#i’ll do another part for this

[mostly-imagines]

Things About My Jason

aka things that might weasel their way into details of stories one day, might not

your boy is clocking in at 6’4 + 3/4 inches and about 245 lbs (he’s the only batkid to be taller than bruce). 

he cusses a lot it, usually doesn’t correlate w anger or intensity its just how he expresses himself. he’ll cuss at you sometimes but not at you and he tries his best to never do it out of anger.

he’s never said it out loud but he would drop all the vigilante shit for you in a heartbeat if you wanted him to (i think he’s also the only batfam member who would do that).

you have an agreement in place to never make any big decisions in the middle of the night/post patrol—this came into place after a few too many bad nights had him coming home shaking and panicked about your safety and convinced he needed to leave you alone for good. 

he kind of zones out sometimes, its bordering on dissociation.

you have a black cat, salem, that’s been around since before you and jason had even met. his yellow eyes pierce you in a way that feels like he’s glaring straight into your soul and judging what he sees. he was suspicious of jason for a while but over time has come to love and protect jason almost as much as you.

he has a lot of nervous habits that have built up over years of stress and trauma. he’ll often double or even triple check locks and cameras. his hand tends to go to where his gun holster would be, regardless of whether or not its there. he’s very conscious of your breathing, especially when you’re asleep, and when he’s stressed or upset he’ll try to align his breathing with yours. he worries that you might get annoyed with how often he checks up on you, be it asking directly, texting you, or just looking you over to make sure you’re doing okay, that you’re happy. he’s also made a habit of standing directly behind you when you’re wearing anything short, especially skirts or dresses. You’re not entirely sure if it’s intentional or not.

day to day, he runs on very little sleep naturally so he’s awake early goes to bed late. he used to not focus much on making meals that actually taste good and have thought put into them until he started dating you. he started catering his grocery trips specifically with you in mind and the things you might like. he actually prefers going on grocery trips and little mundane errands with you bc he had no idea that these tiny aspects of life could bring him so much joy and peace. he also buys you new towels and updates your first aid kit constantly, though the latter is more out of his necessity than yours. depending on his mood, he’ll usually either take scalding hot or freezing showers. 

he’s 100% down to let you decorate the apartment however you want, even if you move into his place. his only ask is that he’s left with space to put his books (of which ne needs plenty). if he had to choose, he probably likes a warm atmosphere best, in terms of like lighting and colors. he’s really just not a fan of anything that feels cold or impersonal like the manor can sometimes seem. other than that he doesn’t really have opinions on it, whatever makes you happy he’ll like. but he’ll still happily go shopping with you to find stuff. but really that’ll just look like you saying “ooh look at this” and him saying “great, lets get it” at every single thing you pick up. 

there are unloaded guns and ammo hidden around your apartment and also stocked generously in a closet or two. he cleans them regularly, you think he does it partially as a kind of stress reliever. before you he didn’t have too much regard for his own safety, so he would sleep with one under his pillow. 

he does everything he can to keep you safe and he’ll insist on adding extra locks to the doors and windows, ones the landlord wont have keys to. yeah he’s paranoid so he’ll keep the bed as far from the door as possible and is unrelenting in his insistence that you sleep on the wall side. if you’re too tired to move, that’s okay, he’ll gently move you over himself. honestly though, your apartment is just as secure, if not more, than any of his safe houses. as such, he absolutely can and will easily hack into the lobby security cameras to check up on things. if he has to go away for a while he’ll send one of his siblings to stop by to check on you and make sure you're okay. 

he prefers to wear layers, it makes him feel more secure and comfortable. he does like cutoff sleeves sometimes but only because you like them on him. aside from that, he’s usually not such a fan of showing much skin because of a) his scars and b) he feels exposed to attacks. he has so many long sleeved and warm clothes in his closet that he heavily encourages you to bundle up in some of them when its cold. 

he goes through phases of bad sleep and they can vary greatly in severity. there’s nights he just physically cannot sleep and this usually originates from intense anxiety. these are easier to ease him back from and some simple comforting will be enough to get him to at least try to sleep. most commonly its the nightmares that make it hard for him. it’ll usually be a one-off that he just can’t fall back asleep afterwards. the worst is when he goes through phases of frequent nightmares, like every night, multiple times a night. when that happens, he will do everything in his power to stay awake for as long as he can. you’ve yet to find any techniques that hands down prevent or even slow the nightmares, but you’ve been able to find some remedial measures that work pretty well.

kissing him helps get his mind off scary thoughts (but not joker related) but not just like single peck it’s got to be a whole session to really work. the one that works best is having a hand on one of your pulse points while you sleep, or directly over your heart. unfortunately this did lead to him to accidentally choking you after a particularly bad nightmare. he was absolutely horrified and removed his hands from you completely the second he gained recognition. he actually fully got out of bed and backed away from you. he wouldn’t even hear you out about him not sleeping on the couch and continued to not budge on it for over a week. 

