#Could this be how every day begins?

[feluart]

I just need him to be happy thank you

[choccy-milky]

how seb and clora get together in my fic 💕bc what better time and place to confess and share your first kiss than around a bunch of inferi + the dead body of a man you just killed?? 🥰💖

[justaz]

merlin falling to his knees after sending arthur out onto the lake and then just. staying there. he was planning on staying until his body gave out from dehydration but he just...never died. he kept waking up to the same sight of the lake, the day around him a bit different. yet he never moved. he remained on the shore of that lake as nature began to claim him, growing over his body as if he were just a stone on the ground. merlin never moves. he is arthur's servant. he'd follow arthur everywhere. if he couldn't...well then, he'll wait right outside. he'll wait right here. he'll wait for arthur.

[luckyblackcatxiii]

Two separate occasions but both bringing out a rare intense emotion from Saverio! Sometimes I like to think I make up cool lines on the fly when playing as him 🤔

I'd like to draw scenes to explain how he got to these points, but for now, enjoy an angry Sav~

[starry-bi-sky]

What would a mother not do for her child What lengths would a mother not go There's a bond that exists between mother and child With no end to how strong it can grow It's a promise for life between mother and child It begins from the moment of birth.

================

She is six years old, and standing on the porch at her Auntie Alicia’s cabin. She is six years old, and holding an old rifle in her hands, standing at the railing and pointing the nozzle at a large target a couple feet away. There’s a pair of old ear muffs covering her ears. Behind her is her daddy and her sister, and Auntie Alicia. She can’t see them. 

Danielle Martha Fenton is six years old, and her momma has her arms wrapped warmly around her, keeping the gun steady for her. It’s heavy and the butt digs into her shoulder uncomfortably, and she feels nothing but determined. And nervous. 

Her momma was teaching her and Jazzy how to shoot, and they’re down in Arkansas to visit Auntie Alicia for her second “Divorce-iversary” as Auntie calls it. She keeps a hunting rifle in her gun safe for the rabbits that like to nibble on her garden. She mostly grows rhubarb, which goes untouched. But her carrots and greens and other veggies like to be tempting snacks for the game. 

Regardless, she is six years old and learning how to shoot. Her momma and her daddy (mostly her daddy) have been banned from every shooting range outside of Amity Park in a hundred mile radius. So Auntie is the best place to learn, or so momma says. 

Danny thinks it's just an excuse to see her sister, not that she's complaining. She loves visiting Auntie.  

She’s already seen Jazzy do this, her momma told her before the muffs went on to shoot when ready. No use trying to fire when you’re not; you can’t afford to miss when shooting ghosts. 

Danny breathes out steady, just like momma taught her, and quells her trembling little fingers. She focuses down the barrel, and pulls the trigger. 

Immediately, the recoil throws her off, the side of the gun that her cheek was resting on knocks against her skin, harsh enough to bruise if it weren’t for her momma’s steady hands holding onto her. The bang of the gun startles her more than she thought it would, and her heart leaps up and runs a jackrabbit through her chest. 

The gun is carefully slipped out of her hands, and Danny lets it go easily, her cheek smarting in pain and her eyes wide and following up to momma. Momma turns the safety on, and with a gentle hand, pushes against her chest. Danny takes a few steps back, and slips the ear muffs off her head. 

Mommy is smiling big at her, something that Danny can’t help but replicate on her own face as her heart swells. “Did I get it, momma?” She asks, watching as she passes the gun off to Auntie Alicia, who steps over to take it.

“I’m going to go see, sweetie, but I think you did.” Momma coos, before planting both her hands on the porch railing and, in a single leap, vaults over the side and onto the grass. She’s dressed all comfortable for the summer heat, with her hair all tied back and in shorts and a tank top and nice boots. Danny’s ribs swell hopefully, and she stands on her tiptoes to watch her walk over.

“I’ll be hard-pressed to believe if you didn’t, Martha Mae,” Auntie tells her, grinning like a cat, “that was a damn good shot.” 

‘Martha Mae Knight’ was Danny’s granny’s name. Auntie Alicia calls her that because of her middle name — and because, by her words, she has her momma’s weird-shaped eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. The kind that could scare a hawk into singing like a robin. It was Danny’s favorite nickname ever.

