𐙚⋆.˚ Noticing weird details when in shock (the color of someone's shoes, a crack in the ceiling) 

𐙚⋆.˚ The thought they immediately try to un-think 

𐙚⋆.˚ Mentally rehearsing a conversation seventeen times before having it 

𐙚⋆.˚ Hyper-awareness of their own breathing in tense moments 

𐙚⋆.˚ Latching onto something small and fixable when everything big is broken 

𐙚⋆.˚ The moment they realize they've been holding their breath 

𐙚⋆.˚ Second-guessing a read on someone, then being right anyway 

𐙚⋆.˚ Remembering something at the worst possible time 

𐙚⋆.˚ That specific mental static that isn't quite thinking 

𐙚⋆.˚ Bargaining with themselves ("just get through the next five minutes") 

𐙚⋆.˚ Noticing they're hungry/cold/tired only once the crisis is over 

𐙚⋆.˚ Replaying something someone said with a new, terrible meaning 

𐙚⋆.˚ The thought that arrives fully formed and changes everything 

𐙚⋆.˚ Knowing the right thing to do. Doing the other thing. 

𐙚⋆.˚ Arguing both sides of something until they're exhausted 

𐙚⋆.˚ The way grief or love hijacks every unrelated thought 

𐙚⋆.˚ That moment of calm before a decision that will cost them something 

𐙚⋆.˚ Intrusive memories at inconvenient times 

𐙚⋆.˚ Talking to themselves in second person when being hard on themselves 

“Who is that?”

“Dude. Stop staring at random pleople.”

“I never knew what I wanted out of life, until I saw you.”

“Hi.” “Oh. Hello.” blushing “… Hi.”

“Sorry, I don’t want to bother you, but I just wanted to say that you have a lovely smile. And I… I would love to take you out some time.”

“Hi, I’m A.” “Nice to meet you. I’m B.” “What a lovely name.”

“Is there a reason you’ve been making eyes at me from across the room all evening?”

“This must be fate.” “Really? I thought it was a coffee shop.”

“Sorry, I literally never just go up to people on the street, but I just… Would you like to grab a coffee with me?”

“I know this is fast, but I just… I have a feeling, you know?” “I think I do.”

He didn’t know it at the time, but the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he was going to be mine.

But then she turned and… Oh. Oh, I was ruined.

This is stupid, naive, and childish. But it’s what I want.

And then they smiled, and I felt my resolve melt in its warmth.

The rain poured down onto me, and yet I stood like an idiot instead of running for cover. Because right there, across the street, I saw my future.

Deep down I knew that if I left without at least trying to talk to her, I would regret it for the rest of my life.

Turn around. Turn around. Please, just look at me. See me.

And then you smiled and, for a moment, I would have done anything to never see that expression fade.

I couldn‘t help the smile forming on my face when I realized you had been watching me the entire time.

It was an entirely inappropriate moment, but the smile had formed without me even noticing.

Only when my ribs began to ache, I managed to still my laughter and tame it into a wide grin instead.

No matter how hard I tried to act unaffected, I knew my lips were in the process of betraying me.

I smiled at you, and you smiled back at me, and suddenly this entire thing didn’t feel as daunting as it did before.

Even as my face began to ache, it was impossible for me to drop the smile.

Example question: "Why am I [we/you/etc] so tired?"

@merthurmicrofic prompt sacrifice (150 words)

canon era| Arthur POV | internal monologue | s2e06 + bingo ✓POV: First person, ✓Mythical creatures, ✓Past tense, ✓Present tense, ✓Future tense

So that was it? The last time I’ll ever see you… just like that?

No time for goodbyes. No promise to meet again. No gesture of support. Just a stupid shout: “Go.”

I told you to leave. I ordered it. I yelled. For the last time. Probably.

Was it treason? Of course it was. I misled the guards; I warned a wanted man. Now I’ll have to lie and fake failure.

Had I really fallen so hard that I was ready to abandon my loyalty and honor so easily? I had.

I’d rather be a criminal than let you be accused with no proof and sacrificed for nothing—just for my father’s new wife’s entertainment.

Maybe you were right, and my stepmother’s a troll. A real one. Who cares.