him punishing himself like that made you feel extra bad because that had occurred during a round of the relentless nightmares and you were sure he was still waking up panicked constantly without you there to help soothe him. you actually know for a fact he was because every couple of hours the bedroom door would creak open slightly before shutting again like he was checking to make sure you were there and okay. you ended up having to literally lay on top of him on the couch and refuse to leave him for him to agree to sleep in bed with you again, although he was still not willing to fall asleep with his hands on you for a while. 

he always needs it to be quiet when he goes to sleep so he can stay on alert which usually leads to him waking up to the littlest sounds, which is technically the point. if there’s any kind of white noise he’ll force himself to stay awake. if he does get woken up he’ll go from 0 to 100 like that. he also needs the door to be shut, non negotiable, and really prefers the apartment to be colder > hotter. it also helps that you’ll cuddle into him for warmth.

all of these things are things he did before you met, but he’d also developed some new habits after you got together. he used to sleep in the middle of the bed but now he absolutely insists that you sleep on the wall side so he can act as a protective barrier between you and any incoming danger. unless its after a rough patrol, he tends to wait to sleep until after you’ve fallen asleep. he doesn’t really have a reason for this, it just makes him feel better.

his relationship with bruce is complicated, of course. in my canon, the extent of it is that bruce didn’t kill the joker, prevented jason from doing it, and has made many attempts to stop jason from killing at all. obviously it’s not the fact that batman won’t let anybody die that broke jason’s heart, it’s that his father couldn’t let go of his moral code for a second and avenge his murdered son. the resulting anger stems from so much sadness and grief over his own death and it caused him to isolate himself even further from bruce. on a conscious level, he wanted to be far away from him emotionally as possible to protect himself while still enacting his own kind of revenge towards bruce. and so yeah, he did try to kill batman a couple times, whatever.

on an unconscious level, he’d hoped that bruce would take the initiative to try to close the space between them and apologize, and while jason didn’t know it yet: that was all he really wanted from him. inwardly, he still cares what bruce thinks and wants his approval and affection but its so conflicting for him. it also doesn’t help that it took bruce such a long time to swallow his pride and even consider that he was wrong before he could apologize. a lot of negotiations had to take place before they could even begin to really reconcile. 

about a year later they’d come to a steady, solid agreement that mostly worked for both of them. jason was allowed to kill, but only within his territory in gotham and only under agreed upon circumstances. there’s also a separate rule that jason’s not allowed out on patrol when the joker is loose—it used to be a whole thing before you’d met and oftentimes several bats were assigned to keep him away. even with these guidelines in place, things were still rocky between them and jason had only just started to come back around the manor when he’d met you. honestly you and bruce meeting was a major step in this process and everyone could feel the shift.

his relationship with his brothers is different, but just as complicated. he kind of views dick as being perfect in spite of also acknowledging his flaws. in his head, its sort of like, in comparison to himself, dick had the perfect life with perfect versions of all the same pitfalls jason had to go through. he knows its not really fair to think of it this way, but it’s hard sometimes. all in all though, he does look up to dick a lot. 

with tim, he thinks he’s a crazy rich kid—which, fair—but also in a weird way holds a lot of respect for tim for not being afraid of him. realistically, the way jason showed back up and his relationship  with tim started is insane, so its even more insane that tim was like ‘yeah, chill’ and that probably jump started their bond as brothers more than anything. 

for as much shit as he gives him, he honestly feels really bad for damian and all the shit he was raised believing. he couldn’t quite explain why, but he does see a lot of himself in damian, even past the surface level anger. 

he’s not good at resolving fights, his mind tends to jump to the absolute worst and he assumes you’re done with him, you resent him, it’s all over. it was really bad at the beginning of your relationship when he hadn’t even begun to consider that you love him half as much as he loves you. now, you’ve been able to help him understand that you still love him, even when you fight, and fighting does not equal breaking up. however, he still has trouble taking initiative in making amends. not because he doesn’t want to but more so because he feels vulnerable in ways that terrify him, having to acknowledge and speak into existence that he’d done something wrong feels like setting himself up to be exposed with no defense. 

another part of him feels like he already hurt you and if he tries to remedy things with you, he could just make it worse. So for a while at least, you’ll have to be the one to start the conversation, though not necessarily meaning you have to apologize first. 

as we know, Jason’s not immune to bouts of fear and stress. there’s times when he panics and there’s times when he has full blown panic attacks. the panic attacks are rarer, but much more severe. he’s known to lash out (especially when he’s not at your apartment) and has definitely broken a nose or two of people who got too close/tried to touch him. you’re not sure if it’s an intentional action or not, but he tends to claw at his skin or hit himself in the head when he’s very upset. after going through a couple of these with him, you’ve compiled a thorough list of DOs and DONTs for these times. DONT hold his wrists, move suddenly, touch him without warning, or corner him. DO keep your touches light, words soft, rooms vacant of other people, and loud noises. slowly but surely they’re getting less severe and overcome quicker.