Daddy laughs brightly, the sound painful on her ears but twice as nice, and despite the distance, Momma whirls her head around to shoot Auntie a glare; “Language, Alicia. Not around my girls.” She warns. Her accent always comes through when they’re around Auntie. It’s Danny’s favorite thing to listen to. 

“Do you think so, auntie?” Danny says, bright-eyed and ever-optimistic. Auntie Alicia nods fiercely as Momma finally reaches the target and searches for the bullet hole. Daddy then comes up behind her, still laughing, and claps a hand onto her shoulder so hard that it makes her knees hurt.

“Of course she did!” Dad boasts, as bright as the sun and twice as warm. He shakes Danny affectionately, wobbling her on her feet and pulling her straight into his side. She goes so willingly with a burble of giggles. “She’s got the eyes of a Fenton! And our family are darn good shots.”

Auntie eyes him up and down, her smile immediately fading off into a pressed line. “I’m sure you mean she’s got the eyes of a Knight. You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn at twenty paces, Jack Fenton.” 

Jazzy holds back giggles from where she’s standing by the door, her ear muffs in hand, and Danny watches her Daddy’s dark eyes immediately narrow. Just like Auntie’s, his smile tapers off into a frown. 

Before he can say anything, there’s a cheer from the yard, and they all turn to Momma clapping her hands in delight. 

Danny immediately pricks her ears up, and would’ve darn near rushed over to the railing if it weren’t for her Daddy’s hand on her shoulder. She yells instead, excitement thrumming like a hummingbird against her ribs, “Did I hit it, momma?!” 

Momma beams at her with all the pride in the world, “You sure did, Danny!” And she turns to press her finger against the target, right on the inside red ring of the battered old bag. “Right here, sweet girl!” 

There are cheers from all around, and Danny’s heart bursts inside her lungs with shiny, sunshine glee. She puffs her chest out big, and smiles so wide it hurts the cheek where the gun smacked her. Her Daddy shakes again, squeezing her tight against his side in a hug that Danny happily reciprocates. 

“What’d I tell you, Martha Mae?” Auntie tells with a big wink and a wide grin, the gun still gripped tight in her hands as Momma makes her way back over. “You got a Knight’s eye.” 

When Momma makes it back over the railing, she hugs Danny tight and praises her shot. Danny looks her in the eyes and chases the feeling, and asks to shoot again.

[cementcornfield]

a series of tweets i found helpful and informative today re: joe's performance

so in summary: he wasn't throwing deep balls and it's hard to know why. he said in the presser that the patriots D "took the deep options away" and maybe that's true. but in that first tweet you can see that both ja'marr and yoshi are in single man coverage and breaking free. but joe doesn't even try to hit them. it's tempting to blame pass protection (as it has so often been the issue) but the pass protection was actually pretty good, some of the best of joe's professional career. but he honestly just looked spooked?! which i wouldn't blame him for, psychologically overcoming injuries is just as important and probably just as tedious as overcoming them physically. i imagine that can only improve with more reps.

saw a lot of people also blaming the wrist itself, and maybe that's true! he wouldn't say he was 100% last week and said he still has good and bad days. but it also doesn't seem like it really was affecting his throws at all, shallow intermediate or deep. the announcers certainly pointed out that he was fiddling with his wrist/shaking it around (and GASP wearing a glove!), but he's been doing that all training camp. what they showed on the broadcast was likely just him breaking up scar tissue.

so who knows! a lot went wrong in this game. play calling and scheme, run defense (although i also saw some tweets about how our D-line did well, our secondary still can't tackle though!), sloppy and undisciplined plays from everyone, along with some of joe's decision making (he also had some great plays! listed above!) we start slow, it just seems to be a given at this point. and i hope we can fix it. we have a track record of doing so, and you know the boys are pissed and watching the tape to see how they can improve. maybe they can fix it by the time we get to KC?

[aetalk]

[fear-no-mort]

thinkign about how alone and unloved morty was for all his life and rick was the first time anyobdy ever put such an amount of intense attention and dependency onto him . and rick had a whole new family and losing them made him stop seeing the value in other people as a whole and morty was the one and first thing that woke him up

[kingzombear]

BUT AY I GOT GUNDHAM MOTHERFUCKING TANAKA'S AUTOGRAPH LAST WEEK LETS GO 🔥🔥🔥 OPEN SESAME PANDEMONIUM

[corellianhounds]

Idk why everyone thinks Crosshair was the chaotic misbehaving brother as a cadet. Mr. “Good soldiers follow orders” even without the chip? Mr. “Loyal to the Empire” even after they destroyed all Kaminoan cities and facilities and didn’t care enough to come back and see if there were any survivors? Mr. “Not immediately swayed by emotional convictions” even when they belong to those closest to him who he should trust above unseen authorities?

