shape shift into forty different people. In all honesty, though, it's funny and kinda the highlight of your week.

This one day, someone comes in and they tell you there name is Dynamight. Not only does the shy smile on his face tell you, no, it's not Dynamight, but like literally everything else does too. Okay, normal. You place the order and then take the next person in line. This person is also Dynamight. This has happened before and, to prevent confusion, you dub this person Dynamight 1.

The next customer is a stoic man by the name David. The two of you connect eyes, both inwardly laughing at the funny little encounter that just transpired. David is dubbed nice David, a name you mumble and the stoic man hums with joy, you think.

Anyway, after David is—well, a large, intimating man which wild ash-blond hair and sharp crimson eyes which are enhanced by his dark mask. You blink up at him, shocked for a moment before your eyes flicker to Nice David. You both share a look of shock before evil grins appear in your eyes.

Then Dynamight orders and you take his order professionally, not gushing or fan-girling—and not breaking down into a fit of laughter despite so badly wanting to. He gives you his name, a gruff “Dynamight,“ and you bite your cheek.

You take your sharpie—you've chosen orange for obvious reasons—and your write what some may consider your final words. You're optimistic and consider it funny. “Dynamight 2,“ you mumble and the man snaps his head around with such a bizzare, pissed off look you can't stop the laugh. You tried, which turned it into a snort and the rage in his eyes exploded (heh) at the sound. You hid behind the empty coffee cup, pinching your lips together as laughter prodded at your chest.

“The hell did you just say? You think that shit is funny?!“

You did. Then you realized he probably thought you were making fun of his recent drop from number one hero to number two. He was bitter about that, it was no secret. You cleared your throat, back to looking at Dynamight with your professional facade. “Sorry sir, it's just that,“ you paused, sharing a look with Nice David.

“Spit it out,“ the inpatient hero demanded.

You looked back it him, clearing your throat again as a laugh threatened to ruin everything. You laughed when you here nervous and it didn't help that you always found Dynamight's reactions amusing. But you had to keep it together, for the other, no doubt, embarrassed Dynamights in the room. “Well, I'm sorry to say, but Dynamight and Dynamight 1 have already been taken.“

“What?“

It was so short, so curt, and so blunt you almost laughed again. You saw the other two Dynamights flinch and you wanted to scream. What were the odds the real deal would come into the little cafe the same time as two of his fans? Ah, if you were them you'd be too embarrassed to get your coffee. But, since you weren't them, well, you were there to enjoy the comedy gold.

Back to Dynamight 2. The man still awaited an explanation, far too confused to be annoyed at your lack of action. You looked at the two other Dynamights who's eyes were glued to the floor. You looked at your coworkers, all of which were hiding smiles by showing their backs to the giant pro—busying themselves with work. You looked at Kind Dave, both agreeing this was one of—nay, the BEST thing to ever happen in your lives. You looked at Dynamight 2, a man so lost and so confused, so unsure of his identity.

“If you would like, I can use a different name.“

“Huh?“ That snapped him back to the present. “Hell no, I'm Dynamight!“

“Yes.“

“So use Dynamight!“

“It's already been used—“ “Then swap them!“

“I can't. That would just confuse the team—“ “Then I should be Dynamight 1!“

“That's already been taken.“

“Just change it from Dynamight 2, dammit!“

“How about Dynamight 3?“

Oh if looks could kill. “Change. It,“ he order slowly, lowly, and most definitely sternly.

You coughed into your hand to hide the laugh. “Alright sir, I'll change it.“

You assumed he was too angry to listen to your new name for him which was his fault actually. He could most certainly not blame you for what was to come because it was he who left you unsupervised and you lived off of the pain of others.

There were no other customers so, you had the honor of handing out drinks. It was with great joy you took that job and you, again with great joy, read the name on the cup out loud. “Dynamight.“

You saw the hero twitch. His scowl deepened and you would've laughed to yourself if you weren't waiting for Dynamight to show up. You looked at the small group, raising a brow when no one came. “Guess he left,“ you mumbled.

One of your coworkers mumbled a response. “I'd leave too.“

You both shared a small snicker.

Then the next order came up. “Dynamight one?“ you asked, fully aware that person has also slipped out.

That meant two free coffees for the team.

Next was “Kind David,“ you announced proudly.

The man, the myth, the legend walked up to your counter and, as the name implied, kindly took the drink from you, giving you a kind nod of thanks. You both shared a look of amusement before he left, giving Dynamight 2 a small nod as he passed.

It was time. You held the large black coffee with a hint of cinnamon and a helping of whipped cream in your hand. Dynamight liked whipped cream, who knew? You didn't look at the cup to read the name. No. You looked straight into Dynamight's narrowed eyes. He began approaching the counter, glare hardening in suspicion. You announced him and he bristled with anger, lip lifting up to reveal his pink gums as he sneered down at you. Such a large man.

“Number two!“ you announced loudly, cheerfully, and joyously.

Boy. You had never seen a face curl up like that. He towered over you and he opened his mouth to give you a pice of his mind. But you beat him to it. You leaned forward, mischievous glint in your eye. “Don't worry,“ you whispered, “you'll always be number one here, hero.“

And it was supposed to be a funny jab, you said it with a teasing look. It was supposed to make him snatch the coffee outta your hands with a glare. But, well, you couldn't control his emotions.

He grabbed the coffee, taking it out of your hand normally. He glared, a comparatively calm glare. “Watch yourself, shorty.“

And you let your mouth drop in a dramatic scoff, about to give his back a piece of your mind, then you see it. You freeze, mouth gaping in actual shock. The back of his neck and the tips of his ears were the slightest bit red. You thought you were seeing things. You rubbed your eye. Oh boy, you were not seeing things.

It was supposed to be a funny jab. You said it with a teasing look. But hey, if Dynamight got all embarrassed, that was fine too. “We'll be rooting for you!“ you cheered, again, mildly teasing.

He scoffed but you saw the blush grow on the back of his neck. He sent you one glare over his shoulder and your coy grin grew at the pink dusting his upper cheek. Then he left and the cafe was silent before you and your coworkers burst into a series of obnoxious laughs and giggles. You were not giggling, by the way, you were on the floor DYING and wheezing in an ugly, hilarious sort way.

Dynamight was an interesting guy.

Me: Under waters plant for two weeks Plant: thriving Me: waters plant once Plant for the next 2 months: I'm dying of thirst!

Unironically, vegans need to be advocating for more and better sheep, llama, and alpaca farms. Wool is one of the best fabrics we have in terms of versatility, longevity and most importantly, insulation. Even wet, it retains 80% of it’s insulation potential.

AND IT DOESN’T SHED MICROPLASTICS