[ashartstuff]

Ur art is very cute, the beach comic got me tho I was like “how the hell would they get to a beach” lol

The Tucker’s went on the trip! Tweek just tagged along (at Craig’s request) :)

[lycanr0t]

Val testing his TV’s obedience 🤭

[taxlthomas]

oh hey I drew these guys for funsies earlier may as well share em

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Eddie skims the books on the shelf in front of him, there was no use in trying to find one he was actually interested in. He was just going to end up forgetting about it and picking up one of the lord of the rings books again. Instead he just lets himself wander through his thoughts. Letting his body go in autopilot as his fingers gently brush the spines of dozens of books.

He should be in gym class, but he isn’t. The consequences of skipping were far better than those of actually showing up. The last time he went (over a month ago now) he ended up walking out with a chipped tooth and black eye. And he can’t forget about the bruised ego.

Walking at the end of one aisle, he carefully turns and moves himself into the next. Preparing to loop through said aisle again but nearly jumping out of his skin when he nearly falls over another person. A person who was sitting down, back pressed to the shelf he was walking the corner of.

A croak like noise comes out of the back of his throat as he nearly tumbles face first into carpeting. Stumbling forward a bit and catching balance on the shelf to the left of him. Secretly praying to all that’s holy that he didn’t somehow know the entire shelf over.

“Jesus H Christ.” He spits out, a hand pressed against his chest as he dramatically breathes heavier then normal. Putting on a show for whoever nearly killed him. Turning around to face the culprit he nearly jumps back again startled.

Sitting, pretty pathetically Eddie would say, was a very beat up Steve Harrington. Who looked like a horror book came to life. His eyes, or eye was a bit glossed over and wide as he starts stuttering over his words a bit. Obviously having a moment before Eddie came along and crashed the party.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you up like that.” Steve visibly cringes at his own words, as if he was also aware he seemed pathetic.

“Eh- it’s alright. Not the first time a king has tried taking me out.” He grins, before faltering a bit as he remembers that the other wouldn’t understand his DnD campaign reference.

He begins to walk away, wanting the entire awkward interaction to be over. But he can’t help but be just a bit nosy as his eyes glance down at the book in Steve’s lap. It probably had been open at one point, but it was now closed and Eddie is secretly thankful he can read upside down.

“Head injuries huh?” He points out. “Didn’t take you for a reader King Steve.” He drags the other’s name out a bit longer than he has to as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocking a hip out. He didn’t personally enjoy talking with asshole jocks, but what he did enjoy was knowing some things. He liked having some lore for the people around him.

“I’m not.” Steve snorts as he lifts the book up. “Just trying to do some research, I don’t know if you have eyes or anything but my face is pretty smashed in right now.” He retorts back with a little bit of sass. Eddie notes how his words slur up a bit, like he was drunk. But Eddie could spot a drunk anywhere and Steve Harrington seemed a hundred percent sober.

Furrowing his eyebrows, just a bit concerned he doesn’t let up the banter. Purposely forcing his eye lids open with one hand and jokingly pressing the finger tip against his eye before pulling back. Blinking the tears out of his slightly agitated right eye as he brings two thumbs up and comments, “we are in the clear I, Eddie Munson, let the record show, have eyeballs.” He grins dramatically.

“Want a gold star for that poncho.” Steve snorts, shaking his head a bit obviously amused. His body tensed up a bit as he goes a bit pale for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut with shaky breathes as his fists tighten around the book he was holding.

“Yes I do in fact want a gold star-” Eddie mumbles out gently, face scrunching up a bit more worried now as he moves his crossed arms from off his chest and moves a few steps closer to the other.

“Hey Harrington, you alright? You don’t seem like your typical charming self.” He comments as he hesitates for a moment before he crouches down. Leaving a few inches between the two of them.

Steve gives a weak nod of his head before he adjusting himself. “Yeah- just moves my head too much. Happens sometimes you know?” He chuckles gently.

“Oh thank god, you were looking a little green. Was worried you were about to hulk out on me buddy.” Eddie jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Lifting his hand up and running one of his rings against the bottom of his lip before glancing back down at the book.

“Find anything good in there, or are you just holding it for show?” Eddie asks gently, trying to come off a bit more teasing.

Steve snorts again, sounding a bit stressed as he nearly shakes his head no again but stopped ps himself. “No, couldn’t even make it through the first page without wanting to throw up.” He groans as he quickly adds. “Not because I don’t want to read it, it’s just the words won’t sit still and it hurts my eyes which then hurts my head.” He groans as he opens his eyes back up fully and looks down at the book with a little huff.

“Could always get a nerd to do your homework for you,” Eddie jokes, slightly hinting towards Wheeler. “Heard that girlfriend of yours had a decent brain on her, she seems like the type to understand that you’ll need help.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at the other.

Steve makes a noise that Eddie can’t even place, it sounded like the mixture of a laugh and a snort combined. “Can’t, I’m pretty sure she cheated on me with Byers. Don’t want to feel any more stupid around her.” He mumbles the last sentence out.