Even if you think obedience and compliance was hammered into him by those in charge and he had to learn to keep his head down or face the consequences, that doesn’t explain why it takes him so long to eventually accept the truth, despite the mounting empirical evidence he receives after the most dire possible circumstances that should show him that those in charge are wrong. It isn’t until Mayday’s death that Crosshair finally accepts the truth because it’s then that he’s being directly told by the people in charge that he and everyone like him is expendable and unnecessary.

Somebody with a rebellious youth is much more critical of authority figures even if they’re presently obeying them, and they’re much more ready to drop said authorities the second it’s a viable option and they physically can. Crosshair doesn’t behave like a dog that’s been beaten its whole life, he’s constantly making active decisions not only to follow the Empire but to enforce what the Empire dictates, even when he’s the one reaping the direct consequences of pushback on the ground for it. Because that’s what good soldiers do.

This guy was the kid following the rules by choice and getting mad at the others for finding loopholes or accomplishing things the ‘wrong’ way, especially if and when it got all of them in trouble (because they were kids and wouldn’t have always been right). Rules and structure are there for a reason. We’ve been here less than ten years, what on earth makes you think we know more than the people in charge? Why do I have to be punished because you guys couldn’t do as you were told?

To me the four of them (and Echo later) are a sliding scale when it comes to decision-making based on head vs heart. Crosshair and Tech are on one side, using logic and reason over emotion as their basis for decision-making and how they see the world, and Echo and Wrecker are more on the heart/instinct side of reasoning, putting people and ideals ahead of simply accomplishing objectives despite what the odds might be against them. Hunter’s the balance in the middle, being able to see both sides and weigh what the best option is based on the evidence and the context within which it’s being given. All of them have different fluctuating percentages of what’s going to motivate or drive them day by day, just based on the context of their circumstances, but that’s the general scale.

I think Hunter as a kid probably realized if he could get all of them to learn the rules as quickly as they could, then they’d know how to break them effectively with the least amount of repercussions and collateral damage. They were an experimental group for a reason and were likely given a modicum of wiggle room when it came to problem-solving, the Kaminoans not just allowing but pushing them to be more creative, flexible, and adaptable. They all know the hard rules of structure, chain of command, and behavioral compliance, but after that they’re given more freedom of choice. Their personal convictions inform both the why and how of following orders.

Wrecker is easier to figure out because he wears every thought and emotion on his sleeve and sees no reason not to. He’s more of a follower— Thinking is for other people, he’s a busy guy and man of action, give him something concrete with actionable directions and he’ll accomplish it with aplomb.

Tech, as a kid, likely knew both the spirit and letter of the law, which means he could see problems and solutions objectively regardless of his personal feelings/opinions and knew that rules are there to be guidelines: No structure is perfect and always following rules exactly was never going to always be the right decision. He would choose whichever seemed like the most logical, obvious route to success, finding loopholes and workarounds where he could as a means of balancing the consequences or fallout of said decision.

Hunter also knew both the spirit and letter of the law, but he was able to read situations and people better than Tech was, relying more on his gut instinct to tell him what the best course of action would be, even if that choice wasn’t the most logical. He’s a mediator and the best choice of leader because of his ability to get people working together by knowing how to convince each of them in their own way that this plan will accomplish their objective AND lead to the most amount of people being satisfied/happy in the end, them included. Despite the fact Hunter’s more reserved, he’s still a people person. It just happens to come from empathy, observation, and instinct, the latter two being qualities he was designed to specialize in.

Crosshair obeyed the letter of the law because structure exists for a reason and if that structure has yielded the best results and most success for the longest amount of time, then it’s obvious it must be the right one in place. Loopholes can be taken advantage of, but only when there isn’t an explicit wording against it or there is clear and mounting evidence that the rule doesn’t apply to him. To deviate from the majority in matters of how something is achieved is acceptable; to do so in matters of why is not.