Eddie looks a bit surprised, he hadn’t taken Mrs Priss to be a cheater. Though he furrows his eyebrows again in thought. “If you give me a twenty I’ll read that book for you and try answering any questions you have.”

Eddie didn’t want to seem completely like a sweetheart, he had to keep up the image he had going on or else people wouldn’t take him seriously during deals. And he didn’t want to ruin said image to Steve Harrington of all people.

Steve squints his good eye at Eddie suspiciously, “I’ll pay you a hundred if you don’t mention this to anybody else.”

Eddie feels a little bit shitty for doing this but an image had to be kept.

“You’ve got yourself a deal Harrington.” His grin isn’t fully authentic as he takes the book from the other and does a playful salute as he stands up fully and begins to walk away.

[darlingod]

It’s just… it is everything that Cardan thought Jude would notice his “SO OBVIOUS” exile riddle and thinks Jude to not hesitate to come back. Beside his certainty of her cleverness to piece the riddle together, he believed he was that clear about his feelings toward her; he had thought she absolutely ought to know how he feels for her.

Like oh buddy. BUDDY. Your wife had thought of the answer to your little riddle like you thought she would. But guess what? She has detrimental TRUST ISSUES. (Like… Ur super mean and hot, I can’t blame her.) Anyway.. it’s SUPER adorable of him to so wholeheartedly believe she wouldn’t question his trust. It reveals so much about his pov of thier relationship.

Jude thought Cardan’s (silly) trick was a (vile) trick, when it was simply a: “Im trying to impress/pay you back in kind with our romantic metaphorical sparring and eventually get you out of political drama for a bit,” trick.

I’m fucking laughing wow these delusional ass children I fucking love them.

[i-like-forcefem]

Wow! My newly acquired doll thought she just got misgendered by the cashier!!!

She even tried to correct the poor clerk! She told the cashier right to her face that she’s a “guy”, you should’ve seen the look on that poor woman’s face as this “guy” wearing a pink dress with bunnies on it, carrying a plushy bigger then her head, in the squeakiest voice say that’s she’s a guy!

I’m laughing my ass off! Little dolls like her are so so silly, no one will believe her lies ever again! because she’s not a guy! She my adorable little girl and always will be

[oobbbear]

Ah yes story but no plot no lore just vibes

[cookienort]

Sleepy union leader

[myokk]

1) this might be the MOST embarrassing thing I post here ever…I was TRYING to escanciar bien but 😳…I SWEAR I DID A GOOD JOB UNTIL MY BF FILMED ME😭😭 pouring cider like this is a lot of fun and traditional to where I live🥰 (also you can hear the traditional bagpipes in the background😆)

traditional asturian cider (sidra asturiana) is VERY dry…not sweet at all, and it’s poured like this to aerate it. You have to pour in very small amounts and then drink it super fast before the carbonation leaves. There are special lids etx that you can put on the bottle though so that it pours a lot more easily and you don’t end up spilling all of it like I did😭😆

ANYWAYS every year my city does the cider festival…and we try to break the world record for the most people pouring cider at the same time. We didn’t get it this year😔🙏 but two years ago we did!! It started raining a little bit an hour before we were supposed to do it & lots of people bailed🙄 it rains every day here…what did they expect…

2) the sunrises lately have been so beautiful!!!💓

3) the gremlins👹

4) some of my “normal” art…I don’t really post it here but I like how this one turned out a lot💓

[cgarttrailsandtails]

Introducing the new tadc au I have!!

Designs for the supernatural forms that a couple of these guys change into will be out soon-like (hopefully) :3

[actual-bill-potts]

There was a large crowd by the quays of Tol Eressëa.

Finrod did not, in principle, particularly enjoy seeing many of the Eldar gathered on the beach. It brought back too many memories: the curious milling about after the earth had swallowed the Númenoreans - what a stupid, thoughtless, evil waste of life - the departure of his father’s host for Middle-earth, taking with it everyone he had not yet lost, and of course the - first incident.

But today he was here among the crowd, and his father and mother, and his grandfather and grandmothers, and Angrod and Orodreth with Finduilas, and finally Celebrían. Still a small group, compared to the carefree days of his youth; but another place was about to be filled, for his sister was coming home.

Galadriel was coming home! He had missed her for so long that the thought of her was a river-tumbled stone in his heart, worn smooth by longing; but she would be here at last. When the news had come his mother had not stopped singing for days, and his father had stood taller, as if released from some great weight.

There were other important passengers on this ship, of course. Two mortals, for one - Finrod could not wait to meet them - and the famous Elrond, who was already twice-dear to him as Celebrían’s husband and a descendant of those whose loss could never be worn down in his heart. Celebrían’s small anxious face always brightened when she spoke of him; and Finrod had some hope that some of the great shackles of grief she still carried would be broken away by her spouse’s presence.

The crowd was not only Galadriel’s nearest and dearest, of course; there was Elwing the White, standing still and serious as she always was, waiting for her son; Idril and Tuor, hands clasped, awaiting their grandson; many of the Returned from Rivendell who wished to see Elrond again; and a large number of Elves who, Finrod was fairly sure, were merely curious about the mortals.

Though perhaps that was uncharitable. All on the ship - save perhaps the Halflings - had been dearly beloved by so many.

And now they were coming back. There was a collective breath from the crowd as the ship appeared on the horizon, sped by Ulmo. A beautiful sight, as Círdan’s craft always was; but Finrod hardly noticed, straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of golden hair. Was that her? It must be, standing eagerly at the prow - so like his sister - he almost laughed for sheer joy. He was half-afraid to move, to blink, lest she disappear from his sight; but he blinked, twice, thrice, and there she still was.

Beside him, Celebrían murmured, "I see him," with a note in her voice that Finrod intimately recognized. He had said it often enough himself, when someone long since gone had returned from a hunting trip or a visit or simply a long walk. There had not been the desperation, the raw grief and longing, in his tone then that Celebrían’s voice carried now; but that unalloyed joy would not be his again. The one he loved had died indeed, and would not return.

He breathed through the grief and refocused his eyes, searching for a glimpse of dark hair - Celebrían had told him that much - curious to see Elrond. There, perhaps, under the sail, next to a small creature who must be one of the Halflings -

Finrod froze, and breathed in so sharply that Celebrían beside him looked at him, concerned.

"It is nothing," he said. "Merely - surprised."

Celebrían nodded absently and returned her gaze to the ship.

Elrond was the image of Lúthien, come again to the world. For a moment Finrod was lost in memories of Doriath, laughing with a pair of star-silver eyes that had looked into his just as Elrond’s had for a moment, both merry and grave.

She had been gone so long.

Beside him, Angrod leaned over and said, with all his customary tact, "Celebrían, you did not tell us your husband was Lúthien come again!"

Finrod winced - comparisons to Lúthien were always somewhat tricky - but Celebrían only laughed. "Wait until you see my daughter!" she said. "I believe my parents were a bit heartbroken. Three grandchildren, and they might as well all have been tiny duplicates of Elrond. For awhile, anyway," she added. "Elladan has my mother’s chin, and Elrohir my father’s very arched eyebrows." She was smiling more widely than Finrod had ever seen.

The ship drew ever closer. Galadriel’s eyes met his, and she winked; then she saw her daughter and an expression of such tenderness passed over her features that Finrod had to look away. There were so many Galadriels that he had never met: wife, mother, queen, grandmother.

But she was here now.

The instant the ship docked, Celebrían was running, a small silver flash. Elrond hastened to meet her, and for an instant silence fell as they crashed together like waves meeting the shoreline. Elrond spun her around and around, Lúthien’s face bright and alive once more; then they were kissing so passionately Finrod had to look away again.

Galadriel did not immediately come to meet her family, but Finrod did not begrudge her that; she was waiting for her daughter. That did not matter to Eärwen and Finarfin, who together were not three steps behind Celebrían, and who were weeping before they even reached Galadriel. "My daughter," Finrod heard Eärwen say, "My Nerwen. My daughter!" and then Galadriel was nearly obscured by her father and mother.

The joy in the air was tangible; Finrod nearly laughed aloud for no other reason than sheer happiness. Angrod was grinning beside him as Celebrían tore herself away from Elrond at last and flung herself at her mother, a small shining figure against Galadriel’s stately tall queenliness; then the whole troupe emerged fully onto shore and Finrod and Angrod, Orodreth and Finduilas, all hurled themselves at Galadriel in turn. They ended up in one laughing pile on the sand; though Finrod nearly extricated himself when he saw the Halflings emerge from the boat. They were so small, and so - so bright to his eyes. He had missed mortals, oh! How he had missed them! But then Olórin followed them out, and said in his booming voice, completely ignoring the undignified tangle that was the House of Arafinwë: "Our mortal friends are weary from their long journey, and seek rest; all who wish to may come visit later!" and although this was addressed to the crowd, his eyes were resting directly upon Finrod.

Well, Finrod could take a hint; he turned away and dumped a handful of sand down the back of Angrod’s shirt.

"Ow!" Angrod yelped. "What was that for?"

"For being irritating, no doubt," Galadriel said serenely; then she shrieked in turn as Angrod poured sand over her head. "Angrod! My hair!"

Elrond was standing a little aside, looking at his mother, who stood transfixed upon the shore. Finrod carefully did not look, not wanting to intrude upon a reunion that, like his own with Galadriel’s, had been two Ages in coming; but he could not help hearing Elwing’s murmured, "My son; my son! Forgive me! Have you come back at last?" and Elrond’s gentle, "There is nothing to forgive, Naneth," before he was distracted by Finduilas - the traitor! - tossing sand at him.

At last Finrod and his siblings righted themselves, brushing the beach from their hair. Finrod could not stop looking at Galadriel. How grown she was! How wise, how strong, how shining! She had been grown for a long time, of course; but she was a Queen now, as he had once been a King; and she had never abandoned her people.