[astralhope]

- I understand how you feel, Yuma... and I don't want you to accept it. -

Rank 55: Yuma Jets!!

[jizzlords]

@fizzarollitm asked: The cab jerked through rush hour and he regretted not calling the limo to pick him up...but that would mean turning his phone back on. His leg bounced as he watched the tiny digital clock on the console tick ever closer to 6:30. They came to another harsh break and he had enough. He dropped what was in his wallet in the passenger seat and told him to get to Ozzie's in ten minutes or less. — They made it in five. — An elevator ride that seemed hell bent on wasting his time later and he was unlocking the front door praying to Satan that he made it. Princess lead the pack in greeting him and he gave them all scritches before so much as daring to look at a clock. 6:29; he made it. " Ozz ! Babe ! I'm home. " And on fucking time. / unprompted, always accepting.

────── Pots and pans clang as Ozzie worked diligently in the kitchen ... The whole time, he'd anxiously glanced at the time every couple of minutes (or more realistically, seconds which felt like the longest minutes of an immortal life). Eyes dart from the food, the time, to his phone which rested at arms-reach in case Fizz answered his text message (nothing yet).

At least if he got a text, he'd know whether or not he should start dinner without Fizz. 6:23. Seven more minutes. At this point, he's impatiently tapping his foot while standing over the stove — the anxiety was creeping up worse than ever the closer their agreed time loomed and that door didn't open.

To think... the Embodiment of Lust getting stood up by his date boyfriend for the second time this week. Unheard of amongst the masses but they don't know the reality he's lived. It's silly in hindsight. But punctuality does matter to him. Especially when with someone the heart's so fond of. Frankly, he's tired of going to bed alone and with plans that fell through weighing over his head. It's not the best thing to fall asleep to.

Shoulders begin to drop as another minute passes and there's still no text. No video message. Not even a "read" notification. What if he's still at work and didn't even look? Forgot? Sighing, Ozzie needed something to occupy his hands with. So, he settled for fixing himself a plate. Guess he isn't coming.

At this rate, he isn't really in the mood for dinner now. A disgusting sadness took place in his stomach where an appetite once was. He already made the food, why let it go to waste? Suppose Fizz could help himself whenever he gets home, too.

Disappointment settled in when another minute passed and Ozzie's already forcing himself to ignore the time, fighting the urge to watch the clock (it'll only upset him more). Just when Ozzie's eyeing the case which kept his alcohol (maybe putting up with the trouble of accessing them is worth it this time), thoughts are interrupted by the sound of their babies rushing to the door - whimpering and yapping the whole way. Setting the plate down, Ozzie's following the girls to the door ...

Just like that, the sound of Fizzarolli's voice is enough to bring spirits from the bottom of a bottle to sky high. 6:29. He'd let himself glance at the time, catching a glimpse before immediately finding Fizz at their living room. ❝ He... Hey! I was wondering...! ❞ I thought you forgot. The way Ozzie's whole demeanor shifts, radiating excitement and overwhelming emotion.

Even Ram and Bull are more animated, with Ram doing flips and Bull bursting into cyan flames. He's anxious to get his hands on Fizz.

❝ Okay — step aside, girls. Step aside. ❞ He understands their excitement perfectly but ultimately settles for sweeping his Imp up into his arms and kissing his cheek. ❝ Welcome home, Froggie. ♡ ❞ he may look composed but duo heads are ratting him out. Even in the way chest swells with held breath to keep composure. ❝ Wanna wash up real quick? I'll fix your plate. ❞ He needs something to occupy himself.

[cator99]

I always get detained at da border because PROFUNC never ended but basically I'm like if a targeted individual didn't even care

[hopes-legacy]

I lived my whole my life before the First Light

[setmeatopthepyre]

One bright morning changes all things Soft and easy as your breathing, you wake Your eyes open, at first, a thousand miles away But, turning, shoot a silver bullet point-blank range And I can scarce believe what I'm believing in Could this be how every day begins?

The sky set to burst, the gold and the rust The colour erupts, you filling my cup The sun coming up

Like I lived my whole life Before the first light

[mad-hunts]

have i ever talked about how barton is genuinely jealous of people who seem happy because he feels so hollow a majority of the time that even when he's 'happy,' he's not really happy? because i just 😭 yeah...