Galadriel, of course, had so many people to look at that she could not hold his gaze for long. But when she did meet his eyes, the old familiar light filled them as it always had: a teasing gleam, as if laughing at a joke only they two knew.

At last Celebrían stepped forward into the throng, holding Elrond by the hand. Close up, Finrod could see that he did not only bear the mark of Lúthien. There were Beren’s stiff-set shoulders, his cleft chin; and if they were Beren’s they had once been -

"May I present Elrond Peredhel, Lord of Rivendell and my wedded spouse," Celebrían said. Her tone was formal; but her eyes were lit with such joy it seemed as if she bubbled out the words. Such joy! It was good to see her so happy.

Elrond bowed, and the House of Arafinwë bowed to him as Celebrían introduced them each in turn. "Haru Finarfin, and Haruni Eärwen; Ar-Haru Olwë and Ar-Haruni Falwen; my cousin Finduilas; and my naneth’s brothers Angrod, Orodreth, and Finrod Felagund."

Elrond came to a stop before Finrod, and bowed low. "My house and I," he said, "stand forever in your debt." His voice was deep, deeper than any Elf’s Finrod had yet heard: the voice of the House of Bëor.

"Not so," Finrod protested; and swept into the magnificent courtesy of the King of Nargothrond. "It is I rather, and all the peoples of Middle-earth, who owe a debt to you and your house. All that I lost," he added, seeing Elrond about to protest, "I gave gladly long ago, in the name of one whom I loved; and I counted it a joy to give it. Do not hold yourself in my debt, Descendant of Bëor!"

After a moment, Elrond nodded and stepped back. His face filled with wonder. "Then the tales were true?" he murmured. "Bëor the Elf-Friend was beloved in truth by the King of Nargothrond?"

"Beloved; deeply beloved; and the love he gave in return was -" Finrod’s throat closed off. Two Ages, and the loss was still there.

Elrond bowed his head. "Forgive me!" he said. "Perhaps -" but he stopped. "Later," he said, and again took Celebrían’s hand.

Then there was another round of merry greetings, for Eärwen wished to hear of the voyage, and Celebrían for news of her father, still in Lothlórien, and her children - "you must meet them, Haru, they sometimes look so Noldor that my father was appalled," she said laughing.

But as the party began to drift away from shore, towards the ferry that would take them to Alqualondë, Elrond grew grave. He drew Celebrían aside for a moment, and placed his hand on her shoulder, and said something too quietly for Elven-ears to hear; but Celebrían’s sudden stillness and pallor could not slip by unnoticed.

Finrod happened to glance round, as Elrond was speaking, and saw Celebrían’s face break as if she had been split down the middle, and he knew. He could not help but know.

He did not know, yet, that it was Arwen, she who was said to be Lúthien returned indeed, who had chosen the path of Elros; but that suffering, from which there could not be relief till the breaking of the world, he knew as intimately as he had once known the inside of Balan’s wrist.

The rest of the trip was quiet, though no one pried - all had lost too much - and when they arrived at the beautiful house Eärwen kept, Celebrían and Elrond took a little food, and then entered their chambers and closed the door very softly. The House of Arafinwë remained in the graceful entrance hall several minutes more, talking of nothing in particular; then Galadriel said that she would like to unpack her things, and went upstairs. All dispersed: Orodreth and Finduilas to see to their luggage as well, Angrod outside to "kick at tide-pools," as he termed it, Finarfin and Eärwen to the kitchen, and Finrod - was at loose ends. He stood in the hall for a moment more; then he went up to see Galadriel.

At his hesitant knock, she called, "Ah - come!" as if she had been expecting him. Perhaps she had been. His sister was wise, and knew him very well.

He opened the door and entered. Galadriel was unpinning the pearls in her hair, which she had doubtless worn to greet Olwë and Falwen - politicking was a hard habit to break! - and her luggage was strewn across half the bed. Finrod felt his lips quirk at the sight. Few would guess that Galadriel was not always tidy; but she had rarely been so.

"Help me with my hair?" she said, without preamble, and Finrod sat beside her and began undoing the complex plaits. It could have been any number of evenings, after a ball in Tirion or Doriath or Nargothrond: Finrod and Galadriel, the two vainest members of the family, unraveling each other’s carefully-wrought braids and laughing over some amusing happening or other.

They were not laughing now.

"What has happened?" Finrod asked after a moment.

Galadriel met his eyes in the mirror. "My granddaughter Arwen has -"

She stopped. Her nose crinkled in the way it always had when she was about to cry.

Finrod touched her shoulder. "You needn’t say it," he offered. "I know. I could not help but see."

"I have missed you, Ingoldo!" Galadriel said, laughing a little. "Most gracious and perceptive of brothers. I suppose you could not have helped it, at that."

"You know why," Finrod said softly. "You know why I could see."

Galadriel sobered. "I will not make you say it, either."

"You needn’t make me," said Finrod. "We are in Aman, land of memory and peace, and there are no Men here who can be harmed by the appearance of bias, nor a leaguer that must hold and trump all other considerations; nor even many who will laugh - not that I care! I loved Balan. I wedded him in heart and in law, and held his children to be my children, and I dwelt with him in joy until the day his - his spirit left the circles of the world." It was still hard to say. "And he and all his children will not return to me until the breaking of the world - save Elrond and Elwing only. My heart went forth in joy and returned in bitterness. Yet I do not regret him. I do not wish to forget."

Galadriel’s nose crinkled again, a little; and her eyes were so bright with pain it hurt to look at them. "I have had many years - as mortals count them, anyway - knowing Arwen’s choice. Yet the moment of parting was not made easier. My only granddaughter! She danced and laughed in Lothlórien for many years, as Lúthien did in Doriath. You remember," she said, and Finrod nodded. "The most patient child - that was unlike Lúthien - and the kindest, and the most skilled of hand. That is like her atar; she meant to be a great healer, like him, when she grew up. And she was! A great healer and a great craftswoman both…" she trailed off.

Finrod had gently unraveled most of her crown of braids as she talked; now he took up her comb and began to run it through her hair. "Would it help to speak of - how it happened?" he asked.

Galadriel leaned back a little. "Not as yet," she responded, voice almost steady. "It is too - too close. But if you would - would talk to my daughter, when she is ready, I - there are not many who will understand."

"Of course," Finrod said. "Your daughter is a delight," he added. "Her company has brightened many a sad hour."

"So she has always been," Galadriel said fondly. "She is like you in many ways. I often thought of you - of all my brothers - when she was growing up. I thought how you would love her. I am glad to be proven right."

"I am sorry I was not there," offered Finrod, because he was.

Galadriel’s shoulders stiffened, just a bit. "I still have not forgiven you for the Lay," she said.

"The Lay? I quite like it, it’s a master-class in First Age composition - oh dear," said Finrod.

Galadriel was crying quite stormily. She turned to face him, so suddenly that he had to snatch the comb back or risk its entanglement.

"You," she said, "did not have to hear it sung throughout your kingdom for two Ages of the world. You did not have to hear how your brother died alone and in pain at every feast night, every festival, every musical celebration - you did not have to hear young bards attempting to bring out new sides of the story every century or so, as if your brother’s death was a light-prism or a tuning fork -" she paused for breath.

"I was not alone," Finrod pointed out, because after all he had not been.

"I should have been there!" Galadriel said. "Battling Sauron by your side as you dared to reach out your hand and attempt what none of the rest of us had even tried; or failing that, shouting down our foolish cousins; or at the least I should have been able to bury you! I did not hear that you had left Nargothrond until you were dead, dead and gone and lost to me, and you did not even have the decency to do it in such a way that would not follow me for two Ages! You fool! You utter, complete -" she broke off, burying her head in her hands. She was half-laughing; but the laughter was not merry.

Finrod reached out hesitantly; and she grasped his hand and pulled him close. "My brother," she said. "My brother who has returned!"

They sat like that, golden head upon golden shoulder, for a long time. Then Finrod took up the comb again, and they settled in front of the mirror. Queen and King, sister and brother, exiled and Returned: and for all their sorrow they could yet have been freshly come from the court of Menegroth, kicking off their dancing-shoes and laughing at the darkness.

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

“Sing, let your heart soar! Sing forever!

Sad and so happy! Feelings flow over

Now our world is full of all kinds of colors

Closing my eyes, I still can see the stars…”

Overmorrow -FIN-

[start from the beginning]

[link for better image quality]

[link to fun supplementary info for the fic]

[buy me a ko-fi 🍓]

[padfootastic]

truly one of the worst ways james and sirius’ characters were butchered (both by canon and fanon) is the implication that they thought remus was the traitor or spy because he’s a werewolf.

those boys did not spend 3 YEARS becoming ANIMAGI and risking their body, mind, and soul, as well as courting azkaban just to turn around and give in to prejudice against creatures???? like yes, i realise war makes enemies of everyone and it heightens paranoia, suspicion etc etc but this is just the laziest of all reasons??? if they weren’t scared of remus in school, after watching him transform, and they still used the damn nicknames, then why would they suddenly think his furry little problem made him unreliable??

and at that!!!! what tf kind of sense does it make for them to believe that remus was the traitor and then…do absolutely nothing about it???? the whole bullshit only checks out if they all firmly believed each other. if they thought one of them was a spy for the DARK LORD, then why would they shut up about it??? both james and sirius clearly realised the war was about more than just them; they would not be hiding a potential spy if they knew about it.

this is honestly why the whole thing, and r/s reconciliation rubs me the wrong way. if they thought remus was untrustworthy, then give me a reliable reason other than him being a were. (i’ve got a few but none of them are ever used in fics). and even if they had some doubts about remus, it would still never make up for his belief that sirius betrayed the potters and joined the DEs. ever. that’s entirely a false equivalence.

[yakultii]

What's the favourite photo you've taken? - they're all so nice!! 💕

awww thank you sm !! <33 tbh I don’t really find any one photo too significant as of yet, not to say they aren’t nice to have but real life moments are nicer :)

these aren’t necessarily my fav photos but could argue might be my favourite “vibes”

this one was taken with a digital point and shoot — while it may be argued objectively shitty and I’m completely aware a toddler could replicate it, I think this is why I love it. the fact that it just is what it is. the untouched scene naturally tells its own story, rather than needing to curate one yourself. I personally find it’s more than just something to look at. this stripped back style evokes more emotion for me than others and I love how the darker lighting does not dull its life. I mean this is all subjective. I personally don’t think this style is the best for every photo (or maybe it could be) but I really like when it works out. as someone who feels disconnected from my own existence a lot of the time, I like that I can live through it a little, as I believe it to be as close to a reflection of my interpretation of the society we live in as possible. while it wouldn’t really matter if this particular photo got deleted. never to be seen again, I’d never know the feeling of this particular moment, until I felt it in real life again. obviously I didn’t quite know all this when randomly taking it while bored on the train but I think that’s the only reason it turned out this way which is even more warming.

but of course, maybe more so than anything, I love my trusty film <3 point and shoot ofc — these photos alongside the header of this blog, again very little effort but somewhat significant of a story. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like when I’m able to capture a simple image that tells a story/evokes emotion (again, whether or not it portrays a story may be subjective). Especially with minimal effort, cause in my opinion if it’s perfect as is, then surely it’s worth taking a photo of. Film is more reliable to me at this point of my life, while I’m not very experienced (in any kind of photography really) I think it’s hard to fail, in fact I feel as though it almost exceeds my expectations. As someone who has never been any good at technical aspects of any form of art (or the patience to pursue them), I find film enables me to curate something to a standard of which I couldn’t ask for anything better of myself. Not to mention the process of developing etc. meaning I really have to stop and envision my image more so than with digital, which is basically an act of mindfulness (something I’m also usually very bad at). I’m pretty sure the Coca Cola photo was the first photo I ever took on film in 2020 lockdown (besides a barbie disposal I got for xmas as a kid that my parents were mad at me for quickly “wasting” and never to be developed). what I love about all these photos is that I believe I was able to zoom in on (no pun intended, because actually I didn’t) seemingly insignificant moments in life happening all around me so that they could later be recognised as something more. again, in my mind, my life feels very fragile at the best of times so I like that I can hold onto things a little longer when I’m alone. I’m so so glad film has stuck around and I hope I one day fix my favourite film camera and can take more photos like these!

again, hella subjective and have found most people I know to have very different preferences in what photos they think look and feel best, but as of right now these are mine :)

[ivanttakethis]

Follow up to my previous post on Alien Stage outfits and color theory.

That post focused on characters whose color schemes shifted over time: Mizi, Ivan, and Till.

This post focuses on characters we only see wearing one color: Hyuna and Luka.

Also inspired by @nottoonedin tags on that post.

While black represented stability and the status quo for Mizi and Ivan, Hyuna only ever wearing black falls more in line with what the color black represents for Till: suppression.

Even though Hyuna is no longer physically suppressed by the aliens, we know that mentally she’s still deeply affected by the trauma of her childhood under the control of the aliens.

We see glimpses of this inner turmoil during All-In:

Hyunwoo died a gruesome death at a very young age. Hyuna saw the bloody scene and her brother’s dead body in the aftermath.

On top of that, someone who was close to both her and her brother was involved in the incident that led to his death.

Whether Luka killed Hyunwoo on purpose or by accident, we don’t know. And neither does Hyuna.

That’s going to fuck someone up pretty badly.

Till is being suppressed externally, but I think Hyuna is suppressing herself internally.

Rather than confronting the horrific experiences she dealt with and witnessed as a child, she pours all of herself into other things so she doesn’t have to think about it.

But that pain is still there. She can’t run from it forever.

I don’t think Luka will let her.

Speaking of Luka, we only ever see him wearing white.

It’s his signature look, both during his winning season of Alien Stage and in this current one.

White for Luka represents him taking back some control over his life from the aliens, at least while performing.

Though unlike Mizi and Ivan (and Sua), he doesn’t use this control to rebel. He uses it to manipulate his opponents.

Except he goes too far in Round 5. He loses his control over Mizi and nearly pays for it with his life.

He lost control of the stage — his domain — probably for the first time.

And then seeing Hyuna after all of that? I’m sure it rattled him to some degree.

I have to wonder if Round 5 is meant to set up Luka’s eventual unraveling.

We know he’s wearing white again in Round 7.

Will he finally lose internal control of himself and act out like Mizi and Ivan did?

Will he be the next character in white the instigate a major shift in the story?

Either way, I think we can expect to see some sort of confrontation between Luka and Hyuna at some point.

Their color schemes are diametrically opposed to one another. Yin and Yang, one cannot exist without the other, and so on.

I’m probably (re: definitely) reading too much into this, but the eclipse imagery behind Luka in this art makes me think only one of them will come out of this alive…